The Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and conservative Protestant Churches have two clear moral obligations with respect to abortion: the first, to do everything in our collective power to ensure that it remain legal, accessible, and performed only by properly trained medical professionals.

Internally I am dying a thousand deaths for bringing myself to write those terrible words—I, who have fathered five beloved children myself, whom I cannot imagine not-born; I, who will soon become a grandfather for the second time; I, who even as an aging man never fail to marvel with childlike wonder at the mystery of God knitting together a new child according to His image in its mother’s womb; I, who selected the photo accompanying this article so as not to fool myself or my readers about the tragically wounded conditions of our fallen human existence.

So I beg you to continue reading before you howl and shriek for me to be burnt at your stakes as a liberal and a heretic, for I am neither. I am a broken-hearted realist: if we believe that abortion kills a baby, back alley abortion kills a baby and a woman. It really does come down to this: if we cannot always save the lives of both, we must at least take every step possible to save the life of one. Whose mother, wife, daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend, will we wish dead, or simply allow to die, because any number of complex factors—factors unknown to us—compel her to make an unfathomably difficult decision regarding life and death? Read More

In July 2014 the Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) appointed me the Site Chaplain of Kent Maximum Security Institution. In my conversations with parishioners, many assume that my job involves being an “Orthodox prison chaplain,” serving Orthodox inmates and proclaiming Orthodoxy to the non-Orthodox.

Is this assumption correct? No, and yes. In this essay, I would like to take this opportunity to explain the “no” and then elaborate a little on the “yes.”

As an Orthodox priest, I am called to be a “minister of the Word,” which I understand to mean the Logos, who is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I proclaim the Gospel of the crucified and risen Word, and then offer the Gifts of bread and wine to become His Body and Blood before the altar on behalf of the “royal priesthood.”

This is a very particular kind of work directed to a very particular group of people—the Orthodox Christian people of God. Orthodox prison chaplaincy in this sense would involve the same work, only to Orthodox Christian men and/or women (including catechumens and inquirers) who are behind bars.

There is indeed a term for this kind of chaplain in the CSC: demographically responsive, meaning chaplains who minister specifically to those who subscribe to their faith. They are not responsible for those who are not affiliated, unless it is to inform non-affiliated individuals about their specific beliefs. Demographically Responsive Chaplains exist mostly for the insiders of their faith communities. Read More

The first letter of John in the New Testament has a very interesting undertone. There is very clearly a primary message to the entire letter, one of love. The author displays brilliant rhetorical skill by oscillating between the message of love and the message of confusion. Confusion, the author points out, is built on a foundation of lies and discord. The author makes an important juxtaposition between confusion and love, that confusion is of the devil, and that “God is love.” The author places himself within a spiritual lineage that has love as its central message, and asserts that he is both proclaiming a “commandment” that is “old,” and yet also proclaiming that which is “new,” thus placing himself within a spiritual lineage that is both “old” and “new.” Most relevant to this trajectory of thought is that the author eventually makes an equivalency: that between love and truth. The author uses multiple words synonymously: love, truth, God, light, and so on; and words that he places in stark opposition are also used synonymously: lies, confusion, antichrist, deceit, the world, pride, riches, the flesh, and so on. There seems to be, then, a main point to this letter: that God is love.

Philosophers and anti-theists have feasted their facile fangs of rationality on this principle: that God is agape. Nietzsche’s Übermensch was created in stark opposition to the God of agape, the God of selfless love. Nietzsche dreamt of an individual that developed in awareness enough to consciously reject any values that were instilled within them, to will a new set of values into being, and will these values into a state of power. It was the ambiguity of these beliefs that undermined their brilliance, an ambiguity that allowed this jacket of ideas to be tailor-fit to Adolf Hitler’s narrow shoulders and his gospel of darkness. What Nietzsche continuously willed to power in his writing was a schizoid and grandiose tempest that was deeply confused how a God that was selfless love could produce such horrendous suffering in this life. That emotional dissonance is clear in Nietzsche’s writing, a large body of work boiling with a miasma of intense, unresolved anger. He, and many after him, labeled this same agape that the author of John held as the highest truth not as agape, but pity disguised as selfless love. Nietzsche, it seems, one of the great champions of the Western philosophical tradition, was unwilling to explore the possibility of agape as the great assuager of suffering (another argument for another time). Read More

This is the fourth article in our Reformation 500 Series.

Being Pentecostal means that one is accustomed to explaining one’s confessional identity with some significant ands. I am a Protestant and an Evangelical and a Pentecostal and a member of the denomination known as The Foursquare Church. Despite the taxonomic complexity, reflecting on the Protestant Reformation leads me to some simple thanksgivings. In particular, I am grateful for the Reformation values of sola scriptura and ecclesia semper reformanda est.

Sola Scriptura

Despite the intimations of many who are unsympathetic toward its value, sola scriptura does not mean that Scripture is the only authority for Protestants and Evangelicals in general and for Pentecostals in particular. Protestants affirm the historic orthodox creeds, and many Protestant denominations—including my Foursquare denomination— have creeds and statements of faith which govern doctrine and practice. 

Instead, sola scriptura is the Protestant value which affirms that Scripture alone is the definitive authority for doctrine and practice. That is, the Bible is the highest authority over what concepts and teachings will be contained in creeds and statements of faith, and over what modes of Christian life and ministry should be embraced.  Read More