וייקץ יעקב משנתו ויאמר אכן יש יהוה במקום הזה ואנכי לא ידעתי׃
ויירא ויאמר מה נורא המקום הזה אין זה כי אם בית אלהים וזה שער השמים׃
Genesis 28:16-17
This passage, in slightly different wording, was chanted as an introit by the choir of my family church, the parish of Saint Mark, in Portland, Oregon (Episcopal then, now, schismatic Anglican). It was my favorite introit, and the chanting of it, even though it happened only once a year on the anniversary of the dedication of the church, is indelibly engraved in my memory, and I can chant it still.
We were a very high church congregation, but then it was a flawless act, covering unbelievable wickedness and hypocrisy. Little did I know it at the time. To me, the place was all magic, and in a good sense. It was in that darkly sparkling nave that I saw and venerated my first real ikons, old Russian ones blackened with the centuries, for ours was a unique parish, commemorating the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Pope of Rome, and the Patriarch of Constantinople, in every mass.
We were moved from that old church, into real Orthodoxy, the Greek Church, by a fortuitous accident, just as the old ship of Episcopalianism was about to disappear beneath the waves of the world's seductive charms. The parish of Saint Mark almost followed, but at the last minute threw its lot in with one of the new continuing Anglican groups, and it has floundered ever since. Only later did I find out what depravity was hidden beneath the brocaded chasubles and immaculate altar frontals.
This is a comment of sad reminiscence, but also a testimony that the Lord in His divine economy and faithfulness can still lead us to the Truth, to Himself, out of Babylon, and still preserve for us the tokens of His saving grace. “Oh, how dreadful is this Place, this is the house of God, and gate of Heaven, and men shall call it the Palace of God” (Introit for the dedication of a church, The English Hymnal, 716).
This passage, in slightly different wording, was chanted as an introit by the choir of my family church, the parish of Saint Mark, in Portland, Oregon (Episcopal then, now, schismatic Anglican). It was my favorite introit, and the chanting of it, even though it happened only once a year on the anniversary of the dedication of the church, is indelibly engraved in my memory, and I can chant it still.
We were a very high church congregation, but then it was a flawless act, covering unbelievable wickedness and hypocrisy. Little did I know it at the time. To me, the place was all magic, and in a good sense. It was in that darkly sparkling nave that I saw and venerated my first real ikons, old Russian ones blackened with the centuries, for ours was a unique parish, commemorating the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Pope of Rome, and the Patriarch of Constantinople, in every mass.We were moved from that old church, into real Orthodoxy, the Greek Church, by a fortuitous accident, just as the old ship of Episcopalianism was about to disappear beneath the waves of the world's seductive charms. The parish of Saint Mark almost followed, but at the last minute threw its lot in with one of the new continuing Anglican groups, and it has floundered ever since. Only later did I find out what depravity was hidden beneath the brocaded chasubles and immaculate altar frontals.
This is a comment of sad reminiscence, but also a testimony that the Lord in His divine economy and faithfulness can still lead us to the Truth, to Himself, out of Babylon, and still preserve for us the tokens of His saving grace. “Oh, how dreadful is this Place, this is the house of God, and gate of Heaven, and men shall call it the Palace of God” (Introit for the dedication of a church, The English Hymnal, 716).
3 comments:
As I read this post, I found myself having your same reactions and thinking your same thoughts. I am glad you wrote this, because there have been times in my life when I felt "spared" by God--not spared from suffering especially, but spared from error and depravity and led to truth--but I felt presumptous to say so.
Over the past couple of days, I have had some free time and I began browsing some blogs which I would not normally have visited--just going from link to link. I was not aware of all the current "schismatic" factions in the church: severe administrative differences even within the same Orthdox jurisdiction, the force of gays and lesbians asserting theological justification for their lifestyle, and the impact of militant feminism even on the Bible itself.
Now, I know every age has its problems and we need responsible people to address these problems, but I began to feel satisfied with my little life in the margins of both society and church. I am freed to read the Bible and pray, and spared from becoming stressed over or drawn astray by matters which I am qualified to settle anyway. I am freed even from obsessing over these things.
Yes, there are probably many ships which have sailed away, pirated by theological and lifestyle errors and by self-importance and by the devil himself. It is humbling to know that--although I do not have perfect theological knowledge and I do have my worldly ways--I am not on one of those ships.
Typo: "...matters which I am NOT qualifid to settle..."
Dear Melanie, most of your comment can stand as an independent post, and your choice of wording is memorable. I especially like your last paragraph. Thanks for enriching this humble Cost of Discipleship.
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