In no particular order:

1. I believe he’s fundamentally correct that many, and perhaps most, church leaders, including Orthodox clergy and laity, struggle with prayer. I know this has been true for me at several points, and I hear of it often from others.
2. Point 8, “Some leaders have simply lost hope,” is prophetic. However, I think his point that “Unanswered prayer leads to faithlessness, which leads to prayerlessness” is better off reversed: “Unanswered prayer leads to prayerlessness, which leads to faithlessness.” In other words, I think it is prayer that is perceived inwardly as pointless that becomes the basis for not praying and that, ultimately, leads to a loss of belief. Really, this is the problem of estrangement, where short-term separation leads to long-term isolation, making return harder by the day.
3. Point 4, “Prayerlessness can be hidden.” Indeed. This is an area where father-confessors of clergy (yes, we have them, too) and parish leaders need to hold their spiritual children accountable. Of course, this means father-confessors need to be praying regularly themselves.
4. Point 6, “We have never been broken under God’s hand.” That’s a bit of coded language there, but Rainer is referring to the fact that the person who sees himself as self-sufficient has no need for God. If there’s no real need for God, why pray? Pride is at the root of things here. Truly we must come to see ourselves as chief of sinners (1 Timothy 1:15), and learn to pray as the publican, “God be merciful unto me a sinner” (Luke 18:13).
5. Point 2, “We never learned how to pray.” Superficially, this should be less of a problem for the Orthodox, considering the ready availability of proper prayer books, akathists, and lectionary. We know not to fall into the “I just” prayer trap that plagues the extemporaneous prayers of many Protestants. (“Lord, I just want to thank you.” “Jesus, I just want you to come into my life.” “Lord, I just want to offer up this prayer to you.”) What we do lack is real instruction on how to begin prayer. Ideally, this would be done at home, as children. Do we clergy teach our own children and our adult faithful as diligently as we ought?
6. Point 3, “Prayer has become more about ritual than relationship.” This is related to point 2, but I’ll say that I disagree with Rainer here. Prayer is something that has to be cultivated as a habit, as a regular discipline. No one claims that training for a marathon by running every day, according to a schedule, regimen, and diet is about “ritual.” Rather, it is the discipline that brings the desired end to fruition.Thus, when it comes to the life of prayer, there’s a certain amount of “fake it to make it” going on. It is the daily discipline of prayer that ultimately leads to the freedom of prayer.It is in the regular “motions” of prayer that our minds and bodies learn to be still, while making the prayer of our lips the prayer of our hearts, and opening our spiritual ears to hear the voice of our Creator. In establishing the ritual of prayer, we find ourselves liberated from the difficulty of wondering what to pray, or how, and instead can give ourselves over to the spiritual presence. And, when we are weak, it is that cultivated discipline that carries us into prayer, where our Maker bears us up.

   When I was a new priest, I was called upon to serve as the main celebrant at a Divine Liturgy in the seminary chapel. (I hadn’t served more than half a dozen times at that point.) At the conclusion, the rector of the chapel approached me. He peered down and said, “Father Basil, you are coming along. Pretty soon, you will be able to stand there [in front of the Holy Table] and actually pray.” What he meant, of course, is that, soon, I would have mastered the basic mechanics of serving as a priest (what to say, where to be, what to do) and could focus my deliberate efforts (that which requires thought) solely on being an intercessor before God. What he said was true of public prayer, and it’s emphatically true of private prayer. The ritual becomes an aid, not a hindrance.

What are your thoughts? I’d love to hear them. (And, no, I’ve not forgotten about the articles on the challenges of preaching. More on that soon.)

One of the best ways is through memorization of Scripture and of the prayers of the Church. Before I say any more, just think about your favorite music. Choose any you like, as long as it has lyrics. When you hear the opening parts of a familiar work, the mind almost immediately recalls the lyrics. If listening to an album, the end of one song immediately prompts the memory of the next. Recall is the basis of old game shows like “Name that Tune” and new games like SongPop. Memorization has long been an important component of literature classes. How many can recite some portion of Shakespeare or Chaucer from a high school English class from long ago?

We can then ask ourselves the question, “If I can memorize the latest songs from Rihanna, Metallica, or Brad Paisley, why can’t I memorize the Psalms or chunks of a gospel?” Which one has greater benefit?

Memorization gives additional purpose to our listening to Scripture and to prayers. It is one thing to listen to, say, an audio bible as though it were any other audio book. It’s another thing to listen to the same chapter, or same Psalm, multiple times with an aim to remembering it word for word. Listening now has a purpose. It’s not enough to get the gist of what is heard. Rather, when listening for memorization, one aims to get it all, exactly. Listening (and reading) for memorization disciplines the mind, insisting on mental focus rather than allowing the aimless wandering of one’s thoughts.

There are numerous benefits. Memorization gives us an abbreviated bible and prayer book that stays with us even when the physical objects are not at hand. It provides a means by which the Holy Spirit brings important points to mind in times of crisis and conflict. A life of disciplined memorization provides invaluable comfort when the effects of age take away our mental acuity. (It is a beautiful thing to visit elderly parishioners suffering from dementia and memory loss an to hear them recite the Creed, Our Father, and psalms along with me. Many of these were acquired solely from attending church services, but the durability is amazing.)

From the standpoint of listening to preaching, memorization skills bolster the ability to pay attention. The faithful can be encouraged to remember what is preached. In turn, the preacher is encouraged to spend more time composing sermons with content worth remembering, instead of fluff written in the knowledge that it will be forgotten before coffee hour. More importantly for the pastor, memorization keeps important Scriptures and prayers at the ready, for use in confession and when crises small and large arise. Some of the best counsel I have received from father-confessors has been Scripture. Without it’s memorization, it wouldn’t have been on offer.

Readers: what are your thoughts on memorization? What things – specific Scriptures and Psalms, prayers, etc. – do you find most valuable to memorize? What role does this play in cultivating the spiritual life of your children? Is it used in your church school?

 In our time, the hearer presents a mix of issues, broadly speaking:

1. A short attention span
2. A desire for entertainment and exciting topics.
3. An expectation that preaching be a boost for self-esteem, or motivational according to the popular definition.

These are not entirely new phenomena (see the citation from St John Chrysostom in the preceding post). There has long been a bias in the direction of flattery, which is why it is so effective for politicians. There are, nonetheless, some differences in this early 21st century.

Consider the matter of attention spans. In our time, the short attention span appears to be the result of minds conditioned to flit from one thing to the other. Several recent books link this to our “always connected” lives, where the mind easily indulges every mental impulse, never staying on any one task for more than a couple of minutes. However, I think our contemporary workplaces, for those in white-collar and service industries, fuel this as well. Workers in these jobs are expected to multi-task, responding promptly to communications from numerous channels (email, phone, instant message, etc.), often when not at work. They tackle little issues as they continually arise even as they labor at larger efforts. Interrupted work becomes the norm. It eventually gets done, but it doesn’t happen in extended, sustained application of effort.

Mass media has already adapted to these hearers who, like sprinters forced to run a marathon, lack endurance. Television programming is dominated by short programs (20-22 minutes, once advertisements are removed) characterized by brief sketches that have rather little connection to each other. Even if the commercials are skipped (a common practice with cable/satellite boxes), they mark an interruption in the program. Televised sports have frequent breaks for advertising, instant replay, and repetitive commentary. (Those paying for the privilege of watching the game played live instead receive the endless distraction of the Jumbotron and snippets of AC/DC riffs.) Politics is reduced to sound bites. Why listen to an entire speech, when the slanted-news-of-your-choice can extract the five ten-second sound bites you need to hear? Talk radio combines the worst features of all of the preceding examples.

What can the preacher do? Is he compelled to shorten sermons to seven minutes or less, about the duration between commercials on television? Must he really repeat himself over and over to make the simplest of points? Is the visual aid – perhaps displayed on a projection screen – a real requirement to be effective in our time?

The long-term solutions involve effort. The pastor must encourage his listeners to read the Scriptures in larger chunks, starting with the daily appointed pericopes and then moving to larger units like entire chapters. This helps build endurance, but listening, too, needs help. Audio books and bibles are a great way to do this, and are readily available (search for “free mp3 bible”). They transform errands and commutes into time that is both spiritually profitable and good “exercise” for the ear.  Prayers are also available; Holy Cross Hermitage offers morning and evening prayers plus the prayers in preparation for Holy Communion in both CD and downloadable formats.

The preacher must also challenge the faithful (and himself!) to “disconnect” for a time every day. This starts with regular prayer, but it doesn’t need to be confined to specifically spiritual pursuits. Just spending more time reading without jumping over to see what’s happening on Facebook, listening to lectures, playing board games with the family, and going on walks and hikes without audio accompaniment are all therapeutic for the short attention span. Parents in particular must be encouraged to cultivate these same skills in their children. We don’t (or shouldn’t) let our kids subsist on a diet of cheese curls and ice cream, so we must avoid the same thing as regards their intellect.

Improvement is not instantaneous. The preacher in our time will almost undoubtedly find it necessary to place a cap on the length of his sermons and to make deliberate use of repetition. He will have to tailor his vocabulary and sermon structure so that sustained listening isn’t so demanding that it encourages the faithful to tune him out. In some ways, this simplifies life for the preacher. If there are multiple points that merit expounding in a given reading for the day, the preacher can pick just one, and leave the others for when the reading next occurs.

What are your thoughts?  What else can the contemporary Orthodox preacher do to cope with the short attention span phenomenon? I’d like to hear from the “hearers,” too.

I’ll tackle more of those other preaching challenges next time.

One of the greatest challenges the priest faces is that of preaching, and it’s not a new problem. Even Christ’s words, which were life from Life himself, were not always received (cf. the rich young ruler, Matt 19:16ff). Thus John Chrysostom gives his own perspective on the delicate balance that must be achieved by the faithful preacher.

Chrysostom’s first caution to the preacher is the description of the state of his “audience”:

For most people usually listen to a preacher for pleasure, not profit, like [critics] of a play or concert. The power of eloquence, which we rejected just now, is more requisite in a church than when professors of rhetoric are made to contend against each other. (On the Priesthood, V.1)

I would add that the contemporary listener is heavily conditioned to be this way. The majority of pastimes – whether sports, or television, or books and magazines, or games – are aimed at pleasing us. That is to say they are not in the least intended for us to elevate our souls or minds, or to have them grasp at something better. Thus, many listeners have an unspoken, and perhaps even unknown, desire to be entertained by the preacher. There is no greater evidence of this than the difficulty with which even pious believers have in listening to a homily that exceeds 15 (or 10!) minutes, even as they can watch hours of television without moving from a recliner.

The explosion in performance television (American Idol, The Voice, Dancing with the Stars, <Your Country>’s Got Talent, X Factor, etc.) has combined entertainment with criticism, encouraging viewers not only to vote with their viewing choices, but with text messages and phone calls as well. It produces exactly what Chrysostom describes, and it’s no longer confined to the professional critics.

From there, he goes on to describe the preacher’s response (italics mine):

Here, too, a [preacher] needs a loftiness of mind far beyond my own littleness of spirit, if he is to correct this disorderly and unprofitable delight of ordinary people, and to divert their attention to something more useful, so that church people will follow and defer to him and not that he will be governed by their desires. It is impossible to acquire this power except by these two qualities: contempt of praise and the force of eloquence. If either is lacking, the one left is made useless through divorce from the other. If a preacher despises praise, yet does not produce the kind of teaching which is “with grace, seasoned with salt” [1 Col 4:6], he is despised by the people and gets no advantage from his sublimity. And if he manages this side of things perfectly well, but is a slave to the sound of applause, again an equal damage threatens both him and the people, because through his passion for praise he aims to speak more for the pleasure than the profit of his hearers. The man who is unaffected by acclamation, yet unskilled in preaching, does not truckle to the people’s pleasure; but no more can he confer any real benefit upon them, because he has nothing to say. And equally, the man who is carried away with the desire for eulogies [praise; i.e., good words] pay have the ability to improve the people, but chooses instead to provide nothing but entertainment. That is the price he pays for thunders of applause. (V.1-2)

But, of course, the good preacher requires particular care from his people, to allow for an “off day” in the pulpit:

For the congregation does not sit in judgement on the sermon as much as on the reputation of the preacher, so that when someone excels everyone else at speaking, then he above all needs painstaking care. He is not allowed sometimes not to succeed – the common experience of all the rest of humanity. On the contrary, unless his sermons always match the great expectations formed of him, he will leave the pulpit the victim of countless jeers and complaints. No one ever takes it into consideration that a fit of [dejection], pain, anxiety, or in many cases anger, may cloud the clarity of his mind and prevent his productions from coming forth unalloyed; and that in short, being a man, he cannot invariably reach the same standard or always be successful, but will naturally make many mistakes and obviously fall below the standard of his real ability. People are unwilling to allow for any of these factors, as I said, but criticize him as if they were sitting in judgement on an angel. (V.5)

And, above all, the preacher must be independent of his flock, seeking approval only from God:

Let the best craftsman be the judge of his own handiwork too, and let us rate his productions as beautiful or poor when that is the verdict of the mind which contrived them. … So too the man who has accepted the task of [preaching] should pay no attention to the commendation of outsiders, any more than he should let them cause him dejection. When he has composed his sermons to please God (and let this alone be his rule and standard of good oratory in sermons, not applause or commendation), then if he should be approved by men, too, let him not spurn their praise. But if his hearers do not accord it, let him neither seek it or sorrw for it. It will be sufficient encouragement for his efforts, and one much better than anything else, if his conscience tells him that he is organizing and regulating his teaching to please God. For in fact, if he has already been overtaken by the desire for unmerited praise, neither his great efforts nor his powers of speech will be any use. His soul, being unable to bear the senseless criticisms of the multitude, grows slack and loses all earnestness about preaching. So a preacher must train himself above all else to despise praise. (V.7-8)

I commend these points for your own reflection. I’ll offer more reflection on these tomorrow.

[Most of the excerpts here come from the SVS Press edition, although CCEL has the Stephens translation from the NPNF here. (Today's excerpts all come from Book 5.) While I don't have the Greek text at hand, the NPNF version appears to be more accurate, which is expected based on my experience, while the readability nod goes to the SVS Press edition. I note that my copy of the SVS Press edition is a 2002 printing; some of the Popular Patristics titles have been re-translated and re-issued (e.g., St Basil the Great's On the Holy Spirit). I don't know whether this one has or not.]

It is now time to put aside these matters [of how priests and bishops are chosen] and turn our attention to the most important matter – ordination – its meaning and substance. The priest, whether chosen or appointed by the personal power of his future diocesan bishop, still has to face, at a certain moment of his life, this mysterious and awesome hour of ordination. Symbolically speaking, the following parallels may be drawn: election by the flock is somewhat akin to a courtship, but ordination – that is his wedding with the flock. This symbolism is fortified by common rituals and by one or another sacrament: walking around the lectern or Altar, singing the psalms (“Rejoice, O Israel,” “Holy Martyrs” …) (in reverse order). [Editor's note: Kern here refers to three hymns that are included in both the marriage service and in the ordination service: "O holy martyrs who fought the good fight and have received your crowns: entreat ye the Lord, that our souls may be saved." "Glory to Thee, O Christ God, the Apostle's boast, the Martyr's joy whose preaching was the consubstantial Trinity." "Rejoice, O Isaiah! A virgin is with child, and shall have a son Emmanuel, both God and man. Orient is his name, whom magnifying we call the virgin blessed."] At this point, certain conclusions can be drawn: the union of the priest with his flock is a lasting union, just as the principle of marriage; neither can be dissolved. Therefore, the transfer of a priest from one place to another should have no place in the principle of this union, as well as, or, if not to a greater extent, the transfer of a bishop from one cathedral to another. In essence, the priest is irremovable. But there is yet another, a more important characteristic to this sacrament: priesthood, as taught by the Roman Catholics, is indelible. The Greek theologians held the same opinion. Metropolitan Filaret had a different view. Essentially, the grace bestowed by the bishop to perform the solemn sacrament of liturgy cannot be removed by any power on earth. To consider that any conservatory act could deprive a person of the grace of the Holy Spirit seems to be a theological aberration. Neither baptism nor priesthood are removable or indelible. Even the sin of apostasy does not erase the grace of baptism. The most frightful sin that can be committed by the priest, which leads to disenfranchisement from the Holy Orders, cannot, by itself, deprive the priest of grace. It would seem to be necessary, in case of some judicial error in defrocking a priest who is subsequently found to be innocent, to re-ordain him, which action, of course, even the strictest and most inflexible person dare not suggest. What should be declared as being even more frightening and blasphemous is the so-called sacramental de-frocking, practiced in the Russian and Serbian Churches. [OL: Those deposed from the priesthood according to this practice would be taken to the entrance of the church, faced west (i.e., opposite the Holy Table), and declared "anaxios" (unworthy) as each of the clerical vestments were removed from him.] ….

With these preliminary considerations in mind, we may now turn to the main theme of this chapter – the priesthood itself. In addition to everything else mentioned in the previous chapters about the calling, pastoral gifts and the multifaceted preparation for his future service, a candidate for the priesthood should never forget about the endurance of the gift of priestly service, which separates the ordinary layman from the blessed celebrant at the Altar; the one who performs the sacrament, the theurgist, the intermediary between God and the world, who, by the grace of the Holy Spirit leads his flock to spiritual perfection, to worship. After ordination, he is no longer merely a man, but a clergyman. He is no longer the chosen one, chosen by his flock – if such choosing took place – but the bearer of grace.

…

Very often, just before ordination, those who are weak or overly judgmental, or perhaps excessively self-demanding, possessing an over-scrupulous conscience, succumb to the well-known condition of faintheartedness and the desire to run away without looking back, lest the burden they take upon themselves will prove to be overly excessive. Such a temptation deserves an answer. One must not, in these last minutes before ordination, hesitate or vacillate, remembering that a “double-minded man is unstable in all his ways” (James 1:8). For those who find these last minutes so painful and agonizing, the firm hand of the confessor [OL: who heard the confession of the candidate and affirmed that there were no impediments to ordination], the encouraging voice of a real friend can and must supply help to the weakening conscience of the candidate. Here it is imperative to point to the grace of the Holy Spirit, “Which healeth that which is feeble and fills that which is wanting.”

These last hours may be safely compared to a personal Gethsemane, a temptation to forsake God. Father Sergius Bulgakov spoke about “dying” before his ordination. …

[And at the ordination, the] most awe-inspiring words of the bishop, spoken in an undertone into the ear of the candidate: “Raise your eyes into heaven and ask God for forgiveness of your sins and the bestowing upon you the purity of priesthood.” These words like lightening from heaven, pierce the person’s soul, like a fiery sword, they cut off all the sinfulness from him …and] they grasp the hearer with the words of prayer: “O, divine grace, which always healeth that which is ailing and completes that which is wanting, vouch for the most devout deacon, (Name), to be a presbyter; let us pray for him, and bring down upon him the Grace of the Holy Spirit.”

…

The final moment at last: the handing to the new priest the discos with a particle of the Holy Lamb with these words, “receive this pledge, bear its agonizing existence until the day of the Terrible Coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ.” Now the new priest is no longer a mere layman, he is a theurgist and a celebrant of Sacraments. This is no longer someone who is merely bearing the title of father, but is in fact Father. He must, according to St. Gregory the Theologian, “Stand with the angels, give glory with archangels, offer up the sacrifice on the rock of the Sacrificial Altar and perform the Holy Rite with Christ, recreate creation, reclaim the image of God, work in the mines of the world and above all – to be like God and create gods.” (from pages 102-110)

Fr Kyprian does a masterful job here communicating the significance of what is going on. I’ll also admit that it’s good to review this, with one’s personal experience of ordination so often lost in the fog of what is happening when it takes place. Ordination is in many respects a personal Transfiguration, not unlike Moses’s transformation at Mount Sinai, when his face shone such that felt compelled to veil his face. Once transformed, there is no going back, as only the healing and completing grace of the Holy Spirit matters.

Sure, there are those who for a variety of reasons may no longer exercise the priestly office, and they are deposed because it is required for the good of the Church, for the Gospel and the Church’s confession of it. Yet in no small way deposition maims a man, and this result must never be left unconsidered when caring for a deposed priest.

I recommend this book to my brethren, if only for its contemporary (relatively speaking) reflections on what it is to be and to serve as a priest in our time.

Note also that Fr Kyprian was Fr Alexander Schmemann’s mentor and confessor while at St Sergius in Paris. Those who attended Fr Schmemann’s liturgical theology lectures at the St Vladimir’s Seminary remember Fr Alexander referring often to Fr Kyprian.

As to any other mere mortal, God may or may not have given the priest certain talents. He may be a bad orator or an incapable administrator of his parish, a poor teacher of Scriptures, may even be unfeeling and an excessively demanding spiritual leader, not to mention the fact that he may be completely lacking in skill for social service, but all this will be forgiven and will not erase his spiritual actions, if he would only possess a Eucharistic consciousness, if he will not cease to consider as his main mission the “concept of mysteries,” the service of the Divine Liturgy, the mystical unity of self and his flock with the Body of Christ, “That through these you may be partakers of the Divine Nature” (2 Peter 1:4). If this same Metropolitan Anthony so remarkably called pastors “the path of prolonged heroic actions of the creation in self a prayerful element,” as an ability to ascend to heaven, so by no means this element and this ability are to be accomplished in the priest except in the mystery of Eucharistic sacrifice.

But what do the Eucharistic frame of mind and the pastoral desire to serve the Divine Liturgy mean? Let us give here a clear and definitely answer: an insatiable thirst to perform the Divine Liturgy as often as possible. Indeed, priesthood consists of the priest independently performing the Divine Liturgy, without concelebrating with another, be he a superior, archpriest, archimandrite or even a bishop. Concelebration prevents the concelebrants from performing this mystery of raising the Body of Christ. Concelebration quite often emphasizes the elements of solemnity, splendor, pomp and ritual rigor. But it must be pointed out, as much as the Holy Fathers wrote about prayers, they always spoke of the purity of prayer, its moderation; a wise prayer, i.e., its higher degree of spirituality, its boldness, and so forth, but never and nowhere did any of the Holy Fathers or ascetics of the Church write of its pomposity. The very idea of pomposity and luxuriance stands in contrast to the Eucharistic vision of poverty and the spirit of Bethlehem and Golgotha. The pomp and splendor of communal pastoral service may be in accordance with the rituals of Byzantium and the Vatican’s royal entrances and ceremonies, but s out of place at the Chalice of the Eucharistic Blood, poured out for the life of the world. One may speak of combined service and the receiving of communion from one chalice and from the hands of one priest or archpriest as encompassing all those around the priest, But is it not possible to speak about concelebration, because there is only one who symbolizes Christ, and the rest of the priests must be relegated to be assisting apostles, waiting for communion from the hand of the only one who serves. The history of the early Church, the history of the liturgy, the writings of the early teachers of the Church, all teach us that the idea of a pompous ritual was to them totally foreign and incomprehensible.

Therefore the priest must build up within himself a thirst for the individual performance of the Eucharistic service and not be content with a combined “situation,” where he is surrounded by higher official representatives, be it bishops, archimandrites or archpriests. The priest must possess this insatiable thirst for Eucharistic service, which, of course, in no way belittles his thirst to receive communion from the hand of another, not necessarily older and higher ranking, colleague. But the mystical feeling, not understood by the laity, differs from the feeling of himself performing the sacrifice and creating, by the power of the Holy Spirit, gifts of the Body and the Blood, as opposed to the feeling and experience of receiving communion at a liturgy performed by another. The Eucharistic power given to the priest may be accurately measured by his thirst to serve unassisted. The most spiritual pastor always senses the pleasure of theistic prayer and service. As the late Father Sergius Bulgakov so brilliantly wrote in his Autobiographical Notes, “I entered the priesthood solely for the sake of serving, i.e., mainly to perform the liturgy. My naïve and inexperienced eye did not distinguish any details concerning the position of the parish priest. However, I understood very quickly that to serve, one needs a temple, or, at the very least, an altar. As a result, briefly speaking, for a quarter century of my priesthood, I did not have my own temple, but was always serving with either archpriests or senior priests, or had only an occasional chance for an independent service” (Chaps. 53-54).  (pp. 58ff)

Priests reading the preceding are likely nodding their heads in agreement already. It certainly describes my own interior feelings regarding serving at the Holy Table. For the laity, this passage gives some narrative shape to the priestly identity. I think people sometimes wonder why their priest chooses to celebrate the Eucharist when he does, even if “it will just be him and two old people.” When a priest is yet very new in his calling, he doesn’t experience this in its fullest degree, but it grows over time. It explains why priests never fully “retire,” even when age and infirmity make Eucharistic service exhausting and perhaps painful. For these men, the angels themselves stand alongside, holding them up, as Aaron and Hur did for Moses against the Amelekites. It also explains why some priests even have a disdain for serving with deacons, preferring to hold the totality of this Mystery to themselves, in simple awe.

Dear brothers, your thoughts on this excerpt are, as always, appreciated.

On the priestly outlook on life and salvation:

Man in whose society the priest is called to serve, was, is, and will always be, in spite of all his sins and degradations, God’s beloved creation. For this reason, the Orthodox priest must be inspired by faith in man, his predestination in the everlasting assembly, communication with God Incarnate, his kin in the flesh, according to the words of Symeon the New Theologian. To that end, the priest’s most important means of communication must be based upon the Good News of salvation, universal faith in this salvation and worship, instead of upon the premise of the promise of fire and brimstone. (p. 35)

On the priestly “calling,” by way of engagement with Metropolitan Anthony Khrapovitsky of Kiev:

Archimandrite Anthony Khrapovitsky, subsequently Metropolitan of Kiev, expresses a harsher more explicit view on [the subject of priestly calling]. He simply and categorically denies the very possibility of a calling. He regards the sensation of God’s voice in one’s heart nothing more than the result of self-deception, “Catholic theologians assert that every priesthood candidate must hear this voice, but we believe that this voice can be heard only by those candidates who are instructed by the Church. Self-appraisal, self-evaluation for those preparing for priesthood are of no importance. Therefore, all discussions of pastoral calling are to be dismissed by our leading pastorate and replaced with the teaching of pastoral preparation” (Lectures). The question of this preparation is to no small extent initiated and covered in theological courses, yet it does not replace the very fact of the inner voice, which is sensed by some and is complete absent in others. Of course, self-deception is always possible, and an inner restraint is especially necessary in any discussions of the “spirit,” but here Metropolitan Anthony differs: he completely denies any mystical feelings in a person’s spiritual life. Metropolitan Anthony’s extreme denial regarding all mysticism, even the very word “mysticism,” regardless of its frequent usage by such writers as Maximus the Confessor and others, was completely beside the point to him. Theologically, he was an extreme rationalist and minimalist.

…

So to what exactly could we attribute the valid signs of a calling or a non-calling? And generally speaking, do such objective traits as a person’s calling for priestly service really exist? … Here, then, roughly is what must be considered an absolute sign of a non-calling:

1 – Seeking the priesthood for materialistic gains.

2 – Political or  national considerations; in other words, preparing oneself for the priesthood for the “salvation of Russia,” for the restoration of “Holy Russia,” as well as one or the other political system in one’s homeland, or for the sake of implementing a known national propaganda which happens to be convenient and convincing. The Church and the priesthood have more important problems to solve than these national and political impulses, no matter what their colors may be.

3 – Ambitious motives. A desire for a ruling position, a wish to make a career out of the priesthood, to become a member of a higher order, to be a leader of the people, society, or to belong to a well-known and respected order of society.

4 – Aesthetical motives. A young man’s attraction to the beauty of the Divine Liturgy, the singing of hymns, the splendor of the rituals and so on and so forth. Such enthusiasm quickly vanishes, leaving only but dust in their wake. This sort of a “calling” soon becomes simply a passing emotion.

5 – As pointed out earlier, the very fact of enrollment in a theological school or belonging to a theological social class represents a purely formalistic sign and in no way signifies a genuine calling.

6 – It must not be taken as the heart’s calling if the causes are: aversion to life, disappointment and antipathy for all things that earlier delighted. This state of mind and fervor are clearly fleeting. Disillusionment about one thing cannot serve as a sign of calling for something else. L. Blue had put it exceptionally well when he stated: “There is one romantic foolishness, the thought that antipathy, aversion to life is a sign of a religious calling.” God requires not an exhausted soul, nor a disenchanted and weakened spirit, but a heart full of enthusiasm, heroism, sacrifice, constructive impulses in the very holy service of the building of the Body of Christ.

Here, then, are signs that a person has been called, or, according to the words of the Apostle, has a taste for pastoral service:

1 – First of all, there ought to be a free inclination to the great and holy priestly service.

2 – A desire to create the Kingdom of God, the Body of Christ, rather than an earthly realm, its undertone notwithstanding.

3 – Readiness for sacrificial service to one’s neighbors and a perception of pastoral service as a yoke of Christ.

4 – Readiness to exhibit compassion for the sinful and the sick, the sorrowful man.

5 – Readiness for persecution at the hands of the world and its principalities, a fearless denial of all conformity to the world.

6 – Consciousness of one’s unworthiness and a striving for a Christ-like humility, rather than denunciation, condemnation and disparagement of non-conformists.

7 – To experience faith, live a scriptural life, and submit oneself to the worshipful service of God. (pp. 43ff)

Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified. (NKJV)

The emphasis is, of course, on the spiritual life: characteristics of good athletes, a healthy spiritual diet, perseverance, focusing on the goal, and “the trophy.”

For clergy and parish leaders, however, this “race” always has some particular obstacles.

Obviously, there is the matter of personal spiritual life. The deceiver always lurks in the prayer corner to tell the priest, “You’ve already prayed today. You don’t need to do so now.” The deceiver sits at the desk, murmuring “But you’ve already spent time reading the Scripture when you prepared your sermon. Why not read something more fun?”

Then there’s the family spiritual life: cultivating a healthy prayer discipline in the home, encouraging the reading of Scripture by them, taking family to church (even when the kids don’t want to go, or parish tension awaits), avoiding gossip, cynicism, and negativity, finding joy in little blessings every day, and, above all, loving one another. On that last point, I’m not talking about that sort of “of course I love you” abstract love, but rather the “I love spending time with you, and bearing you up on your tough days, and using nice tone of voice with you” love.

And, finally, there’s the personal self-discipline. At a fundamental level, this is “self-care”. It’s no secret that our clergy are frequently depressed, overweight, excessively sedentary, and burned-out. (See, for example, here, here, and here.) It’s a big deal. It’s hard to find strength to address the preceding obstacles if, for example, one is too tired, physically or mentally, to fight back. Physical laziness often translates into mental and spiritual torpor, which can result in apathy for one’s ministerial duties, to say nothing of hollow preaching and confession (giving or hearing). We really do need to heed actor Matthew McConaughey’s advice: “Break a sweat every day.” I’ve chosen swimming and biking, plus more time outdoors doing things that rejuvenate (like fishing).

The question for you readers: Concerning the above points, what things do you find helpful? What things have been less so? I’m talking about all of them, not just the last paragraph. I know I would love to find greater success in all of these areas.

I am familiar with one priest whose parish leadership has repeatedly refused to pay for him to attend diocesan assemblies and pastoral gatherings. The same parish has previously objected to paying housing costs for the priest who is otherwise meagerly compensated.

I am familiar with a second priest in another jurisdiction and diocese whose leadership has done likewise. This parish has also been resistant to structuring parish finances to allow for a gradual shift to full compensation for this priest. (The more I think about this one, I’ve heard this from numerous brother priests.)

Other priests have taken on bullies in their parishes, only to receive disciplinary letters for telling the bullies to apologize.

Another brother was routinely berated and slandered by his own dean, shattering every attempt to build up a new parish as rumors took hold, such that he finally departed the diocese.

Yet another brother was the victim of an ugly alliance between a controlling layman and the rector of the parish, resulting in the priest’s “termination” (!) without any compensation or any means to provide for his family. He, too, left his diocese.

I know of three priests, all acquaintances, who were removed from their parishes by their bishops for the sole reason that they were not of a particular ethnic heritage. The parishes were healthy and growing at the time of their removal. Instead, the priests had to relocate (at considerable cost), to say nothing of coping with the upheaval of family life.

There is a common thread in all of these. Each of these brother priests found himself in his situation because of his ecclesiastical superiors, the deans and bishops who are supposed to be looking after them. Some of them refused to act, choosing to aid and abet the violence by leaving priests to be slandered by their jealous brethren or manipulated by their parish councils. Others priests were left in the position of advocating for their own well-being. (Diocesan assemblies and pastoral conferences are frequently the only time clergy have the opportunity to gather at the same time to share, develop friendships, and bear each others’ burdens.) Some of the deans and bishops themselves became aggressors, becoming wolves masquerading as shepherds, damaging priests’ standing in their parishes, or demolishing their livelihoods and compelling a relocation for entire families with but a letter.

The Church is not to be a congregational body, and our priests should not be forced into an “every man for himself” way of thinking. Yet, somehow, here in North America, there is a significant fraction of priests who find themselves in just that position. They dare not seek a dean’s or bishop’s counsel, because they might receive a cudgel instead of guidance or a listening ear. Some of these deans and bishops are quite visible through their writings or in the popular perception of their “gentle care.”

It is not confined to my own jurisdiction, the Orthodox Church in America. The examples above are taken from at least three jurisdictions. Worse, the instances I list above are but a subset of the cases I’ve heard. Details are omitted to protect the innocent from further mistreatment.

Dear readers: what cases have you heard of? What can be done about it? Your comments are appreciated. Please omit identifying details. (Be sure to read the preceding post about the new site policy.)

Update: Byzantine, Texas has a post that gives voice to what I have pondered myself. If a post-jurisdictional North American Church is ever established, what recourse would these priests have? At present, abused clergy have the option of pursuing a change of jurisdictions or dioceses. I suspect this is why some clergy aren’t all that positive about the prospect of a unified North American Orthodoxy.

Update 2: Priests who are or are have been in similar situations are invited to submit private summaries, either in the comments or via the contact page. Again, please omit identifying details. I will not divulge your identity (if I know it). I’m looking for trends along with representative samples that can be used to correct this sorry situation.

Note also, though, that the site policy is changing. Posting under pseudonyms is allowed. Comments will be moderated to weed out any slanders or similar inappropriate material.