Elena
Koutorjevskaya.
FEASTDAY
There are different kinds of feastdays. Some are
noisy and crowded for which you spend a long time in preparation, and
when they pass you sigh with relief. Others are quiet and scarcely
noticeable, observing some personal events. But there are feastdays
which bring a feeling of true joy that lasts in one's soul for a long
time. Feastday and joy are words of one root, are they not?
For many years, each time in mid-summer, the
Canadian Orthodox Monastery of All Saints near Dewdney, B.C. has marked
the feast of its patronal icon --- the Icon of the Canadian Theotokos,
known as the Joy of Canada. This year it occurred on 25 July. This
feast gathers together not only the faithful from many Orthodox
churches in Greater Vancouver, but also guests from other provinces of
Canada, and even some American states. At this service under the
warmth of a bright sun, you find yourself among people of many
nationalities: Ukrainians, Romanians, Russians, Greeks, Serbs,
Bulgarians and others. “Before the face of the Most High, we here
are all children of our heavenly native land, without boundaries and
nations,” Archbishop Lazar Puhalo, Abbot of the monastery
addressed the assembled pilgrims.
Early in the morning, even before setting out to the
monastery, I stood at my accustomed morning prayers. I besought the
Lord to grant me, without condemnation, "to partake of the saving
Mysteries." Suddenly, on the icon of the Theotokos, just above her
head, there burst forth an opalescent, multi-coloured spot, trembling
like a tongue of flame. It is not proper to be clever and become
self-deluded, knowing that this little ray of sunlight that had fallen
on a pendant of the chandelier, had refracted and emitted such an
enchanting gleam, but all the same, one's heart joyously responds --
the Theotokos gives a sign that she has a feast today! It is necessary
to hurry, the service today is special, and it is not at all befitting
to be late.
I do not recall when and who introduced it, but the
festive service in honour of our main icon always takes place outdoors
in the spacious monastery yard. There always are so many people that
the monastery walls cannot contain them. Not once has the weather let
us down. A convenient recess beneath the vaults of the spacious and
high grand staircase was, through effort and love, transformed into a
temporary sanctuary. The garland-like iron gates became the Royal
Doors. All around were fragrant beds of blooming flowers and climbing
plants. All those who had gathered, both regular worshippers and
guests, stood under the canopy of giant cedar trees which formed living
walls of this natural temple.
The sun keeps rising higher and higher.
The icon of the Canadian Theotokos, adorned with living garlands is on
an elevated place of imminence and held in a festive carrier, which is
provided with special rods to enable it to be more easily carried in
the
Cross Procession. In the brief intervals between the prayerful singing,
one hears how everything in nature resounds and hums, the air
becomes warmer and floats together with the words of the prayer above
the heads of the assembled: "Ever blessed and Most Pure and the Mother
of our God."
Even before the beginning of the service, a long
queue of those who desire to have confession forms before Bishop
Varlaam. In festive vestments, Vladika stands slightly to the side in
the shade from the building in order to make it more comfortable for
those who are confessing. The service is beginning, the shade moves
deeper, and the sun becomes unrelentingly hotter on Vladika's head,
white as snow as he bends over the line of those who wish to confess.
He quickly has to move over into the shade -- today there are many
desirous of communing according to all the rules.
To the right side of the ambon, on tables covered
with embroidered cloths, the holy relics, one of the basic treasures of
the monastery, were displayed; the holy relics of our righteous fathers
and mothers — the Saints of God. People remember Vladika relating
how many years ago, when the monastery was just being formed, he prayed
diligently that the Lord might allow them the possibility of preserving
such holy things. The Most High did hear. Today there are more than 110
of them and their number ever increases in a wondrous manner. Thus,
amidst the already familiar cypress and rosewood caskets with relics,
new ones appeared quite recently. This priceless gift was received from
Metropolitan Theodosius from America. The Metropolitan, now retired,
discovered that in our monastery there are regular Cross Processions,
and that the veneration of the relics is taught and encouraged, so he
decided to bestow them on this monastery for their preservation. On
this day the newly-arrived relics also have a special feast — for
the first time they will process, together with the Cross Procession of
the Theotokos, Joy of Canada, in the monastery which is new to them.
The service takes its normal course. In a harmonious
chorus we sing out: "Our Father, Who art..." in Slavonic, and then the
very same in
English, in Romanian, many voices joining in Greek, and a single, but
strong and assured voice in French. This is Bishop Irinee, a vicar of
Vladika Seraphim, a guest from distant Quebec and an old friend of the
monks. He takes a most lively participation in this festive service and
Vladika Lazar, like a cordial host, gives him the possibility to give a
sermon to those gathered. Bishop Irinee's address is heartfelt and
simple.
Before Holy Communion there is another occurrence.
Before the gathered, our subdeacon Phillip Ptashnik is ordained a
deacon. Unpretentiously and at the same time assiduously, he is
embraced on the shoulders by Father John Bingham who gently leads him
to the doors.
"Axios?" the bishop questions. "Axios!" which means
"worthy", the worshippers respond in a harmonious chorus. For Phillip
this is a double feastday, for after the solemn rite of ordination, he
communes in the altar with all the clergy for the first time.
It is becoming even hotter. Wind from the nearest of
the monastery's fields wafts the resinous aroma of various ripening
hays.
Urged on by this gentle fragrance, we spread out into three streams
leading to Holy Communion. A young father who staunchly held in his
arms a sturdy five month old infant during the entire service is one of
the first to approach the chalice. The child's feet wiggle animatedly
and an enchanting toothless smile appears. A young woman kindly allows
an elderly lady to move ahead. Here is an entire family: two young
sons, father with daughter, young mother and the family head. It is so
beautiful.
"Receive the Body of Christ, taste the fountain of immortality..," the
words soar upward higher and higher, above the ridge of the roof, above
the tops of the tallest cedar and fir trees, where the sky has no
boundaries and upon which it is almost impossible to gaze — it is
so blinding...
Animation has begun at the tables with the relics
and icons. Volunteers help to distribute the caskets with holy relics
and icons into waiting hands. People take them carefully, holding them
with embroidered cloths. Someone piously reverences the relics, asking
for something personal. The procession begins to take shape and steps
aside to allow the festal icon ahead. Slowly, with psalmody and prayer,
the Cross Procession advances, in what is already dearly accustomed, to
the memorial. Past a small cemetery, past overgrowths of blackberries,
along a little bridge over a placid stream, along an alley of ancient
apple and pear trees, we slowly reach the middle of our path. Here are
the concrete paving stones, an alleyway with young coniferous trees and
the icon is carried up into a small area in front of the memorial. All
the participants of the Cross Procession move closer to each other and
form a semi-circle in the freshly mown field.
The memorial was erected in 1995 in memory of all
Orthodox martyrs and passion-bearers. After the NATO attacks in
Yugoslavia, memorial plates were added. From that time it has become a
fine tradition for the festive Cross Procession to stop here to pray,
to remember the fallen and martyrs, and to send the living a mental
greeting. Vladika Lazar gives a brief word about how we must always
remember our Orthodox brethren, that we are one body of one Church of
Christ. The maturing oak tree that was planted by students from Kosovo,
nods to him in agreement with its branches and the rustling of its
young foliage. We pray...
There is yet another tradition in this feast. From
the hands of Miodrag Petrovich, a Serbian benefactor, Vladika accepts a
magnificent round loaf which his family bakes each time, specially for
the sake of this event. The loaf is raised above the heads and held
from all sides by the hands of the clergy and some of the faithful. The
participants ritually rotate it around, with the singing of hymns,
andthen it is cut crosswise with the words, "Christ is in our midst! He
is and always shall be!" Later, in the dining hall, everyone can taste
a piece of the blessed bread which has been placed upon a special
platter.
The Cross Procession sets out on its return to the
monastery and pauses at the gatehouse chapel at the entrance to the
monastery gates. The icon is carefully lowered and the clergy line up
for the blessing. Each person reverences the holy icon and receives a
blessing. Children have a little basket of petals from live flowers and
one can take a handful to bestrew the icon of the All Blessed
Theotokos. Animated voices can be heard: "We greet you with the feast!
We greet you with the feast!"
What kind of a feast is it without presents? They
are obligatory. Each year the monks prepare something special for
everyone. I am already in possession of an entire collection. Here is a
little braided cross from a women's monastery in Romania which Vladika
Lazar visited while travelling in Europe — the Romanian nuns
braided it with their own hands. And here is a miniature icon of the
Theotokos to be worn and which I have worn around my neck
together with the cross. Then there is a medallion in the shape of a
maple leaf with the Theotokos in the middle, a symbol of Orthodoxy in
Canada. And what is it this time? It is little pocket size phials with
holy oil from the icon's votive lamp. How convenient to always have at
hand a part of this holy thing. Thank you Vladika.
And all the while the ringing of the bells is heard.
We do not yet have many, just two, one larger and the other smaller.
The altar servers, the brothers Luke and Andrew, are trying as best as
possible to do the festive ringing. It drifts over the field and
neighbouring farms, like a silver stream and all around is unimaginable
beauty – Mother Summer herself... a Feast.
In the dining hall preparations for the festive
table are progressing at full speed. Everything is potluck and each
person has brought something delicious. What only wasn't here! Cabbage
pies, Moldovian tarts, Greek spanakopita, pickled provisions,
appetizers and salads. And what is this unusual thing? Dumplings with
grapes — I must try them and wonder which national kitchen they
come from... On a separate table are platters with blueberries,
cherries, peaches, apricots, watermelon — bountiful is our
Canadian land. Glory to God!
After Vladika's prayer and blessing the meal begins.
One must hurry to taste everything, to visit with friends, and to
acknowledge all acquaintances. No one must be forgotten. Part of the
people settle down in large groups outdoors. A young man hurries to
come up to each person. In his hands is an immense box of ice cream on
sticks. The product is delicate and begins to thaw before one's eyes.
He hastens not to offend anyone. "Please help yourself" "Oh, no, no,
thank you. I am not eating anything sweet, I am on a diet." "Help
yourself. Today you can. Today is a feast!" he smiles so cordially that
one cannot refuse!
The children have space for laughter and playing. On
the terrace. Father Moses is surrounded by youth and, as always, he
introduces them to some useful and interesting diversion — they
have a mutual adoration. Father Andrew Somow, although tired, smiles
happily while conversing with old acquaintances whom he has long not
seen. Seldom does Father Andrew happen to come here because of old age
and the condition of his health does not always allow it. Each year,
however, he and Matushka manage to come and again the aged clergyman is
at his post, again standing at duty. We are glad to see you, Father
Andrew, come more often.
Each year new people are met. Guests from Seattle,
"We have heard much of your monastery and the icon of the Canadian
Theotokos, and so we decided to come out to see for ourselves."
Welcome, have a rest, and be replenished through the grace of our
feast. The return home is distant. But there are old familiar faces,
guests from Vancouver Island. They also had to make a lengthy trip,
both by sea and by land. Each year our feast gathers friends here.
Vladika Lazar leaves one group of people and hurries
across the lawn to another; he is awaited everywhere. His stride is
broad and sprightly and he looks younger. Vladika is happy. This time,
also, the feast has been a success! It is no laughing matter that over
two hundred people were present. And there was room for everyone, and
warmth, and joy, and something else which we lack so much in our daily
life — a Feast...
Elena Koutorjevskaya.