Preserve, O Master, this Man in Purity of Life and in Unswerving Faith

Father John when he was a sub-deacon.

God willing tomorrow, April. 21, the Sunday of St. Mary of Egypt, my husband will be ordained to the Holy Priesthood at the OCA parish in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We’re nervous and excited, but mostly terrified by the awesome mystery that is to take place. We’re about to embark upon the greatest pilgrimage we’ve ever taken. Please pray for us as we begin this incredible journey! A friend of mine – a nun – whom I spoke with the other day reassured me that the fear I feel is a good thing. She says it means we’re approaching holy things properly. Well, I hope so, I hope my fear isn’t just an indication of my unworthiness to be a priest’s wife… In any case, if it’s God’s will, may it be blessed!

We’ll be spending the coming week in Halifax and then we’ll be off to St. John’s, Newfoundland from Lazuras Saturday until after Thomas Sunday so that Fr. John can serve Holy Week and Bright Week services there on the “Rock” – the literal “land of my fathers” since my dad is from Newfoundland.

I don’t know if I’ll have internet access while in Halifax, but I’ll post photos from the ordination as soon as I can.

St. John Chrysostom On the Priesthood (Book III):

The priestly office is indeed discharged on earth, but it ranks among heavenly ordinances; and very naturally so: for neither man, nor angel, nor archangel, nor any other created power, but the Paraclete Himself, instituted this vocation, and persuaded men while still abiding in the flesh to represent the ministry of angels. Wherefore the consecrated priest ought to be as pure as if he were standing in the heavens themselves in the midst of those powers. Fearful, indeed, and of most awful import, were the things which were used before the dispensation of grace, as the bells, the pomegranates, the stones on the breastplate and on the ephod, the girdle, the mitre, the long robe, the plate of gold, the holy of holies, the deep silence within. But if anyone should examine the things which belong to the dispensation of grace, he will find that, small as they are, yet are they fearful and full of awe, and that what was spoken concerning the law is true in this case also, that what has been made glourious has no glory in this respect by reason of the glory which excels (2 Corinthians 3:10). For when you see the Lord sacrificed, and laid upon the altar, and the priest standing and praying over the victim, and all the worshipers empurpled with that precious blood, can you then think that you are still among men, and standing upon the earth? Are you not, on the contrary, straightway translated to Heaven, and casting out every carnal thought from the soul, do you not with disembodied spirit and pure reason contemplate the things which are in Heaven? Oh! What a marvel! What love of God to man! He who sits on high with the Father is at that hour held in the hands of all, and gives Himself to those who are willing to embrace and grasp Him.

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Goodbye Greece: A Repost

Originally posted here, entitled “Why We Left Home and Came to the Land God Showed Us: Greece”. I’m re-posting it now that we’re leaving Greece and en route to Canada. I still reflect on our experiences with a grateful heart, but it’s time to move on.

The divine Psalmist petitions, “Hearken O daughter, and see, incline thine ear; and forget thine own people and thy father’s house,” and in moving to Greece we did just that. We left all those comforts behind, moved half-way around the world, and subjected ourselves to whatever this foreign country would throw at us. From the moment we encountered Orthodoxy all we wanted was to learn the Orthodox faith. And so, we came to Greece to study and learn as much as possible about living as Orthodox Christians.

It wasn’t the first time we had moved away; in fact we moved to Greece from South Korea. Having already made one move half-way around the world, we thought we might as well do it again, this time in the other direction, and in a country which has Orthodox churches on every corner. We had returned home to Canada for only a short one-month visit between the continents. But the adventure of living in Korea wasn’t for nearly as noble reasons as those for coming to Greece; but that’s another story.

Since my husband wanted to continue his education, and we had heard of a Greek Language program offered in Thessaloniki that enables its students to enter the University after successful completion of exams, we decided to move here for studies.

Now I’ll be honest, I had a romantic view of Greece, despite the advice of others. One older Greek nun I met before I left Canada even advised: “Don’t look anywhere in Greece! Don’t listen to anyone! Things aren’t the way they used to be.” But I couldn’t help myself. Every crazy person I encountered on the street I took to be a fool-for-Christ. I believed every housewife ceaselessly said the Jesus Prayer. I considered every priest to have attained illumination, and I expected to just soak it all in while studying Modern Greek – a language I only knew the alphabet of before moving here. I thought this way, that is, until the first time I attempted to receive Holy Communion alongside a large crowd of Greek women.

When the priest came out of the altar with the chalice all the women decided to huddle in front of the church, blocking the path to Holy Communion. I realized afterward they were waiting for antidoron (blessed bread); but I didn’t know that while patiently awaiting my turn to receive. And I never thought – nor knew the language – to ask whether or not they planned to receive. Once the priest went back into the altar, however, I realized I had missed my chance to commune! At that moment all of my unfounded, high opinions of the average Greek just flew out the blue and red stain-glassed windows. I should never have been so quick to judge others – yes, even thinking highly of a person is judging them; it’s forming a judgment on their character without cause. Needless to say, although I was very upset, my feet touched down on real Greek soil for the first time, and I began taking with sobriety what Greece had to offer.

Countless blessings have come as a result of sticking it out in Greece, facing the unknown, and putting ourselves in humiliating situations (read: learning a second language when I spent twelve years attempting to learn French only to remember Je m’appelle - and that only to say, not spell).

We have made countless pilgrimages to holy monasteries, crawled into holy caves, walked through forests to reach holy springs, and each time we have marveled that we walked on holy ground. We live in Thessaloniki – the city St. Paul wrote to, visited, wept over. The city St. Demetrios has fought for, even after his martyric death. The city that St. Gregory Palamas, as Archbishop, guided, instructed, reprimanded, and loved.

We have been to places where saints, both old and new, living and reposed, have dwelt. We have kissed fragrant relics, and taken the blessing of more than one living saint. We have attended services in churches older than anything one can find in North America, and listened to contemporary homilies that made us think we were hearing St. John Chrysostom preach about the hippodrome. We strive to take in all the blessings Greece offers, knowing we will long for these days when we return home. But, we also strive to take them in because we know that being able to share all the blessings we receive is an added bonus.

Having said all that, actually settling down in Greece was about as difficult as writing about the good aspects of Greece is easy. Our years spent here have been anything but trouble-free, but they have also been filled with the benefits that come from suffering.

We moved away from home, forgot our people, our language, our “father’s house,” all because we wanted to inherit the mindset of Orthodoxy. I don’t know if we have attained it. But we sure hope our continually renewed attempt will one day bear fruit, and on returning home we will be able to offer to our people the beauty we have received from this Orthodox country, Greece.

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Returning to Canada

Today my husband and I are flying home to Canada. It’s a bittersweet departure – “joyful-mourning” is perhaps a better phrase to describe it. The last few days have been filled with many goodbyes and well-wishes, a few tears and a many laughs while reminiscing. We are more than ready to return to the Maritimes in many ways, but at the same time having lived in Greece for five and a half years, it has become home for us. We’ve gained so much from our time here. The people, the monastics, and clergy we have met have enriched our lives so much. The churches, monasteries, and holy relics have given us so much to be thankful for. Five Holy Weeks and five Paschas in Thessaloniki alone were worth all the difficulties we went through here. If I was a poet I’d write many a poem in praise of Greece and all the blessings we have gathered while we lived here. I will always think of Greece as our “home away from home” but it’s time to return to our land and our people – and share the blessings we’ve received.

I hope God blesses the next five years as much as He has blessed the previous five!

Goodbye Thessaloniki, goodbye Ellada! Thank you for your hospitality!!

Please keep us in your prayers!

If you’re looking for posts on the African martyrs since it’s the anniversary of their martyrdom see here, here, and here.

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Journey to Life: One Man’s Unrelenting Search for Spiritual Health

From the video’s description:

The miraculous journey from Lutheranism, through eastern religions, to the Orthodox Church.

This story has so much to teach us all – but especially Orthodox bishops and priests. In this video one sees the marvelous response of God to one man’s determined and pained search for spiritual health and healing and his simple and humble acceptance of the providence of God.

Seraphim was born, baptized, confirmed and raised as a Lutheran, although a nominal observer, who later, for lack of fulfillment and meaning in his life, sought out eastern religious experiences. After passing through much suffering and pain as a result of opening himself up to the spirits present in these religions, the Mother of God herself visited Him and revealed to him the truth of Christ and the Church.

Initially received by chrismation, but not being healed of his spiritual ills, he was led again by God to a mountain monastery in Romania where he finally found freedom, healing and new life in Christ in Baptism – and where he finally, experimentally understood “what this Orthodoxy is all about!”

This is a message that every Orthodox shepherd of souls needs to listen to attentively, for it comes from a man in search of healing for his soul – totally unaffected by, or even aware of, ecclesiastical politics, ecumenical perceptions or theories, or canonical or pastoral justifications of ekonomia.

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In Praise of Humility: A Christmas Story

The bottom half of my icon corner in our Thessaloniki apartment.

(A repeat post from last year.)

On this day, December 20, the Church commemorates the Holy Father among the Saints, Ignatius the God-bearer (1st century).  St. Ignatius was the child who Jesus Christ pulled into the crowd of Apostles as recorded in the Gospel of St. Matthew, Chapter 18.  Our Lord used St. Ignatius as an example of the greatest virtue, humility: “Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.”   I will return to speak of St. Ignatius the God-bearer, and humility, but for now I must take you all along with me into a Christmas of the past, five years ago when we lived in the “Orient”, South Korea.

My husband and I had been living there for a few months, teaching English and paying off student loans, when we decided to travel to St. Anthony’s Monastery for Christmas.  My brother and sister-in-law were flying there as well, my mother and younger sister were to travel down from Canada and we were all to spend Christmas in Arizona, in the desert.

We left for America on December 23 and were due to arrive in the afternoon of the same day.  However, once in Los Angelas we found out our flight was cancelled and that we would not arrive at the monastery until the middle of the night, Christmas eve, ie. the vigil would be halfway over.

Instead of handling this as an adult I threw as close to a temper tantrum as any grown woman can, not of course until we were alone in our hotel room.  (My poor husband might have gained a crown in Paradise for that night alone!)  We had traveled for many hours, I was exhausted, sick with the flu, and unbelievably selfish and childish, but not the way St. Ignatius was “childish”, or rather “child-like”.

After crying and being angry for quite some time, I laid down to try to sleep and inside of me I heard a voice say, “The Theotokos accepted God Almighty’s choice to be born in a cave without protesting.”  That killed me.  It cut me to the quick.

How could I have protested against God’s will so much?  How could she, the All Immaculate, Mother of our God, who once dwelt in the Holy of Holies now allow herself, let alone God Incarnate, to enter a cave of common animals?  God chose where He would be born, it was not an accident.  It wasn’t enough that He should become Man, but in order to teach us by example who He is and what humility means He chose to be born in a humble manner, in a dark, cold, and presumably dirty, cave.

Instead of waiting until the next evening to take the rescheduled flight, we went to the bus station in downtown Los Angelas at 12:00 AM, in the middle of the night, to see if we could catch a bus.  The line was huge and it didn’t look like we would get on, but I was by no means going to protest.  Once they filled the bus we were left standing in the bus station, seventh in line. It did not look like we were going to arrive at the monastery until the evening of the next day.

Suddenly, however, they pulled up another bus, they would take two buses to Arizona that night!  We were on our way.  Around six or seven in the morning, I woke up still on the bus to see the most beautiful sight, the sun rising in the desert, the mountains looked like they came out of an icon of the Magi traveling from the East and I thought about my behaviour and the humble acceptance of our All Holy Mother to willingly have her child, God Incarnate, born in a cave with not so much as a single complaint; not even in her thoughts.

I imagine, in fact, that she knew the nature of the Divine so well that she emphatically understood the height of humility Our Lord sought to display by His birth, life, death and resurrection.  That experience humbled me – on my way from the “Orient” to kneel down before the Incarnate Lord, a Man and yet perfect God, to ask Him to dwell in the cave of my heart that is even more lowly and unfit than the cave of common animals in which He dwelt long ago.

And so, I return to St. Ignatius, the humble child, who, because he lived his life in humility and prayer, came to have the very Lord dwell in His heart.  When He was lead to his martyrdom he ceasely repeated the name of Jesus Christ (ie. the Jesus Prayer).  When the soldiers asked him why he did this he responded that the Name was written on his heart and so he professed with his mouth Him who he already carried within.  Therefore once he was devoured by lions the soldiers, remembering what he had said, cut open his heart to see the name “Jesus Christ” written in gold.

Let us therefore become like St. Ignatius and the Virgin Mary by becoming “god-bearers,” little “theotokoses,” through acquiring Christ in the cave of our hearts, in humility and peaceful acceptance of His Divine Will.  Just as the earth once “offered a cave to Him who is Unapproachable” so let us kneel before Him and offer ourselves for His dwelling, He who became for us a Child, that we might unite with Him Who is Pre-eternal God.

Seeing a strange child-birth let us estrange ourselves from the world by transporting our minds to Heaven; to this end the Most High God appeared on earth a lowly man that He might draw to the heights those that cry to Him. -Akathist Hymn, St. Rominas the Melodist

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“Bold Radiance and Humble Reluctance”: A Protestant’s Encotunter with a Nun

Bryansk Orthodox Nun:

“Bold Radiance and Humble Reluctance”

Artist: Patricia S. Arnold

“Bryansk Orthodox Nun”

(Source)

Orthodox Christian Nuns are by their very job somewhat reluctant to speak to outsiders. They have made a vow to live out their life for Christ and the Church, and often shy away from the normal interaction with the general population, especially when they are foreigners. She was the head Nun at the local church in Bryansk when we requested to speak with her about her faith and her church. She was reluctant at first but agreed to speak with these Americans and answer their questions. The more she spoke, the bolder she became.

It is often said that to be Russian is be Orthodox, even if one does not understand the story of Christianity and the core of the faith. But this Nun believed in what she said. Quite elderly now, she had served during the harshest times and most difficult conditions imaginable; the politically oppressive Soviet era. Those were times when anyone who stood up for any kind of religious faith were socially and educationally abandoned, and often exiled to Siberia to be separated from the rest of the world so not to pollute the minds of the Russian citizens.  Orthodox Church buildings throughout the land were either torn down, turned into medical clinics, or remodeled for offices. She had been a Nun through all those bleak years, and yet had never given up her faith.  Today, well past her prime, she was now the head Nun of this church and served in a corner of the city of Bryansk. Her role was  to assist the new head priest, a fresh seminary graduate with little experience. He  referred to this head Nun with only great admiration and respect. She had earned this respect because she had paid such a great personal price for her faith. But through all she had live through, she still carried with her both an obvious humility coupled with a visually bold radiance.

Art work and story telling by Patricia S. Arnold

Patricia.arnold59@comcast.net

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An Encounter with an Elder

Elder Gabriel on Mt. Athos.

NOTE: The blog has been experiencing some technical glitches the last two days. Thankfully the problem has been found and fixed.

(Originally posted on OCN’s The Sounding)

When you enter into the presence of a saint, you enter into sacred space. Things shift into slow motion and everyone’s attention is pulled toward the holy hermit lying sick on a bed while hundreds of people pass by, asking his prayers, taking his blessing and soaking in his Christ-likeness.

This is what I experienced yesterday.

We had only recently learned that the holy hermit, Elder Gabriel (a disciple of Elder Paisios of the Holy Mountain), had come down from the Holy Mountain for the first time in twenty-three years. He had had surgery and was receiving visitors everyday for three hours while he recovered at a house in Thessaloniki. We were told that in the past month, 20,000 people had visited him.

My sister-in-law and I met up with a friend at the bus terminal and began walking to the house where the elder was staying.

“Even if you didn’t know where to go, you could always follow the crowd and you’d find the house,” she said as we walked behind a few other people walking up the slightly inclined road to the hospitable family’s home.

Once we arrived we saw that although we came an hour early, a crowd of about fifty people had already gathered. We all waited outside the gate. Soon we were allowed into the gated yard where we took turns writing down our loved one’s names so the elder could pray for them.

Groups of twenty people were allowed into the elder’s bedroom at a time. Four groups of twenty went before us, since children and the ill were given priority. There were at least two hundred people waiting behind us. When the group before us were taken upstairs to the elder, our group was ushered into the basement of the house where we venerated holy relics, a blanket that had belonged to Elder Paisios, holy vestments worn by the Venerable Elder Tychon (the spiritual father of Elder Paisios), and a small chair that Elder Paisios owned.

A drawing I did of Elder Tychon in 2006.

I hadn’t planned on going to this home to visit Elder Gabriel because we were planning on seeing him at a monastery this Sunday. After speaking with my friend (who had gone six consecutive days because “I have a lot of people I need to go for”), I realized I shouldn’t miss the opportunity to go on behalf of my loved ones.

Standing in the basement waiting for the fourth group to leave, I grew more anxious. How can I tell him what I have to say in a quick but comprehensible way? I asked myself a thousand times. It didn’t matter, God was just going to have to help me say what I needed to when I got the chance.

“How fortune I am that I came here!” A woman, who was in the group before us, said as she was leaving. “What a blessing that we came here to see this elder,” she marveled.

Suddenly our group was being told to go upstairs. Here was our chance. As soon as we walked into the room, it felt like we hit a wall of fragrant grace, such was the presence of the holy monk.

He was lying down, holding a crucifix from Jerusalem (which contained earth from various holy sites) in his right hand. I knelt down, and he held my head and crossed it, and I kissed his hand. I’m not a shy person, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say anything. As the others passed by, having their heads crossed, kissing his holy hand, and shedding a few grateful tears, we waited to the side.

Oh Lord, I didn’t ask him to pray for my loved ones! What am I going to do? How can I tell him? I silently worried.

“Okay, please exit now,” one of the four men helping the elder said to our group. But just then, my friend took a coughing fit. As a man took her over to the kitchenette to give her a drink of water, I stood staring at the elder.

“Geronda,” I said as I came close to him. But my stupid nerves got the better of me, and I burst out crying. I was mortified. I had specifically prayed to St. John Maximovitch (my family’s “slava”) not to cry. My Panagia, what am I going to do? I can’t stop crying! I thought. I only managed to utter two words; not exactly what I had planned.

“Don’t worry; don’t worry; don’t worry” the elder responded as he crossed my head three more times with his cross. “God will have mercy,” he said. And with that, he answered my prayers. I kissed his hand again and stepped back, still far too emotional. But it didn’t matter. He was a saint; he understood my thoughts even though I couldn’t verbalize them.

Thank God saints still exist, and that we – even in the midst of darkness – are benefited by their holy prayers and spiritual gifts!

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“My Great Adventure in Search of the Truth” by Sister Mattea Osswald (Part 2)

My Great Adventure in Search of the Truth (Part 2)

By Sister Matthea Osswald

November 2008

This story tells how a Roman Catholic nun discovered the fullness of the Truth in the Orthodox Church…

The meeting with Orthodoxy -   my way home.

In 2005 the community celebrated 25 years of existence. Taking advantage of this occasion it was allowed to all the members of the community, who had never yet visited Jerusalem, to go there on a pilgrimage tour. We arrived in Jerusalem three weeks before the Orthodox Pascha (Easter). Since dialogue was a significant element in our community, we took part in the liturgies of the different denominations. We went to the Armenian Church, the Copts, Franciscans, to the Russian Orthodox nuns at the monastery of Saint Mary Magdalene, to the Mount of Olives and to the Greek Orthodox liturgy at the Church of the Resurrection. The variety of denominations in Jerusalem was impressive and one could discover something everywhere. The first Greek Orthodox liturgy I experienced was on Pascha at the Church of the Resurrection. This was the decisive experience. It is difficult for me to describe what I experienced there. I felt I was in heaven or that heaven had descended to earth. At that time I did not know what the Cherubic Hymn was, however, when I heard it for the first time, I felt such a deep self-concentration and I thought that at that moment the angels were chanting with the people. (Later I learned that two emissaries of the Russian Tsar had felt the same when they experienced the liturgy in Constantinople for the first time). My deepest experience was the certainty of an inner knowledge; NOW I HAVE ARRIVED HOME!  This was as if an answer to my interior uneasiness. This was what I had lacked, as I said earlier, it was this interior experience. Then I did not know much of the history of the Church, about the Filioque, the schism etc.

At that time I could not, nor did I want to, discuss it with the founder of our community. First I wanted to get to know the Orthodox Church more deeply. This   could happen at the beginning only during liturgy. However, how could I follow this up? After the celebration of Pentecost we had to return. And then what?

Glory be to God, for divine providence guided my path.

As I said earlier, my responsibility was the liturgy. Thus on the feast of the Holy Spirit, I received from the founder of our community the order to remain with another sister, for one year in Jerusalem and to study the various liturgies. I had to move like the bees to gather the honey, namely, every Sunday I had to visit a different liturgy, learn psalms, take notes and see what from these we could embody in our liturgy. It was a duty toward the union of the Churches. This way I would visit sometimes the Armenians, at others the Russian Orthodox nuns on the Mount of Olives or the Greek Orthodox liturgy at the Church of the Resurrection. Apart from all this, we had to celebrate once every week the Divine Liturgy according to the Orthodox Typicon with a Catholic priest, with the intention to pray for the union.

During this period of the cycle of liturgies I would always wait for the next Greek liturgy. Glory be to God; at that time there was a young Orthodox deacon, a guardian of Golgotha, who could speak English very well and was very open. I could ask him about the liturgy, learn some psalms and exchange views on the differences between the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church. I truly owe him a lot! He would answer all my questions with infinite patience and above all, he never tried to influence me, something that was very significant for me. For later, in comparison with “my” community, they would say that I was influenced by the Orthodox. However, I experienced exactly the opposite; I was pressured by the Roman Catholics. They would always try to convince me that here was the fullness of the truth, and that no one could dispute the superiority of the Pope etc. From the Orthodox side I would only receive answers to my questions and information. Naturally everyone would confess that they were certain that the Orthodox Church is the true Church of Christ, but no one ever pushed me to become Orthodox!

Three months passed in this way, with the liturgies, the study and the exchange of views. It was a beautiful, intensive but also a very difficult period for me, because I could not show that inside me the attraction for Orthodoxy was growing all the more,  otherwise, it was certain that they would demand that I return immediately to Germany! After these three months another problem appeared. Our visas had expired and we had either to try to renew them or return to Germany and then come back. I was afraid of the latter because I was sure, that my spiritual father would have realized that something was not going well with me. An Orthodox priest I knew, advised me to turn to an Orthodox bishop. Probably he could help me on the matter of the visa. I went and met with him, and explained everything. I also explained about my experience during that liturgy at the Church of the Resurrection during Pascha and that I was questioning myself more and more whether I should become Orthodox. If however I had to return to Germany, it would spell the “end” for me.

The bishop gave me the wise advice to confess the truth to the spiritual father of my community and ask to be released for a year from the community with the purpose of reading, studying and continuing to visit the liturgy, so as to come to know the beauty and the depth of Orthodoxy but also the human weaknesses and errors, so that after this one year I would be able to make a wise decision. I liked this advice; so I wrote a letter to my spiritual father to request this release. I clearly wrote to him that I did not wish to make a decision from a first impression of love and enthusiasm but that I needed the time for study and investigation. This request was decisively declined as may be seen from this excerpt from his letter to me:

“To set the matter of one’s conversion after a four month residence shows more the lack of one’s conviction in Catholic beliefs than to the guidance of God. From the Catholic point of view the proof that the Orthodox Church represents more the truth of God than the Catholic Church cannot be accepted.” Apart from this they emphasized that since I was sent with a mission to Jerusalem and for this reason only; I could not be released so as to research my own case.

Below is an excerpt from my letter of response.

“I can no longer return! It is about a matter of conscience which I must and wish to place in front of everyone. These past days I read your letter truly many times and I studied it with prayers and what became most clear was “I am already on the other side”. At this time there is no longer a possibility of return. However, this does not mean that I already decided to change my faith.

…. I wish to ask you to release me from the community so that I will be able to study the case of my eventual conversion as a lay person. Concerning Orthodoxy, you had written to me that “one should be able to experience a love without seizing it”. I don’t want to seize her; I want to surrender to her completely. Orthodoxy for me is a whole world, in which I would like to enter fully, if this is true. In the mean time it is not fit for me to break off single small pebbles and transplant them to the Catholic spirit and Catholic liturgy.

In another letter of reply to me I was ordered to return immediately to Germany to clear the situation in situ. I basically did not want this, as I was afraid of my weakness, that perhaps they could influence me again and make me retreat. Unfortunately there was no possibility to renew my visa and at the same time I learned that my spiritual guide had already booked a flight to Jerusalem in order to speak to me, in case I refused to return to Germany. In this way I returned to Germany to “my” community and had many discussions with my spiritual guide. During one of these discussions he showed me that I had, as a Catholic, to study my doubt of whether the Orthodox Church is the true Church of Christ and that “it could not be that I was already on the other side, namely that I am already Orthodox” and investigate from that side if the Catholic Church is the true one. That would be dishonest. As a Catholic I should investigate from the Catholic side. That had convinced me somehow and since my spiritual guide assured me that at the end of the year when I would complete my mission, I could investigate the case about Orthodoxy, I returned to obedience and his spiritual guidance. Even so I confess no more than one hour later I was standing, crying and I would continuously repeat the following: “Now I have lost everything!” My spiritual guide would assure me continuously that I had not lost anything, that I could involve myself with the matter that continuously occupied me but, not now. Since I had returned to obedience and spiritual guidance, three weeks later they sent me back to Jerusalem to continue my mission until Pentecost. The first three weeks went well; I was determined to deliver on my mission and above all to investigate the matter of the Orthodox Church as a Catholic later. However, my heart would not go back! Metaphorically, I felt as if pregnant, with the child ready to be born- and I had to set it completely aside. This for me, from the religious point of view, seemed like an abortion. If only I had at least permission to be able to read or to exchange views; however, all this was denied to me and the only thing they allowed to me was to visit the liturgy once a month. Within a few weeks,   I had become a total wreck internally. I would sit crying at Golgotha and I didn’t know what to do any more. An Orthodox monk had once told me: “Just follow the voice of your heart.” Basically, my heart was already Orthodox.

During Christmas I had again to return to Germany due to the expiration of my visa. I found myself confronting the same problem. My heart was already “on the other side”, but this time I did not want to show my feelings, for otherwise there would be no return to Jerusalem. Even so, in a conversation I had with my spiritual guide I told him that I was impatient to finally investigate the matter of my conversion. He became surprised and he confessed that he basically did not believe that this matter could still be current with me and that with time it would become superfluous. Then he announced to the whole community that I was still aiming to investigate the matter.

I therefore returned to Jerusalem. It was a terrible period for me! Inside me I felt like a wreck and I had a dilemma. On the one side my heart and conscience would tell me that the fullness of the truth exists in the Orthodox Church and that she is the true Church. It was not only that first experience: Here whatever was holy was still kept holy, the liturgy was directed to God and was not sold to the people nor was she presented to them in an alternative way in order to make it more palatable to them; she was always the same just as she was taught by our fathers. The faith was maintained, just as she was delivered by the fathers and defined by the first seven ecumenical synods; not the continuously new theological theories and liturgical experiments. Here was the fullness of the truth and the one and authentic Church of Christ. This assurance would continuously grow ever more inside me, after many discussions with the deacon and with some other monks and with my visits to the Divine Liturgy. On the other side I felt tied by my obedience not to investigate this question at present (which was no longer within a few weeks a question to me) or to exchange views with any members of the Orthodox Church. So, where should I turn for this internal need?

God again sent me a helper. He was a friend, a Roman Catholic theologian and deacon, of whose love for Orthodoxy I was well aware. When I revealed my internal struggle between my conscience and my spiritual obedience, he replied, “It is a Roman Catholic dogma that personal conscience is placed above obedience on matters of faith and of the Church”.

This was like liberation for me! My decision was made. The next day I went and met the Patriarch, I told him of my history and I revealed my wish to become Orthodox. He took my intention seriously and sent me to a monk to catechize me. This happened one week ahead of the fasting period, namely about one year after my arrival in Jerusalem.

In a subsequent letter of mine, I announced my decision to my spiritual guide and community. Naturally they did not accept it. My spiritual guide demanded my immediate return to total obedience, since it was not a matter of conscience; nor to attempt any further steps; and from this moment to sever immediately every contact and catechism that was initiated by the Orthodox side, until he himself arrived in Jerusalem. Even so, this time my decision was final and I did not want to recheck it. I wrote a final letter to my spiritual guide and I abandoned my community a few days later, before his arrival. At that time I had no intention of coming to one more duel with my spiritual guide, neither did I  see any prospect in this; the community wanted to serve the Oecumene; nor could I foresee any possibility for the union of the so- called “sister churches”. OR PERHAPS BETTER TO SAY THAT IT IS MY CONVICTION THAT FOR THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY FOR THE UNION, THE WAY OF THE ORTHODOX CHURCH. Everything else constitutes an artificial, human scheme. How liberating it is for someone to take part in an Orthodox liturgy and to know that she is unchanging and not like with the Catholic liturgy, to have to be afraid of what to expect next. A few times I have thought that even many Orthodox people do not know how much spiritual wealth and what treasure has been given to them, how grateful to God we should be for this  and how responsible we should be in guarding it!

I therefore abandoned the community. And now what? Neither money nor home. Where could I go? It was amazing how much help I received, both spiritually and financially. As my visa expired once more, they suggested that I go to a large monastery in Greece for three weeks, to get to know more intimately the monastic life and then I could return. When I returned a week after Pascha, unfortunately no house was found for me in Jerusalem, although I was given an opportunity to stay at the monastery of St. Gerasimos in the Jordanian desert. However, I did not want to go there under any circumstances! I wished to stay in Jerusalem, now that at last I was free and I could exchange views with anyone I wished to! Luckily, I finally agreed – but only for one week until they could find a house in Jerusalem. After a week I liked it there in the desert so much that I asked if I could stay for one more week. They approved. After my departure from the community, I had suffered every night with horrible nightmares. In my dreams I would always find myself confronting the community. They foretold to me what would happen to me if I abandoned the community and “changed faith”. Those words followed me like dark prophesies, usually at night, so that I would wake up drenched in sweat and crying. After this spiritual battle, the monastery of St. Gerasimos was the first place where my soul found calmness and peace. After one more week, my heart became heavy while thinking that I would have to leave, so I asked to remain another week. Atthis the Elder Chrysostomos, the abbot, told me that I could stay as long as I wished. It was my heart’s wish and prayer to be baptized and Elder Chrysostomos agreed with this gladly. On the eve of the feast of the Holy Apostle Judas /Thaddeus, he baptized me and gave me the name Matthea, after the Apostle and Evangelist Matthew. (He had wanted to baptize me with the name Mariam, but just before the baptism, he heard within himself clearly a voice telling him: “not Mariam, Matthea”). After the baptism the elder asked me if Saint Matthew had somehow a special significance for me and I explained to him my experience on that Great Friday when I had heard the Gospel According to Saint Matthew and I had said that I wanted to become an answer to the love of Christ.

I passed the night praying in the Church and the following day during Divine Liturgy I received the monastic tonsure from the elder. Those two days were the happiest days of my life. “Finally I had arrived home”.

This monastery has become my home and so now not only do I serve at the Patriarchate, but I return here every weekend.

In the mean time, three years have passed and like then so also now, I thank God every day that He guided me to His Church and granted me the blessing of Baptism.

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“My Great Adventure in Search of the Truth” by Sister Mattea Osswald

My Great Adventure in Search of the Truth

By Sister Matthea Osswald

November 2008

This story tells how a Roman Catholic nun discovered the fullness of the Truth in the Orthodox Church…

(Source)

Childhood and adolescence.  

I was born in 1961 from Protestant parents, in a town in South Germany. We lived in a suburb which had earlier been a separate village and later was integrated into a municipality. There was only one Roman Catholic family, the rest of the inhabitants being Protestants. The daughter of this family, whom I used to like very much, was in my class at the elementary school. I still remember very well that I was strictly forbidden to visit her, because they told me that it would be embarrassing for our family if anybody learned about such a thing. During the following years there was a growing tolerance on this topic. Even though the majority of the inhabitants were Protestants, with the passage of time the “Catholic” population increased and more Roman Catholic communities were created in the town.
My parents did believe in God but they would not practice their faith, for example they would never go  to church on Sundays, we would not pray, at least not together or before the meals and the topic of “God” was not discussed in our home.
However, in my grand parents’ house lived an elderly Evangelical deaconess, who earlier had been a kindergarten teacher. She was like a light for me. Every time I would visit my grand parents I would use the occasion to “disappear” and visit this nun. She would always talk about Jesus; about His miracles; how repeatedly and in different ways He had helped her; about paradise, heaven and the angels. And she would pray with me. Time with her seemed to flow very fast! I was always sad, every time I would hear a voice telling me: “Where are you again? Come quick”! My grand parents did not take kindly to the fact that I would be so long with the “pious aunt”.

One evening when I was four or five years old, I was lying in my bed thinking how terribly tiring it must be for Father God that He cannot take time off to relax. He must always stay up worrying about the people and be careful that nothing bad happens to them. I made all kinds of suggestions to Him such as for example, if He could alternate with His Son, or with the angels. Finally, I told Him, that I wished so much to help Him and that it would not bother me at all, if every now and then I stayed up all night, but neither would this help the people. On one hand these were very childish, all these thoughts of mine, but on the other hand I meant them and me never forgot, even though in the following years they faded entirely into the background. Afterward my schooling started. I became busy with other things.

Of course I never doubted the existence of God, but His existence had no importance for me and my life. It was as if they were two separate things that had no relationship with each other. All my adolescence was influenced by the fact that I always wished to be like the others (Something that I never succeeded in as I was always marginalized, which possibly was due to my exterior unpleasant appearance.) I tried everything the others did, smoke, go in the evenings to the bars, smoke marijuana, listen to rock music etc. I was then part of a group but it goes without saying, that most of the time I would be sitting alone in a corner and I never fit in even though I tried so much.

Enraptured by divine love

When I was seventeen asignificant change happened in my life. I always had a great love for music. I played certain musical instruments and later I wished to study music.
Someone gave my mother two concert tickets. They were for the “St. Matthew Passion” of Johann  Seb. Bach, which is about the Passion of Christ according to the gospel of St. Matthew in the Bible. The concert was scheduled for Holy Friday.

The Protestants do not have any particular divine liturgy for the Holy Week, that is why the so called “religious concerts” take place, so somebody could visit them for contemplation and interior peace. The concert lasted three and a half hours. Basically I cannot explain what happened inside me. The Holy Gospel in combination with the gripping music touched me deeply and moved my heart. (I read about something similar, incidentally, in the biography of Father Seraphim Rose). I was touched, impressed and overwhelmed by the love of Jesus Christ who died sacrificing himself on the Cross for us and for our sins. This love became at that moment a reality for me and filled me totally. I do not know how long I stayed at the church crying. I knew one thing however; I wanted to become an answer to this love. It was very clear in my heart. Later I would ask myself why I said “I want to become an answer to this love” and not “I want to give an answer to this love”. I did not understand it but it appeared to have some significance. From that day on my life changed. The following day I bought a Bible. I hung a cross in my room and instead of going in the evenings to the pubs I would read the Holy Bible and pray. Later I decided to study ecclesiastical music. I was thinking that since God touched me in such a way and granted me a talent, then I want to help other people to be able to acquire a similar experience. I became a member of the church choir of our city and began following a course of ecclesiastical music and taking lessons on the church organ. This way my friends changed also. The following three years I dedicated myself totally to church music, to new acquaintances, to the Holy Bible and besides these, also to school.

Protestantism or the Roman Catholic “Church”

A girlfriend of mine temporarily played the church organ at a “Catholic” church community in our city. One Saturday evening, we agreed that I should wait for her outside the church so that we might go out together. By mistake I arrived an hour early, so I decided to go with her on the balcony and follow the Liturgy “from on high” instead of waiting outside the church. Somehow it was different from the Liturgy I knew at the Evangelical Church. It was somehow more transcendent and it impressed me. Since then I could not rest and wished to discover what the different thing that moved me was. For a long period I visited the Holy Mass of the Catholics at the Roman Catholic Church on Saturday evenings and on Sunday mornings, the Liturgy of the Evangelical “Church”. The former began to attract me even more. At the Evangelical “Church” I missed the transcendence; it appeared to me to be a matter of a human format that brings together people with a common interest, namely God. At the Roman Catholic “Church” I felt something like transcendence. Something higher seemed to unite the people, different than what happens in a club or in a community of merely common human interests. I particularly enjoyed the Holy Eucharist as opposed to the holy communion of the Evangelical Church which never had any particular significance for me. I would often speak with the priest of the community who held contemporary views. As a Protestant I naturally had serious concerns with Papist! But for the priest this seemed to be no problem. Or better said, it was a problem, but he had resolved it in his way, namely in the way he had learned from the lectures of a university professor (in later years this professor’s teaching license in Rome was revoked). The priest would say: “The Pope is in Rome and we are here. What does he know about us? Let him concern himself with the Church of Rome and us here with ours”. (This view was naturally everything but Roman Catholic and it began to spread ever more during the 80′s decade). The thing that finally pushed me to become Roman Catholic was the experience of this transcendence and above all the Eucharist, namely, the belief that during the Divine Liturgy the bread and wine truly transformed into the body and blood of Christ; that is; that all this was a reality and not  only symbolic. Another reason was the liturgy itself, because in the Evangelical “Church” there was no liturgy with this meaning. The Liturgy consisted only in the reading of the Holy Bible, a long preaching and lots of songs and about once a month the so-called “divine communion” right after the liturgy. In October 1982 I became a Roman Catholic.

Contemplating today on the way all this happened, I can only shake my head for I was blind. We had decided to celebrate with a “liturgy” at the house (Hausmesse) in a family atmosphere. The celebration did not take place at the church but in the living room of the priest’s house. The reading from the Gospel I could select myself and instead of a sermon we would together exchange our thoughts corresponding to the areas of the Bible we had chosen while we were sitting on the sofa. This was called liturgy of the word. For the celebration of the Eucharist we would all sit together around the dining room table which also served as a Holy Altar. Although I had to recite together with the rest the creed of faith, no one asked me to confess the following:  I believe and confess whatever the Holy, Catholic Church believes, teaches and declares”. (This I realized only 24 years later, when someone told me: “You cannot abandon our Church just like that, since you made this confession”).

This was the way I became a Roman Catholic. So now what? The Church music played a significant role in the Evangelical church, but in the Roman Catholic Church it was secondary. Moreover, the church music here did not appear very attractive to me. It was created through quick processes following the Second Vatican Council, when the liturgy was changed by allowing it to be performed from then on in the language of each country, and so it had no tradition. Apart from this I was thinking that I should somehow become involved in some community and since as a woman I could not become a priest, I decided to study theology, and become a pastoral assistant. I continued studying the Holy Bible and above everything else I was touched deeply by the spoken parables. It always touched me when Jesus would say to the rich young man:

“Go sell your belongings and come and follow Me” (Matt 19:21). To someone else He said: “Follow Me and let the dead bury their own dead” (Matt 8:22) or “no man having put his hand to the plough, and looking back is fit for the Kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). It would touch and hurt me. I wanted to make my faith a profession and the most basic thing in my life. But how? Should I leave from my house without a penny? without a second overcoat? without anything? Just simply leave, just as the Bible says? But then where?

In search of my own monastery

Before the start of my basic studies I had to first follow for one year pre-seminary studies to learn Biblical Latin and Greek. During this period a pivotal event happened to me. One day in a doctor’s waiting room as I was leafing through a journal, I landed on an article about a Benedictine monastery. That interested me! Perhaps that was the answer to my doubts about my existence. I had believed that monasteries existed only during the middle ages. As I already said, I lived in an Evangelical area where there were no monasteries. The following day I phoned to enquire if it would be possible for me to visit them. Their answer was positive and for weeks I was happy in expectation of the coming holidays that Iwould spend there. I was deeply impressed by the silence, the services of the hours, during which the nuns would gather every three hours in the church, the manual labour, and the repeated daily rhythms during which one’s soul could find rest. Despite that I liked all this, yet something was lacking even there.

I learned there were different orders, each with different rules and different spirit.  I came to know the Franciscan nuns, Carmelites and some others. I liked something everywhere but always something was missing for me, but what? (The answer to this question I would receive many years later). However I had finally realized that on every occasion I wished to dedicate my life to God and become a nun. In my prayer I would ask God continuously where He wanted me, in which out of all these orders and communities? During my search I also came in touch with what is called Catholic Charismatic Renewal.

However, I never felt quite comfortable with that. Everybody would sing in “tongues”, some would speak prophesies, everything was totally emotional and yet one more time I felt that I was a stranger. Of course I could not show this, for it would have meant that I was not enlightened by the Holy Spirit and that I held my heart closed.

During that period I also visited one of the new spiritual communities. It had been founded in the beginning of the 80′s and consisted of unmarried men and women who after a long period of testing (Noviziat); would take an oath and promise destitution, virginity and obedience. Within the membership however, also belonged families with children. The couples promised destitution, obedience and spousal purity. Seeing it superficially during my first visit nothing moved me at all, it was rather the opposite. Some visitor asked during the discussion of different topics, what were the conditions for entrance into the community; whence the founder, the one responsible for the community replied thus: “Conditions? One and only one exists. Whoever wishes to enter in here, has to give away his “own” life at the entrance door “. That was it!

In the evening when I returned to my house I did not know more than before. Only that one phrase would not leave my mind!

That summer a good friend invited me to accompany him to a large meeting of different new Catholic spiritual communities in France. The diversity, songs,   traditional dances of Israel, the services of the hours, the Eucharistic worship in quietness, touched me and I believed that finally I had arrived at my destination. I wished to join this community and become a nun. I returned to Germany, and during the fall I sat for my final examinations on the theological pre-seminary course which I had followed and bought a ticket for France with my last 300 marks which a friend had given me, planning never again to return. Man plans but God destines.  After two weeks I learned that all the houses of the community would stay closed to visitors. How terrible! And now what? No money, no prospects, what shall I do? Glory be to God; in the last moment there was a change. One of the houses of the community was staying open, for the period of Christmas, offering a program of spiritual exercises. My money was just enough   for this.   A week later I found myself again in the same condition. However a woman, who had also taken part in the program of spiritual exercises, invited me to go on a pilgrimage. Immediately after the pilgrimage she gave me some money and paid for my train ticket to what is called Mutterhaus (the main monastery of the community) in a different part of France. There I spent one more week always hoping finally to speak with the founder of the community and to get him to allow me to enter it. I remained there for a week, but at the end it was not that clear to him that entering this community was what God had destined for me. During one of the vespers he laid his hands on my head and having prayed for me revealed the inner word he had received: “My ways are not also yours. I shall show you another way which you cannot yet understand. But I demand from you absolute availability”.

With these words, therefore, I was sent away one more time. And now where to? I was truly desperate. No one could explain these words to me or give me a perspective. However I only wanted one thing: To follow Jesus Christ and dedicate my life to him. It was terrible. Apart from my disappointment, it created in me an inner doubt, that perhaps God either did not want me, or else I was too stupid to find the place for which He had destined me. Again someone felt sorry for me and gave me money to return home. I had left my house with the intention never to return, yet now, a few weeks later I found myself unannounced in front of my parents’ house. (Before this I had stayed for a week at a monastery in France to remain in silence and calm my soul. I had achieved the first but not the second). My parents naturally were happy I returned, but I was totally disoriented. The following two weeks I passed living almost totally secluded praying in my room. At the same time within me continuously sounded the phrase: “Whoever wishes to enter in here has to give away his “own” life at the entrance door”. A battle was being waged inside me. On the one hand nothing attracted me there, the destitution, strange bearded faces with old rasa, no electricity, no running water, a primitive toilet, no private space and many other things.Yet that phrase would not leave me in peace. All this was basically what I wished for, what I searched for within me from the moment of my conversion, this total dedication to Christ without seeking anything for myself any more and abandoning everything worldly. Well, I decided to take a chance; I immediately decided to phone, it was Friday afternoon, and ask if I could spend the weekend. If the answer was negative then I would close that chapter and would never open it again (secretly inside me in some way I hoped for it). The answer was positive. All right then. The next day I went there and this time it was different. The exterior things did not repel me that much anymore and I had a long conversation with the founder that concerned my interior search over the past months. He proposed that I stay with the community for four months, until the 15th August, to enable myself with calmness and prayer to ask God for my destiny.

After three weeks there I had the impression that I had found my place. Above everything else I loved the silence and the noetic prayer but I also learned to love more and more the simplicity and immediacy of life and did not wish to exchange it for a more comfortable life. Here also I experienced the Roman Catholic Church from a totally different side. Even though I had become a Catholic at a parish which was much oriented towards modernism, now I was in a community where the love for the Pope and obedience to him were written in capital letters.

One would follow with zeal and direct oneself according to what he said and did. I found that quite difficult and I always felt like a rebel who participated with grinding teeth or with extreme reluctance in it. Many years were necessary until my disposition in this matter would change!

A year later I began my noviciate (noviziat). One year after this, I made the first vows for three years. Afterwards followed again the so- called temporary vows (For another three years) and then the vows of dedication for my entire life. However, at that time I found that I was absolutely not in the state to give such so co-called eternal vows; yet I was in a great internal crisis and was wavering, full of uncertainty. I thought that all these were an interior assault, bad thoughts and emotions that one must not allow, thus I turned away from all the “inner chaos” and I made the vows. The wind storm lightened up a bit but I could not truly calm down. This could also be symptomatic of my journey. As I already noted, many things would attract me in the various orders and communities, yet always something was missing which at that time I could not name. In this community, everything was more refined, and though nothing was missing, I could not find even here the true inner calmness, that deep inner certainty that here I had finally arrived at my final destination. Those thoughts and the vague feeling of nostalgia that would continuously come out from deep inside me, I believed came from the evil one and that I should struggle spiritually against them and for this reason should not allow under any circumstances such thoughts and emotions. I believed that  true peace and the certainty  that someone  had arrived at his final destination, was to be found only in heaven, and that in life everyone remains “on the way” and in the earthly life remains always in an inner  restlessness and silent melancholy.

It never crossed my mind that I would ever leave this community. With the exception of a few crises, which anyone who follows this road would anyway surely experience, I was glad and happy there. I loved my spiritual father; the founder of the community, and the brothers and sisters. Also, I gladly did the various duties they placed on me. I don’t wish to be misunderstood: even today I do not  have any  hostility toward them, rather I respect their good will,  zeal, and eagerness for total dedication and I learned  many things there  for which today I am grateful. Despite all this I left the community after 21 years. Why?

While in the beginning I was orientated very much towards modernism,   developments in the Roman Catholic Church of all probable sorts of theories; new theological currents, which were justified by the theory that the Holy Spirit guides us continuously deeper into the truth; the many departures from the Church; the lack of priests and the lack of new monastics, put me, with the passing of time, to progressively deeper thought.  Because the youth would not go to church anymore, they would try with different ways of liturgical experimenting to win them back; for example rock music during liturgy, disco, use of SMS for intercessions, liturgies which the youth attended by going to the church on skateboards and skates and other similar things. I had the impression that everything sacred was being sold and adapted only so as to present it to the people in the most attractive way. I fell into an ever growing dilemma. On one side I would become progressively more conservative, because I was convinced that whatever is sacred must be kept sacred. On the other hand our community was ecumenical. Inspired by Pope John Paul 2nd, who started to pray together with the representatives of different religions, dialogue with other religions was also written in our community with capital letters. We were open to other denominations, other religions and spiritual currents – naturally with the hope to   win them over to the Roman Catholic Church. One manner of expressing this was music. As an example, we were singing certain songs that resembled Hindu mantras (Hindu prayers) except we would sing the name “Jeschuah” for example to come to an internal concentration and peace. During our prayers we embodied also Orthodox elements; for example we would sing on Saturday evenings sections of the Orthodox Vespers in the German language with Russian melodies and other Orthodox psalms. One of my main responsibilities in the community was liturgy.

(Stay tuned for Part Two in which Sister Mattea explains how she arrived home…)

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New Podcast Features ‘Life at the Monastery’

St. Stephen’s Monastery, Meteora

Ancient Faith Radio presents a new podcast: Ancient Faith Documentaries. The most recent program is on the Holy Monastery of the Transfiguration in Ellwood City, PA; it is entitled Life at the Monastery. Needless to say, I loved it! It’s a theme close to my heart, and I was so inspired listening to both the sisters and the pilgrims share their perspective on the monastic life. I highly recommend it! You can hear it here.

I’m pleased that Ancient Faith is doing more on female monasticism. This is the second podcast I’ve come across specifically on the topic of women’s monasteries. The other one was on Molly Sabourin’s podcast, Close to Home, you can hear it here.

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