Facing East

The windows of our temporary apartment in downtown Milwaukee face west. When I look out, I see the east face of another high-rise apartment building a block away. The bedrooms in that building all have enormous bay windows. They are so large that it seems like the occupants are sleeping in glass pods protruding from the side of the building.

In the morning, I can see the light of dawn creeping down the side of that building, pouring in the windows. The people who live on the upper levels must be early risers, or else they have to sleep with the shades drawn. It must be quite a view, and I imagine that the people who live there pay a premium for it. I bet they can see dawn breaking over Lake Michigan. As for me, I can only see the sunrise indirectly, reflected in those windows.

This morning, I watched that indirect sunrise while nursing Peter and musing. I was thinking about the significance of having a sense of one's orientation in space. Some people, like my husband, have a clear sense of their spatial orientation at all times. I think such people must be continually tracking their location on a mental map. I, on the other had, am usually unaware of whether I am facing north, south, east, or west. My focus is small-scale: what is happening right in front of me, in this room. I don't think about my wider spatial context unless a view of some major point of reference, such as the sunrise or Lake Michigan, suddenly makes me aware of it. If I lived on the east side that other apartment building, I think it would be easier for me to maintain a constant sense of my location because the dawn would vividly remind me every morning.

Spatial orientation is important in Orthodox Christianity. Orthodox Christians all over the globe face in the same direction during Divine Liturgy and when saying their morning and evening prayers: East, towards the rising sun. The rising sun is a natural icon of Christ. St. John of Damascus argued, "Since [. . .] God is spiritual light, and Christ is called in the Scriptures Sun of Righteousness and Dayspring, the East is the direction that must be assigned to His worship." There are also many Biblical references to the East. When Christ returns, we will see him coming from the East: "For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man” (Matthew 24:27). In our churches, the altar is to the East, and in our homes we (ideally) set up our icon corners on an Eastern wall or corner of the house. This is a very ancient tradition.

Orthodoxy emphasizes the physical aspect of worship as very important and inseparable from the spiritual aspect. Matter matters: spatial orientation, body posture, icons, incense, prayer ropes, and of course the Bread and Wine that become the Body and Blood of Christ. Human beings are both physical and spiritual, so if we are to worship God with our whole being, our physical bodies must be involved. The practice of physically facing East during prayer ought to reinforce the spiritual practice of orienting our souls and our lives towards Christ.

Sometimes, it is not practical to set up an icon corner on an Eastern wall. In our temporary apartment, I have broken with tradition and propped up our icons on the sill of the west-facing windows, simply because that is the only convenient place for them. But today, after indirectly watching the sunrise, glorious even when seen reflected in other people's windows, I decided to face East again to say my morning prayers: East towards the beautiful sunrise hidden from my view, towards the beautiful God I cannot see directly but Whose Light is reflected all around me.

Pentecost

Pentecost 2015, the day we became Orthodox

My husband and I became members of the Orthodox Church through the sacrament of Chrismation last year at Pentecost. Today, I came full-circle through the liturgical year for the first time as an Orthodox Christian.

Last Pentecost, I woke up early in the morning with a feeling of great anticipation. I was so excited to finally become Orthodox after several years as an inquirer. I was also nervous about the ceremony of Chrismation itself and making sure that I "did everything right"- something I tend to worry too much about. It was similar to how I felt on my wedding day.

By the time our Chrismation ceremony started, I was already starving and slightly dizzy because I had been awake for several hours and was unused to the Eucharistic fast. I was also 3 months pregnant, a fact I had not yet announced to our church friends, and I'm sure that contributed to my dizziness. Our priest would surely have exempted me from the fast if I had asked, but I was proudly determined to DO IT RIGHT!

So I struggled to make it through the Mass, intent on not missing my opportunity to receive Holy Communion for the first time. Nathan and I were first in line for Communion, since we had just been Chrismated, and as we approached the rail I saw gray spots around the periphery of my vision. I managed to hang on just long enough to receive Communion before collapsing against the rail. Our priest later told me that he had to lean down and whisper to Nathan, "Catch Keela!" Nathan was too engrossed in the experience of receiving Holy Communion for the first time to notice that I was falling over (not that I can blame him for that).

This year was different. I was not nervous or about to pass out, so I was able to pay more attention to what was going on in the Mass and all of the special festive details: the gorgeous, bright red vestments; the colorful floral arrangements on the altar; the special music performed by our choir; the extra servers at the altar who had come to help celebrate this great feast day. Peter, who is now 6 and a half months old, was even considerate enough to sleep through most of the Mass, so I didn't miss anything.

Today was also bittersweet, since we will be moving and leaving our parish in just a couple of weeks. We may never experience another great feast day at this parish, unless we come back to visit at the right time. We are not only leaving this parish, but also the Western rite, since all of the parishes near Milwaukee (our soon-to-be home) are Eastern rite. This next turn through the Church year, we will be like newbies all over again, learning how things are done in the Byzantine style. So I am grateful that I had the chance today to soak in everything that I love about this parish and the Western rite before I have to say goodbye.

Reflections on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday

Today is Good Friday for us Orthodox. Easter is almost here, but before we get to the Empty Tomb, we must first follow our Lord to the Cross and even descend with Him into Hell. So even though we will be feasting in less than two days' time, it feels like we still have a long way to go.

It reminds me a bit of when I was a student and the end of the semester was approaching. I could never get excited about the winter or summer break that came after the end of semester because I knew I had to get through final exams first. I was always a procrastinator, yet also excessively worried about maintaining a perfect GPA, so final exam week was a very stressful time for me. I couldn't enjoy fantasizing about the upcoming vacation time because part of me wasn't sure I would actually survive finals! Then, when I eventually did make it through finals, the sudden relief of being done with the semester always came as a pleasant shock.

So, I'm not getting excited about Easter... yet.

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Last night was the Great Watch in the Garden, when we commemorate and mystically re-live the night Jesus spent praying in the garden of Gethsemane before His Crucifixion. I was grateful to have the opportunity to pray for about an hour at the Altar of Repose after Mass. My 5-month-old was very cooperative and slept in my arms for most of that time.

The hour I spent at the Altar of Repose was from about 8:45 to 9:45 pm. It was a still, solemn, beautiful hour. On the Altar, the golden Tabernacle containing the Eucharist sat surrounded by flickering candles, which provided the only light to the little chapel. There was darkness beyond the stained glass windows, and I could hear the night noises of the city-- traffic, the occasional siren, voices of pedestrians passing by. All around me in the city, people were going to sleep, or starting the night shift, or having a drink in a bar, as if it were any other night and not the eve of something awful and wondrous. It is lonely to be awake and watchful at night, when it seems that everyone else is asleep or revelling or going about their work. (You can't blame most people for being ignorant of the Orthodox liturgical calendar, but still.)

I thought about Jesus praying in the darkness in Gethsemane, the night noises He must have heard around Him, and His dreadful anticipation of what was about to happen. Only He fully knew what was about to happen, even though he had forewarned His disciples. What a night that must have been.

What Happened When I (Mostly) Stopped Reading the News

A few weeks ago, I was a bit obsessed with the presidential election coverage. I followed every state's primary closely, even though I was unable to vote in my own state's caucus. (I was ineligible to vote in either major party's caucus because I am a registered Independent. In addition, the Colorado Republicans, for reasons that are difficult to understand, decided not to hold a vote on the presidential nominee this year.)

Then I drastically reduced my consumption of news and politics articles when Lent began (Ash Wednesday was March 16 for us Western Rite Orthodox), and in the past week or so I have read hardly any news at all. I have no idea what controversial statement Trump has made most recently. I have no idea whether Bernie Sanders is catching up with Hillary Clinton in the delegate count. Is Kasich still in the race? I really don't know.

I am ignorant of other news topics as well. I did read a little about the Brussels attacks, but I haven't read into the details.

What happened when I (mostly) stopped reading the news? At first, I was extremely curious about what was happening in the election and the world, and I found it very difficult not to go to Google news and find out how certain stories that I had been following were developing. Then, as I became more and more out of touch, I actually started to lose interest. Since I no longer knew which states' primaries were happening when, I didn't feel tempted to watch the results come in.

I have begun to feel a lot less emotionally involved in the election and other world events. Instead of musing all day about the mysteries of Donald Trump's candidacy, I am much more focused on my daily tasks. I have even put more thought into my spiritual life (though still not as much as I should during this holy season).

I have a Thursday through Sunday print subscription to the Denver Post (I have a Luddite streak, despite my addiction to Google news). This morning, after I picked up the Thursday edition from my doormat, I skimmed the headlines for about two minutes before recycling the whole thing. It didn't feel like an act of self-denial; I just didn't actually care about reading past any of the headlines. I got bored with the news after two minutes and wanted to move on with my day.

Now that I have taken a step back from following politics, it is becoming clearer to me just how much spiritual destruction I had been doing to myself by unrestrainedly indulging my political passion. Sometimes, I think, it is difficult to see how destructive a vice is until you have started to recover from it.

It's like when you're in a smelly room for a such a long time that your nose becomes desensitized to the smell. It's not until you've been out of the room for a while, breathing the fresh air, that your nose becomes re-sensitized. Then, when you re-enter the room, you realize how much it stinks, and you can't believe you didn't notice before.

Not reading the news has been a breath of fresh air. Now, when I come across yet another article someone has posted on Facebook explaining how Trump's candidacy is a harbinger of the apocalypse, I think to myself, "Whew-- did this always REEK so much?"