Tag: Christianity

To me, George Saunders is one of our best, and most brilliant, “Catholic” writers (without calling himself, or for all I know, even being a Catholic).

One of the rare literary writers who has achieved mainstream success, his stories often chart a hero’s journey undertaken by a comically conflicted, clueless, culturally indoctrinated, downtrodden, middle-America protagonist, and often culminate in a life-or-death sacrifice.

He satirizes consumer culture, mass media, Orwellian doublespeak, and the Disneyfication of the sacred. 

“The Tenth of December,” the eponymous story in his award-winning 2013 collection, spotlights a kind of contemporary, tragicomic Holy Family: there’s a Mary figure (Saunders often features valiant, deeply flawed mothers), a Christ Child figure, and a stepfather-Joseph figure.

“They were sorry,” runs one passage, “they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone’s affection for you always expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing”…

Also, I once wrote Saunders a somewhat insanely long fan letter about the genius of his short story “The End of FIRPO in the World.” And he wrote back.

As writers, he says, always we should surprise, entertain, take risks, work hard, be true. He’s taught since 1997 at Syracuse University. His curriculum includes a class on the 19th-century Russian short story in translation.

Which brings me to his 2021 book: “A Swim in a Pond in the Rain: In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life.”

One of the four is Chekhov, universally acknowledged as one of the world’s greatest short story writers and playwrights. The other three are Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Gogol. 

The seven stories he chooses are ones he loves and has found “eminently teachable” over the years: Chekhov’s “In the Cart,” “The Darling,” and “Gooseberries”; Tolstoy’s “Master and Man” and “Alyosha the Pot”; Turgenev’s “The Singers”; and Gogol’s “The Nose.”

The stories are not necessarily easy, says Saunders; neither are they without flaws. But for purposes of studying the short story itself, these are “simple, clear, elemental.”

They’re the equivalent for the budding writer of a young musician studying Bach.

They’re simple but moving, Saunders says. We care about what happens in them.

Those two ideas alone seem radical in a culture where literati magazine short story characters sometimes lack all personality, reason for living, and even names, as if a name were too much of a commitment; too much effort.

Nineteenth-century Russian writers, by contrast, spun on a different axis. “They seemed to regard fiction not as something decorative but as a vital moral-ethical tool. They changed you when you read them, made the world seem to be telling a different, more interesting story, a story in which you might play a meaningful part, and in which you had responsibilities.”

Saunders slowly, painstakingly unpacks the seven stories:

“Once we begin reading the stories, which are, for the most part, quiet, domestic, and apolitical, this idea may strike you as strange; but this is a resistance literature, written by progressive reformers in a repressive culture, under constant threat of censorship, in a time when a writer’s politics would lead to exile, imprisonment, and execution.”

“The resistance in the stories is quiet, at a slant, and comes from perhaps the most radical idea of all: that every human being is worthy of attention and that the origins of every good and evil capability of the universe may be found by observing a single, even very humble, person and the turnings of his or her mind.”

While he’s teaching us how to read, he’s also teaching us how to write.

“What makes a piece of writing a story is that something happens within it that changes the character forever.”

“A story is a series of incremental pulses, each of which does something to us. Each puts us in a new place, relative to where we just were.”

“Always be escalating. That’s all a story is, really: a continual system of escalation. A swath of prose earns its place in the story to the extent that it contributes to our sense that the story is (still) escalating.”

And as the title of the book implies, all along Saunders is also teaching us how to be more fully alert, alive, and human.

On the other hand, he cautions in a summing-up chapter, let’s not overburden fiction with unrealistic expectations. The great flowering of 19th-century Russian literature did nothing, for example, to forestall the bloodbath of the Stalinist era.

Still, excellent fiction is a good in and of itself. Our ability to imagine the experiences of other people expands. We feel we exist on a continuum with others. Our capacity for language is reenergized. We find ourselves liking the world more.

In the end, “Where else can we go, but the pages of a story, to prefer so strongly, react without rationalization, love or hate so freely, be so radically ourselves?”

St. Bruno of Cologne was born in 1030, and is said to have been a member of a prominent family in Cologne. Not much is known about his early life, but he studied theology in Reims before returning to his homeland, where he was likely ordained a priest in 1055. 

The next year, he became head of the school he had attended, after its director left for consecrated life. Bruno led the school for nearly 20 years, and earned a reputation as a brilliant philosopher and theologian. In 1075, he was named chancellor of the local diocese. 

At the time, there was an uproar about the behavior of the new bishop, Manasses de Gournai. After he was suspended by a local council, de Gournai appealed to Rome, while attacking and robbing the houses of the council members. Bruno left the diocese during this uproar, although he was considered a possible successor to de Gournai after he was finally deposed in 1080. 

Bruno was not interested in leading the diocese, having resolved to renounce his worldly goods and enter religious life. He was inspired by a dream to seek guidance from Bishop and later Saint Hugh of Grenoble. In 1084, Bruno settled in the Chartreuse Mountains with a small group of scholars who intended to become monks. 

In 1088, one of Bruno’s former students was elected Pope Urban II. Six years into Bruno’s life of monasticism, he was called to help the pope against the hostile Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV and a rival papal claimant. Bruno helped Urban during this critical time of reform, eventually obtaining permission to return to monastic life, but continuing to help the pope periodically. 

In the 1090s, Bruno befriended Count Roger of Sicily and Calabria. Roger granted land to Bruno’s monks, enabling the founding of a major monastery in 1095. Bruno and his Carthusian monks were known for their strict asceticism, poverty, and prayer, and for their unique organization form — combining the solitary life of hermits with the collective life of conventional monks. 

St. Bruno died on October 6, 1101. His Carthusian Order was the subject of a 2006 documentary film “Into Great Silence.” 

    

For God so loved the world,
that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish,
but have everlasting life (Jn. 3:16).

Beloved faithful!

Very little time separates us from the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross

“>Exaltation of the Cross of the Lord. Therefore, the Holy Church reminds with the voice of present Gospel about the Incarnation of the Lord, His voluntary suffering, the Cross, and the immeasurable love that He manifested to us for the sake of our salvation. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself reveals the ineffable mystery of His Incarnation to us when He says:

No man hath ascended up to Heaven, but he that came down from Heaven, even the Son of Man Which is in Heaven (Jn. 3:13).

That is, no one else has ascended to the right hand of the Father save the Son Who was incarnate for us and endured the Cross for all. However, we mustn’t understand this as though the Son, having descended from Heaven, was not with the Father for a time. As God, He was at once in Heaven and on Earth, and on the Cross in full view of people, like the guiltiest of all, condemned to death. For the Savior came not only to heal the sick or drive the money changers out of the Temple. He came to endure death for us. And not an ordinary death, but death on the Cross. Not in some secluded place, not in some empty field, but up on Mt. Golgotha, to be seen by angels, men, and demons; so all might believe that He is the Savior of the world and might be delivered from condemnation from sin.

That’s why He sets forth the example of Moses. After all, when Moses passed through the Arabian desert of Edom together with the chosen people, a den of poisonous snakes lunged at the people, and whoever was bitten immediately died. And then, when Moses prayed, God told him to cast a brass serpent, lift it up on a pole, and fasten it to the highest place. And whoever was bitten by a snake, let him immediately look at this pole and the brazen serpent and live (Num. 21:8). And when Moses did this, he saved the people from such a cruel death.

What an amazing semblance! After all, Moses prefigures Christ, Who came to lead us out of slavery to satan. The chosen people are us, Christians. The desert of Edom is the world, this vain life. And the poisonous snakes are the demons and sin that bring death. The bite, the poisoning, and the terrible death indicate the eternal death of sinners after committing any sin. And looking upon this pole and the brass serpent is our deliverance from death, hell, and torment—if we look at Christ, crucified for us on the Cross.

Do you see the depth of wisdom? The serpent is slain by a serpent. The pain of being bitten is healed by the pain of Christ’s death. Death is overcome by death. Life is bestowed by the Fount of Life. It’s enough to look at this pole in the midst and the brazen serpent for man to be delivered from death. And it’s enough for us to look at Christ, hanging dead on the Cross, to live eternally by faith in Him.

This serpent was lifted up amidst the crowd so everyone would see it, and Christ ascended amidst the crowd, in the midst of the earth, so all might see Him, ask about Him, see His wounds, believe in Him, and in believing, no longer die, but have life eternal (cf. Jn. 3:14-16). King David also says this with his prophetic voice: Thou hast ascended on high, Thou leddest captivity captive, Thou didst receive gifts among men (Ps. 67:19). Jesus Christ ascended to the height of the Cross, and there, having killed sin, took captive all the people enslaved by satan, and made them sons of God. And by the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, He gave innumerable gifts to men, making them partakers of the Kingdom of Heaven. And everything that Jesus Christ did for us, shows how boundless is the love of God for man, for us.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through Him might be saved (Jn. 3:16-17).

Oh, the Divine and ineffable love of God!

You were looking upon us from Heaven. You saw how we are enslaved to the devil. You saw how we are fettered by sin. You heard our weeping. You have taken pity upon our tears. You have taken mercy upon our souls! You remembered that you are Father, and that You have children; that you are Lord, and You have slaves; that You are God, and You have lost people on Earth! And to gather us, You sent Your only Son; and so as not to terrify us, You clothed Him in a human body and in the robe of a poor wanderer.

And in order to redeem us from sin and bring us back to faith, You gave Your son into human hands. You permitted Him to be crucified on the Cross in full view of all, so that everyone could see Him throughout the vastness of the countries, seas, and continents: Jews, Greeks, Arabs, all people; and that in believing they might be saved.

Who among men loves as the Creator loves men? Who among mortals loves as does the Lord? Who among our fathers can love as does the Father of Lights? No one, no one.

Our love, if it still exists, is but a shadow, a dream. We love those who love us. We respect those who respect us. We forgive those who forgive us. We feed those who feed us. And we hate those who hate us, we beat those who beat us, and we long for revenge even on the parents who raised us. We don’t want to love with all our hearts. We don’t want to forgive our enemies. We don’t want to listen to our parents and sincerely love our children.

But God’s love is not like that. God’s love is perfect because God is perfect. It’s perfect because it doesn’t manifest itself in palaces and at feasts, but on the Cross; it reveals itself to us in suffering. We love God and others only in peaceful times and in satiety; and even then, mostly with our mouths. But God loves us always—especially in times of adversity and temptation. He loves us when we pray and when we sleep; when we go to church and when we go to the tavern; when we repent, and when we sin. He always loves us as a kind and merciful Father.

In times of danger, in times of temptation, we run, we hide, we betray our brother, we lie, we even kill, just to survive. But God loves us to the end (cf. Jn. 13:1). In times of danger, He doesn’t abandon us, but goes ahead, carries our cross for us, is the first to ascend upon it, is the first to endure blows, and the first to die in the flesh so that we might live.

Who has ever loved us more? And Who has shed their blood for us? What could the Father give that is more valuable than His Son? And what more could the Son do for us? He created us out of love and gave us the spirit of life. Out of love, He endured with us when we sinned. Out of love, Christ came to us. But the highest love was manifest there, up on the Cross, in suffering. After all, even great love that is untested by blows, troubles, and tears is not perfect, not Divine love.

Beloved faithful!

We must respond to such an abyss of Divine love and mercy with the same love and mercy. Did He love us? Let us also love Him. Did He forgive us? Let us also forgive. Did He endure the Cross for us? Let us also endure the cross of the sorrows of this life. Did He die for us? Let us also lay down our lives for His love. How? By raising our children in the fear of God, suffering disrespect, beatings, and even death for others. After all, according to the word of the Lord, Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (Jn. 15:13).

How moved we are when we see our parents face some danger for us; when we see our friends ready to rush into a fire to save us; a doctor working so hard, doing everything to save our lives. People would be touched if we tried to do everything we can for their honor, health, salvation. And if we say to a sick man: “Be healthy,” and to the hungry and thirsty: “May God have mercy on you; go in peace,” and to the despondent: “Endure a little bit more and God will comfort you,” this is not Christian love; it’s not full, living, true love, but a hypocritical, false, deceptive love.

To love another means not only to comfort him in word, but to go to the poor man’s house, to light a fire for the man who is freezing, to instill hope in the heart of the despondent; it means to wash the clothes of the man who is suffering on his sickbed, to turn him over to the other side, to carry him to the hospital in your arms, to the priest for Preparing for ConfessionNow tell me: Is Confession profitable or needful? Certainly it is profitable and even essential; because, just as it is impossible to cleanse a vessel without ridding it of all uncleanness, so it is impossible to purge your soul of sins without confession.

“>Confession. To love another means to feed a beggar, to weep with the weeping and laugh with the laughing; not to lead anyone into temptation, and to be ready to lay down your life for others.

To love God with all our heart, soul, and strength means to give our hearts to God—not to lusts, pleasures, and the devil. It means hearing and fulfilling all His commandments, for He Himself says:

He that hath My commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth Me (Jn. 14:21).

To love God means laying down our lives for His love; it means loving all people first of all.

If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God Whom he hath not seen? (1 Jn. 4:20).

“Whoever loves all men equally,” says one Holy Father, “is perfect in love.”

And if our love for another has a measure—“as thyself,” then love for God is immeasurable—“with all our heart, with all our strength,” because God’s own love is boundless. Blessed and worthy of Christ is he who has Divine love!

But alas, how alien we are to the love of Christ! We, today’s Christians, have almost grown tired of hearing the words of the Gospel. But who else will do it? No one. We have practically no time to hear the ringing of the church bells, to go to the services, to confess to a priest. But who will labor for us? We don’t have enough money for fancy clothes, delicious food, beautiful homes, and so on, so how can we give anything to beggars? How can we feed the hungry? Woe to us, the Christians of today!

Once a hermit was asked:

“Father, when will the end come?”

And the elder replied:

“You know when? When there is no longer a path from neighbor to neighbor.”

That is, when the world is filled with anger, hatred, enmity, judgments, fights, divorces; when brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, father against son, mother against daughter, tribe against tribe, nation against nation will be at enmity. And you can’t help but wonder: Haven’t these times come? After all, we see how peoples, gripped by hatred and revenge, seethe like the waves of a raging sea. We see how a huge multitude is crushed by terrible sins, how they are wasting away from such hatred and enmity towards each other. There is no trust between spouses; there is no respect among children; there is no love between neighbors. Weeds and thistles now grow on the path of harmony and Christian love. You won’t hear a good word from anyone anymore. You won’t receive any good advice from anyone, or a cup of cold water, or even the slightest consolation. Gone, gone is Christian love!

Thus, if we want to be with Christ, if we want to live forever, let us turn back to the path of love. Let us cut down the weeds of hatred. Let us live in harmony with all people. Let us observe all the commandments of Christ and wait for the Lord, for He is soon coming as the Dread Judge of the world. Let us forgive and be forgiven. Let us be merciful and receive mercy. Let us nourish love for all, for love never ceases (1 Cor. 13:8).

Is. 5:1–7 / Ps. 80:9, 12–16, 19–20 / Phil. 4:6–9 / Mt. 21:33–43

In this week’s Gospel, Jesus returns to the Old Testament symbol of the vineyard to teach about Israel, the Church, and the kingdom of God. And the symbolism of the First Reading and Psalm is also readily understood.

God is the owner and the house of Israel is the vineyard. A cherished vine, Israel was plucked from Egypt and transplanted in a fertile land specially spaded and prepared by God, hedged about by the city walls of Jerusalem, watched over by the towering Temple.

But the vineyard produced no good grapes for the wine, a symbol for the holy lives God wanted for his people. So God allowed his vineyard to be overrun by foreign invaders, as Isaiah foresees in the First Reading.

Jesus picks up the story where Isaiah leaves off, even using Isaiah’s words to describe the vineyard’s wine press, hedge, and watchtower. Israel’s religious leaders, the tenants in his parable, have learned nothing from Isaiah or Israel’s past. Instead of producing good fruits, they’ve killed the owner’s servants, the prophets sent to gather the harvest of faithful souls.

In a dark foreshadowing of his own crucifixion outside Jerusalem, Jesus says the tenants’ final outrage will be to seize the owner’s son, and to kill him outside the vineyard walls.

For this, the vineyard, which Jesus calls the kingdom of God, will be taken away and given to new tenants: the leaders of the Church, who will produce its fruit.

We are each a vine in the Lord’s vineyard, grafted onto the true vine of Christ (see John 15:1–8), called to bear fruits of the righteousness in him (see Philippians 1:11), and to be the “first fruits” of a new creation (see James 1:18).

We need to take care that we don’t let ourselves be overgrown with the thorns and briers of worldly anxiety. As today’s Epistle advises, we need to fill our hearts and minds with noble intentions and virtuous deeds, rejoicing always that the Lord is near.

    

For many Christians, the cross has become an everyday thing. They are used to wearing a baptismal cross, used to the crucifix in the church, to reading the Matins on Great and Holy Friday—the Twelve Passion GospelsWe have the Matins service for Great and Holy Friday on Thursday evening. The main part of the Matins is the twelve Gospels on the Lord’s Passion. For your convenience, these twelve Gospels have been posted here.

“>Passion Gospels. But what is behind all of this? Our faith radically differs from any national or world religion. Not one of those knows the humble-unto-death God. The first Christians were the laughingstock of the world. The Greeks and Romans offered sacrifices to Zeus and Jupiter, the Jews worshipped Yahweh, and the Egyptians honored the sun god Ra. But these Christians? They pray to God crucified on the cross, Who couldn’t even defend Himself?

The good tidings, according to the apostle Paul, are unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness (1 Cor. 1:23). And has anything changed for modern people? For some, nation takes the place of God, for others it’s money, for others, Power and career. From the legacy of the Optina EldersCan and should a church-going Orthodox person be a successful member of society? Can one take the path toward God and at the same time ascend the steps of a career ladder? Should one seek positions of authority or refuse them? St. John Climacus (“of the Ladder”) wrote his famous “Ladder” on the subject of spiritual growth. His book does not contain advice about how to make a career for yourself. It would seem that the Holy Fathers gave little thought to the idea of making a success of yourself in society.

“>power, for yet others it’s fornication and pleasure. Only the little flock, defenseless, persecuted, unseen by the world, follows after Christ. How many are them compared to all of mankind? Few.

They are those who have figured out the The Mystery of the CrossThat is the final criterion. You may judge everything by it. If you do not know what to do, if there are many paths that are tempting and luring you, look at the Cross.

“>mystery of the Cross. They know that the strongest person is the humble person, because love and humility are qualities of God Himself. Having an infinite number of choices as to how to deal with fallen mankind, the Lord became man and saved us through His own suffering. Having at His disposal the mighty angelic powers, God became helpless in order to help us.

And Christians also know the great mystery, hidden before the ages from the angels. Out of all the rational creatures, God decided to make the weakest and most helpless one a participant in His nature—namely, man. Having united with our nature, He now gives us the possibility of partaking in His uncreated grace. And the place where this unification happens is the Cross of the Lord. The marriage of the Lamb with the Church takes place on the Cross. As God entered into man through suffering and pain, so do we also enter into God through the carrying of our own cross. The Cross is the meeting point between God and man. Man does not grow up to God—God humbles Himself to man. The connection that can unite us forever with the Savior grows on the soil of our own cross, through great patience and obedience to the Master. Earthly life is not a place of entertainment and pleasure. It is a place where we share our crosses with Christ. Out of His love, the Lord saves people on Golgotha, and out of our love for Him, we partake of His Cross through our own cross. In this is the practical meaning of man’s life on earth.

Before he became Florida’s sixth inmate to be executed in the state this year, convicted murderer Michael Duane Zack concluded his final statement Oct. 3 with a message: “To Governor DeSantis and the Clemency Board: I love you. I forgive you. I pray for you.”

Zack, 54, was pronounced dead at 6:14 p.m. by lethal injection at the Florida State Prison in Starke. He was sentenced to death for killing two women, Ravonne Smith and Laura Rosillo, in 1996 during a nine-day crime spree near Tallahassee.

As they fought for a last-minute commutation of his sentence to life in prison without parole, his lawyers and death penalty foes said he suffered from intellectual disabilities and carried a deep sense of remorse.

In a Sept. 11 letter to Gov. Ron DeSantis on behalf of the bishops of Florida, Michael Sheedy, executive director of the Florida Conference of Catholic Bishops, recognized that Zack’s “heinous and horrific crimes” have caused “untold suffering” to his victims’ families, friends and communities, but urged DeSantis to commute his sentence to life without parole.

“In taking the life of Mr. Zack, the state will do nothing to restore the victims’ lives,” Sheedy said. “Rather, state-sanctioned killing will only further fuel the growing societal disrespect for the dignity of human life. The death penalty merely perpetuates the cycles of violence and vengeance that permeate our culture.”

Less than two weeks before his execution, Zack’s lawyers had asked a federal appeals court for a stay of execution because they say he was “shut out” of a clemency process that could help spare him. They filed a 26-page emergency motion Sept. 19, at the 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, after U.S. District Judge Robert Hinkle a week before rejected the clemency arguments. On Sept. 21, the Florida Supreme Court in a unanimous ruling also refused to block his execution.

“Twenty-seven years ago, I was an alcoholic and a drug addict. I did things that have hurt a lot of people — not only the victims and their families and friends, but my own family and friends as well,” Zack said in a final statement. “I have woken up every single day since then filled with remorse and a wish to make my time here on earth mean something more than the worst thing I ever did.”

“I make no excuses. I lay no blame. But how I wish that I could have a second chance, to live out my days in prison and continue to do all I can to make a difference in this world,” Zack said. He also said, speaking to people who work to fix the juvenile justice and child welfare systems, “I hope my story will inspire you to make a difference in a child’s life. You have the power to save another child from my fate.”

Among reactions to Zack’s final statement, released on X (formerly Twitter) by Floridians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, or FADP, was a posting by a friend of Ravonne Smith. “He took my friend Vonnie.. in the most vicious and violent way. His words seem empty to me.. just like the spot where Vonnie used to be. I dopray pray mercy on my soul because I find it so hard to pray for mercy on his.”

Zack’s lawyers, his family members and death penalty opponents said Zack’s history of trauma and abuse was well documented. As a child, he was a victim of abuse at the hands of his alcoholic mother and his stepfather. According to an FADP statement released Oct. 3 after Zack’s execution, he and his sisters “endured an unimaginable childhood of horrors. Michael grew in his alcoholic mother’s womb and was born prematurely after her car accident. His birth father left shortly thereafter, and his mother’s next husband was sadistically abusive toward Michael and his sisters.”

“Michael’s life started with violence and ended with violence,” Maria DeLiberato, FADP’s executive director, said in a separate statement Oct. 4.

According to DeLiberato, a record number of vigils and protests were held across the state demanding Zack’s death sentence be commuted to life in prison without parole, and petitions signed by over 5,000 people and letters from faith leaders asking the same were delivered to DeSantis and the Florida Board of Executive Clemency.

“I am angry. I am sickened that it took going to death row to finally give Michael the stability he was so cruelly deprived of as a child,” DeLiberato said in her statement. “And yet, I am proud of the man he became in there, and proud of all of you for committing to tell the truth about the human beings we are executing.”

Catholic Mobilizing Network, which led a vigil for Zack outside the Florida State Prison that included Bishop Emeritus Felipe Estévez of St. Augustine, posted on X Oct. 3, “We stand in solidarity with all of those throughout the state of Florida who are holding vigils, protesting and bearing witness to the sanctity of #MichaelZack’s life.”

The network’s website notes two upcoming executions, both in Texas: Jedidiah Murphy Oct. 10, and William Speer Oct. 26. The website also notes that Oct. 10 is World Day Against the Death Penalty, when people across the globe will advocate for ending capital punishment.

In the U.S., at least 14 faith-based events will mark the day, including: recitation of the rosary and a peaceful protest in Raleigh sponsored by Catholics for Abolition in North Carolina; a vigil at the Georgia Capitol in Atlanta co-sponsored by the Catholic Archdiocese of Atlanta; and a prayer vigil at the Louisiana Department of Corrections in Baton Rouge, which includes the Equal Justice Initiative, Jesuit Social Research Institute and Catholic Mobilizing Network among its sponsoring organizations.

Photo: Soborpskov.ru   

A return from the other world

Among the many stories that I’ve heard from believers are accounts of events that had led to their becoming more religious. “I was Saul, but became Paul”—the transformation of someone from sinfulness to righteousness still arouses interest in me with its mystery and uniqueness.

In 2000, at an Orthodox shop in Simferopol I met Gennady from the Crimean resort city of Yalta, a parishioner of the Cathedral of St. Alexander Nevsky. Simply, with deep gratitude to God he told me about how the Savior had given him A Test of FaithBefore the Holy Chalice, or in other words, before Christ Himself, you communicants confessed faith in Him and made a promise not to betray Him like Judas, not to renounce Him like Peter out of human fear.

“>faith.

A retired pilot and still relatively young, in the 1990s he worked in one of this resort city’s State organizations. It was about five in the evening on a summer weekend when his wife asked Gennady to wash their window from the outside. At that time they lived on the fifth floor in an apartment with an unglazed balcony.

Gennady stood on a stool to reach the far corners of the window, and set to work. Suddenly the stool broke under him, and Gennady began to fall off it backwards. He realized that he was falling off the balcony, and at the last moment he mustered up his strength and punched through the glass with his fist to grasp the frame. He succeeded and didn’t fall, but suffered a laceration to his arm from broken glass. Blood gushed out, flooding everything around.

His wife was rushing around the apartment without knowing what to use to stop the bleeding. Finally, having applied a tourniquet to his arm, Gennady and his wife walked to the nearest emergency room, as the ambulance operator had explained to them that all the ambulances were on call. Taxi drivers and passing cars did not stop seeing a blood-stained man. Thus, still bleeding, Gennady reached the ER.

At the hospital the doctor stitched the wound up on his arm, but an undetected wound in the area of his shoulder blade immediately flooded the trolley with blood. Gennady lost a lot of blood. On the verge of passing out, he felt the doctor pull down his shorts and underwear, wring them out of blood and throw them into a corner. He heard his wife sob and the doctor announce to her that her husband had died of blood loss, and that he, the doctor, couldn’t help her. Gennady heard everything, but he no longer showed signs of life.

“They rolled me to the wall because there were a lot of injured people that day—the doctor and the nurse had no time to roll me off to the morgue,” Gennady recalled. “I was lying without seeing anything, but I could hear everything that was going on. That dragged on for a long time. Suddenly at some point I found myself in a dark tunnel, at the end of which I saw a golden glow that attracted me. As I approached it, I saw a living Face in the radiance and realized that it was God. The Lord asked me, ‘Do you want to live?’ I replied, ‘I do.’ This happened thrice.”

Immediately after his third answer, “I want to live!” Gennady felt that he was back in the ER, and heard the doctor shout to the nurse: “Look! His lips are pink! Put the kettle on, we’ll pour warm water into his mouth!” The doctor pressed Gennady’s tongue, and water was forcibly poured into the patient’s mouth. He swallowed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make a sound.

“After two liters of water I came around,” Gennady related. “It was dawning outside—it was five in the morning. Imagine—I had been dying and coming back to life for twelve hours!”

Gennady continued to work in his position, became a parishioner of the Cathedral of St. Alexander Nevsky and did everything in his power to glorify the Savior.

A letter with a testimony of a miracle

In the second half of the 1990s, with the blessing of Archbishop (now Metropolitan) Lazar of Simferopol and the Crimea, I hosted the Orthodox Calendar program on Crimean radio. Soon I began to receive letters with various content. Some contained words of gratitude, others—direct threats, and the authors of other letters shared miraculous events from their lives.

One letter stuck in my memory. I received it from the town of Feodosia with a full return address and the author’s full name. For obvious reasons I cannot disclose her last name, but I will give her name — Valentina Ivanovna. Here is her letter, slightly abridged.

“I decided to write to you and share my life experience, because last year I promised God to tell people that God exists, that He sees and hears us.

“First a little about myself. I am a teacher. Nearly all my life I had to promote Atheism and Close-MindednessMy hope is that readers will renounce the mental shackles that restrain contemporary thinking, so that they’ll be free to believe or disbelieve in Christianity based on the evidence or lack thereof, and not be predetermined to disbelieve by scientifically unsupportable, a priori assumptions about what is possible.

“>atheism. In 1964 in Leningrad I accidentally entered a cathedral during a service. All the parishioners were praying on their knees. I didn’t even understand the meaning of the priest’s words. It seemed uncomfortable to me to stand among kneeling people without understanding anything. I went outside and did not enter the church again.”

Valentina Ivanovna went on to describe times in her life when as if against her own will she avoided dangerous situations. Thus, one winter she was walking along the sidewalk of a Leningrad Street. For a moment she seemed to lose consciousness, only to come to in the middle of the street, and a huge lump of ice fell off the roof exactly where she had just been standing, which would certainly have killed Valentina Ivanovna if she had been in that place at that moment.

Moreover, she was not going to cross the street, so she was surprised how she had found herself in the middle of the roadway at that moment. So her soul was gradually preparing for conversion.

“Now I attend church,” Valentina Ivanovna writes in her letter. “I already understand much of the services, I buy Orthodox literature and try to read it carefully. There are many questions that the Gospel helps me answer.

“When I realized that my whole life consisted of nothing but sins and it was impossible to get back the years I had passed, my mental strength declined. I believed I couldn’t be forgiven and God didn’t need me. I thought, ‘Happy are the saints who were vouchsafed to see the Queen of Heaven and God with their own eyes! If only I could see God from afar! I would understand that all is not lost yet…’ Soon, in 1996, the Lord gave me such an opportunity.”

“We had just repaired the TV set, but it stopped working again. I decided to check the fuses, but for some reason they didn’t come out. I took a screwdriver and, taking out the socket with fuses from the TV set, began to unscrew, ignoring the fact that the TV set was not unplugged from the socket. Imagine: In one hand a plug with metal ends was pressed against my palm, and with the other hand I took the fuses with the screwdriver that had neither a wooden nor a plastic handle. I had locked myself into a power grid!

“It was noon, when all the neighbors were at work, and the voltage was very high. I couldn’t uncouple my hands, no matter how hard I tried; I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t see or hear anything and couldn’t scream either. I already felt a sharp pain from my heart up to my shoulder blade. And, exhausted, I forced myself to cry out: ‘My God!’

“And then a miracle occurred!… I saw (as if with the crown of my head) a stream of light from the sky above me, as if from a searchlight. He was above, and I was below, with nothing around us!

“At the top of the stream of light Jesus Christ appeared to me. He was the same as on icons, only alive—voluminous, mighty, strong, calm and kind. Simultaneously with the appearance of Christ I was thrown onto the sofa, while the plug and the screwdriver were thrown in the opposite direction. Because of my strongly shaking body and head I didn’t understand anything for ten minutes after that, only remembering clearly that I had just seen God and He had saved my life!

“Gradually I came to my senses, the fear passed, and I became convinced that God exists, that He sees and hears us and fulfills our desires. But we should only wish for what is useful for us and be grateful for Heavenly patronage.

“And it is never too late to turn to God with love—with our minds and hearts. God is always with us!

“I’ve told you this for the sake of the Almighty, as I promised Him.

“May the Lord bless all who believe in Him!”

Manhattan Beach Police Department motorcycle officer and St. John Bosco High School graduate Chad Swanson was killed on Oct. 4 in a multi-vehicle crash on the 405 Freeway near Carson. Details of the early-morning crash and how Swanson was killed were still being investigated.

Swanson, 35, a 13-year veteran, leaves behind his wife and three sons, ages 4, 2, and 10 months old, the police department reported.

According to Bosco High School’s Instagram account, Swanson was a 2006 graduate.

“It is with deep sadness that we share the news of the tragic loss of one of our brothers,” the post read.

Manhattan Beach is holding a community candlelight vigil for Swanson and his family at 6:30 p.m. on Friday, Oct. 6 at Civic Center Plaza followed by a procession to the Manhattan Beach Pier.

Swanson began his career with the Hawthorne Police Department, but had been with the Manhattan Beach Police Department since 2010, moving to the Motor Division in 2017.

According to the city, Swanson had previously been wounded in the Route 91 mass shooting in Las Vegas in 2017.

“We are all in shock after this tragic accident. Officer Swanson was a hero. While off duty in 2017, Officer Swanson was wounded in the Route 91 Harvest Country Music Festival mass shooting in Las Vegas,” said Manhattan Beach Mayor Richard Montgomery. “He served as a hero that day in 2017 and was personally responsible for saving several lives, despite suffering his own injuries.”

“Officer Swanson was a joy to work with every single day,” said Manhattan Beach Police Chief Rachel Johnson. “He was a true hero, always positive, and brought an energy to the force that will truly be missed. To honor his legacy, let us recommit ourselves to the principles of public service, integrity, and unity that defines our profession.”

In a press conference, Manhattan Beach police Lt. Kelly Benjamin fought back tears while addressing reporters.

“Chad was an important member of our department,” Benjamin said. “He was an important member of our community. We’re hurting, we’re grieving. This is just awful.”

On Thursday, Los Angeles County Sheriff Robert Luna was attending the funeral services for slain deputy Ryan Clinkunbroomer at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, but began his comments by acknowledging Swanson’s death.

“I would like to take a couple of seconds to offer my sincere condolences on behalf of all of us to the Manhattan Beach Police Department, Chief Rachel Johnson, and the family of Officer Chad Swanson, his wife, and his three very young children. We stand in solidarity with you even through our difficult times.”

The Manhattan Beach Police Department set up a donation fund through the Peace Officers Research Association of California’s Fund a Hero Program to support Swanson’s family. Donations can be made at porac.org/fundraiser/swanson-family.

We are not considered humble
when we only humiliate ourselves,
but when, having been humiliated by others,
we accept it without embarrassment,
as being worthy of it.
Likewise, our spiritual barrenness
must involuntarily reduce us
to the depths of humility,
and the passions that torment us
produce the same effect.

St. Macarius of Optina

“Where to next?” Fr. M. asked.

“To Optina Monastery and Its Era”While travelling I stopped off in Optina Pustyn and carried away a remembrance that I shall never forget. I think that on Mt. Athos itself there is nothing better. Grace is visibly present there. One can even sense it clearly in the external serving (in church)”.

“>Optina.”

“We-e-e-ll, be ready. It’s no Pechory.¹ Optina knows how to humble you.”

We exchanged glances, and suddenly I didn’t want to leave the The Holy Dormition Pskov-Caves MonasteryToday, the fourth Sunday after Pentecost, we celebrate the memory of all the saints of the Pskov-Caves Monastery in Pechory, Pskov Province, Russia. This monastery became especially important to the Russian Orthodox people during Communist times, because it was the only men’s monastery in Russia that was never closed by the atheist regime, becoming an oasis of Orthodox life in a socialist desert.

“>Pskov Caves Monastery, so overflowing with love, where the monastic brotherhood, including the abbot, labored so harmoniously, saving others by their own example.

“Maybe we can stay?” I asked hesitantly.

“No, no,” Fr. M. hastened to answer. “Go with God.”

It was time to hit the road. We planned, in addition to the famous nineteenth-century monastery of the , to also visit Diveyevo, and the monasteries of Moscow and St. Petersburg.

    

And then there it was—1990: A Pilgrimage to Optina MonasteryMuch has happened since 1990 when an American recently converted to Orthodoxy made a pilgrimage to the famous home of the Optina Elders—all of the original churches have been rebuilt, new ones added, and the brotherhood is flourishing. Nevertheless, we can wistfully remember those blessed days when Russian Orthodox Christians were sacrificing their time and talent to rebuilt Optina. Here are the impressions of that pilgrim, published in the Orthodox Word.

“>Optina. They put us in a common barrack. The monastery was in the process of being restored, and at that time, they didn’t yet have the lovely, cozy guest houses they have now. But they had the most important thing—the churches, where the relics of the Optina fathers rested, and the Skete of St. John the Forerunner, where house of Elder Ambrose of Optina“>St. Ambrose of Optina was. Having read the books and life of Batiushka Ambrose, we had mentally visited the monastery many times. But dreams are dreams; the reality was quite another thing. We got there late, it was getting dark; the barracks were uncomfortable, the trapeza was gloomy; we had to sleep on the third tier of some wooden bunk, practically right under the ceiling. The person in charge in the barracks was gloomy and dissatisfied, although probably just tired. But I confess, after our sunny stay in Pechory, everything here seemed terribly gloomy.

Perhaps the trouble was in our modern, external work and our malformed, endless neophytism? Especially with us laity, who think that coming to God means the main thing is obedience and humility and that you have to start this work immediately. The more you humble those around you, the greater the reward awaits you in Heaven. Yesterday’s Komsomol members, communists, activists, having crossed the threshold of churches in the 90s, automatically became “experienced” Orthodox, actively taking up the cause of the salvation of the entire world, transferring their experience of working with the public. In this we saw the “fulfillment” of the commandments and our “Christian love” for God and neighbor. Our humility consisted of a “heavy burden” called “the salvation of mankind.” The titanic patience of the “saviors” consisted in the misunderstanding of our feat. By whom? By all of them—the wayward sheep of Christ’s flock. And if we couldn’t bear it, and even broke out in “righteous anger,” then of course, the “wisely shepherded, but bad sheep” were to blame.

The pilgrims who come to Optina certainly understood where they were. But, as happens with modern Christians, at home we often let loose, ready to humble our neighbors if necessary. But here you had to bite your glib tongues, donning a mask of reverent, albeit forced humility before the “teachers of obedience.”

Indeed, I didn’t last long. My fiery temperament began to make itself known, and my mask of imaginary piety soon started to crack. And it was sewn so shabbily that they almost immediately “caught” me at the doorstep, seeing my uncontrollable stubbornness. I couldn’t hide my disappointed expression, and I made a bad impression on the person responsible for the accommodations.

We were given an obedience the next day, and we were sent to wash the floors in the churches, flooded with such bright sunlight that the joy of being near the relics of the great saints completely erased yesterday’s dreary arrival. First was the Entrance of the Theotokos Church, where the relics are of the beloved Batiushka Ambrose, who taught us through books and also called us to obedience and humility before God and men with his gentle look from the icons. We washed the floors diligently and even joyfully. But alas, the problems with my temperament remained and they persist to this day. If someone wants to give me advice, they can always get a whole lecture in response to just one word or phrase, or rather, a tirade from me, so “well read.” Alas, I can be too big for my britches.

    

Next was the Kazan Church. Diligently waving a broom about, I managed to hit a lampada and drench myself and the wall under the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God with oil. Widening her eyes, instead of scolding me, the woman in charge of the cleaning whispered in surprise: “Well, the Most Pure One has marked you herself!” At that moment all I felt was fear. The wall was thoroughly soaked. Grabbing the first monk we came across, we fearfully awaited the verdict. But he sighed and said: “We’ll try to clean it later.” What else could he say? I still don’t understand how I managed to knock a lampada hanging so high. But the fact remained. There have been similar incidents before though, like a bull in a china shop.

And so the question arises: Why do some of our Church people believe that things like this are an indication of election from above? Believe me, there’s nothing like that, just the ensuing sorrows. Rather, such miracles are given to the weakest in faith to support them in future trials. It was the same after oil spilled on me from the lampada at the Crucifix in the Exaltation of the Cross Church. After the same thing happened in the Church of Blessed Ksenia, my marriage fell apart. When I overturned the lampada at the Tikhvin Icon of the Theotokos in Optina, before which people usually pray for their children, I was plunged into deep worries about my grandchildren. Is this what it means to be chosen? It’s the same with all miracles—myrrh-streaming, fragrances, icons being renewed.

In response to my questions about another miracle (and I confess, I’d begun to fear these questions) and the impending hardships, my spiritual father answered briefly, but comfortingly: “It’s for support, or rather, the strengthening of faith,” that is, to believe that everything is from God. Perhaps due to the pessimism genetically ingrained in me and the resulting despondency, I always easily lose my solid footing, and perhaps that’s the reason for such “support?” I don’t know, but I must admit that in recent years, I haven’t experienced any child-like delights at the sight of miracles. After the Tikhvin Icon streamed myrrh in my house, I almost completely fell away from Church life. This is a terrible thing, when we find ourselves becoming like Lot’s wife.

But back to our stay in Optina. At that moment, the woman in charge of obediences looked at me not only with surprise, but also with admiration. I even began to wonder if a halo had lit up over my head. But the oil-soaked wall halted my sarcasm. No one absolved me for my carelessness and sloppiness.

In the evening, news spread throughout the monastery that the The Vladimir Mother of GodThe Vladimir Mother of God

“>Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God had come from Penza for one night. And the main detail: The icon is myrrh-streaming. We practically abandoned our obedience and rushed to the icon, persuading our “boss” along the way: “We’ll get everything done; we’re just going to venerate it; we’ll get absolutely everything done.” The poor woman was running around in bewilderment, weakly trying to protest. Apparently, the story with the spilled oil from earlier in the day had left her reluctant to argue with me. And so, with the sole desire of making it on time, we found ourselves standing behind some monks at the threshold of the Church of the Vladimir Icon.

    

The icon, bathed in light, lay on the analogion. It was beautiful. There was cotton at the bottom of the kiosk, already completely soaked with myrrh. The streams continued to flow down right before our eyes. Isn’t this a miracle of God’s mercy for us who live in the darkness of our passions and falls?

We often see ourselves as chosen when we encounter such phenomena, but we don’t suspect that myrrh on icons in churches and monasteries is like tears—tears shed for us, who have been lost to the faith for entire generations. That’s why there were so many miracles in the early twentieth century before the revolution, the civil war, repressions, World War II. History repeats itself. Now we’re mourned as incapable of the true Christian life. We have only to repent, but we’re incapable of it, managing to blame others for our troubles, mistakes, and falls, instead of ourselves—the only ones we love.

The next morning, we rushed to venerate the icon again, but the church was closed; the icon was already gone. A novice standing at the door asked,“Didn’t you make it yesterday?”

“Why,” we said smiling proudly, “of course we did.”

“So why did you come today?” he asked in surprise, and couldn’t resist another question:

“Aren’t you afraid of receiving so much Divine grace?”

Having looked at him with surprise, we exchanged glances, but he continued:

“After all, you’ll have to pay for everything in this life.”

There are no coincidences in this life: Whoever believes in them doesn’t believe in God. But we didn’t think about it then. Though we were in Optina for just two days, we encountered the Vladimir Icon that visited the monastery for just one night. And we crossed paths: in this monastery, in this slice of life, in eternity. Then life taught us more lessons; we made more mistakes, not understanding what the Queen of Heaven had prepared for us, wanting to protect us from falls, complaints, and sin.

    

When we returned to the barracks, we got a new obedience. The night before, I had expressed my dissatisfaction with the black sheets. Times were tough. There weren’t enough sponsors to restore the monastery economy; the main priority was restoring the churches. There were few workers, but many pilgrims came. And here I was, insisting on white sheets. So they sent me to work in the laundry. Yes, I deserved it because of my grumbling. My friend felt bad for me. We spent the whole day in the laundry, knee-deep in water, washing those very sheets. But apparently that lesson wasn’t enough for me. Laying down to sleep in the evening on my three-story bed, I suddenly saw an icon of the Mother of God the Healer on the wall at the head of the bed. “What a weird idea!” I exclaimed. “Icons belong on an iconostasis, not next to beds.” I finished my thought aloud, and tearing off the icon, I took it to the prayer corner.

I had barely fallen into a deep sleep from exhaustion when suddenly it began. An unbearable pain shot through my joints. I wasn’t able to sleep the whole night. And stretching out my arms and legs, I prevented my bunkmate from getting rest. I barely made it to morning, when I rushed to the infirmary to get some aspirin. But it was closed, and I had to leave the monastery to go look for a pharmacy. And again, while it served me right, my companion, not wanting to stay without me, even though I assured her I would wait for her in Moscow, gathered her things in distress, and soon we were at the bus station. When you receive a well-deserved reprimand from above—thank God, but when an innocent person suffers alongside you, you begin to burn with double shame.

Optina is a good place for lessons in humility. Fr. M., having begun his monastic path there at Optina, knew what he was warning us about. And for me, the well-known saying, “You don’t bring your own typikon to someone else’s monastery,” took on its own shape there and gave me a valuable experience.

The woman in charge in the barracks did eventually ask for forgiveness and even explained why. The spiritual father of the monastery, Schema-Archimandrite Iliy (Nozdrin)Iliy (Nozdrin), Schema-Archimandrite

“>Fr. Iliy, insisted. However, for some reason she asked for forgiveness from my companion standing in front of her, unlike me, who hadn’t disturbed her inner peace in any way. But it seems I was too distant and unapproachable. I was sitting on my third bunk, hanging down like a hen on its perch. While rejoicing at her arrival and unable to get down quickly, I echoed the familiar words after her: “You forgive us, and we forgive you, and may God forgive us all.”