Dear Friends,

I was nervous about bringing my 12 year-old son to church last Sunday morning. This would be his first time. We have never taken our kids to church other than for a couple funerals. This all changed three months ago when my husband and I decided to participate together in the Orthodox path through home study and prayer, a weekly class, and attendance at Church. 

I had the sense that my daughter, nine years old, would have an easier time, for she has always been more right-brained and has often talked about God, even as a young child. When we first took her with us a month ago, she enjoyed the experience despite standing for most of the two-hour liturgy, and has returned with us every week. If you asked her what she liked about it she’d probably say “I don’t know”, which I think is a testament to the “whole experience” of being in a holy and sacred space, participating with communal prayer based in ancient tradition, surrounded by angelic singing, candlelight, incense and art. 

I have been intrigued by the perspective the Orthodox have towards the mystery of God. In the words of Father Maximos, an Athonite Monk, “God loves when we study him”*. Yet there is also a recognition that God is unknowable. It's quite a paradox. We are instructed to devote ourselves completely to God, and also reminded that we can not know God fully. Father Stephen DiYoung calls this “realistic humility”.** 

This idea should not be foreign to yoga students, for the Yoga Sutras also describe the state of enlightenment as one beyond the limited nature of the human mind. Yoga’s afflictions of the mind begin only when we are stuck in the illusory perception that we are separate from our Creator. In Yoga’s 8 Fold Path, the first two steps (yamas and niyamas) include philosophical guidelines that, in simplicity, begin with non-harm toward others (ahimsa) and end with dedication, devotion and surrender to God (ishvara pranidhana). The final step is samadhi or union with the divine.

Union with each other and the divine is the power we find in the church experience. Opportunities for this kind of sacred connection and community are increasingly lacking in our modern world. Our emphasis on the secular, material, individual and virtual have heightened through the pandemic, but we’ve been on this trajectory for some time. Philosopher and writer Charles Eisenstein pointed out that one of the benefits of the pandemic was the question it posed to all of us: Is this truly the direction we want to be going?  

One of the first things I noticed about being in the holy environment of the church was the quality of conversation with people. Each visit brought forth at least one interaction that caused me to “pause” in a way I can only compare to my experience in nature. It was as if time stood still, as though I could recognize something very important was being said to me, something of a holy vibration. I could even say that a golden light was present, a warmth, and an experience of reality beyond the mind. I would later find myself reflecting on simple statements made that had profound layers and meaning. Interestingly, I notice this same quality when I read the suggested Bible passages and commentaries with my husband.

On this Sunday morning, with my son standing in  front of me during church, I whispered that it would be okay if he sat for a bit like his sister.  He shook his head and proceeded to look forward. Then, during one of my favorite parts of the service, when the choir and deacon sing an incredibly moving prayer for catechumens (newcomers to Orthodoxy) an older gentleman came over and whispered to my son, “This song is for you”. I had noticed this man plenty of times, always standing at the back of the church, delighting in the youngest children who wandered around during the service, giving them candles or quiet looks of encouragement. After the service, as members of the church slowly made their way one by one to the front for a personal blessing from the priest, this same man said to my son “Now we are together receiving communion with God, as we are all One”.  

We had arranged a family meeting with the priest after the service, as Nick and I wanted to receive his blessing in our decision to be catechumen. I told the priest of my background in various spiritual traditions including yoga. He demonstrated what I've seen consistently in the Orthodox elders, who do not seek to judge nor convert but to offer an all-embracing welcome to anyone who feels called to be there. In response to my request for books to read, especially to my children, he lamented briefly at his inability to attend to details as he'd like to, being the sole priest of this church, but that he'd ask one of his five daughters to help him. I was aware that he had been there since 4:30 that morning, praying and preparing the sacred space for the liturgy. Not only had he been there for eight hours, but without food and water, which is the required fasting prior to giving and receiving communion.   

In response to his apology for not having a book list in the forefront of his mind (which he emailed to me the next day), I mentioned that every time I attended church, at least one person would whisper something in my ear to help me understand. His face lit up with relief and immense gratitude. On my last visit the whisper came from a woman my age who I had seen consistently attending to her father, who was limited in mobility. Seeing me with children, she asked if I knew about the lighting of candles. She explained that there was one location specific to the departed, but all others were open for any and all prayers.   

This became the highlight for my kids, who lit a candle for their "bapa", my father, who died four years ago. The Orthodox use the word “reposed” rather than passed away or deceased, because they believe the spirit lives on eternally. Repose, which means “calmness” refers to a resting place for all souls, with God. All spiritual beings, including departed friends and relatives, the saints, and even the angels continue to evolve spiritually in the unseen world. For this reason, our prayers for departed loved ones assist them on their journey toward God. Likewise, they can be intercessors for us, which means they can help deliver our prayers to God. The most revered intercessor is Mother Mary, who actualized our divine potential as human beings. This spiritual family exists for us in this lifetime, and beyond.  

As we walked to our car after the service, I asked my son what he thought of his experience in the church. A boy of usually few words, with a light-hearted grin he said, “Interesting!”. Later in the day, as I was making dinner, he bounded into the kitchen with a big smile and said, “So, did you enjoy your holy day?”    

May you enjoy your holy days this month and always. I will continue to share reflections in December on the qualities of that which is holy. Due to the holidays, there will be three newsletters in December, instead of four, and one community call on Thursday, December 16, 10:30am. I have had some requests for an evening Community Call time. Please let me know if this is of interest to you.  

With Great Love,

Julie 

*Markides, Kyriakos, Inner River: A Pilgrimage to the Heart of Christian Spirituality, (New York: Image Books, 2012). 

**DiYoung, Father Stephen, in The Lord of Spirits (www.ancientfaith.com/podcasts/lordofspirits).

Content related to this months theme:

Guiding Theme | Issue #128 | Holy Days
Yoga Philosophy | Issue #129 | Holy Angels
Our Yoga Nature | Issue #130 | The Holiest Place

To access all of the archived content please click here.