But it brought another question to mind.  What does it take to be a good Christian, a good Orthodox Christian?  It’s not that this priest necessarily has the answer, but I am going to take a stab at it.

To respond to this question I am, however, drawn back to the movie.  Beyond the “passion, ambition & butter” of the Julia Child and Julie Powell characters, what else did they share in common?  Devoted, loving and caring husbands.

So one of the essential ingredients in the success of Julia Child and Julie Powell were their helpmates.  Julia’s toast to her husband — repeated by Julie decades later was “You are the butter to my bread and the breath to my life.”

It has been said that “no man is an island.”  By the same token no person — certainly no Christian — can exist in isolation.  We all need people who love us, who complement us, who inspire us.

And where do we find these people?  Well, certainly one can chance upon them at a mall, in the workplace, hiking on a trail.  But when it comes to those who are the “breath” to our life spiritually our best chance of finding them is at church.

And I’m not talking simply about showing up on a few Sunday mornings.  It doesn’t work that way.  I’m talking about putting one’s back, heart, intellect, time and treasure into Christ’s Church.  For those who do this, our Lord invariably provides them with those special people — mentors, companions, friend, helpmates — that one needs to get through life.

Working for the Church is most often a thankless job.  It can be maddening and frustrated.  But ask those who’ve dedicated their life to the Church what they’ve gotten out of it and, invariably, one of the first things they’ll tell you is “special” people.  There a few better ways to know a person than working side by side at a Festival for hours with a fellow parishioner who, like you, is up to his elbows in grease or dough.  Working together with the purpose of serving Christ is the ultimate bonding experience.

The world can be a lonely place — with very few people who one can truly call friends.  In an entire lifetime it is an achievement to be able to find even one or two others who, like you, are trying to keep their heads screwed on half straight and to live an upright life.  You increase your chances of finding those like minded people if you at least start at church.

When I served in New York City in the early eighties, there was a priest named  Fr. Peter Kyriakos who hosted a radio program for the Archdiocese.  He always concluded the program with a beautiful and moving prayer, one that has always comforted and inspired me.  I would like to share it with you.

Κύριε, δος μου την δύναμη να κάμω το έργο μου όσο μπορώ καλύτερα.

Χάρισέ μου σύνεσή, φρόνηση και προσοχή στην καθημερινή μου ζωή.

Κύριε, δος μου την δύναμη να βλέπω μονάχα το καλό, το αγνό, το όμορφο.

Δώσε στην γλώσσα μου τόλμη να λέγη την αλήθεια, και στην κρίση μου δώσε εύθυκρισία.

Κύριε, κάνε την καρδια μου πλατειά για να χωρή όλους και να αγαπά όλους.

Δόσε φωτισμό στο νου μου να λογικεύεται και να ορθοφρονεί.

Κύριε, χάρισε γαλήνη στην συνείδησί μου, άντοχή στα νεύρα μου, υπομονή στις πικρές στιγμές της ζωής μου, καρτερία στις θλίψεις μου.

Και ένα φίλον να με εννοή και να μοιράζομαι σιωπηλά μαζύ του τες χαρές μου και τα δακρυά μου.

Lord, give me the strength to do my work as well as I can.

Grant prudence, common sense and caution to my everyday life.

Lord, grant me the strength to see only the good, the pure, the beautiful.

Give my tongue the courage to speak the truth, and confer honesty on my judgement.

Lord, broaden my heart so that it can encompass all and love all.

Enlighten my mind so that it may reason and think correctly.

Lord, grant peace to my conscience, steadiness to my nerves, patience in the bitter moments of my life, endurance in my afflictions . . .

. . . and one friend who will understand me and quietly share my joy and tears.

The husbands of both Julie and Julia are, for them, the friend that is referred to in the last line of the above prayer.  My prayer for all of you is that God grant each and every one of you that good friend who will know you, share your joys and sorrows — be by your side through both thick and thin.

After viewing several documentaries of these fanatics, however, I began to understand the appeal of the sport. Human destruction is not what attracts these folks, but rather the chance to be as close as they can to the awesome power of nature. In those moments, the storm-chaser is caught up in the raw force of a tornado or thunderstorm, one capable of carrying her or him above everyday concerns. 

In a way, I join with quite a few other people in being similarly drawn to another power. As with storm-chasers, we will sacrifice time and money to pursue this force, and no distance is too great in our pursuit of it. 

Our hobby could be called chasing the Holy. 

To have this hobby is to know, even once, the magnetic attraction of sacred space. It does not matter how we came to that place. Maybe we were brought by another, or maybe we came by accident. All that matters is that the recipient senses the overpowering presence of the Other. In sacred space, time seems to slow down. In sacred space, fatigue gives way to newfound energy. In sacred space, life seems more meaningful. In sacred space, we are enveloped by a peace that is beyond reason, what the Bible calls “the peace that passes understanding.” 

As a professor of religious studies, I am on the lookout for these experiences of the Holy both in my own life and in the lives of others. The Holy has met me in magnificent cathedrals, in catacombs, in monasteries hidden away in deserts, and in silent Quaker meetings. The Holy met me recently on an unplanned trip to the Shaker village of Watersvleit, New York, a site next door to the noisy Albany airport. 

Friends and students, past and present, have shared with me their own encounters with the Holy. As is true of all of us, they struggle to put into words that which tends to be beyond words. But to a person, each knows that he or she experienced something very real. 

That is not to say that we meet the Holy whenever we want. The Holy finds us; it is not we who find the Holy. But we can be forgiven for wanting the experience again, for once is never enough. 

Recently, at a party at a friend’s house, I found myself drawn to an antique print, one that depicted the interior of a medieval cathedral. The friend came over and explained that she had fallen in love with the print on a recent trip out east. I could understand why. The scene drew me in from the buzz of the party, and I simply wanted to stand there and be quiet. 

Such experiences of the Holy are often dismissed as having no practical or earthly value. Even some religious people argue that God and our needy world call for us to act, not to daydream. 

But, if the prophets and saints of various religions have anything to teach us, it is that being open to the Holy is both practical and necessary in a suffering world. Being in sacred space has the benefit of centering us. In the swirling confusion of economic crises, terrorist attacks, wars, and famines, an encounter with the Holy can give us direction. Experiencing the Holy does not remove us from the world, but helps us see what needs in the world have our name on them. In the presence of the Holy, we find ourselves and our purpose. 

But perhaps the biggest gain in meeting the Holy is recovering a sense of balance and reality. On our own with our worries and concerns, we easily fall into the illusion that we need to take control of our personal and even global problems. On our own, we demand that our leaders solve the multiple crises we are facing, and solve them quickly. On our own and in our busyness playing God, we forget God. 

But in sacred space, we learn to listen for the Holy rather than make demands. Instead of praying for our current economic or personal troubles to disappear, we begin to ask what we are to learn through them. Perhaps in those moments of silence, we may even hear a call to give ourselves to a particular need, as did Mother Theresa and Martin Luther King, Jr.. 

The ancient Hebrew Psalmist was certainly listening attentively when he or she heard, “Be still and know that I am God.” That is essential wisdom to remember in times of confusion and fear.

MOTHER AND CHILD, Painting by Constance, Countess Markievicz

One of the signature hymns of the Paraklesis service — sung during the Dormition period of August — is “Prostasia ton Christianon” (Protection of Christians).  In this beautiful hymn we praise the Theotokos — the Virgin Mary — and importune her to pray for us before her son Jesus, the Christ.

A few days ago, on October 28, the Greek Orthodox Church celebrated the feastday of the Aghia Skepi — the Holy Protection — of the Theotokos.  What appropriate timing, for starting about now and in the coming weeks, darkness and cold will descend across the landscape.  Driving will become more difficult and dangerous.  Many of us will be challenged to even afford heat this winter.  We find ourselves hurtling headlong toward the shortest days of the year.

In many ways winter is a scary and lonely time.  So isn’t it appropriate that we gather under the shelter — the skepi — of our Theotokos?

When we were little, who would we run to for protection?  More than likely, our mother.  Knowing that she was there, to protect us from the vicissitudes of the world, was a comfort.  Having our mother’s protection, we knew that even the meanest bully of the world could not touch us.  And if something came up that mother couldn’t handle, we knew that she could always ask dad — big, strong dad — to intervene.  But most times, just know that mom was there for us made everything alright.

As adults, even if we are fortunate enough to have our mother with us, it is considered unseemly to run to mom for protection.  At any rate, the kinds of threats we encounter as adults are commonly too big for even mom to fix.

We need someone bigger.  Someone stronger.  We need the Theotokos.

The evangelist John tells us about a wedding feast that Jesus attended, in Cana of Galilee.  At that feast we see how Mary has sympathy for her hosts who did buy adequate wine for a wedding reception.  Knowing that she could do nothing herself — at least with such short notice — she cajoles her Son to help.  Despite His initial resistance (He was, after all, “off the clock” and there to enjoy a wedding celebration with his friends!) we see Jesus, the Son of God, perform His first miracle — because His mother made Him do it.  Isn’t this an example of why we put our faith in the ability of the Theotokos to advocate for us before her Son’s throne?

Oftentimes Protestant Christians are confused by this attitude.  They say, doesn’t God Himself love us enough to look out for us?  Why do we need an advocate, a mediator, before Him?

The answer is a very simple one.  For those of us who were lucky enough to grow up in a two-parent family, couldn’t we say the same?  Couldn’t we always go to our father, with anything, becaused he loved us enough to look out for us?  Of course we could!  But on those occasions when we crashed the car or needed special permission to extend our curfew, didn’t we frequently ask mom to intervene or intercede — to be our advocate — before him?  Like Mary at Cana, our mothers always had that ability to smooth the rough edges from any anger or gruffness dad might display — and to expedite our request.  Even if we knew that dad would be ‘okay’ with whatever request or problem we had, somehow it just always felt better to have mom’s reassuring words and gentler manner pave the way.

Life is often difficult, lonely and scary for us adults.  Especially in this confusing political and economic times in which we live, isn’t it comforting to know that we can still — at any time — run to our Mother for protection?

So let’s pause and contemplate the Theotokos — and the example of her life, her courage and her love for her Son and the world.  If we have her in our corner then we can muster the solace and courage and strength to soldier on — even during the coldest winters of our lives.

Fr. Taso

It’s a ritual that’s repeated every year, each time with a new cast of characters coming forward to replenish ranks depleted by those who, since the year before, have become too “mature” to participate.

If you ‘watch’ carefully, our older city neighborhoods are populated by the Halloween denizens — the ghosts of yesteryear.  Our grandparents, parents, relatives, friends — even the younger and more innocent versions of ourselves.

I sit alone in my office in our now-sold facilities at 40th & Pennsylvania.  I likewise find myself surrounded by ghosts.  (Don’t worry, Indianapolis Opera, the building is not haunted.)  I’m not even the least bit scared.  But they’re here, just as sure as the nose on my face.

Generations of Holy Trinity parishioners from all walks of life have populated this old church building — with its associated corridors, classrooms, Chapel Room and other spaces.  They’ve sat alone in the temple, praying for strength during trying times.  They’ve repented of and confessed secret sins — and have been absolved of their guilt and shame.  Countless couples have stood before the Holy Altar and have received from our Lord the strength and blessings to live together as husband and wife.  People have discovered Orthodoxy and have dedicated their lives to our two thousand year old Faith.  Parents have dreamed dreams for their children as they’ve been presented for their forty-day blessings and been christened into the Body of Christ.

And all these people have left behind their ghosts.  Really.

After all, the word ghost derives directly from the German word geist, which simply means “spirit.”  We believe in the immortality of each and every human spirit.  So can we deny that the spirits of those who have passed through 40th & Pennsylvania during their life’s journey are not still, somehow, connected with this place — with us, their offspring and successors?

These ‘ghosts’ surround me as I sit here, contemplating.  There’s a school of thought, which perhaps some parishioners subscribe to, that by moving to 106th & Shelborne we abandon these ghosts.  That we leave them forlorn, alone, abandoned.

I don’t subscribe to that school of thought.  I know that our ancestors in the Faith who’ve hoped, prayed, loved, cried, complained and struggled with life are somehow with our Lord, awaiting His Second Coming.  I also know that our God is universal, uncircumscribed, in all places and in all things.

Thus, I believe that the ghosts of 40th & Pennsylvania will — at the very least — commute to our beautiful new Carmel facilities.    Moreover, I know that the ghosts of every one of our grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, sisters and brothers — not matter where they live, worshiped and died — will be present in our new temple and associated spaces.

As long as we are there.

You see, it is we who keep alive the ghosts, the spirits, of our spiritual forebears.  It is within ourselves that we preserve, in our spiritual DNA — the thoughts, hopes, aspirations, values, lessons and stories of those who have come before us.  We are the vessels to whom this priceless spiritual patrimony has been entrusted.

Saint Spyridon of Cyprus (click here to learn more) whose relics are now enshrined on the Greek island of Kerkyra (Corfu), was an early Christian bishop of strong and simple faith.  Ethereal figures of people could be seen surrounding the Holy Altar whenever Bishop Spyridon celebrated the Eucharist, made visible by his rock-solid and pure faith.

This is what we believe.  We believe that, each time the Liturgy is celebrated, that the entirety of the Church Triumphant (more info here) is clustered around the back of the Holy Altar — just as we, the Church Militant, are clustered before it.

Thus, no matter where we worship we are never far away from the founders and pioneers of our Faith, our parishes, our families.

For us, ghosts are real.

Tomorrow, we will welcome little ghosts at our doors.  For many of us, our minds will wistfully be transported back to All Hallow Eves of old.  As we do so, let’s also be reassured that the ghosts of Holy Trinity’s past will also be a part of its future.

Fr. Taso

Our new dome from within . . .

I drive past our beautiful new temple and see the dome illuminated from within.  The warm streams from its windows in all directions — a warm, beckoning beacon that can be seen from afar.

Much of our modern world communicates with light.  I’m talking about fiber optics.  It’s much more efficient that old copper cables.  Fiber optics convey a much great volume of information.  It’s the communications technology that binds together our contemporary world.

In less than two months, our congregation will occupy this new temple – along with its new administrative, teaching and social spaces.  The same light will still stream out of the dome windows into the surrounding streets and neighborhoods when evening services are being celebrated — beckoning passersby by to enter.

But once we occupy our new home, it’ll be a different type of light that counts — that welcomes, that beckons, that warms the hearts of those who seek refuge from the cold world outside.  That light will be the light of Christ that emanates from our every thought, every word, every action and our every gesture.  And that light — which communicates the light and hope and joy of our Lord — comes from our hearts and minds and souls.  It was lit there by Jesus our Lord on the day we were baptized — and/or entered the Orthodox Faith through christmation and the Holy Eucharist.

That light has the power to warm and illumine the darkest recesses of the human heart, mind and soul — if we keep its flame burning brightly.  And how do we do that?  We do that through our constant contact and association with Christ’s Church — including His Sacraments, His Scriptures and Holy Tradition.  If we do so then we — when we stream out from worship to our homes, schools and workplaces — will become that warm and beckoning light that helps God illumine all of central Indiana.

Fiber optics — it’s cutting edge communication technology.  Communicating with light — the light of Christ — it’s time-test and proven two thousand year old technology.  It’s the spiritual technology that binds together the entire world.

And it comes from us.

Be a conduit for the Light.  Be a part of your Holy Trinity community and equip yourselves for the sacred work — of being “photons” for our Lord.

Fr. Taso