Teaching – St Michael Orthodox Church

Walking with Jesus — Lenten Retreat

April 1, 2024April 1, 2024 parish-admin

The theme “Walking with Jesus: Reflections on the Via Dolorosa” will be the basis for the annual Lenten Retreat on April 13 at St Michael Orthodox Church. The Very Reverend Father John W. Fenton, Pastor of St Michael’s and Faculty at the Antiochian House of Studies, will offer three meditations on this theme.

Since 1991, the Society of St Benedict (Oblates) has hosted the Lenten Retreat. Surrounded by the Liturgy of Hours and Mass, this silent retreat offers time for reflection, prayer, and meditation prompted by Fr. John’s presentations.

The retreat is designed to prepare the soul during mid-Lent for the final days before Holy Week. It begins with Prime (First Hour) and concluding with None (Ninth Hour) and Benediction at 3 p.m.

Fast friendly meals and collations will be provided; however, childcare is not offered.

If you wish to attend, please RSVP by clicking this link or by sending an email to StMichaelWhittier@gmail.com. The retreat is open to all, both Orthodox and non-Orthodox.

Getting Comfortable with Silence

September 30, 2022September 30, 2022 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

Everyone in black. Precise movements. Dignity by both clergy and the people present. All the women in hats (of one sort or another). No one looking at a phone. Everyone dressed ready to meet the monarch. No one entering in a rush. Attentive listening to the sung words. No whispered small-talk and no fidgeting.

Those are my impressions from watching the funeral services for Queen Elizabeth II. It formed, in my mind, a decorous reception of and means toward worship. No doubt, this resonates with the culture of my Midwestern childhood—when folks ‘dressed’ for church and ‘dignified’ worship had a certain look. Those looks can be different in other cultures and generations. But that was, for me, how church was done back there, back then.

However, what really struck me was the silence. The silence in transition moments (from singing to speaking, or vice versa), the silence during some of the movements, the silence in the midst of reverential speaking, singing, and movement. And most of all, the two minutes of silence observed not only in Westminster Abbey, but also by those viewing outside the Abbey—and even in other countries. Reuters News headlined the “deafening sound of silence to honour Queen Elizabeth.”

The power and necessity of silence is not cultural or generational. It is especially biblical. “Be still,” says the Lord God. “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps 45.11). Only when we are still and silent, then, can we truly begin to know God, to pray, and to consider the Lord’s mercy. Especially in the midst of death. For, truly, what can we say when a person has died. We can only remain still and wait the Lord’s kindness in the midst of tears, His loving embrace, and His comforting word (even if it is a “still small voice” [1 Kng 19.12]).

Perhaps that’s why silence—specifically, a moment of silence—is associated with respect for the dead. It’s not so much about honoring the dead person. This practice lets us “both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord” (Lam 3.26).

Silence is an increasing challenge for generation and our culture. We are addicted to distraction. Which explains why we have a hard time being still; and why silence—even during Mass—disturbs us.

Most pointedly, “we’re addicted to disturbance. We love to be disturbed. And if we haven’t been disturbed for the last 20 seconds, we find something to disturb us. Part of the soul pain and frustration, and even aggression, that that experience can release in people is an indication that, fundamentally, we’re constructed for a different mode of interacting with the world” (Bp Erik Varden).

The mode of interacting that we’re constructed for is not constant, non-stop interacting. We’re constructed and designed, by Our Lord God, to listen, think, contemplate, ponder, meditate, pray—all of which requires silence. Not total silence all the time, but at least some times of silence that are deliberate, unplugged, with no music (even church music) or sounds.

The Queen’s funeral gave millions a taste of elongated silence. A silence which we should cultivate, perhaps little by little, so that we might actually begin to hear God. Remember: we get to know God, and rejoice in His uplifting love, when we are still.

– Fr John W. Fenton

Therefore We Are Gods

September 3, 2021September 3, 2021 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

The mercy of God exceeds our religious imagination. For we conceive of religion as moral behavior, deeds of justice, setting right things that are wrong, and doing what should be done. And we think religion is about empathy and compassion for others, conquering our wrong-headed desires, treating others fairly, and not shoving aside the little guys. And we are certain that religion means loving the unlovable, helping the hurting, honoring the honorable, and imitating those who stand up for the right principles.

All of that is good. And all of that is found in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and His other ethical teachings. There is nothing wrong with this view of religion—this understanding of the

Christian religion. Except that it does not go far enough. It does not take in the fullness of God’s mercy. It’s limited to forgiveness, kindness, and fair-mindedness—to deeds we wish God to do to us, and that we should do to others.

In God’s imagination, in the image that He has for us, the ethical teachings of Jesus are merely the tip of why He came into the world; why He deigned to become one of us. For Our Lord is ultimately not our role model. He becomes what we are so that we might become what He is. The Son of God wishes to make us sons of God.

And so the only-begotten Son of God took upon Him our nature and became human so that we humans might become gods.

To be sure, not the uncreated God through whom all things were made. For He cannot deny that He made us.

Rather, we are made to be gods so that we might sit with God in heavenly places. So that we might converse with God, banquet with God, judge with God, live as gods.

In this scheme, the angels are servants—ministers who minister to us for God. And everything else—the animals, plants, rocks, dirt, stars and moons, and all other created things—these are the ambiance in the dining room which is God’s heaven. And we sit there with God—eating the food He supplies us, enjoying each other’s company, reveling in speaking with God, marveling at the beauty with which He’s surrounded us.

But how do we get to be gods?

Certainly not by imitation. That’s both silly and unreasonable. For who can be something just by acting in the right way? When can doing fundamentally change being?

And we can’t be gods simply by willing it. For our wills are too weak. And even if they are strengthened by tests, we will never be able to match wits with God.

So how do we get to be gods?

We get to be gods by consuming God. By taking God into the innards of who we are: into our bodies, so that God’s divine nature meshes with ours; into our hearts, so that God’s love transforms our misdirected loves; and into our souls, so that we might have God’s mind, His will, and therefore desire precisely what He desires.

Us becoming gods begins not with us. And it’s not about God snapping His fingers, like some wizard or magician.

Us becoming gods begins with God taking a body from us—taking into Himself the fullness of our weakness and vulnerability, the fullness of our propensity to sin, the fullness of everything that limits us from being gods. In His Son, God becomes the worst and the incompleteness that we are and offers and sacrifices it wholly, totally, completely, entirely to His Father on the altar of the cross in order to transform it in His Body.

And when He has accomplished this mission, when “It is finished,” He then uses the blood that was the price, the blood that poured from His side—He uses that blood to cleanse and purify us so that we are ready and prepped to consume God. And then flesh that was laid, dead, in the tomb, and then raised and glorified when He walked from the tomb—that flesh He feeds into us.

That Body and Blood, which was capable of carrying and containing every human—that Body and Blood Our Lord Jesus, by His Spirit, then feeds into us in order to transform us, in order to make us more human than we thought we could be. But above all, He feeds us His flesh and blood so that we might become gods.

Gods we are, because we partake of God. Gods we are, because the Son of God as fed into our bodies our own bodies transfigured in His body. And gods we are, because the Spirit of God has used the flesh of God to transform our minds into the mind of Christ.

Now this is our salvation. Not just that we do right by God, but first that we receive Him who did right by God, who gives us the right to be called ‘children of God’ because God’s blood courses through our veins, God’s flesh is knit to our flesh, and God’s desires are working in our minds.

And so we are gods. Because God actually, truly lives in us—in the innards of who we are.

This is what Our Lord Jesus means by the word “Life.” To live is to be the gods God made us to be. And ‘those eat My flesh and drink My blood’ have My life in them—My Life which is God’s life, which now lets us be called, and be really, in truth and in love, sons of God, and therefore gods.

Holy Week in the Western Tradition

April 18, 2021April 21, 2021 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

A Brief Synopsis

Holy Week consists of two parts: the first four days, beginning with Palm Sunday; and the Triduum Sacrum (“holy three days”), which celebrate with particular solemnity Our Lord’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection.

During the first half, the words of St Thomas should fill our hearts and minds: “Let us also go, that we may die with Him.” (Jn 11.16) Through the liturgical rites, we follow Our Lord and, in heart and mind, follow Him by participating in His sufferings and death. Yet our focus is not to pity Our Lord, nor effect a somber mood. Rather, we participate by being immersed in His self-sacrifice, understanding that we must also put to death the deeds of the flesh, so that we might rejoice fully and full-throatedly as we are raised and glorified in Him.

During the second half of Holy Week, the Eucharistic liturgy, together with the Divine Offices (most especially the three Tenebrae services), draw us into more profound participation while, at the same time, inculcating in us the depth of joy that is located in Our Lord’s Passion. During these days, the words “Behold how He love[s] [them]” (Jn 11.36) should capture our meditations.

Briefly, these days may be summarized as follows.

PALM SUNDAY

Palm Sunday is the first day of Holy Week, when we remember Our Lord’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Immediately after Lauds, the blessing and distribution of the palms take place. Each person receives a palm, and the clergy lead the faithful in procession around the Church, while joyful chants are sung culminating in the hymn “All Glory, Laud and Honor.”

When the worshippers return, the Mass commences. During the Mass, the faithful hear the First of the Passion Narratives, from the Gospel according to St. Matthew. This Passion Narrative depicts Our Lord as the fulfillment of the promised King Messiah. “Christ our King, intercede for us!”

HOLY MONDAY

At the Mass, we will hear of Our Lord’s preparation for burial by the Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. While she anoints Him with fragrant oil, we also are reminded of Judas’ betrayal and, more sadly, his impending impenitence. May the Lord’s Spirit soften our hearts to be more like Mary!

HOLY TUESDAY

During the Mass, the Second of the Passion Narratives, from the Gospel according to St. Mark, is read. This Passion Narrative depicts Our Lord as the Suffering Servant, who willingly and freely bares the weakness, brokenness, and sin of all humanity. “Behold the Lamb of God! Behold Him who takes away the sin of the world!”

HOLY WEDNESDAY

During the Mass, the Third of the Passion Narratives, from the Gospel according to St. Luke, is read. This Passion Narrative depicts Our Lord as the merciful Physician who readily sacrifices Himself to heal our souls. Nowhere is this more poignantly presented than in the exchange between Christ and Dismas (the “good” thief on the cross). Lord, grant us this same mercy!

Following Vespers, the first of three Tenebrae services is prayed. Tenebrae is a service of prayer conducted in near-darkness. This service includes a candle ceremony, where candles are extinguished at the end of each psalm and the Benedictus. The central feature of this service is the mystical application of the Lamentations of Jeremiah to our participation in Our Lord’s Passion, and a glorious explanation of the Psalm 54 (55) by St Augustine.

HOLY THURSDAY

The Institution of the Mystical Supper is the focus for the Holy Thursday Mass. The Gloria in Excelsis is restored with joyful bells, and the Readings recall the events when Our Lord gathered with His disciples on the eve of His crucifixion. We hear that Our Lord loves us to the end, and calls us to love one another in the same way. In an interesting juxtaposition from Holy Monday’s Gospel, we see Our Lord washing the feet which will carry the Gospel throughout the world. “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the Gospel of peace!” (In imitation of Our Lord sending His apostles, in both Eastern and Western Rite cathedrals the Bishop, as the icon of Christ surrounded by his disciples, enacts the mandatum by washing the feet of thirteen males.)

After all have received Holy Communion, the Blessed Sacrament is processed to the Altar of Repose where it remains for adoration until the Pre-sanctified Liturgy on Good Friday.

After Mass, toward the end of Vespers, the Altar is stripped while Our Lord’s prayer on the cross (Psalm 21 [22]) is solemnly chanted. Following Vespers, the second Tenebrae service is prayed. Once again, the Lamentations of Jeremiah are mystically applied to our participation in Our Lord’s Passion, and St Augustine instructs us on Psalm 63 (64).

GOOD FRIDAY

Our Lord’s Death on the Cross is commemorated with the Solemn Liturgy for Good Friday. The service is moving in its starkness and consists of four parts: hearing the Lord’s Word, the Solemn Prayers for all persons, the Veneration of the Holy Cross with its “reproaches” (improperia), and the reception of Holy Communion from the Pre-Sanctified. During the first part, the faithful hear the fourth Passion Narrative from the Gospel according to St. John. This Passion Narrative depicts Our Lord ascending His throne in glory as the triumphant King, as the sign declares.

Following the Liturgy, the third Tenebrae service is prayed. The ceremony is nearly identical to the previous two Tenebrae services. After completing the Lamentations of Jeremiah, St Augustine reminds us of the significance of Our Lord’s two natures as they relate to His Passion.

PASCHAL VIGIL

The Western rite knows two celebrations of Our Lord’s Resurrection. The first and most ancient is the Great Vigil which, in the first seven centuries, was kept throughout the night and climaxed with the celebration of Holy Communion at dawn on Easter Day. In the past 13 centuries, the Great Vigil has been assigned, in both Eastern and Western churches, to Holy Saturday afternoon or morning. (In recent decades, not a few Western churches have begun celebrating the Paschal Vigil later in the afternoon or evening, while also retaining the Easter Sunday Mass.)

During the Paschal Vigil, worshippers gather quietly in the entrance for the blessing of fire. Then the Deacon leads the faithful into the Nave. While the worshippers are taking their places, the ancient Easter hymn of praise (Praeconium) is sung and the candles of the faithful and throughout the church are lit. Following this candlelight ceremony, Old Testament prophecies are read. This Service of Readings is followed by the blessing of the Baptismal font. The Litany of the Saints leads the faithful to a joy-filled celebration of Holy Mass. The service concludes with an abbreviated form of Vespers.

EASTER SUNDAY

The Resurrexi Mass (“Mass of the Resurrection”) is the chief celebration of Our Lord’s Resurrection. It commences with the blessing of the faithful with the holy water that was blessed at the Great Vigil. Then the Mass proceeds, with the Gloria in Excelsis sung once more with great joy! While the usual order of the Divine Liturgy is maintained, it is augmented with the acclamation of “alleluia” numerous times, and with the beautiful Easter sequence (Victimae paschali laudes) as well as many familiar Easter Scripture readings and hymns. In addition, flowers once more decorate our altars, and joy pervades our hearts and minds as we proclaim, “Christ is risen: He is risen indeed, alleluia!”

Making Use of Lent

March 26, 2021March 26, 2021 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

However hard this past year has been, it has been necessary for our health and the health of others. We have sacrificed much: our movements, our usual interactions, our normal routine, and sometimes even those healthy release valves (groups, therapists, gyms, etc.). As a parish, we’ve done all we can to adapt, and you are to be commended for your patience, understanding and care. Additionally, I’ve seen several instances of individual best practices and person-to-person compassion—all of which is laudatory.

If we’re honest—myself included—sometimes our worst self has bled through: by giving into fears or anxieties, by being less civil and well-mannered, by thinking the worst of others or leaders, and by letting our convenience overtake concern for others.

When we see these latter thoughts and behaviors arise in us, we should (again, in honest self-reflection) ask how well we’ve maintained our spiritual health. For example, have we spent more time complaining than praying; more time searching for stories that confirm our conclusions than searching the Scriptures; more time distrusting others than building up our faith in God; and more time sinking into ourselves than strengthening our relationship with Our Father.

For myself, it has been easier not to ‘redeem the time.’ Perhaps for you, like for me, it has been easy not to be more diligent and earnest in prayer; or not to using extra time to read the Scriptures or other spiritual treasures. Instead, it’s been too easy to set aside prayers entirely or pray only minimally, because it’s hard to focus or because something else seems more interesting.

Lent is the time when our prayers can transform how we speak; when our fasting can increase hunger for Our Lord; when our meditation on His sacrifice and mercy can grow a desire to be merciful to others.

When this happens (even apart from pandemics), we develop spiritually unhealthy habits: griping and judging, fearfulness and despondency, apathy and indifference, meanness and pride, overindulgence and licentiousness. I don’t wish to suggest that these unhealthy habits are primary, or that they overrule the well-doing that I’ve seen. However, times of stress certainly requires us to be more on guard, and helps us focus on behaviors we might have missed or dismissed as unusual.

Lent is the time to work on developing healthy habits. It is time when our prayers can transform how we speak; when our fasting can increase hunger for Our Lord; when our meditation on His sacrifice and mercy can grow a desire to be merciful to others.

In brief, Lent gives us the opportunity to ‘redeem the time’ (Eph 5.16) by encouraging us to draw closer to Our Lord, and to focus on what matters most. In this way, Lent is a great gift—as perhaps this pandemic has been or can still be.

There is no greater time to make use of this gift of Lent than now, as we begin to see the relaxation of some of the previous restrictions. Immediately, our thoughts will turn to getting back to “normal.” But is the old normal something we really want? Wouldn’t it be better to use this Lent (and the lessons from the pandemic) to establish a spiritual ‘new normal’?

Lent generally—and this Lent in particular—gives us time to stretch our spiritual muscles; to cultivate the garden of our souls; and to strengthen our hope. It gives us time to pick up our prayers, and to establish spiritual best practices, to set in place a routine that strengthens our spiritual well-being.

In brief, if we let it, this Lent can help us do what St Paul urges: ‘redeem the time.’

To do that, we need more than resolutions and promises. We need to look carefully at the gifts Our Lord has given us—even in these hard days. We need to take to heart the gift of His Body—both in the Sacrament and in the Church; His Body gathered as well as His Body sacrificed and distributed.

There we will see, I’m convinced, the hope that has truly sustained us, the life that has truly nourished us, even when we devalued it or cast is aside. For the Lord’s Body contains within itself all sweetness, all goodness, and all generosity. That we have made it through these days, then, means that He has seen us through. That our worst fears have not occurred means that Christ, in His Body, has protected and guarded us. And that we will be able to embrace each other means that His embrace has not failed us.

So let’s neither look back with regret for how we should have used the time better; nor forward in a fantasy of what one day we might do. Let’s instead live for now, focused on Our Lord’s presence in the present. And in doing so, let’s return with hearts full of gratitude, and with the desire to be as diligent about our spiritual health as we’ve been about keeping physically safe.

May God be gracious and merciful to us all.

-Fr John

Breaking Through Broken

October 6, 2020October 6, 2020 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

Has the coronavirus broken you—your habit of prayer, your attendance at Mass (either in person or via livestream), and your desire for the Holy Sacraments. Has it made “living-room church” normal because it’s easier, convenient, less of a hassle?

As a result, has COVID also broken your patience, your optimism and hope? Has it caused you to be more judgy, and driven you away from those who don’t fit your ideas? Has it isolated you and driven you more and more into yourself, and thereby? Has it created in you an “us against them” and a “me against the world” mentality?

Perhaps some of these notions were always there, as tiny seeds of vice, embedded deeply within your soul. But before this pandemic, we were able to bury or even cut off the roots of these ungodly feelings and desires. For we interacted with each other, and with many other people, and so realized that everything is actually much more complicated than we think it is right now. And the way we learned that is from our conversations, our relationships, with others.

But now, even if we are able to see others in person or via Zoom, we are forced to live more with ourselves. We feel cut off and alone, because we’ve been taught to think that others can hurt us—even our closest family and friends, even those whom we love in our parish. And we fear that they may threaten not just our health but also our deeply-held ideals.

We feel cut off and alone because this pandemic has taught to think that others can hurt us—even our closest family and friends, even those whom we love in our parish.

Ideals, values, our way of seeing ‘truth,’ our view of what is best and good—all of this needs to be challenged in order to sharpen, shape, and modify us. And as we are shaped by our interaction with each other, our compassion rises above our prejudice; our love tamps down our fear; our empathy reduces our fear.

That might be, then, how we’ve been broken. The pestilence that has shifted us to see friends as enemies. The restrictions—good and necessary as they have been—have unwittingly constricted our soul.

Honestly consider, then, the several questions that I raised in the first two paragraphs of this essay. For these may reveal the ways that the devil is taking advantage of this virus.

And then ask yourself one more question: how am I taking advantage of this time, this challenge, this shift from what I thought was normal?

Wherever you are in this spectrum, know that St Michael’s Church is always open for you, always ready to embrace you, always available to help you. Not just on Sundays. But during the week—with daily Mass, with private prayer in the church, with individual conversation, with online gatherings.

I promise to do all I can to make sure you are listened to, and your voice heard. But more importantly, you will find here what you’ve always sought since the day you first arrived in this place: the kindness and mercy of Our Lord Jesus which heals what is broken, and gives hope where there is fear and restlessness.

May the Love of God be within each of us.

Rev Msgr John W Fenton

Loving Enemies

June 24, 2020June 21, 2020 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

Love your enemies. That statement by Jesus is unique to Christianity. What is even more unique is how that statement is lived. We see ‘love your enemies’ when we look at Jesus in His Passion. He tells Peter to put away his sword, and then heals one of the men brutalizing Jesus. He doesn’t resist. He isn’t defensive. And as He is dying, He asks God the Father to forgive them because they are ignorant about who they are really attacking; because He truly loves them.

We also see ‘love your enemies’ in action with St Stephen. His last moments are similar to Jesus. Treated with injustice, brutalized, put to death—and this holy deacon begs Jesus to forgive them.

‘Love your enemies.’ But that’s not all. ‘And pray for those who persecute you.’ Which is what Jesus, St Stephen, St Peter, St Paul, and holy women and men throughout history have done. They have prayed for their persecutors, those who terrorize them, the abusers, and those who mistreat them. And the prayer is not ‘Make them stop’ but ‘Forgive them, be merciful to them, do not hold this wrong they are doing to me against them.’

All of this is challenging in the abstract. When our enemy is a nameless, faceless person; someone on social media or someone in the news or someone far away—those folks are difficult but also easier to love.

But when someone is attacking you, someone from your own family, someone you know well, someone like Judas or Saul—when that is your enemy, then the command to ‘love your enemy’ truly matters. And that is really what Jesus is talking about. The person who is raging against you. The one who is getting in your face, yelling and screaming at you, threatening you, making you feel unsafe—that is the one, above all else, that we are called to love. That person, in that moment, is the one out of 99 that Jesus, through you, reaches out to.

“That’s what I would really like: that even at the moment when your enemy is raging against you, you then turn your eyes to the Lord your God and speak the words of Jesus or St Stephen: Father, forgive them.” (St Augustine)

So watch yourself, especially when your enemy is someone close to you, someone you know. Watch yourself that you don’t become their enemy. Instead, love them. For “in no way at all can your raving enemy do you more harm that you do to yourself, if you don’t love your enemy. He can damage your house, your stuff and, at most, if he’s given the authority, he can harm your body. But can he do what you can do by your hatred: can he, as you yourself can, do any damage to your soul?”

To love your enemy, then, is to protect your soul. To love your enemy is not simply an ideal for saintly people. It is what you must do to make sure you don’t throw away the love of God and your heavenly inheritance. We must not let our passions, our hatred, our desire to strike back, our extreme words, or any aggression of any kind get ahold of us. For then we kill our very self far more than no enemy, no matter how brutal, can do to us.

I say this to you for two reasons. First, too many of us are saying and sharing and posting and retweeting things that are truly hurtful—to our family, to our parish, to those who aknow us. This is hatred in words, and it is slowly killing us when we give into it. Standing up for what we believe in does not mean lashing out at those who disagree or who are even wrong. The Christian responds to these things, not by laying down, but also not by picking up the gun or the phone or any other weapon of metal or words. The Christian responds by saying, “Father, forgive them” and by trying, at all costs, to win the enemy by love. And he does this chiefly to guard his own soul; and then also to help Christ win back one from the 100.

The second reason I’m reflecting on our Lord’s command is because of the response to terrorism from our Patriarch in Damascus. The decades, even centuries, Christians have been persecuted and put to death. These brothers and sisters in Christ know their enemies—their faces, their names, where they live. And the Patriarch’s own brother, together with another bishop, were kidnapped and possibly brutalized 7 years ago. And what is His Beatitude’s response? “Christians…are still paying, with their lives and their fate, taxes to terrorism and violence: displacement, kidnapping, murder, and many a tribulation. Despite all this, [Christians] remain faithful to their pledge of love for Jesus Christ, as the Lord who redeemed them on the Cross and implanted them in this East two thousand years ago, to proclaim the joy of His Gospel.”

To proclaim the joy of the Lord’s Gospel: the Gospel of mercy, love, kindness, forgiveness—that is our only task. And that, more than anything else, is what it means to love your enemy.

Standing With The Mistreated

June 11, 2020June 11, 2020 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

These past few days I’ve had on my mind, close to my heart, and in my prayers my former parishioners at the Lutheran parish I served for 11 years in Detroit; the many fine clergy and laity from Protestant and Catholic parishes that I worked with when I was involved in community organizing and building houses; the students I taught and families I worked with in inner-city Milwaukee; some of the students at the Catholic high school where I taught for 9 years; the Orthodox laity in Detroit that I knew who were involved with the Brotherhood of St Moses the Black; and my nephew and his mother.

All of these persons have at least two things in common: they are African American, and they are friends and family.

These days have brought a spotlight to the fear they walk with daily; a fear that many described to me through the years. It’s not the fear of being different, but the fear of being treated differently. Not the fear of what they do, but the fear that when they do they will automatically, or unthinkingly, be judged as a menace or a problem or a threat. Not the fear to speak out, but the frustration of not being heard. It’s the fear deep in their bones that they are less than human, that they must be ‘kept in their place,’ and that their contributions to society have no value. And, regardless of the make-up of their community, they walk and drive the streets with a visceral fear of police and of being mistreated by certain unrestrained police officers.

These are not fears I’ve heard about from the media or from a distance. These are fears and anxieties that I’ve heard when I have sat in living rooms, at parish gatherings, in classroom discussions, and through tears in one-on-one conversations. The afraid don’t rush into these conversations, and they don’t speak quickly and openly. But they will speak once you’ve earned their trust by taking seriously their fears, recognizing their particularity, treating them with dignity, and listening to them as brothers and sisters, as wise men and women—as humans.

Part of the frustration and anger we’ve seen expressed in these past few days is that of my friends and family; and those whom we too often put unconsciously or deliberately in their ‘box.’ Regardless of what we may individually think, their fears need to be heard, acknowledged, and not swept aside. And persons of color that we know, that we speak with, need to hear clearly and directly from us that we do not condone violence or threats of violence against them.

I have another nephew who is a police officer in Florida. And we have several law enforcement personnel in our parish, as I’ve had in all the parishes I’ve been blessed to serve. These friends and family—they’ve also been on my mind, close to my heart, and in my prayers these past few days. These are good men and women who take seriously protecting the lives and rights of others, and who show dignity and respect in their service.

And like my black friends, these days have brought a spotlight to the fear they also walk with daily: a fear that they will be judged or maligned by the actions of those they quickly condemn.

Both groups have sat side by side in churches I’ve served, in graduation parties I’ve attended, and at my family reunions. In fact, some are both African American and in law enforcement. And while they disagree on several things, both groups agree that police brutality of every kind must be not merely condemned but eradicated; that police tactics that seek to harm or disable should be used only in extreme circumstances after all other measures have been exhausted; and that, in every case, the dignity of the individual person must be maintained.

Both groups also agree that the protection and sanctity of every life, from conception to natural death, is vital and inseparable from Christian morality. And that this sanctity means more than keeping hearts beating. It also means uplifting and supporting so that they live better here. But more so, sanctity of life means that we see that the life of each person, and our own life, is intimately and inseparably tied to Christ the Life of all the living. So we protect and fight for the life of each person because in each person we see Christ.

These truths are truly tested when the least, the overlooked, the berated, and the marginalized receive an undue proportion of mistreatment and abuse. Whether here in America or in the Middle East and Turkey or elsewhere, intimidating tactics force not just the mistreated but all who look like them to look over their shoulder in fear, and to lose their voice. And when others don’t stand with them, then they come to expect that no one cares.

Standing with those in need does not mean attacking. Violence doesn’t assuage, but rather incites more violence. All forms of violence are against the Christian ethic. This includes words spoken or typed in anger, against the stranger or friend on Facebook or even against people we love in our own family and parish. Angry and extreme words are acts of violence which do more lasting and deep-seated harm than other forms of violence. And words of hate-filled anger reveal a violent heart for which we must repent (which has two parts: confession and change).

Standing with those who are afraid, and who have seen their greatest fears come to life on TV means, first of all, listening to individuals in their homes, businesses and coffee shops. It means hearing the fears of African Americans (as well as others); and being open to changing your attitude as well as your thinking. Then your offer of support is authentic, and is aimed at real individuals instead of labeled people. And offering support includes support for material needs, for emotional well-being, and for inalienable rights. These rights, as we know, are God-given. And they are rooted in a truth that we Christians hold dear: that each of us, from best to worst, from least to greatest, have been made in the image of God.

Christ Jesus speaks to this truth when He reveals the questions we will be asked at our last end. He asks not about doctrines we can recite, but doctrines we have lived. Has our faith been seen in our morality? Is our creed lived out when we keep the Lord’s Commandments? Are we doers of the Word of mercy and kindness, and not merely hearers?

Christ’s answer is that, for our own salvation, we need to seek true and lasting justice, and live for all, regardless of our own experience, politics, or fears. That’s easy to do when it comes to a bag of food or writing a check. But living for all also means sitting, listening, and working for the good of those who live in fear and who have faced trauma and mistreatment.

How we live for another will take a different shape for each of us, given our unique circumstances. But individually, and together, this is a life that we must regularly learn and re-learn, and dedicate ourselves to. For we, who are baptized into Christ, are called to live no longer for ourselves but for those who need us most, confident that in these ways we are living for Christ.

At least in our parish, and especially at this time, I invite a conversation among us. Not a conversation to persuade or win people over to our side, but a conversation where we begin to listen to each other: our thoughts, our fears, our hopes, our challenges, our opportunities. Such a conversation, if done with open and honest hearts and attended with prayer, will both strengthen our parish and will show each of us how to engage in meaningful conversations with others we meet.

Rev Msgr John W Fenton
Pastor

Resource: Fr Paul Abernathy on Racial Reconciliation

This Week’s Fast

June 10, 2020June 10, 2020 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

Unique to the Western tradition are the “Embertide” fasts. These fasts occur quarterly, and encompass Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday for the appointed four weeks. Those weeks are: the third week in Advent, the first full week in Lent, Pentecost week, and the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following the Feast of the Holy Cross (September 14).

During the Embertide, and most fittingly during Pentecost week, these were days when the entire community joined the candidates who were to be ordained on Pentecost Saturday. Those men selected to be made deacons or priests would fast and pray on the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday before ordination.

In thanksgiving for this gift of the Holy Spirit to the Church, and in solidarity with these men, the whole Church both fasts and prays for those whose lives are re-ordered to deliver to the faithful the mystical and life-saving gifts of God.

The faithful pray for the Spirit’s grace both upon the men who will be ordained, and upon the whole church so that she may increase and her members may grow in faith and holiness. Our Lord’s Church cannot grow in faith or holiness without His sacred ministers. Their ministry is to deliver His gifts—the sacred mysteries—which unite us to Christ, seal us with His Spirit, heal our bodies and forgive our souls, and strengthens our life in and with each other until we together attain the fullness of the kingdom of heaven.

But there is something more that is revealed in this Ember Day practice. The whole Christian community fasts and prays (while only some are being ordained) because this Holy Sacrament—unlike all the sacred mysteries—centers the Christian parish family. That is the essence of this sacrament. Fr Alexander Schmemann, of blessed memory, puts it this way:

If each man [or woman] is to find in Christ his own life, if Christian engineers find in the Church what it means to be a Christian engineer, if a Christian novelist finds in the church the idea of what is Christian art, if a Christian father and a Christian mother find in the Church the essence of Christian parenthood, there must be someone in the center of the community who, just as Christ, has nothing of his own, but in whom and through whom everyone else can find his way.
Liturgy & Life

In practical terms, this means that the priest is the one who re-presents Christ; that is, who repeatedly makes Christ present. And it is the same with the deacon: he also presents Christ again and again.

The significant difference between the priest and deacon is that the priest’s primary focus is making present Christ’s compassion and mercy for the soul (i.e., through the sacraments and visitations), while the deacon’s primary emphasis is making present Christ’s compassion for the body (i.e., through material assistance and prayer).

These roles are clearly demonstrated in the Divine Liturgy: both when the deacon reads the Gospel, and when the priest dispenses the Eucharist, leads the prayers, and gives the blessing. In these instances, the deacon and priest first proclaim “Christ is in our midst” (“The Lord be with you”) before exercising their specific ministry. And the faithful acknowledge this whenever they respond, “And with thy spirit”—that is, and with the Spirit who was given to you in the Sacrament of Holy Orders.

Likewise, the Sacrament of Holy Orders is exactly that: a re-ordering of the life of the ordained man. No longer does that man have a “private” or “individual” life. No longer can he make decisions based solely on what is best for himself, his health, his prosperity or success, or even his family. And no longer can he set aside, even when “vacationing” or on his “day-off,” his duty and responsibility to serve at the altar or pray the prescribed prayers.

In a very real sense, then, the ordained man is “under orders.” In every moment, he must “become all things to all men.” He must “do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.” For his life is no longer his own, but is offered up as Christ gave Himself completely as a self-offering for men.

This is why Holy Orders is a sacrament which conveys the grace to bolster and sustain those who are ordained. And perhaps you see why it is both good and necessary for the whole Church to join in the fasts and prayers—not only for the men who will be ordained, but even more so for the priests and deacons who now serve. For by your fasting, you remember the sacrifice; and by your prayers, you support and encourage them in being faithful to their orders.

Truth’s Spirit: A Homily

May 31, 2020July 7, 2020 V. Rev. Fr. John Fenton

What we are tempted to see as defeat, is really victory. What we tend to believe is the end, is really the beginning. What we are sure will undo us, really hides our salvation. The grave that announces the end is really the gate to unending and more abundant life. And the overwhelming darkness that we fear, truly can usher in the splendor and warmth of the true Light. This true Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overwhelm it; for this true Light gives light to everyone coming into the world.

This is the Spirit’s testimony. It is not his truth, or a truth. Truth Himself is conveyed and delivered to us by Truth’s Spirit. The Spirit of Truth reveals, unmasks, and presents the One who is Truth. That is what Jesus means when He speaks both of Himself and of His Spirit by saying, “The Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me.”

Yet Truth’s Spirit’s testimony is not mere words. Just as it is not mere propositions. For the Spirit is also called the Comforter: the One who comforts.

The Spirit comforts us by declaring forthrightly that the victory in this combat stupendous remained with Life; the reign of death has ended.

But more than just declaring and proclaiming and preaching, this Spirit comforts us also by giving—by giving into us the Life that death tried to kill; and by giving into us the Love that hatred wanted to murder.

In their historical context, the disciples need to hear these words. Jesus is about to be betrayed, tried, tortured, and executed. “These things will also happen to you,” says the Mentor to his followers. “The world will do to you what they are doing to me. Because the world hated Me before it hated you. And so it’s hatred of you is continued hatred of Me.”

Jesus needed to make sure His disciples understood this so that they would not be taken by surprise; so that they could see the context of their own suffering; so that they could maintain, endure, remain, and persevere.

Jesus needs to make sure that we hear these same words. Not because torture and execution are imminent. Not because people are out there trying to keep us from being Christian. But because we sometimes revert to a persecution, martyr complex. When we do, we lose heart and our love grows cold as frustration and adversity and hardship arise.

Most importantly, like the disciples, we need to hear about the Comforter, and the Truth He delivers into us, because we tend to believe that death is gaining the upper hand; that life is tenuous and frightening; that there is so much to be fearful about; that the ground keeps shifting beneath us; and that things will never get to better.

Our minds go there too quickly. And our spirits too often follow—or sometimes lead us—to the point of despair or indifference or rebellion.

It’s not that we need to be reminded that there will be a better day. It’s that we need hope—the hope the Spirit gives, the hope that is within the Spirit’s comfort, the hope that is tangible and authentic and digestible—we need that hope once again. If our bodies are frail, these days our spirits also seem more frail. They seem too ready to collapse, believing that God has forgotten us or that we don’t matter or that no one cares.

The Spirit’s comfort, the Spirit’s hope, is that we do not fight alone. In fact, we do not fight at all. The fight has been fought. The victory has been won by Another, and He has given that victory completely to us. So there’s really nothing to fear. Life has defeated death, so death cannot and will not end us. Christ Himself has undermined anything that can cause death. And Our Lord has paid for and redeemed everything in us our devils claim we’re guilty of.

Knowing this, for me—and perhaps for you—the frustration and tension remain. The anxiety and nervousness still rise. The feeling of unworthiness still sits heavy.

The Spirit’s comfort, the Spirit’s hope does not dismiss these feelings, these thoughts. Truth’s Spirit counters them with the Truth that Love Himself embraces us at our worst, welcomes us when we can’t welcome ourselves, and holds us when we are undone. And, while doing that, Love Himself then covers and chases away all the demons that frighten, all the passions that beset us.

Truth’s Spirit comforts us by speaking Truth Himself into us. Truth’s Spirit comforts us by speaking Hope Himself into us. And the hope is this: that God’s got us. That His Son has trampled down the path that we now get to trod. And we get to tread this path because this is how we follow in the footsteps of Christ; and this is the path we need to walk so that we attain that heavenly joy that our loved ones and forebears are now tasting.

To re-speak this comfort, this Truth, is the Spirit’s role. To help us believe Truth by continually bringing Him to our remembrance: that is also the Spirit’s role.

And our role is both to believe, and then to permit the Spirit to align ourselves with Christ, who is Truth. Not to proclaim ‘my truth,’ but to discard it knowing it’s incomplete, feeble, self-serving. To embrace Truth in place of ‘my truth’: that the Holy Spirit helps and guides us to.

Of course, we can fight back and resist. But the Spirit will continue to return, gently and lovingly, leading us back to Truth.

This loving, comforting Spirit—this is the Spirit who comes to us; the Spirit we have received. Having Him, we can support each other in suppressing the urge to strike back, to give into our worst self, and to lash out at those we love.

By our prayers for one another, we can support each other to let Christ live through us. Then will we be enabled and empowered to be good stewards; to minister to each other with kindness and graciousness; and to find the peace that subdues our frustration.

And it works the other way also: the more we help each other pursue compassion and benevolence; the more we use hospitality without griping or blaming; the more we sacrifice the way we think things ought to be—the more we will see Christ and the Truth that He is.

That we might be strengthened and comforted against the spirit of dread, let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering; and let us consider one another, and encourage compassion and kindness in ourselves as well as in others; comforting one another with the Spirit of Truth; to whom, with the Father and the Son, belongs all glory, honor and worship, throughout all ages of ages.