God is With Us

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder, and His name shall be called the Angel of Great Counsel, Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty God, Eternal Ruler, Prince of Peace, the Father of the World to Come . . . Great shall be His empire, and of His peace there shall be no end: He shall sit upon the throne of David and shall establish His Kingdom with righteousness, and shall strengthen it with justice, henceforth and forevermore.

- from Isaiah 9:6-7

It was a good Christmas - ice and snow on the ground, the sky clear and crisp. I could see my breath as I stood on the steps of the church. On Christmas morning itself the wind was strong, and it twirled the flurries in the air like moths around a light bulb in summer, but Christmas Eve the sun was at full height, so strong that I had to shut my eyes momentarily when I stepped outside. I remember most of all the midday Vespers and Liturgy of St. Basil. There were only three of us in the choir, only a handful of faithful in the church, but it was one of the most prayerful services I have experienced in a long time. I remember looking over the edge of the balcony at the altar and saw how one strip of light broke through the stained glass, and cast three separate spots on the steps leading up to the Royal Doors. A great thing is happening today, but how few of us will recognize it - God comes into this world and takes on human flesh. How deeply He loves us.

In preschool my son made me a paper mache heart-shaped box with a glass bead inside inscribed with the words I love you. At one point I thought I lost the bead and I was heartbroken, and then a few weeks later, when I was searching for money for candles at the bottom of my bag, I discovered it. I immediately stuck it in my coat pocket and zipped it closed. I didn't want to lose it again. During Vigil that night I reached into my pocket and ran my finger over the soft shell of the bead, thinking - my Sasha loves me and how I love him, yet how much more God loves me, so much it is beyond my human reason to comprehend.

I have let the bead remain in my coat pocket as a gentle reminder of God's love for me and for all humanity and it gives me incredible peace. For a moment, I too am in the cave, beholding His radiance, partaking of His very Incarnation.

The Hours of the Day

I stared out my bedroom window this morning and watched the snow continue to fall. Not really fall, but more swirl and spin, as if its only destination was itself, that it would never reach the ground. Winter has been playing a game with me - I thought she had arrived and then it was warm again. She blew in a storm and then retreated. Now I think she is finally here to stay.

I have never been frightened of the world. I have never considered not having children because of the horrific things that happen to children everyday, or because I am afraid of what they will have to engage when they grow up. But today I am afraid. I realize how quickly life can be taken from us. After September 11th, I was a little nervous to fly, but not enough that it prevented me from flying. Now the forces of evil are everywhere - in shopping malls, at churches, in schools. The world, just like the snow outside, is spinning out of control, but I cannot be afraid. I cannot teach my children to be afraid.

As I was sitting at my window looking at the snow and all of this was going through my head, I began to think about Islam and how Muslims pray several times a day, and how they actually adopted this from the Christian Hours - yet how many of us Orthodox besides those in the monasteries actually pray the Hours. We structure our day around preschool, meals, workouts, TV programs, and somehow we fit prayer into our established routine when and if we can. How much more appropriate it would be if we could structure our day around prayer, that when the clock turned to nine, noonday, three o'clock, we would just drop everything and recite the prayers of that hour. In the Church we sanctify everything, restoring it to its proper function - we bless water, fruit, oil - bread and wine become Christ's Body and Blood - and we sanctify time with the rule of Vespers, Compline, the Midnight Office, Matins, the Hours. How everything we need is right before us, yet how often we are blind to it.

Today I did my morning prayers, and then I did the Sixth Hour, and how complete I felt after doing this. I did not feel rushed or anxious. The laundry would still be there, the dishes, the bills - but this was the needful thing.

The world is uncertain, but Christ is the fullness of all things. My life on this earth is uncertain, but the Life of this world is forever. I will pray, be vigilant, my hope being that whenever it is my time I will be ready to stand before God and give an account of my life. I will not be afraid, because that is exactly what the evil one wants, for if we are afraid, we are turned away from the one thing that can assuage all fears.

Sandstorms

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; besides all these, taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

- from Ephesians 6:10-17

I haven't been able to write lately, or really do much of anything other than my daily obligations. I believe this is because I have spent too much time thinking, too much time staring out the window at the bare branches of the trees, the empty plains, watching how the light and darkness come and go with the sun. I am in the middle of the desert, alone, and I have forgotten to cry out to God.

It was by chance that I was the reader on Sunday for this particular Epistle. It was a matter of logistics in the choir - I had only one bass and three sopranos, so I asked the bass if we could switch. I didn't even look at the reading beforehand. I just went downstairs, received a blessing and began the Prokeimenon - "The Lord is my strength and my song . . ."

I began the reading slowly, so as not to stumble over the words, but I did, because I was so engaged in their power that I couldn't manage their pronunciation. "For we are not contending with flesh and blood, but against the principalities . . ." Yes, too often I think my struggle is simply flesh and blood. If I concentrate hard enough I can be something else, feel something else - I alone am in control of my life and my emotions. I forget about that great struggle for my soul. I forget that I need God, that without faith and prayer I have no armor with which to shield myself from the fiery darts of evil.

I stand in the midst of the sandstorm, grains of the earth filling my mouth and ears and nose, the terrible winds encircling my body so that I cannot move. This is the time, this is the time to cry out with all my strength to God. I am not asking to be delivered from the sandstorm, only that I will be given the strength to endure, to fight that good fight to the end.