Cossacks with Moscow Patriachate priest (Photo ‘LPR information centre’)

Around 40 ‘Cossack’ fighters from the self-proclaimed ‘Luhansk people’s republic’ [‘LPR’] have attended a ceremony in an Orthodox Church under the Moscow Patriarchate, claiming that it gives them “the right with rifle in hand to defend the republic”. The event on 27 January is not the first time that Moscow Patriarchate churches are seen taking a clear and highly contentious position in the Kremlin-backed conflict in Donbas.

According to the ‘LPR’ website, 40 Cossacks, two women and the 10-year-old son of one of the men “swore allegiance to the Orthodox faith, the Republic and the Quiet Don”.  The spokesperson Alexander Shtyka is described as the Luhansk leader of the ‘International  union of Cossack civic organizations of the all-powerful fighters of the Don’.  This Russian-based outfit initiated the formation of the so-called ‘Cossack national guard’  in early 2014, with the latter placed under European Union sanctions in 2015 .  Shtyka asserted that “the oath is binding on each Cossack and gives him the right, with weapon in hand, to defend his fatherland from the enemy.  Now the republic is surrounded by enemies, we all know very well that it is defended by Cossacks, they are standing in faith and truth in defence of the republic”.  The ceremony was followed by a ‘march of the cross’, accompanied by the Orthodox priest, to a memorial to members of ‘LPR’ armed groups.  

The fact that these ‘Don Cossacks’ who came to Donbas from Russia to take part in the fighting and any local supporters should come up with such an oath is unsurprising. 

The direct involvement of the Orthodox Church under the Moscow Patriarchate [UOC-MP] can also not be called surprising, but it is disturbing.  Read More

This is the second in a series of related articles by this author. Her experiences as a Roman Catholic have relevance for the Orthodox Church as well. 

Many survivors of abuse can be triggered by simple gestures or images. In my case, it’s a challenge I have learned to manage well enough. It was terrible when I discovered how my feelings on a perfectly normal day could suddenly crash into dark despair because a gesture or an image rattled old feelings of terror or grief branded long buried. It was as if the abuse I had worked so hard to escape had resumed emotionally.

Most adult survivors of child abuse find creative ways to deal with triggers. Many do so without turning to addiction or self-abuse. Others do so after overcoming addiction or self-abuse or other unhealthful life choices. It’s a very real possibility, which is seldom featured in media or more generally, that we often build well and whole lives.

When I first grappled with triggers and how they blur the distinction between the current moment and past feelings, my therapist suggested a single phrase: “This time is not that time.” The mantra was a lifesaver, drawing me out of the roiling past while I was at work or on a crowded New York subway. While it worked, it also hurt. Each instance was a reminder that, after everything I had done to escape the past, I had not escaped at all. What I had done instead was recreate a version of my childhood as a young adult and called it “living free.” 

Soon, I would learn what freedom really is, but first I needed to make distinctions that untied what kept me constrained by my abusers’ lies. For example, I believed I was guilty for the abuse. I confused my own self with the culprit. Why? Because that is what abusers tell us whom they abuse. We are to blame. We are the problem. The greater the imbalance of power between the abuser and the abused, the greater the social fabric lines up behind the abuser, the more irrefutable is the abuser’s lie. That lie is branded on our hearts and our personalities after the abuser is done with us and discards us like a used syringe. Read More

One of the most referenced parables from the Gospels is the one we read before Great Lent concerning the Progidal Son. It is the perhaps the supreme example of how the love of God is manifested to us in understandable language. We should never forget that, even though we all may feel we grasp repentance, forgiveness, and salvation, it is never entirely completed in a single reading, or a single study, or a single homily. One of the reasons we revisit the Prodigal Son at this time of year, as we prepare for our Lenten journey, is exactly this: because each year is different for us, no matter how we may think we have not changed, or have changed, we need the reminder so we better contemplate our life and relationship to both Christ and each other.

So as we approach this great teaching of Christ this time, can we spend a little time in reflection on what, in its content, is the similar and familiar and what is different, and can we see anything new in it for ourselves?

Let us start with the familiar. Here is a loving father, with two sons. One is a dedicated and loyal man, the other an impatient man, anxious for his own future in his own way. When the son asks for his inheritance now, his father does not hesitate, or argue with him; he simply gives him what he asks for, knowing he is surely bound for a troubled future. When he has spent all his inheritance in a far country he comes to his senses and returns, hoping his father will let him live as a hired servant. Not only does the father welcome him gladly, he holds a great feast in his honor.  Read More

The Feast Day in the early Church was eschatological because it was the manifestation and actualization of the Church herself, as the new life, as an anticipation of the unending day of the Kingdom…. But to the extent that such a day was eschatological it was connected also with the real time of “this world,” since it was only for the sake of this world “which God so loved” that the Church was created…. Hence the significance of the early Church of a “reckoning of time,” a calendar, a correspondence between the liturgical year and the “cosmic” year….

These words, from Father Alexander Schmemann in Introduction to Liturgical Theology (SVS Press, 1986, pp. 181-82), have bearing on the long-standing question of which calendar—the Old Calendar (the Julian), or the New Calendar (the Revised Julian)—is most appropriate for use in the Orthodox Church.

A fanciful scenario may be helpful to consider as we ask this question. Imagine you have been given a watch by someone you consider to be especially holy. You cherish the watch both for its usefulness and for the associations it holds for you with this saintly person. One day you notice that, when the watch says 12 noon, the sun is actually past its zenith. Do you adjust the watch, to bring it back into correspondence with the course of the sun? Or, do you refrain from doing so, believing that this would be disrespectful to the person who gave it to you? Do you imagine that this person, being holy, surely anticipated the watch’s eventual lapse in accuracy, but intended that you should continue to govern your activities by what it says, anyway? Considering this latter approach, you realize it entails that your daily routine—your sleeping, waking, and eating—will progressively fall out out of sync with the day, as it is indicated by sunrise and sunset. Incrementally, you will go to bed earlier and earlier, until sleep occurs during daylight, and waking life occurs at night. What do you do? Do you adjust the watch or not? Read More