Bože!

Today is the Synaxis of John the Forerunner – it is a sensible place for a feast commemorating John, prophet, precursor of Christ, and the one who plays a key role in the Theophany event.

It is however, curious that John gets at least four feast days in the liturgical cycle three of them are focussed on the losing of, or finding of his head: the beheading of the Forerunner is traditionally celebrated on 29 August, the first and second finding of the head of the Forerunner is commemorated on 24 February, and the third finding of his head is 25 May. All of this losing and finding of the poor prophet’s head leaves one wondering if the early church was capable of keeping valuables safe at all! Or perhaps they were unable to decide if he was truly such a key figure in the history of the faith?

Oh and we celebrate his birthday on 24 June.

Perhaps it is time to pick a day – and really make a day of it – like today, the event that marks the pinnacle of John’s role in the Christian story. We call this feast a synaxis – or coming together. It makes sense that it ought to be the coming together of all of John’s feasts in to one big blow out.

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.

Born to a noble family around AD 675 – John was well educated, and served as a counsellor to the Caliph. When iconoclasm began, under Emperor Leo the Isaurian, John wrote in defence of the icons. As a member of the Caliph’s court, John was beyond the reach of Leo; so he had a letter forged that implicated John in a plot to attack Damascus. The Caliph was so enraged at John’s apparent act of treason, he had John’s hand cut off (what’s interesting is that he did not have him executed).

John requested, and obtained his severed hand. That night he prayed before an icon of the Theotokos. She appeared to him in a dream – healing his hand. When he later woke, he discovered that indeed his hand had been restored. According to one legend this is the origin of the icon of the Theotokos of Three Hands – it began as her being painted with a medallion of a hand around her neck, and later “morphed” into her actually having three hands.

The miraculous restoration of John’s hand convinced the Caliph of his innocence and he restored John to his former dignity. However, John by this time, wanted to withdraw from the world, and with the Caliph’s permission, entered the monastic life.

John was a prolific writer, in addition to defending the veneration of icons, he wrote the first systematic presentation of orthodoxy, as well as an apologetic/refutation of Islam. He was also a skilled hymnographer, whose forms are still used today.

Late in life John was ordained to the priesthood by the Patriarch of Jerusalem. He died in AD 760, aged 84.

One of the minor prophets. Zephaniah lived in the 7th century BC.

Have a look at this vid of behavioral economist Dan Ariely describing an interesting experiment involving fake fashion – you know the ones – you find “Gucci”, “Prada” handbags and sunglasses being sold for £5 at street vendors all over London. In the experiment he discovers that wearing fake fashion items seems to . . . . “empower” the owner/wearer to cheat more – to be less honest.

Hmmmm . . . .

I find this all rather interesting. Firstly I find the desire for, the need to buy “fake” anything – let alone “fashion” items fascinating. It is the search for status (often unnecessary status), it is the aspiration towards excessive wealth (which has its own negative social and personal effects), I could go on and on . . .

Two things pop out for me that, in this scenario, are directly connected to theology. First there is that bizarre desire to be seen, and to be seen as somehow out of the ordinary, or important. Jesus criticises the religious leaders of his day for wearing tassels, expecting to be greeted in the market place, invited to dinners, and offered the place of honour. It would seem that this particular defect has not yet been winnowed from our indie community at least. Second, there is deception . . . . no deception is not really the right word . . . there is a sense of not being wholly “real” or “honest” – something that from the reference point of the teaching of Christ is . . . well . . . . . just a bit dodgey, no?

Philaret lived during the second half of the 8th century. HE WAS A LAYMAN! (huray!). . . .

He was well established, and lived comfortably with his family. Throughout he earned a reputation for his generosity – especially to those in need. Due to theft, he lost most of his wealth. Philaret continued to give generously to those who needed his help, even in the face of criticism from his nervous family.

All was not lost however, and Philaret regained his fortune many times over in a relatively short period of time.

He foresaw the day of his death, and reposed in Constantinople in AD 789.

There are any number of Gospel references that come to mind when thinking about Philaret’s story. But what strikes me is the placement of the feast within the calendar. In five days time we celebrate Nikolashja which commemorates among other things, the generosity of the saint. We are approaching the feast of the Nativity where we commemorate the philanthropy (in the truest sense of the word) and generosity of the Logos: “If the Logos had not dwelt in the womb, [our] flesh would not have taken its place upon the holy throne. If it is an insult to God to enter the womb, which he formed, then it is also an insult to God to minister to humanity. If it was an insult to God to minister to humanity, being rich, he would not have made himself a beggar for us.”

Generostiy is not “just” about giving material relief to someone in need. It is actually more complicated than that. Generosity is about time, talent, and presence. If I am generous with my time with others – it relives their stress, anxiety, loneliness. If I’m generous with my talent for the sake of others – passing the knowledge and skills on to another, for example, it can contribute to their independence, self sufficiency, and personal satisfaction.

One thing that is very interesting to me working on our community’s calendar reform project is the messy-ness of the liturgical cycle. There is neither rhyme nor reason to the order of most of the commemorations and feast days. Sometimes – and the feast of St. Catherine of Alexandria is an example – the feast is moved for convenience. I’ve wondered if it would not be so much more sensible to radically reform the calendar so that each segment X commemorated a category of saints: confessors in April, martyrs in August, holy-men in February, scholars in June etc. . . . or something similar. The “mess” that is the calendar needs to be tidied up!

But wait . . . .When you stop and think about it for a moment – the ekklesia is messy – as much as we would like it to be otherwise, and as much as we have, over the centuries created an idealised image of what the ekklesia is, it is still, on the ground, in real time, a very messy affair indeed. We have different schools of theology, different methods of praxis, different communal emphasis, varied liturgical forms, and oh, lets not forget that each individual member of the body is unique, different, and oh so terribly quirky! How cool is that!

So the dis-order of the calendar, reflects in a strangely “ordered” fashion the quirky, messy, non-uniform nature of the ekklesia itself. It becomes a celebration of the un-ordinary, it punctuates each day of the year with something surprising, and unexpected.

So, if it is the case that the idealised image of the “church” that has been cultivated over the centuries as a “perfect” society is false. What makes this thing we call the “ekklesia” work? What makes many of our assemblies (regardless of tradition) “not work”? Over the years I’ve observed how various communities (including my own) in our OC/IC tradition struggle to stand on the knife’s edge of being a functioning ekklesia without tumbling into the precipice on either side. On the one hand there has to be just enough structure and conformity to maintain cohesion, community identity, and the protection of both individual members, and the community as a whole. On the other hand, there also needs to be room for that sense of messy-ness, quirkiness to ensure a vital, lively, engaged community. On one side of the knife’s edge is chaos, on the other is oppressive uniformity and authoritarianism. Both extremes, as Epiphanius observed of late antique Marian devotional developments, are wrong – even heretical.

Maybe the answer can be found in the calendar itself. Each individual day, each collection of days and commemorations, is held together in a whole, each one has its time, its role if you will. No individual moment or commemoration is ignored, or side-stepped. The “whole” from a few paces away demonstrates an organic rhythm, and a centred-ness that compliments, and encourages each individual commemoration.

Saint Marutha was Bishop of Tagrith (Martyropolis), a city which he founded between the Byzantine Empire and Persia. He was famed for his knowledge and his piety, he wrote about the martyrs, and he suffered for his faith in Christ under the Persian emperor Sapor. He also left behind other works in the Syrian language, among which the most famous are: “Commentary on the Gospel,” “Verses of Marutha,” “Liturgy of Marutha” and “The 73 Canons of the Ecumenical Council at Nicea” (325) with an account of the acts of the Council.

In the year 381 St Marutha participated in the Second Ecumenical Council at Constantinople, and later in 383 the Council of Antioch.

At the beginning of the fifth century he became an envoy between the courts of Constantinople and Persia, successfully securing peace between the two empires. In 410 (some sources say 414) he persuaded King Yezdgerd to issue an edict of toleration securing the freedom of worship for the Christian community in the empire. The powerful Magi were intensely jealous of Marutha’s intimacy with Yezdgerd, and made numerous attempts to have him shamed, even killed. Each time however, Marutha cleverly uncovered their schemes before the King. Marutha rebuilt Christian churches razed during the persecution by the Persian ruler Sapor. He also located relics of saints who had suffered martyrdom and transferred them to Martyropolis. He died there in 422.

Traditionally his commemoration is on 16 February, however, that is the day we commemorate Francis Hudor so Marutha had to be moved. Given that yesterday was the feast of James the Persian – whose own experiences were affected by Marutha’s earlier activities – it seemed logical to place him here.

Otherwise todays commemorations are: Stephen the New – an 8th century monk who suffered, and was stoned to death by the iconoclasts; and Irenarchus a martyr of the Diocletian persecution. It is said that while ministering to confessors in prison, he witnessed the fortitude of a group of women being tortured. This compelled him to confess his faith in Christ and resulted in his own turture and martyrdom.

A nobleman, and Christian from birth, James was an intimate of King Yazdegerd I (reigned 399-425). Under influence from the King James renounced Christianity and became a Zorastrian. James’ family was so upset they threatened to cut off all relations with him because he “ had preferred a glory that is temporal to the love of Christ”. James reverted to his Christian faith, and was martyred by Yazdegerd’s son Varahran V in AD 421 – the first year of his reign.

This story is not as straightforward as it first appears. Yazdegerd I for example was known for his religious toleration of Christians and Jews during the first half of his reign. Indeed under the influence/freindhsip of Bishop Marutha he issued an edict of toleration in  AD 410. Thus it is likely that James’ Christianity was not an “issue” for the King. It has even been thought that Yazdgerd was seriously considering converting to Christianity himself.

Things changed however, when Abdaas, bishop of Ctesiphon burned down a Zorastrian fire temple and refused to re-build it. This sparked a backlash from the Magi and Yazdegerd had to take action.

Then there is the reaction of James’ family to his conversion. Was this truly the response of a Christian family? Was it right that they refused to associate with him if he remained Zorastrian? True we’re looking at this 1500 years later, with a different world view than they had, but . . . .

What we can take away from this very interesting commemoration is the idea that having abandoned the faith, and then later coming back – James (we can only hope) was openly welcomed back into the community. I would like to think that we each deserve the space to find our own way. And that the community, the network of freinds and fellow travellers that we build along the way will look out for our best interests, while at the same time not overwhelm us, imposing a set of ideas that we are not ready to accept, or do not ascent to in good faith.