I’m a bit behind on things – including posts. It’s half way through Lent and I’ve not much to show for it here on site – sorry about that.

Yesterday was the fifth Sunday of Lent – St. Mary of Egypt, one of my favourite saints because her story is so interesting. She was a linen weaver, who enjoyed sex a bit too much. On one occasion she journeyed to Jerusalem, she joined a throng of pilgrims entering the church of the Resurrection, she found herself prevented by some “invisible force” entering the church itself. At that moment she realised some things had to change, and she had to re-claim her humanity.

The link between Mary’s debauchery and her loss of person-hood is one that is closely tied to asceticism. Athanasius says of humanity’s fall that they became like animals, unreasonable, violent, and greedy. Origen describes how idolatry is shaping one’s being according to an image other than that of the Logos, usually animals – asceticism trains the individual and refines his or her reflection of the Logos, and throught that process empowers the individual to realise the fullness of being.

In the church, St. Mary turns to an icon of the Theotokos and “repents”. She is then allowed into the shrine, and from there made her way to the desert where she spent the rest of her life. Two years before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert. She recounted her story to him, and he gave thanks for having finally met a true “God-bearer”. Mary asked him to return the following year and give her communion at the banks of the Jordan. He did, and she walked on the water to meet him on the other side. She asked him to return the following year to the place they had first met. When he did Zosimas found that Mary had died.

Zosimas found that Mary had scrawled in the dirt a request that he bury her there. The problem was that the earth was baked hard, and he could not dig it. A lion passed, and Zosimas ordered the large cat to dig a hole using his powerful claws. He then returned to his monastary to tell everyone about the glorious St. Mary of Egypt.

The year before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert.

Perhaps the second most important feast in the liturgical cycle (Pascha being the first) today we celebrate the manifestation of the Trinity, and the philanthropy of God.

“When you enlightened all things at the time of your manifestation, . . . the Jordan reversed its course, flowing uphill and carrying us to heaven.”

Today is also the annual great blessing of water – and the blessing of homes for the coming year. Whereupon much partying ensues.

Around this time of year we often hear about “re-claiming” Christmas; often with very little effect. However, this piece by Religion & Ethics Newsweekly on a move to re-claim St. Nicholas is I think a very thoughtful and possibly one of the more effective places to start.

OK, so this morning I was struck by something as I quickly scanned the recent weeks of the Calendar project. Roughly – throughout the past four months – that is one quarter of the year – there have been on average only 3.5 commemorations per month of female saints!

Obviously this is not “scientific” – as there are some months in the year that have many more commemorations of holy women in the history and tradition of our faith. But I wonder if it might not be better to . . . “spread them around” a bit better to get a sense of the balance that is naturally there?

Balance afterall is a very Eastern idea – look at the liturgy – when we pray together there is a strict order of balance for all sorts of things – like the saints, the trinity, the Theotokos, and for our own needs and commemorations.

One reason why this balance is not immediately apparent in the calendar is that we tend to commemorate a given individual on the date he or she died. This introduces a bit of natural randomness. However, I cannot help but wonder too if there is not a bit of un-conscious bias in the compilation of the menaion?

I watched this vid from Religion & Ethics News Weekly this morning and it reminded me of the work I did when studying at Oxford on the features and functions of “Sacred Space”.

What constitutes “Sacred Space” will vary from one person to the next – from one group to the next – I realised this when doing a comparative study during my course-work. Part of the project was to visit two radically different Anglican communities, in this case St. Ebbs, and Pusey House for a service to see how the space was used, how the two services in the same communion compared, and so on; then to compare that with my own experience as an Eastern rite OC/IC believer. The whole experience was fascinating – and allowed me to explore and experience various elements of “Sacred Space” I’d never previously considered.

Because we are Indie folk, because we are people of faith, I think we often take sacred spaces for granted – we “know” them, but we don’t often stop to consider them, because they are so very familiar to us.

And yet – for many of our communities – “sacred space” is something that we must improvise. Many of our communities do not meet in an “established” sacred space (borrowed, rented, or even “owned”) – we meet in living rooms, sitting rooms, kitchens, pubs, and parks. So how do we, in our context, create and envisage sacred spaces? There is a custom in Chaldean communities – that emerged under the Ottomans, where the space is consecrated and de-consecrated at the beginning and end of each liturgy. What steps do our communities take when meeting in non-religious spaces, or even non-indie spaces to consciously be aware of this thing we call “Sacred Space”?

Huw had a great idea which I think is worth sharing/exploring – and that is trying to “source” sources of incense locally. He listed a few aromatic herbs like sage & juniper which are easy to grow. But I’d be curious – any other ideas?

I’m going to go rummaging around my garden & herb beds tomorrow to see what I can come up with for liturgy! This should be fun.

Today we commemorate the falling asleep of the Theotokos – or perhaps more correctly the “apotheosis” of the Theotokos. I use “apotheosis” knowing well that it is a term often associated with Greek and Roman Paganism, however many aspects of the traditional Dormition narraitve paralells imagery of such apotheosis “narratives” as that of Antoninus Pius and Faustina in Rome. The figure, shadow, or soul of the demised is carried aloft into heaven by the gods. There they join the society of the divine – having become divine (or semi-divine) themselves.

The Old Testament gives us similar ideas – Enoch, and Elijah for example are taken up without ever facing Death. Curiously – the Ethiopian version of the Dormition narrative has Mary ask if she will face Death, to which Christ says she must at least look upon him in all his horror – because she is created. Hmmm. . . . so, erm . . . what about Enoch and Elijah eh? . . .

Moving switfly on . . .

Mary looks upon Death and Jesus “catches” her soul and carries her into Paradise. The upper 2/3 of the traditional icon has some striking parallels to the imagery found on for example the column of Antoninus Pius & Faustina, the apotheosis of Sabina, and an ivory plaque of the apotheosis of a philosopher (sorry can’t find a convenient pic of this one).

So what does this all say about us? Well for starters it is Mary who is closely associated with our idea of “theosis” and the spiritual disciplines one develops and practices to achieve theosis throughout life. In her case it was her practice of philosophy – her asceticism – before asceticism became “possible” (as late antique writers such as St. Athanasius often noted) – a feat in itself – that set into motion her preparations for the Annunciation. In short she was the “first” and she points the way. Through her example we are all able to strive toward and achieve theosis. She is the one, who “unlocks” Paradise for us all (Proklos Hom. 4.1). The Dormition then might be best described as Mary’s apotheosis – and her empowering our own.

This piece from the Guardian Belief section is rather timely given my recent experiment in posting the saint for the day – sometimes with a touch of irony, sometimes with a few related ideas.

Remembering back to my childhood, listening to older OC relatives talking about (Marian) devotional practice in particular taking pains to point out that the “roman” customs are excessive. Hmmm . . . interesting.

So how do we indie folk view the saints now, in this modern world of ours. Do we expect a saint to be a miracle worker or can a saint simply be an exemplar of faith and wisdom? How do the feastal commemorations of the saints “fit” in our contemporary sacramental life?

Seeing this one out – I offer you a few lines from St. Proklos . . . . on the saints (grin):

All martyr festivals are wonderful, they resemble  the brilliance of the stars. Just as the stars in heaven are fixed in place and distinct from one another, they are all well known, and they shine upon the whole sphere of the earth;  and the same one Indians see, is not hidden from Scythians; on land it flashes and illuminates the sea, and guides those who sail; on account of the multitude we do not know the names of all of them, but because of their beauty, we are amazed at their brilliance. It is this way with each of the saints; for although their relics are enclosed in graves, their power is not circumscribed under heaven.  It is possible for you to learn from these same things, and what is said is true. Palestine has the relics of Abraham, and his hut rivals Paradise. For there God was the one who spoke against Adam,  here he was entertained as a stranger by the patriarch.  One grave envelops the bones of Joseph,  and the limits of the inhabited world are astonished at the battle against the Egyptian woman.  To Moses, no monument is found,  and after death he proclaims Him who through the staff divided the Red Sea.  We do not know where Isaiah is interred, and the whole church declares through his prophecy: “Behold the virgin will have in the womb, and will bear a son.”  Daniel was buried in Babylon, and through the whole earth he proclaims: “Behold upon the cloud of heaven, one comes as the Son of Man.”  Ananias and the youths with him fell asleep in Babylon, and through them the whole inhabited world each day shouts: “All the works of the Lord, praise the Lord!”  Ezekiel is buried with the Persians, and along with the Cherubim proclaims: “Blessed is the glory of the Lord from his [dwelling] place.”  Thus, the Devil profited nothing in Paradise by killing Adam  for, through death, God opened the gates of freedom to the just.

- Proklos Homily 5.1, my translation

Earlier this week I posted on Feasts – and the converstaion took an interesting and unexpected direction to discuss fasting and the customary fasting periods before Pascha, and other feast days. I’ve been pondering this thread of the conversation ever since, been doing some reading too. It struck me this morning that many (if not all) religious traditions have fasting customs. Often (at least the examples I can think of off the cuff) these culminate in a feast.

Our historic custom of fast periods is a shared experience across the religious spectrum – a point of solidarity with other faithful people, and seekers of God. What a shame then that over the past century or so the value of fasting customs has been diminished; such that in the extreme (z.b. giving up chocolate for lent) it is little more than a quaint after-taste of a long lost medaeval tradition.

Only a few days now until Pentecost but here’s the question: what does a “feast” mean to you? Any feast – not just Pascha and Pentecost, Theophany and Transfiguration – but any feast, the patronal feast of your community, your name day – how do feasts “fit” into your experience of the faith?

I ask the question because it dawns on me watching Stefan Gates’ excellent series Feasts (UK readers can watch the last two episodes online), on BBC4 that the thinking, and experience of “feasts” is becoming increasingly alien in our contemporary Western society.

I remember the various feasts and festivals celebrated in Pittsburgh as a teenager. I think that perhaps, because at the time, the city was very ethnic, the celebration of these festivals was as much about ethnic pride and diversity as it was about the actual feast. This means that in many respects, the celebration of, and perception of these interruptions in our daily humdrum retained “more” of their original character. Today, occasionally when we are on the continent, we luck into the celebration fo a local feast – such as this St. Martin’s day festival in Brussells a few years ago.

What is interesting to me however, is that in over ten years living in the UK . . . I’ve never witnessed or participated in a single feast. Not one. My other half ( a native ) has never experienced a feast like I have many times over – and so watching Sefan Gates’ program for him, is sometimes quite awkward – as he has no point of reference for it. Our conversations about the role of feasts in the cycle of life, and more specifically in the liturgical cycle has thus, sparked my question.

How do feast days “work” or function in our lives as believers, now. Is that experience or perception radically different from 30 years ago, 100; and if so, how? Have we lost the fun & function of “feasting” in our post-Christian, post-modern, post-everything society? Or has it just been replaced with football and shopping?

While your thinking about your own response – here are two quotes about “feasts” from St. Proklos.

A virgin festival today, brethren, calls our tongue to praise, and the present feast, through benefits to those gathered, becomes a patron and indeed it is only natural. . . . Amicable and extraordinary is this gathering. Behold! Land and sea bring gifts to the Virgin on their backs, [the sea] in ships calmly under sail, [the land] escorting unhindered the way of those who come [by foot]. Let Nature leap! let the race of men rejoice! that women above all may be honoured; let humanity celebrate, that virgins above all may be glorified!
- Hom. 1.1

Many and various celebrations cheer the life of man. Through the cycle of feasts the sorrow of life’s suffering changes into delight. Just as those arriving safe to land from the surge of the open sea rejoice at natural havens, as the embrace of life, so too after many circumstances man rejoices in the feast as a mother of ease. For a festival is a forgetting of grief, a sleep of cares, a cultivator of joy, a patron of joyousness, a season of prayer, summer-fruit for the poor, adornment of churches, festival of cities, wreck of enmity, rise of friendship, heaven on earth. And why do I say so much? A feast is resurrectional fruit, according to the prophet, who says: “Celebrate Judah, your feasts, for from the earth rises the one who breathes upon your face!”
- Hom. 3.1