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ECUMENICAL PATRIARCHATE

Exarchate of Parishes of Russian Tradition
 in Western Europe

Deanery of 
Great Britain 
and Ireland
The Orthodox Parish of
St Aidan
& St Chad,
Nottingham
Icon reproduced by kind permission of Aidan Hart
FATHER DAVID’S LETTER:

Feast of the Nativity, 2008

In the run-up to Christmas this year, we considered, on Sunday 14th December, the parable of the rich man who is a fool (Luke 12:16-21).

Jesus described how this man had done well in life and was able to store up goods to enable him to spend the rest of his life at ease, eating, drinking and being merry. It was God who called him a fool because at the end of his life, when death came to him, he had goods enough for his material well being (now to be left behind), but no provisions for his soul in the life ahead. He, the rich man, was a fool despite all his material success, because he vainly put his trust in his possessions rather than in God. He should have thought on this and found a way of being ‘rich towards God’; he had not, like Mary of Bethany,  ‘chosen the better part’ (Luke  10:42).

There have been many affirmations of what the Christian life is about, but at the heart of it there is this: to be free of the effects of sin (causing separation from God), to have dealt with the causes of sin, and to be restored into the condition in which man and woman were always intended to be. This is why God came to earth, as a man, to be with us and to get us out of the mess in which our forefathers and mothers found themselves and in which we find ourselves today.

The parable I quote is most relevant and apt for the present time in which we live. Men and women have built bigger and bigger ‘barns’ in which to store their excesses (often, in a sense, storing other peoples’ goods obtained on credit, rather than their own). Wealth has become not only the aspiration but the actuality of all (though there are still plenty of poor and underprivileged in our midst who have been by-passed by all of this, yet are still affected by it).  The question is where, in all of this, are the thoughts of God? What has happened to the Christian basis on which our society has been built? Where is the morality that has sustained generations to live and work for a common good? Where is the quest for a higher and richer purpose, other than selfish gain and narcissistic pleasure? God, at any time, might say: ‘Fool, this night your soul will be required of you, what will you do now?’

Whatever we do in life, whatever we achieve, whatever we strive for is of nought if we imperil our soul—the very essence of our being—which is made in the image of God, and is ever aspiring to be transformed into His likeness. ‘My soul is restless until it finds its home in Thee,’ wrote one eminent man of God.

‘What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world…’(riches untold, pleasures in abundance, material fulfillment beyond wildest dreams) ‘…and loses his own soul?’ (Matthew 16:26), asks Jesus in his teaching of the right orientation of life. For the more we have attached ourselves to the wrong pursuits, the wrong causes, to evil rather than good, to the works of the devil rather than to the works of God, the more difficult it is to disentangle ourselves. To be free again and on a path acceptable to God requires an immense process of purification. Great is the pain of separating good from evil in our lives, since by now we can barely tell the difference: they have blurred into one. Indeed, the remedy of purifying ourselves and becoming ‘rich’ in God’s estimation, is nigh impossible for a human being.

This topic may seem rather gloomy for a newsletter published on the Feast of the Nativity, except that it describes precisely the mess into which we, collectively, have got ourselves. It is the very reason why God came into the world to be with us. The hymn for Vespers on December 25th reads as follows:

‘Come, let us rejoice in the Lord! Let us proclaim the present mystery by which the partition has been broken... I am returning to the bliss of Paradise whence I had been driven out by the original disobedience. Behold, the image of the Father…has taken the form of a servant!  He has come down to us...becoming Man out of His love for man.’

‘When the Lord Jesus was born of the Virgin, the whole creation lit up... for the Saviour of our souls has appeared in the flesh’ (Verses for ‘Lord, I have cried...’, Great Vespers ).

Jesus the Lord. Christ the Son of God, Emmanuel, God with us, enables us to be set on a right path to lead a balanced life in which we make the very best of our life on earth whilst we also are ‘rich towards God’. In this way, we give to Him and in return, He gives infinitely more abundantly to us. Our life and what we do on earth is joined to a oneness with God in heaven.

God came down at Christmas to set us free and on a wholesome path. This is the blessing of the Feast of the Nativity.

May God grant His blessing for a very joyful and life-changing Season of the Holy Nativity.


Father David



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News and Notes

Discussion Group:
We began in the autumn term by considering the topic, ‘The Liturgy after the Liturgy’, following Irina von Schlippe’s stimulating talk at the Vicariate Conference in May. We  considered how we live as Orthodox Christians in our daily lives and how we pray. At the December meeting we discussed the topic of fasting.

In February and March in this new calendar year we shall consider ‘Death in the Midst of Life’, Jessica Rose's excellent paper recently published in The Messenger. It deals with the problems of coping with bereavement and death, and of preparing for our own deaths. Our reflections will also include contributions made by speakers at the Orthodox Theological Forum in August 2005.


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Welcome to Metropolitan John!

Metropolitan John is the newly appointed bishop in the Antiochian Patriarchate operating in Western Europe. On Sunday, 30th November, Fr David attended the Divine Liturgy in Lincoln on the occasion of Metropolitan John's first visit there. It was a splendid and joyful occasion. The Lincoln Parish has now been established for four years and has a vibrant congregation, which illustrates how an Orthodox Church in this country should be. There are English, Greek, Romanian, Russian and Syrian Christians worshipping together in this parish. Truly, the Orthodox Church in these lands, where in Christ ‘there is neither Jew nor Greek…’ (in other words, no nationality of any kind but) ‘…all one  in Christ Jesus.’ We pray for closer links between our two Churches and a greater coming together in the course of time.


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New Calendar / Old Calendar

There are now only three parishes in the Vicariate using the Old Calendar:  London, Oxford and Nottingham.  Some wonder if it is time to change completely to the New Calendar. If you have any views please express them to Fr. David.

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A Word from the Desert:

‘But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.’ This commandment of the Lord, which conveys a complete and total trust in Divine Providence, is the ascetic’s slogan and living practice.
The Father Cherubim was a carefree ascetic (on Mt Athos), filled with faith and hope. He was also a little hard of hearing, and one time he was isolated by snow in his impoverished hermitage, for over a week, without food. One day a stranger with a loaded mule knocked at his door.  It was almost night.  He asked whether he had time to reach St. Peter's Cave before dark and then return to St Paul’s Monastery.
Ascetic Cherubim said to him, ‘My brother, there is so much snow that you won't be able to get to St. Peter's Hermitage, even if you had a whole day ahead of you. Stay here tonight and you can go early tomorrow morning.’
    The stranger replied, ‘Geronta, I have brought some food supplies which I would like to sell, and then return to my work tonight.  If you like, you may do me a favour by keeping them, and just giving me a little money in return.’
‘Since you are in a hurry, leave them here in this corner, and I will go and get for you the money which was given to me by a pilgrim.’ He went to his room while the stranger was unloading the goods, but when he returned he was not there. He had disappeared. Father Cherubim looked outside and called, but there were neither footprints nor animal tracks in the snow. Then he realized that it had all been the visible energies of the invisible Divine Providence, which looks after everything. He entered his little chapel and thanked the Lord. With gratitude, he placed the food supplies in his small storage space. They lasted him the whole winter.
(From an Athonite Gerontikon, courtesy of orthodox-theo@snet.net)

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Corrigenda

Please note the following corrections to articles in the November 2008 Newsletter. The Editor offers her sincere apologies with respect to these mistakes:

p. 8, col. 2: (Tatiana Yudina-Butler’s article on Sr Joanna Reitlinger’s Triptych).
Line 20: substitute ‘and’ for ‘but’.
Line 7-8 from bottom of page: substitute ‘in the traditional for iconography, head-bowed “appearance”…’ for ‘in the traditional “kneeling” position for iconography’.

p. 10: John Butler’s book is entitled ‘Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment’, not ‘Wonders of Spiritual Enfoldment’.


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Further Reflections on Sister Joanna’s Icons and Their Iconography
by Tatiana Yudina-Butler

[See previous newsletters, September and November 2008, for Tatiana’s other articles on this subject.]



The icons of the Paris period, in the 1930s, ‘The Nativity of Christ’ and ‘The Chersonese icon of the Mother of God’, give an idea both of Sister Joanna’s adherence to the tradition, and   of   her personal creative and theological interpretation of these subjects.  


The iconography of the ‘Nativity of Christ’ took shape in paleological art of the 14th century and soon became widespread in Rus’. The subject is based on the gospel accounts of the birth of the Christ child to the Virgin Mary (Matthew 1:18-23; 2:1-12; Luke 2:6-20), together with apocryphal works, and also texts from the Nativity service and psalmody appointed for this feast. Numerous ancient Russian icons of the ‘Nativity’ differ in detail in the narrative of the event, arrangement and scale of all the parts of the composition, its artistic interpretation, and the poses and gestures of the characters.

The icon Sister Joanna painted of the ‘Nativity’ accords canonically with its theme. However, some changes in detail bring a distinct individuality to it. In it, as in ancient Russian art, are expressed two basic ideas of the feast of the Nativity: the joy of ‘all creation’, called forth by the appearance in the world of its Saviour, and the ‘emptying’ (‘kenosis’) of God, His ‘humiliation’  for the sake of people’s salvation.

Above the Infant, like a high canopy, hangs the black abyss of the Bethlehem cave. Its black light and the luminous whiteness of Christ’s shroud are a reminder of the world, stricken by sin and human guilt, in which ‘the Sun of Righteousness has arisen’. The hills around the cave are painted at variance with the ancient Russian scheme of composition – the traditional ‘ledges’ are missing, and they are replaced by a huge reddish-brown semicircular cupola of earth (across the whole width of the icon), so that the cave reminds us of the bottomless crater of a volcano.

The womb of the cave, like an image of the Earth in the pangs of birth, is here likened to the Theotokos’ womb that has given birth. This comparison continues throughout the whole service for the feast: ‘The Virgin today gives birth to the Transcendent One, and the earth offers a cave to the Unapproachable One’ (Kontakion, 3rd tone). The cave is at the same time a symbol of the treasure-house in which lies the ‘heavenly pearl’ – the Saviour. But it is also the resting-place of Christ: they laid His dead body in a cave after his execution.

For this reason the white clothes of the Infant and the crib’s rectangular shapes remind us at the same time of the grave clothes and the stone tomb. The ox and the ass, as ‘clean’ sacrificial animals of the Old Testament, bend over the New Testament sacrifice – Christ. This theme is continued with the depiction of new-born, snow-white lambs, two of which are peeping into the crib, and two others lie between the seated Joseph and two shepherds, who have come to worship the Divine Infant.

A Star has led the shepherds to the cave, and they gaze on it continually. The icon is divided into several spatial zones. Furthest from the centre is the upper part. At the top right, on the red background of a desert land, a flock of white sheep stands out clearly. According to tradition, the flock that grazed beside the road from Bethlehem to Jerusalem was set aside for temple sacrifices.

This is why the shepherds of the sacrificial animals were the first among men to find out about the birth of the Messiah, who ‘took upon Himself all the sins of the world’. On the left, also at the top, on the same horizontal terracotta colour, are depicted three wise men, riding on camels: ‘…wise men shall travel with a star…’ The wise men are traditionally thought to be pagan kings, (Isaiah 60:3; Psalm 71[72]:10), representing the three ages of human life and the three races of the Earth.

And the three wise men and the flock of sheep are depicted very untraditionally in this icon, with light, dabs of paint, in a manner which might most appropriately be called ‘impressionistic’, completely without detail; colour marks out only the contours of the figures, which appear diminutive in comparison with the central part of the composition. These two groups are divided by the representation, directly above the cave, of a huge segment of sky, in two colours: the black cosmos and luminescent blue clouds.

On a black background, strictly in the centre of the composition, right at the upper edge of the icon, is set the guiding Star of Bethlehem, the symbolism of which truly goes back to the words of John Chrysostom, who said that the Angel of the Lord guided the wise men, in the guise of a star. A star was generally associated with the arrival on earth of the Messiah— the Saviour. It is mentioned in the prophecy of Balaam: ‘a star will arise out of Jacob’ (Numbers 24:17) and also in Revelation (22:16) where Christ is called the ‘bright morning star’, illuminating the world with the light of the Gospel Day.

Milky-white rays beam from the star straight down upon the Infant, who answers it with a joyfully intelligent look. Mary sits on the edge of the crib, bending over her Son. The Star’s rays pass through the golden-yellow halo above Her head, and seem to flow down her face like tears. The Theotokos’ face is sad, Her right hand pressed to her heart, and with her left she touches her Son, not looking at Him. Mary’s gaze seems to be turned inward, as if she already knew the words of Simeon the God-Receiver: ‘… and a sword shall pierce Your own heart, too…’, said of the dying torment that awaited Christ. (Luke 2:35).

On the whole, the icon’s composition is quietly majestic: the hills and the cave, the Infant and the Theotokos in it, Joseph and the shepherds, form a circle, the earthly world. It is adorned as if with a crown by the segment of sky with the star in the middle – the world of the Holy Spirit. Bright, festive colouring conveys the joyful character of this great Christian festival: burnt ochre sky, terracotta desert and lower parts of the hills, silver-grey and deep-blue colours of the shepherds’ and Joseph’s clothing.

It also includes the cloudy-clear-blue tunic and traditionally purple maphorion of the Mother of God, with three golden stars on it. The bright spots of red (details of the clothing) and the copper-red (the ox’s head) add to the general joyous harmony.


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More New Books!

Two books by Mary B. Cunningham (Editor of Newsletter) appeared in December 2008. They are as follows:

Wider Than Heaven: Eighth-Century Homilies on the Mother of God (Crestwood, NY: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2008), ISBN 1-800-204-2665

Ed. (with Elizabeth Theokritoff), The Cambridge Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology (Cambridge University Press, 2008), ISBN 978-0-521-68338-8



Book Review

John Butler, Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment (London: Shepheard-Walwyn Ltd., 2008), with a Foreword by Father Daniel Joseph.

This is an extraordinary book by an extraordinary man, who happens to be a member of our parish. I have been reading it slowly since the moment when it became available, marvelling at the life experience, wisdom, and spiritual teaching that John offers us here. Father Daniel states in his Foreword that John Butler has a ‘beautiful, vulnerable style of writing about his life’s experience which I find most absorbing—almost captivating.’ I found the same: as I read the book, I was drawn into John’s inner world and learned much from the experience. In fact, this is a book which I shall continue to dip into for years to come. Like an overflowing pool which offers spiritual refreshment to the reader, Wonders of Spiritual Unfoldment provides an abundance of ideas, but above all, conceptual images, for us to ponder.

The book is structured chronologically, thus providing an autobiographical account of John’s spiritual journey through life. This account is fascinating in itself: at various points in his life, the author has been a soldier, cowboy and organic farmer. He has also travelled to distant places, including Australia, South America, Africa and Russia.  The one unifying theme, however, among these diverse experiences, has been John’s devotion to meditative prayer. He began this practice, guided by the School of Meditation, in London, though later it found natural correspondence with the Orthodox Christian ‘prayer of the heart’. Without trying to define it, this led to a series of ‘encounters’ or ‘windows’, unfolding realisation that, with less identity as separate, individual ‘me’, there is less impeding unity with God. It is the gradual deepening of this essential experience in the course of his long and varied life which John describes throughout his book. The personal encounters, not only with other people but also with nature, form a backdrop to this central preoccupation: as one reads, one slowly becomes aware of how everything that John describes contributed to his growing sense of God’s presence in every aspect of creation and in himself. This is a journey with purpose, but also with a sense of wonderment and ‘unfoldment’: although John writes from a position of maturity, one senses that this journey is by no means over yet—nor will it end even with his death. This is a process which continues both in, but also beyond, time; it is a process in which we are all involved, although most of us probably have only a dim sense of God’s immanence and power in our lives.
I have suggested that the events and background of John’s life play an important part in the book. Some of the most memorable images for me are his descriptions of encounters with nature—these are daily events no doubt for any farmer, but in John’s case, they are seen as windows into the divine. He describes, for example, a beloved ash tree which grows by his farm gate:

‘Oh sister tree, how I do love you. We’ve shared the years together, bending our heads before cold winds, and stretching, smiling in the sun. Always you are here, comforting in your presence when hot tears of anger have put me against the world—and still, with holy stillness in the early dawn with only you and me.
Roost for the blackbird’s song in spring, playmate of the raindrops—shelter, shade and strength you give to all who ask. Inspiration to the earth that bore you, symbol of the life that calls, how perfectly your worldly task is done.
Dear tree—God bless you.’

Nature, and life in nature, can be cruel, however—or at least so it seems to one who has not lived as close to the land as John Butler has done. Another image that will remain with me is that of an orphan piglet, who ‘loved to wallow in wet places and bury his nose in the sweet earth before running back to me, snorting with delight, for a cuddle.’ However, as John describes, ‘he grew bigger and bigger and time came for him to be killed. I had him salted and hung the bacon from hooks in the ceiling. I was living alone at the time and ate a bit each day, but he was a very large pig with a lot of very fat meat and it took me over three years to finish… I couldn’t bear to throw it away.’ There is a grounded sense of reality here, which reminds us that farmers have to earn a living and to feed themselves; pigs also have a purpose, which is to be eaten.

I have been dwelling on some of the passages which describe John Butler’s experience of the created world. More important, of course, is his account of the gradual unfolding of spiritual knowledge in the course of his life. The natural imagery and everyday experiences that accompany this account are not secondary, however, and should not be ignored. It seems to me that John expresses a very Christian spiritual vision in this book, grounded in the created world and illumined by the incarnate Lord. His openness to wisdom from any source, whether explicitly Christian or not, is surely a key to the understanding that he gains. Another striking aspect of this book is its lack of didacticism: John states at the beginning that he is not attempting to instruct his readers or to offer a spiritual self-help manual. Instead, he simply shares his rich experience and his endless sense of wonder at the mystery of God and his creation. I highly recommend this book for its fascinating, unusual, and deeply spiritual teaching. Composed from notes, poems, and vivid insights that have been collected over the years by a remarkable man, this is a book which, with huge generosity and honesty, offers these insights to all of its readers.
(Mary Cunningham)



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Next Parish Meeting:

Saturday, 14 March at 2.30 p.m.

Please try to come if you can!

Extracts from Parish Newsletter, January 2009