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April 201 5 Service s Saturday April 4- Vigil 6pm (With blessing and distribution of the pussywillows) Sunday April 5- Entrance of Our Lord into Jerusalem-Palm Sunday 10:30am Divine Liturgy (Bring your blessed pussywillows from vigil); Vespers and Matins 7:00pm
Great and Holy Monday April 6- 10:00am Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts; Vigil 7:00pm Great and Holy Tuesday April 7- 10:00am Divine Liturgy for the Annunciation Matins 7:00pm Great and Holy Wednesday April 8- 10:00am Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts; Matins- 7:00pm Great and Holy Thursday April 9- 10:00am Divine Liturgy of St. Basil the Great; Matins- 7:00pm Passion Gospels- (Bring your lanterns!) Great and Holy Friday April 10- Bringing out of the Winding Sheet - 4:00pm Lamentations- 7:00pm Great and Holy Saturday April 11- 10:00am Divine Liturgy of St. Basil the Great. Confessions for Paschal Liturgy heard between 4:00pm - 6:00pm Reading of the Acts of the Apostles Saturday night April 11th 10:30pm; Great and Holy Pascha: Holy Pascha
Midnight Office 11:30pm immediately followed at midnight by Paschal Matins Sunday April 12th; 12:00am & Divine Liturgy; followed by the blessing of the Eggs, Kulich, and Pascha Baskets. Please note: This is the only time for blessing the eggs, Pascha baskets and Kulichi. Sunday April 12th Paschal Vespers 1:00pm; followed by Festal Potluck Lunch Bright Saturday April 18 - Vigil 6pm Thomas Sunday April 19-Divine Liturgy 10:30am Artos dispersed after service Father John blessing the Orthodox graves at Royal Oak and Ross Bay Cemeteries for Radonitsa, after Liturgy, with parish picnic following Saturday April 25- Vigil 6:00pm Sunday of the Myrrh-Bearing Women April 26- Divine Liturgy 10:30am Sunday Evening Vespers- 5pm Rejoic e and Be Glad ! Baptism On Saturday March 7th, Jacob H, the son of Philip and Emmanuelle H was baptized. His patron saint is St. Jacob, the Patriarch. May God grant the newly illumined Jacob, his godmother Sophia, and godfather Stratis, many years! From ROOF (Russian Orphan Opportunity Fund) March 18, 2015 Dear members of St. Sophia Parish, Thank you enormously for your donation to the Russian Orphan Opportunity Fund in June 2014! You have no idea how much it is appreciated! I was tremendously pleased to see your $100.00 contribution. I am equally embarrassed that I don’t see that you have been thanked before this. I hope that you will accept my apologies. It is exciting to have new donors and to make new acquaintances! I am always curious and would be most interested to hear about how you became aware of ROOF and what prompted your terrific generosity! What a difference your support means to those we serve! Your contribution will be efficiently and carefully used to provide hours of instruction, services, or other assistance by ROOF’s amazing and dedicated teachers and staff. Many will be the beneficiaries of your kindness. Your help will make a difference in their lives. Thank you tremendously on their behalf! The Russian Orphan Opportunity Fund is a 501(c)(3) charitable organization in the U.S.A. You obviously are aware of our website: www.roofnet.org Thank you for using it as a means to make your much appreciated contribution! Please share the site with others. We’re anxious to spread the word! On behalf of all of us at ROOF, the orphans in particular, I thank you for your generosity. It is much appreciated. Have a blessed Easter! Very truly yours, Karen Jansson, Treasurer Russian Orphan Opportunity Fund 5200 Wind Point Drive Racine, Wisconsin 53402 USA k.jansson@att.net 262.639.9398 A Pascha of Beauty In a Soviet Prison – 1928 Serge Schmemann, son of Fr. Alexander Schmemann, in his wonderful little book, Echoes of a Native Land, records a letter written from one of his family members of an earlier generation, who spent several years in the prisons of the Soviets and died there. The letter, written on the night of Pascha in 1928 is to a family member, “Uncle Grishanchik” (This was Grigory Trubetskoi who had managed to emigrate to Paris). This letter should become a classic of Orthodox writing and witness to the faith that sustained so many and is today being resurrected in so many places. The triumph of the Resurrection so transcends his prison cell it’s a wonder that the walls remained. The entire book is a wonderful read. I recommend it without reservation. -‐Fr. Stephen Freeman 30 March/ 12 April 1928 -‐ Dear Uncle Grishanchik, I greet you and Aunt Masha with the impending Holy Day, and I wish you all the very best. For a long, long time I have wanted to write to you, dear Uncle Grishanchik; you always showed such concern for me, you helped me so generously in a difficult moment of my life, and, mainly, your entire image is so inseparably linked for each of us, your nephews, with such wonderful memories; you always are, were, and will be our dearest, most beloved uncle. I am approaching the fourth Easter that I will spend behind these walls, separated from my family, but the feelings for these holy days which were infused in me from earliest childhood do not fail me now; from the beginning of Holy Week I have felt the approach of the Feast, I follow the life of the Church, I repeat to myself the hymns of the Holy Week services, and in my soul there arise those feelings of tender reverence that I used to feel as a child going to confession or communion. At 35 those feelings are as strong and as deep as in those childhood years. My dear Uncle Grishanchik, going over past Easters in my memory, I remember our last Easter at Sergiyevskoye, which we spent with you and Aunt Masha, and I felt the immediate need to write you. If you have not forgotten, Easter in 1918 was rather late, and spring was early and very warm, so when in the last weeks of Lent I had to take Aunt Masha to Ferzikovo, the roads were impassable. I remember that trip as now; it was a warm, heavy, and humid day, which consumed the last snow in the forests and gullies faster than the hottest sun; wherever you looked, water, water, and more water, and all the sounds seemed to rise from it, from the burbling and rushing of the streams on all sides to the ceaseless ring of countless larks. We had to go by sleigh – not on the road, which wound through the half-‐naked fields in a single muddy ridge, but alongside, carefully choosing the route. Each hoofprint, each track left by the runners, immediately turned into a small muddy stream, busily rushing off somewhere. We drove forever, exhausting the poor horse, and, finally, after successfully eluding the Polivanovo field, one of the most difficult places, I became too bold and got Aunt Masha so mired that I nearly drowned the horse and the sleigh; we had to unharness to pull it out and got wet to the eyebrows; in a word, total “local color.” I remember the feeling I had that spring of growing strength, but that entire happy springtime din, for all the beauty and joy of awakening nature, could not muffle the sense of alarm that squeezed the heart in each of us. Either some hand rose in senseless fury to profane our Sergiyevskoye, or there was the troubling sense that our loving and closely welded family was being broken up: Sonia far off somewhere with a pile of kids, alone, separated from her husband; Seryozha, just married, we don’t know where or how, and you, my dear Uncle Grisha and Auht Masha, separated from your young ones, in constant worry over them. It was a hard and difficult time. But I believe that beyond these specific problems, this spiritual fog had a deeper common source: we all, old and young, stood then at a critical turning point: unaware of it, we were bidding farewell to a past filled with beloved memories, while ahead there loomed some hostile utterly unknown future. And in the midst of all this came Holy Week. the spring was in that stage when nature, after a big shove to cast off winter’s shackles, suddenly grows quiet, as if resting from the first victory. But below this apparent calm there is always the sense of a complex, hidden process taking place somewhere deep in the earth, which is preparing to open up in all its force, in all the beauty of growth and flowering. Plowing and seeding the earth raised rich scents, and, following the plow on the sweaty, softly turning furrow, you were enveloped in the marvelous smell of moist earth. I always became intoxicated by that smell, because in it one senses the limitless creative power of nature. I don’t know how you all felt at the time, because I lived a totally separate life and worked from morning to night in the fields, not seeing, and, yes, not wanting to see, anything else. It was too painful to think, and only total physical exhaustion gave one a chance, if not to forget, then at least to forget oneself. But with Holy Week began the services in church and at home, I had to lead the choir in rehearsal and in church; on Holy Wednesday I finished the sowing of oats and, putting away the plow and harrow, gave myself entirely over to the tuning fork. And here began that which I will never forget! Dear Uncle Grishanchik! Do you remember the service of the Twelve Gospels in our Sergiyevskoye church? Do you remember that marvelous, inimitable manner of our little parson? This spring will be nine years that he passed away during the midnight Easter service, but even now, when I hear certain litanies or certain Gospel readings, I can hear the exhilarated voice of our kind parson, his intonations piercing to the very soul. I remember that you were taken by this service, that it had a large impact on you. I see now the huge crucifix rising in the midst of the church, with figures of the Mother of God on one side and the Apostle John on the other, framed by multicolored votive lights, the waving flame of many candles, and, among the thoroughly familiar throng of Sergiyevskoye peasants, your figure by the right wall in front of the candle counter, with a contemplative expression on your face. If you only knew what was happening in my soul at that time! It was an entire turnover, some huge, healing revelation! Don’t be surprised that I’m writing this way; I don’t think I’m exaggerating anything, it’s just that I feel great emotion remembering all these things, because I am continuously breaking off to go to the window and listen. A quiet, starry night hangs over Moscow, and I can hear first one, then another church mark the successive Gospels with slow, measured strikes of the bell. I think of my Lina and our Marinochka, of Papa, Mama, my sisters, brothers, of all of you, feeling the sadness of expatriation in these days, all so dear and close. However painful, especially at this time, the awareness of our separation, I firmly, unshakably believe all the same that the hour will come when we will all gather together, just as you are all gathered now in my thoughts. 1/14 April – They’ve allowed me to finish writing letters, and I deliberately sat down to finish it this night. Any minute now the Easter matins will start; in our cell everything is clean, and on our large common table stand kulichi and paskha, a huge “X.B.” [Christos Voskrese “Christ is risen”] from fresh watercress is beautifully arranged on a white table cloth with brightly colored eggs all around. It’s unusually quiet in the cell; in order not to arouse the guards, we all lay down on lowered cots (there are 24 of us) in anticipation of the bells, and I sat down to write to you again. I remember I walked out of the Sergiyevskoye church at that time overwhelmed by a mass of feelings and sensations, and my earlier spiritual fog seemed a trifle, deserving of no attention. In the great images of the Holy Week services, the horror of man’s sin and the suffering of the Creator leading to the great triumph of the resurrection, I suddenly discovered that eternal, indestructible beginning, which was also in that temporarily quiet spring, hiding in itself the seed of a total renewal of all that lives. The services continued in their stern, rich order; images replaced images, and when, on Holy Saturday, after the singing of “Arise, O Lord,” the deacon, having changed into a white robe, walked into the center of the church to the burial cloth to read the gospel about the resurrection, it seemed to me that we are all equally shaken, that we all feel and pray as one. In the meantime, spring went on the offensive. When we walked to the Easter matins, the night was humid, heavy clouds covered the sky, and walking through the dark alleys of the linden park, I imagined a motion in the ground, as if innumerable invisible plants were pushing through the earth toward air and light. I don’t know if our midnight Easter matins made any impression on you then. For me there never was, and never will be, anything better than Easter at Seriyevskoye. We are all too organically tied to Sergiyevskoye for anything to transcend it, to evoke so much good. This is not blind patriotism, because for all of us Seriyevskoye was that spiritual cradle in which everything by which each of us lives and breathes was born and raised. My dear Uncle Grishanchik, as I’ve been writing to you the scattered ringing around Moscow has become a mighty festive peal. Processions have begun, the sounds of firecrackers reach us, one church after another joins the growing din of bells. The wave of sound swells. There! Somewhere entirely nearby, a small church breaks brightly through the common chord with such a joyous, exultant little voice. Sometimes it seems that the tumult has begun to wane, and suddenly a new wave rushes in with unexpected strength, a grand hymn between heaven and earth. I cannot write any more! That which I now hear is too overwhelming, too good, to try to convey in words. The incontrovertible sermon of the Resurrection seems to rise from this mighty peal of praise. My dear uncle Grishanchik, it is so good in my soul that the only way I can express my spirit is to say to you once again, Christ is Risen! Georgy http://blogs.ancientfaith.com/glory2godforallthings/2014/04/20/a-‐pascha-‐of-‐beauty-‐in-‐a-‐soviet-‐prison-‐1928/
Month of April Saint’s Days Congratulations to Larissa, Larissa, Mary, Daria, and Marie. May God grant you all many, many, years! Church Cleaners Thank you month of March Church Cleaners and Gardeners. May God reward your loving efforts! On The Lord's Prayer -‐ St. Nikolai Velimirovic Part 6 (continuing from March 2015 Issue) GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD He that gives the body, gives the soul too; and He that gives the air, gives bread as well. Thy children, O merciful Giver of gifts, expect every needful thing from Thee. Who would brighten their faces in the morning if not Thee through Thy light? Who would watch nightly over their breathing when they sleep if not Thee, the most indefatigable of all watchers? Where could they sow their daily bread if not upon Thy field? With what could they refresh it if not with Thy dew of the dawn? With what could they vivify it if not with Thy light and Thy air? With what could they test it if not with the mouth Thou formest on them? By what means should they rejoice and give thanks to Thee when fed, if not by the spirit through which Thou hast inspired the lifeless clay and made of it a miracle, O Thou, most miraculous Artist? I do not pray to Thee for my bread, but for our bread. Why should I alone have bread if my brothers around me are suffering hunger? It would be better and more just if Thou takest from me such bitter, selfish bread; hunger is sweeter shared with brothers dear. It cannot be Thy wish to have the thanks of one man, and the cursing of hundreds. Our Father, give us our bread! In order that we may glorify Thee in harmonious chorus, and in order that we may joyfully remember our Heavenly Father. This day we are praying for this day. This day is a great one; it is the birth of many thousands of living creatures. Thousands of new creatures, which yesterday were not, and which tomorrow will not be, today are rejoicing together under the same sunshine; together with us they crawl upon one of Thy stars, and together with us they call to Thee: our bread! O great Host! We are Thy guests from morning till evening; we are sitting at Thy table and waiting for Thy bread. No one but Thee has the right to say: my bread. It is Thine. No one but Thee has any right to tomorrow’s day and tomorrow’s bread but Thee alone, and those of today’s earthly inhabitants whom Thou invitest. If it is in accordance with Thy will that the end of this day be the dividing line of my life and death, I will bow before Thy holy Will. If it is Thy Will that tomorrow I may once more be the companion of the great sun, and a guest at Thy table, I will repeat my thanksgiving, as I repeat it steadily day after day. And I will bow before Thy Will, again and again, as the angels in Heaven do, O Giver of all gifts, material and spiritual! http://www.atlantaserbs.com/learnmore/library/LordsPrayer.html Pearls of Wisdom Our life depends on the kind of thoughts we nurture. If our thoughts are peaceful, calm, meek, and kind, then that is what our life is like. If our attention is turned to the circumstances in which we live, we are drawn into a whirlpool of thoughts and can have neither peace nor tranquility. -‐Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica "Let us commit ourselves, and one another, and all our life to Christ our God." Properly describes true Christian faith. It is a full, trusting, filial entrustment of oneself into God’s hands. This is, and has always been, what opens the doors to true joy, to true happiness. If a Christian trusts God, then he is prepared to accept anything from him… for he knows that God is infinitely good… He loves us so much that he will move heaven and earth to save us… With this kind of understanding, joy and light firmly inhabit the heart of a Christian, and there is no room for gloom. The world, the boundless universe belongs to my God. No event, from the smallest to the greatest can occur without His will, and He loves me infinitely. Even here on earth he allows me to enter His kingdom, His holy Church. He will never drive me from His kingdom, as long as I am faithful to Him. What is more, if I fall, he will pick me up as soon as I realize my sin and offer tears of repentance. That is why I trust my salvation and the salvation of not only my loved ones, but of all people, to God’s hands. Death is not frightening, it has been defeated by Christ… Joy and eternal blessedness await the faithful. "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man The things which God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Cor. 2:9). Let ever-‐merciful God help us achieve full trust in Him. Lord rejuvenate us who pray to Thee! -‐Archbishop Nathanial (Lvov) The Church of Christ is One, Holy, Universal and Apostolic. She is herself a single spiritual body, whose head is Christ, and who has the one Holy Spirit abiding in her. The local parts of the Church are members of a single body of the Universal Church, and they, like branches of a single tree, are nourished by one and same sap from a single root. She is called holy because she is sanctified by the holy word, deeds, sacrifice and suffering of her founder, Jesus Christ, to which end He came in order to save human beings and lead them to holiness. The Church is called universal because she is not confined by place, not by time, nor by nation nor language. The communicates with all humanity. The Orthodox Church is called apostolic because the spirit, teaching and labours of the Apostles of Christ are entirely preserved in her. -‐St. Nicholas of Serbia, Catechesis
Many think that the saints are far from us. But they are far from those who distance themselves from them, and very close to those keep the commandments of Christ and have the grace of the Holy Spirit. In the heavens, all things are moved by the Holy Spirit. But the Holy Spirit is on earth too. He lives in our Church. He lives in the Mysteries. He is in the Holy Scriptures. He is in the souls of the faithful. The Holy Spirit unites all things, and therefore the saints are close to us. And when we pray to them, then the Holy Spirit hears our prayers, and our souls feel that they are praying for us. -‐St. Silouan the Athonite, Writings, XII.3 Give your intentions in prayer to God, Who knows everyone, even before our birth. And do not ask that everything will be according to your will, because a man does not know what is profitable for him. But say to God: Let Thy will be done! For He does everything for our benefit. -‐St. Gennadius of Constantinople, The Golden Chain, 47
The Lord has given the Holy Spirit upon the earth, and in whomsoever He dwells, that one feels paradise within himself. You might say: why hasn't this happened to me? Because you have not given yourself over to the will of God, but you live according to yourself. Look at the one who loves his own will. He never has peace in himself and is always displeased with something. But whoever has given himself over to God's will perfectly has pure prayer. His soul loves the Lord, and everything is acceptable and good to him. -‐St. Silouan the Athonite, Writings, VI.14
In all of our deeds God looks at the intention, whether we do it for His sake, or for the sake of some other intention. -‐St. Maximus the Confessor, Chapters on Love, 2:36 Nu n, the Wiser A fictional novelette by © Jane MacGregor, used with permission FINAL CHAPTER & Conclusion… Continued from the March 2015 Sophia
Chapter 9 Jiggity Jog It was 5 am when Mother Julitta knocked at our cell's door saying the Jesus Prayer, to which we groggily responded, "Amen!" Faith and I could see the dawn's first light from our pillows, and Koshka squeaked indignantly when I sat up in bed disturbing her. She had taken turns on both our beds last night. I scratched under her little black chin, adoring the way her long white whiskers fanned out from her cheeks. There was still time to grab a refreshing five minute shower before morning prayers. I stretched luxuriously and leaped out of bed. It was strange to think I would be sleeping in my own bed tonight! Before completing our final morning's obediences, Faith and I packed up our belongings after what seemed to me a somber breakfast. Although sad to be leaving, I rejoiced in my final obedience of watering the cattle troughs! I sighed and leaned back against the split rail fence. The cattle placidly drank deeply, despite pesky flies landing continuously upon their long eyelashes and foolish faces. It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for them… yah, almost. Bidding the cattle a happy and hasty farewell, I strolled down the dirt road past the little church, lost in thought. The way looped back again to the convent through the forest, and before I knew it, it was lunch. Aunt Kat would soon be here to collect Faith and me. Lunch was particularly delicious! Although it was a fast day, Sister Maria had made some to-‐die-‐for vegan pancakes. There was fresh fruit, maple syrup and yes… JAM! The nuns continually passed the jam jar along until it finally stopped in front of… Matushka. Matushka glanced casually around the table and dipped the spoon deep into the jam jar. Kicking who I thought was Faith under the table across from me, poor Mother Antonina shouted ouch! Faith looked up questioningly, and I motioned with my eyes over to the jam jar. Faith understood. We pretended not to watch Matushka as she stealthily loaded up the spoon with jam, and place it quietly back onto the plate. After lunch we saw gaunt Mother Julitta humbly approach Matushka and obediently lick the jam spoon clean, in front of her. I realized then, that at any given meal, Mother Julitta hardly ever put anything on her plate. Even with her loose ryasa on, she looked thin and frail… like a dry little twig. Matushka was giving her a treat, as Mother Julitta herself, never took one on her own. The mystery was solved, but there was a strong twinge of guilt of harshly judging poor Mother Julitta. I was alone in the house chapel for awhile after lunch, when Aunt Kat arrived. Kissing all the relics tenderly, I especially thanked dear St. Panteleimon for his prayers to God and for healing my mother. Smoothing my jean skirt I looked around one last time at the chapel. Taking a deep breath, I crossed myself three times and exited through the chapel door. Meandering the maze of halls back to the refectory, I saw Matushka Everild blessing Faith farewell. Aunt Kat was already outside loading our bags in the car. I hugged some of the nuns goodbye, including an astonished Mother Julitta! "I'll send you some of my mom's peach and plum jam for Nativity!" I grinned wickedly at her, and watched Mother Julitta blush. Matushka winked at me. I thanked Matushka for everything, pointedly excluding the tuna omelet. With a lump in my throat, I bowed in a prostration of farewell, and when I looked up, Matushka too, was bowed in a prostration. We stood up together, and she blessed me, holding her cross out for me to kiss. "Come back soon" she said mischievously, "There's another part of the property you haven't seen yet!" As we drove off I couldn't see very well. The air must have been dry, as my eyes were strangely wet, and I knew Matushka would keep standing there, blessing us until we left her sight. Faith and I entertained Aunt Kat with tales of our adventures until we arrived at the airport. We waved tearful goodbyes as I passed through the boarding gates. Finding my seat on the plane, I sat down. My head scarf was still on, but I didn't want to remove any remnants of the convent just yet. Some people boarding the plane were talking loudly and laughing. Others used coarse language when their carry-‐on bags didn't fit easily into the overhead compartments. The pre-‐boarding plane music was raunchy and I felt a bit shell-‐shocked. Here I was back in the world again, and sad to leave the blessed peace and stillness of the convent behind. I automatically crossed myself upon take-‐off and startled my new seat mate. To put him at ease, I introduced myself. His name was James, and he asked what religion I was. "I'm an Orthodox Christian!" "Are you Greek?" asked James. "No." "Oh, are you Russian?" James wondered. "Nope." James looked really puzzled. "What's your nationality?" "What's yours?" I asked. "I'm Canadian." said James. "Me too!" I said smiling. "Seriously? Wow. I thought one needed a certain ethnic background to be Orthodox?" "A common error," I laughed. "Our English parish is a mixture of Canadian, American, Asian, Russian and Greek families." James laughed too, and said there was a new Orthodox church near where his sister lives. "It had bought an old dilapidated church building of another denomination, which needed extensive renovations, to be brought up to city code," James reminisced. "The neighbourhood didn't know what kind of new church it was, as no name sign was erected until the completion of the renos." James howled with laughter and continued. "My sister said the whole neighbourhood began thinking the building belonged perhaps, to some cult." "Oh my!" I exclaimed. "Why was that?" "Well, people quietly entered the mystery "building" looking very, very, serious, and very, very, well dressed, like… they're visiting royalty. Men wear good clothing. Ladies wear classy skirts or dresses and the most amazing hats or scarves. I say, vive la différence, but, I digress… Anyway, an hour or so later, everyone exits the mystery building always looking very, very, happy or peaceful. Until the sign went up with the church's name, my sister said the neighbourhood endearingly called this anonymous building, The Church of Audrey Hepburn!" We couldn’t stop laughing, and I even shared some of my convent adventures with him. James and I chattered the rest of the flight home like old friends. Home! I was going home, and so happy! I couldn't help it! When we landed, I waved goodbye to James who kindly wished me a good and happy life. We were what my mom calls two ships that pass in the night. To my great delight, my best friend Ksusha met me at the airport with mom and dad. After hugging everyone thrice over (had to hug my mom gently though, because of her stitches) I realized my smile muscles were killing me. Ksusha and I sat in the back seat catching up on all our news, and we prattled a mile a minute as we drove home. My scalp was itchy and I ripped off my headscarf. Rolling the down the car window, the warm wind blew through my hair. Inhaling the tangy scent of pines, and wild sage, I sighed contentedly glancing at my watch. The nuns would be at Compline about now, and praying for the whole world. "Guess where we're going together next summer, Ksusha?" Ksusha smiled radiantly, crossed herself and whispered, "May an angel go with us!" The joy of the Lord was in her voice. Practical Tip Cloud of Witnesses The Saints are Alive in Jesus Christ Vigil lights are placed before the icons of the saints, according to Saint Symeon the New Theologian, as a way of showing that without the Light, Who is Christ, the saints are nothing. It is only as the light of Christ shines on them that they become alive and resplendent. The saints show us what a glorious destiny we have in God, and through the example of their lives, point the way to our becoming “partakers of divine nature.” The saints, as the cloud of witnesses in heaven, are present in the divine services, worshiping the Holy Trinity with us. They, as our friends, intercede before the Throne of God on our behalf, having won the good fight, and we are encouraged by the memory and example of their lives, as we struggle on our own path to God. It has been said that there are two kinds of people in the world: sinners who think they are saints, and saints who know they are sinners. A saint is a Christian who lets God’s light shine through, and who’s life has been transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. We venerate the Saints as we seek their intercession with God, but we adore and worship only God in Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We venerate the Images (Icons) as well as the relics of the saints and martyrs. Yet according to the decisions and Canons of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, this veneration relates not to the icons as such, but to their prototypes, or to the persons whom they represent. The interior walls of our temples are adorned with the icons and frescoes of the saints as a reminder that we are surrounded by the cloud of witnesses, the saints, and that the Church Militant (here on earth) is not separated from the Church Triumphant (in heaven). In Christ, death does not divide us, for the saints are not dead, but alive in Christ Jesus. Glory to Jesus Christ, Who is glorified in His saints. With love in Christ, Abbot Tryphon -‐
http://blogs.ancientfaith.com/morningoffering/2015/03/cloud-‐of-‐witnesses/ Links
St. Sophia Orthodox Church, Victoria BC
http://saintsophia.ca/ Official site of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia
http://www.russianorthodoxchurch.ws/synod/indexeng.htm
Official site of the Montreal and Canadian Diocese
http://mcdiocese.com/en/ The Rudder: Streaming Orthodox Christian sacred music 24/7
http://www.myocn.com/rudder/ The Silver Prince: By Alexey Tolstoy; Translated by Nikita S. Galitzine
http://bookstore.trafford.com/Products/SKU-‐000167307/The-‐Silver-‐Prince.aspx St. Sophia Parish’s FREE Lenten Cookbook Recipes “Come and Dine”
http://comeanddinerecipe.blogspot.ca/ Holy Trinity Orthodox Church, Vancouver BC
http://russianorthodoxchurch.ca/en/ St. Nicholas Orthodox Church, Vancouver BC
http://www.stnicolaschurch.ca/home_eng.html "Be the Bee” on YouTube
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=i60S6r_sf8o Pravoslavie.Ru
http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/ All-Merciful Saviour Monastery Vashon Island, Washington USA
http://vashonmonks.com/wp/ NEW Morning Offering by Abbot Tryphon
http://blogs.ancientfaith.com/morningoffering/ Holy Trinity Monastery Jordanville, New York
http://www.jordanville.org/ Western America Diocese Official Site
http://www.wadiocese.org/en/ The Children's Word
http://myocn.net/orthodox-‐christian-‐news/orthodox-‐christian-‐childrens-‐newsletter/ Coffee With Sr. Vassa
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUQPAtvsh9U