Resources

Many informative articles were published in our parish newsletters in the years prior to Covid. Email to the friends and faithful of Holy Cross has replaced our newsletters, but many of the articles are collected here. Use the indexes below to find the topic or author you’re interested in. (Once you click on a topic or author, scroll to the bottom of the page to see the search results.)

Also, have a look at the Recommended Readings on the OCA (Orthodox Church in America) website for a list of books covering a wide range of topics. Essential Orthodox Christian Beliefs: A Manual for Adult Instruction is also available for free download on the OCA’s website.

(Speaking of our parent jurisdiction, the OCA traces its origins to the arrival in Kodiak, Alaska in 1794 of eight Orthodox missionaries from the Valaamo Monastery in the northern Karelia region of Russia. Today, the OCA includes some 700 parishes, missions, communities, monasteries, and institutions throughout the United States, Canada, and Mexico.)

We hope you’ll find these suggested readings to be both edifying and encouraging!

Liturgy, Bible Fr John Breck Liturgy, Bible Fr John Breck

Bible & Liturgy

It all begins with an idea.

Very Rev. John Breck

A defining characteristic of Orthodox Christianity is the intimate and inseparable relationship it preserves between Bible and Liturgy, between divine revelation as the canonical or normative source of our faith, and celebration of that faith in the worship of the Church. Faith, grounded in Scripture, determines the content of our worship; worship gives expression to our faith.

This principle, once again, is expressed most succinctly in the Latin phrase lex orandi lex est credendi; our rule of worship is nothing other than our rule of belief. Our prayer is shaped by and expresses our theology, just as our theology is illumined and deepened by our prayer.

In our liturgical services we praise, bless and adore the God from whom we receive saving grace and the gift of eternal life. Accordingly, our eucharistic Divine Liturgy concludes with a "Prayer before the ambon" -- in the midst of the people -- which begins, "O Lord, who blessest those who bless Thee, and sanctifiest those who place their trust in Thee: Save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance. Preserve the fullness of Thy Church...."

The deeper meaning of "faith" (pistis) is "trust," total and unwavering confidence in God's utter faithfulness towards us. In response to our trust, expressed through the worship by which we "bless" Him, God bestows upon us still further blessings. Our relationship with Him involves a reciprocal movement. Through worship we offer ourselves to Him, yet through that same worship He offers Himself to us. We "bless" Him by our thanksgiving, our adoration and our praise; and we are blessed by Him through the continual outpouring of His divine grace.

This mutual gesture of self-giving reaches its apex in the Divine Liturgy, when we offer to God the fruit of the earth that He has already bestowed upon us, "Thine own of Thine own...." In return we receive nourishment from His hand in the form of "communion," which enables us actually to participate in His life through partaking of the Body and Blood of His risen and glorified Son. In the eucharistic service, we experience the reality and fullness of the Gospel. There above all, we are made aware of the vital link, the virtual unity, that exists between Bible and Liturgy, between the written, canonical source of our faith, and the actualization of that faith in the prayer of the Church.

This intimate relation between Bible and Liturgy is evident in the Holy Scriptures themselves. The Hebrew Bible, our Old Testament, is filled with liturgical hymns, the most familiar of which are the Psalms. The intertestamental period gave rise to an abundant hymnography, incorporated into canonical and non-canonical writings, including the Song of Azariah and the three young men (Dan 3 in the Septuagint version), the Prayer of Manasseh, the Hodayot or Hymn Scroll and the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice from Qumran, and the first century Psalms of Solomon.

In the New Testament we find fragments or portions of text that were adapted from early Christian hymns, such as the songs of Mary, Zachariah and Simeon in St Luke's narratives of Jesus' birth and infancy (Lk 1-2). St Paul refers to "psalms, hymns and spiritual songs," difficult to identify but which clearly denote liturgical elements familiar to early Christians. Hymnic fragments seem present as well in passages such as 1 Corinthians 15:54-55, Ephesians 5:14, Hebrews 1:1-4, 1 Timothy 3:16, 1 Peter 2:22-24, and throughout the book of Revelation.

Confessional or creedal hymns very likely appear in the well-known passages Philippians 2:5-11 and Colossians 2:15-19(20). And some reputable biblical scholars hold that the Prologue to St John's Gospel (1:1-18) was adapted from an early Christian hymn. However, since these are structured according to the literary pattern known as "chiasmus," it is difficult to say whether their rhythm is actually "hymnic," meaning that their original form was sung in liturgical services (many scholars hold that Phil 2, for example, was sung antiphonally in the worship of certain Pauline communities), or whether that rhythm derives from the poetic balance resulting from concentric parallelism. In either case, lying behind these biblical passages are very likely elements of the early Church's communal worship, some sung, others recited as confessions of faith.

It is essential for us to recognize and preserve this close relationship that exists between the Church's canon and its liturgical tradition. What we confess with our lips in the form of creedal statements, what we sing in the form of antiphons and prokeimena (derived from the Psalter), stichera (e.g., verses from the Octoechos on the Lucernarium ["Lord I Call"] and Aposticha of Vespers), and similar liturgical elements, all express the deepest convictions of the heart. And those convictions derive directly from God's self-revelation in Holy Scripture.

If other Christian confessions today often find themselves in a state of crisis, it is largely due to the fact that in their historical tradition this vital link between Bible and Liturgy has been severed. When this occurs, the inevitable result is to produce biblical studies that are little more than exercises in text criticism or literary analysis, and worship services that are practically devoid of authentic spiritual content. The logical outcome of this break between the Church's Scriptures and its worship is phenomena such as the Jesus Seminar on the one hand and the jazz mass on the other. A hermeneutic that is not grounded in worship will inevitably limit its field of interest to the "literal sense" of biblical passages; just as worship that does not proclaim the Gospel will inevitably degenerate into pious noise, void of serious content, or simply aim to provide a psychological "uplift," equally devoid of spiritual depth and transcendent purpose.

It would be easy to fault Protestant and Catholic Christians for allowing this separation to develop over the years within their respective traditions. That would be to overlook the fact, however, that the intimate and reciprocal relationship between Bible and Liturgy, faith and worship, has been preserved in Orthodoxy not by our own doing but as a gift of sheer grace -- without which the Orthodox Church itself would have long ago disappeared under pressures of persecution and martyrdom. If "Orthodoxy" is truly "right worship" and "right belief," it is because it has been sustained as such through the ages by the Holy Spirit.

Our task as Orthodox Christians is not to criticize and condemn those who have lost a sense for the vital unity that should exist between the Gospel and worship. It is rather to celebrate, with joy and humble gratitude, the gift of the God who blesses and sanctifies those who place their trust in Him. It is to acknowledge in the words of the apostle James, also taken up in the Prayer before the ambon, that "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights," including faith born of the Gospel. Our task, then, is to express this biblical faith through the liturgy of the Church, and thereby to "ascribe glory, thanksgiving and worship: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages."

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Holy Saturday, Hell, Salvation Fr John Breck Holy Saturday, Hell, Salvation Fr John Breck

From the Depths of Hell

It all begins with an idea.

Very Rev. John Breck

The final Old Testament reading for Holy Saturday vespers -- Daniel 3:1-57, the story of the three young men in the fiery furnace in Babylon -- is composite, drawing upon both Aramaic and Greek (Septuagint) traditions. The latter modifies and amplifies a detail the Church's patristic witnesses consider essential. That small detail is a typological image that announces the primary theme of Orthodox Pascha or Easter: the descent of Christ into the depths of hell, to liberate humanity from the powers of sin, death and corruption.

According to the Aramaic version, King Nebuchadnezzar -- for unspecified reasons (the Greek declares it was because he heard the three young men singing from the midst of the flames) -- asks his advisors, "Did we not cast three bound men into the furnace?" Then he adds, "Yet I see four men, unbound, walking in the midst of the fire -- and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods!" That descriptive phrase, "like a son of the gods," is a Semitism, signifying an angelic being. The Septuagint replaces it with the assertion, "An angel of the Lord came down into the furnace… and drove out the fiery flame."

In the view of the Church Fathers and Orthodox tradition generally, the angelic being who appears in the midst of the flames is a prophetic image of both the means and the meaning of our salvation. That powerful image points forward to and is fulfilled by the crucifixion, the death and the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

One of the most significant differences between Western (Latin) and Eastern (Orthodox) theology concerns the means by which we are redeemed from the consequences of sin -- our rebellion against the person and will of God -- and granted access to the blessed, transfigured existence termed by Scripture "eternal life." The Latin view -- focusing on the "original sin" of the first man Adam, transmitted to successive generations like a genetic flaw -- stresses the payment or obligation we have to offer to God, whether of Christ's sacrifice (Anselm's theory of "satisfaction") or of our good deeds (the notion of accumulated "merits"). These medieval themes have been significantly modified by modern Western theologians, but they continue to shape Catholic popular piety, and even that of certain Protestant confessions (the Lutheran "theologia crucis," for example: a "theology of the cross" that places primary emphasis on Christ's crucifixion, while not neglecting the resurrection). An indirect consequence of this accent is the paschal image of the risen Christ in Western tradition. There the Saviour, bearing the marks of crucifixion, is usually depicted rising victorious from his tomb or sepulchre, while the guards are asleep at his feet.

In Orthodox tradition, that saving victory over death is depicted much differently. Here the themes of incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection and exaltation merge in the motif of Christ's "Descent into Hell," more properly termed his "Descent into Sheol," the realm of the departed righteous who await the Saviour's coming.

If the eternal Son of God, second Person of the Holy Trinity, deigned to become a man, a human being of flesh and blood, it was not in the first instance to assume the consequences of Adam's guilt through a vicarious sacrificial self-offering. He "took flesh," rather, to assume our fallen, sin-scarred "nature" -- what makes us essentially human -- in order to redeem and glorify that nature. This he accomplished by his sinless life and innocent death, fulfilled by his rising from the dead and his ascension or exaltation into heaven, the fullness of the presence of God. In that movement of glorification, he remained the "God-man," bearing in himself both his eternal divinity and his human nature, restored and renewed to its original perfection and beauty. If the Son of God became (a) man, patristic tradition declares, it was to offer to us the possibility of theôsis or "deification," meaning a full participation in God's very life and a sharing with him in a communion of boundless, inexhaustible love.

In this perspective, it is not we who strive to reconcile ourselves to God by appeasing his righteous wrath. It is God who seeks to reconcile himself us to through the gift of his Son, the righteous innocent one, who breaks down the wall of our sin and unrighteousness, in order to unite us through himself to the Father. "God was in Christ," the apostle Paul declares, "reconciling the world to himself."

This is the theme so beautifully and poignantly depicted in iconography of the Resurrection or Descent into Sheol. The Crucified One, lying in the tomb on the day that will become known and celebrated as Holy Saturday, "descends" into the lower reaches of the created world, into the realm of the dead. Here he reaches out to meet and seize the outstretched hands of Adam and Eve, representatives of all humanity. The flow of Christ's robes and the position of his body make it appear that he is both descending and ascending. Enveloped in a resplendent aureole, he stands victoriously above the pit of hell, a dark hole in which Satan and Hades, symbols of sin and death, are bound fast. Death is overcome, and for those who long for eternal communion with God, salvation is at hand. It is enough to reach out and seize the hand that's offered.

As the angel descended into the fiery furnace to protect and save the three young men, so Christ descends into the farthest reaches of hell, to bring reconciliation and life to all those who seek them. In the same way, he descends into our own realm of torment and death, to enfold us in the mantle of his boundless compassion and love. We may provoke our own alienation from ultimate truth and value. We may reject the gift of life and fashion our own hell, a place of living death. Or that hell may take the form of unrelieved suffering, within ourselves or in the lives of those closest to us. Still, the metaphor holds. Into that place of darkness and pain, even into the fiery furnace of our tortured imagination, Christ descends again and again. He comes not only to release us from our suffering; he comes to bear that suffering with us and for us. He comes as Light into our darkness and as Life into our sickness and death. He comes, as he came to the three young men and to the righteous departed of the paschal icon, with outstretched hands, to embrace us, to raise us up, and to exalt us with himself into a place, into a communion, of ineffable glory and joy.

This sacred image of Christ's paschal victory reveals the mystery, the sacramental blessing, of our salvation. And in that mystery lies our most fervent hope, and with it, the object of our deepest longing.

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Prayer, Practices Fr John Breck Prayer, Practices Fr John Breck

Archbishop Anastasios on Prayer

It all begins with an idea.

Very Rev. John Breck

2007

(from “Life in Christ” March 2004)

His Eminence Archbishop Anastasios (Yannoulatos) arrived in Albania in 1991, to assume archpastoral duties in this impoverished country, which during the Communist period had been militantly atheistic. Since that date, under his guidance and through his prayer, the Orthodox Church in Albania has experienced what has rightly been proclaimed a "Resurrection" (Anastasis!).

Jim Forest, a well-known Orthodox journalist and head of the Orthodox Peace Fellowship (OPF), visited the Church in Albania a few years ago and met with the Archbishop and many other people there who are involved in various kinds of mission work. The fruit of that visit was a remarkable little book, published by the World Council of Churches in 2002, entitled The Resurrection of the Church in Albania: Voices of Orthodox Christians. Jim has kindly given permission to quote from that book a portion of Archbishop Anastasios’ thoughts on prayer (pages 123f). They are vibrant words that issue from a living experience of the God of love, who is present and acting in the midst of the world’s turmoil and suffering. Yet their simplicity and depth is such that they offer direction to anyone who seeks, in the midst of everyday activities, to commune with the life-giving Trinity.

Prayer summarizes a longing. The problem is that so often we become ego-centered, lacking humility. Thus it is good to pray, ‘Oh Lord, deliver me from myself and give me to Yourself!’ – a cry of the heart. It is similar to the prayer, ‘Lord, I believe, please help my unbelief.’ Often it is necessary to pray for forgiveness.

Many times in my life, there has been no opportunity for long prayers, only time to go quickly into what I call the ‘hut of prayer’ – very short prayers that I know by heart or to make a very simple request: ‘Show me how to love!’ Or, when you have to make a decision, ‘Lord, help me make the right estimation and come to the right judgment, to make the right action.’ Then there is the very simple prayer, ‘Your will be done.’ I have also learned, in Albania, what it means to be a foreigner, to come from a country many regard with suspicion. This, however, can help one become more humble. It helps one pray with more intensity, ‘Use me according to Your will.’ Often I pray, ‘Lord, illumine me so that I know Your will, give me the humility to accept your will and the strength to do your will.’ I go back to these simple prayers again and again.

“Many times, the psalms are my refuge. You realize that in the spontaneous arising of certain phrases from the psalms you are hearing God speak to you. Perhaps you are reciting the psalm, ‘My soul, why are you so downcast…’ And then another phrase from the psalms arises which is a response. It is an ancient Christian tradition that a bishop should know many psalms by heart. The psalms provide a spiritual refuge. In each situation there is a psalm that can help you, in those critical moments when you have no place of retreat.

Perhaps you remember the words, ‘Unless the Lord guards the house, they who guard it labour in vain.’ You are reminded that your own efforts are not decisive. You also come to understand that your own suffering is a sharing in God’s suffering. It is a theme St. Paul sometimes writes about. You come to understand that the resurrection is not after the cross but in the cross.

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