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Readings from Fr. John
Earth and Sea: Images of the Church for Every Age
Being Transfigured
Music and Worship Suggestions from the
Russian Bishops
Saying Amen to Our Story
The Sacraments of Entry
Yours, Mine and Ours: Stories and their Role in
Human Development |
V. Rev. John Shimchick, Rector
As rector of the Orthodox Church of the Holy Cross, Fr. John Shimchick
actively participates in the life of our parish as well as organizations
dedicated to the work and theology of the church.
He was
ordained to the priesthood, in 1986, for ministry at the Orthodox Church
of the Holy Cross.
Fr. John
grew up as part of an Orthodox family in New Britain, Connecticut and
attended the Pre-Theological Program at St. Vladimir's Seminary.
This allowed him while living at the Seminary to pursue music studies at
Concordia College, Bronxville, New York, graduating in 1976. In the midst
of completing a Master of Divinity at St. Vladimir's he spent a year
(1978-79) working in Old Harbor, Alaska, a small native village on the
south side of Kodiak Island. He graduated from St. Vladimir's in 1980
having written a thesis under the direction of Fr. Alexander Schmemann
examining the opinions of Russian Orthodox bishops in 1905 on the matter of
liturgical reform. [article]
Prior to coming to our church, from 1980 to 1986 he served as a choir
director at the Dormition of the Virgin Mary Church, Binghamton, NY.
Since 1990 he has been editor of the Orthodox Church in America's New
York-New Jersey Diocesan publication, Jacob's Well (now known as the
Diocese of Washington and New York). In 1999 he completed a Doctor of
Ministry degree at St. Vladimir's Seminary, presenting a thesis on the
spiritual and pastoral value of stories. [article]
Between 2004-2007 he has participated in the Pastor-Theologian Program, a
national and ecumenical study group sponsored by the Center of Theological
Inquiry in Princeton and endowed by the Lilly Foundation. Fr. John is one
of only two Orthodox participants in the history of the program.
Fr. John is deeply interested in questions which integrate or challenge
the integration of Christianity and culture.. He is also concerned with
the pastoral and spiritual realities of encouraging the knowledge and love
of the Holy Scriptures and the celebration of a vibrant and meaningful
liturgical life.
He and his wife, Barbara, live in Cherry Hill, NJ and have five children.
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Earth and
Sea: Images of the Church for Every Age
by Fr. John Shimchick
The earth is the LORD's, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it;
for he founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the waters. (Psalm 24:1-2)
Today earth and sea share the joy of the world, and the world has been
filled with gladness.
(Prayer of Patriarch Sophronios of Jerusalem from the Great Blessing of
Water on Epiphany)
Walking along the shore in southern New Jersey this summer, I was moved by
how it was that the ocean and the beach can bring pleasure to almost
everyone. There were the youngest children up to the oldest adults,
families, couples, teens, and those alone. Some like the children enjoyed
running around, bounding into the waves, riding on boards, digging, and
building castles. Two young ones – probably brother and sister – enjoyed
sitting by the edge of the water and throwing handfuls of wet sand at each
other: “Take that,” said the brother. “Oh, yeah. Then you take that,”
replied his sister. Others like an older adult couple in front of me just
sat for hours, saying few words to each other, moving their chairs only as
the tide crept closer to them. Some simply preferred the compulsive yet
comforting and cleansing release of the rhythm of the waves. Then there are
those who are drawn by the overwhelming expression of power and awe that the
ocean manifests, particularly in storms. There may be no other place where
so many different ages and – in theory – races and backgrounds can all come
together, each finding something of value and enjoyment, a place where they
all can be renewed, transformed, and refreshed at every point of their
lives. The shore exists as this place, both old and ever new.
While the analogy might not line up perfectly, I wondered why could not the
Church – especially as the local parish – be able to offer all that is
essential to those of every age as well? Why can’t the parish be a vehicle
of renewal, transformation, and refreshment for everyone? Why can’t one
experience here the mystery and awe of God’s presence? St. Peter Damascene
reminds us that, “If a man sees his sins as sands of the sea, this is a sign
of a healthy soul.” Why can’t the Church be the place where one realizes
both the depths of one’s sinfulness and finds healing waters which, like
waves running up the beach, restore the original form and beauty? Why can’t
one learn within the Church, the reality found at the shore, that only those
things built on a solid foundation can survive the relentless destruction of
life’s waves?
Of course, the Church can and often does reveal itself as all of these
things. It knows what the shore and ocean teach, that the reality of life is
not simply intellectual, but capable of being learned through the senses and
experience – touching, speaking, listening, watching, and even tasting. As
the means by which we are prepared for and already experience God’s Kingdom,
the Church is like a “householder who brings out of his treasure things new
and old” (Matthew 13:52). The Church is not just about rules and bylaws,
power and decisions; God provides it to us for our renewal, our cleansing,
and our salvation. Being such a place, the Church can also offer the
experience of these things to everyone both young and old, at every stage of
a person’s life.
There are many intergenerational activities that can go on in the life of a
parish to bring people together and allow them to feel welcome. The youth
can be encouraged to participate in worship with others through serving,
singing, taking collections, and cleaning the facility. There can be
festivals and opportunities for working with one another. The young can
create cards and meals, visiting seniors and the ill with carols, and other
expressions to remind them, especially the homebound, that they are not
forgotten. But there are other things, less easy to schedule and organize
and less programmable, which the older members particularly can help the
younger understand.
Often church life can sound like that brother and sister at the shore,
throwing back and forth to each other a kind of verbal wet sand. “You take
that. Oh, yeah, then you take that.” But the older members can also
demonstrate to the younger how one should act in church – not just how one
should stand or make the sign of the cross, but how one should consider and
talk about life in the community, other members, and community leaders
including the pastor. Adults can model to the younger ones answers to
questions found in every family, in church and at home: How can people who
care about each other overcome conflict and disagreements? How can they get
over disturbing and embarrassing moments and words said in anger? How can
they learn to forgive each other?
In a world and culture where expressions of passion and love can be
presented in reckless and fleeting ways through the media, the elderly can
manifest to the young how profound and deeply satisfying real and
long-lasting love can be. Here, where all signs of beauty and passion seem
faded and nearly extinguished, the love one spouse shows in daily caring at
home or visiting and feeding the other who is ill can teach an unforgettable
lesson of how “two can become one.” When loss occurs, especially when their
love has been united to Jesus Christ, the lesson is taught more powerfully
than in any sermon that “love is stronger than death.”
In one sense, the intergenerational dynamics within the parish are rooted in
this perspective of “the end,” but not necessarily of death as the end.
Here, Metropolitan Anthony Bloom reminds us of the need to dispel “the
feeling that death is the worst that occur to a person.” If death is not the
worst thing, then what is?
Thirty years ago on a seminary choir trip an Orthodox priest told me that
his work consisted primarily in trying to prepare his parishioners for the
Kingdom of God, and having them in various ways respond – that they were not
interested. It’s not that they were necessarily not interested in “the
Church,” its culture, or programs. They would never stop being Orthodox
Christians, coming to liturgical services, or helping at various affairs and
festivals. But they were just willing to go only so far; there were
questions about themselves and God they were just not willing to ask, things
they just didn’t want to know. There were doors they were not willing to go
through. It may well be that not wanting to know about God’s Kingdom is that
which is worse than death.
Yet, in every parish there are other examples and I have met them. There are
those who know that the Gospel compels them to remember the poor and the
lonely. They struggle themselves, yet seek to fulfill the message to
forgive, knowing that it is the condition for their own forgiveness and
healing. There are those among the homebound who know what is going on
during the liturgy, even when they are not there, and alone before God, they
remember and uphold the parish in prayer. In fact, it is often to these
“prayer warriors” that the needy and wise will turn when they seek
intercessory prayers for themselves. There are people who memorize and chew
on the saving words of the Scriptures, the liturgical texts, and other
prayers knowing that they are not only enriching but that they bind them to
God and to the community in ways sickness and separation can never diminish.
Among all the objects of success and accomplishment, there is one thing that
is needed which death itself cannot even take away (Luke 10:42). This
life-lesson is one of the greatest gifts that a parish’s older members can
relay to its younger ones. Through three concentric stories, we are always
trying to identify that needful thing: the Bible’s essential vision of
creation as good, fallen, and redeemed is proclaimed — particularly in the
Gospels — in the context of God’s Kingdom; the story of each person as seen
from the perspective of another; and our own story. So within the parish,
one hears the Story within the Scriptures and proclaimed in the Sacraments,
and looks for its intersection in the lives of those within the community,
learning from them, applying what one has learned: If this is what is
needful and important, what has it meant to you, and what can it mean to me?
But the saving remembrance is also of how one is brought back in the End to
the essential things made possible in the Beginning. Saints Kallistos and
Ignatios put it this way: "The aim of the Christian life is to return to
that perfect grace of the Holy and Life-giving Spirit, which was given to us
from the beginning in divine baptism." Among the most important things in
parish life is the proclamation that it is a life-giving place, where — from
the moment of our baptism until our final breath — we continue to grow in
wondering and understanding what that means for us. Within the parish,
continually throughout our life, we refer back to the new life given to us
in Baptism, and renewed in each reception of the Eucharist. When we gather,
work, and meet, let this affirmation guide our efforts and decisions.
Finally, there is the hope that all of us in parish life, no matter what our
age, might in some way, as St. Paul wrote to the Romans, “be mutually
encouraged by each other's faith” (1:12). We will not all do this in quite
the same way. The youngest children, by providing what Fr. Alexander
Schmemann used to call “holy noise,” might remind us of what a silent
parish, absent of children, would represent. The angst and uncertainty
experienced and the provocative questions raised by our teens need gentle
responses and abiding love and patience. But the young can also be
encouraged to channel their energy and passion in ways that can be helpful
and revitalizing to the community. The angry and discontented need a chance
to be heard; their listeners (particularly clergy) need to receive their
pain not defensively, but lovingly and with humility. The older and mature
members, having heard and seen it all, need to provide hope, stability, and
the confidence that “we can get through this and everything.”
Victor Hugo once wrote, “there is fire in the eyes of the young, but there
should be light in the eyes of the old.” For the parish to be a place that
is receptive and life-giving to all, both things are necessary: fire and
light, energy and wholeness. In this way, the parish can indeed be that
place where all can come together, each finding something of value and
enjoyment, a place where they all can be renewed, refreshed, and transformed
throughout every point of their lives, ultimately each finding their place
in God’s Kingdom. |
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