New Skete Monasteries News

By Ida Williams   Let’s face it: we all wish time away.   Our commute to work, our mundane tasks, meetings, waiting for the dishwasher repairman—which is what I am doing as I write this.   We wish away times we have to wait.   I have been wishing the year away. On November 4, my father passed away.   His illness and suffering had been long.   He had spent his last six and a half years living in a nursing home.   His being a double amputee made it impossible for any of us in my family to provide the care he required.   My mother went to the nursing home every day to be with him.   During COVID she visited him through his window.   I visited him weekly, spending less and less time during each visit as his health continued to decline and he no longer knew who I was.   When he passed, there was a sense of relief.   The wait was over, and his healing could begin. The only scars in Heaven, they won't belong to me and you There'll be no such thing as broken, and all the ol

B y Sister Cecelia A Symposium, “Deaconesses for the Orthodox Church Today,” took place on November 10-12 at the Hellenic College Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology, Boston. Sisters Rebecca and Cecelia attended to show their support and to help celebrate the 10th anniversary of the St. Phoebe Center for the Deaconess, which sponsored the symposium. There have been many calls through the years, as far back as 1855, to reinstate the ordained ministry of the order of deaconesses. Much research and many writings have been devoted to this matter, but, unfortunately, little has happened. The ordained female deaconate is part of the history of the Orthodox Church. In antiquity the deaconess ministered to women, much as the male deacon ministered to men.   She assisted with baptisms, took the Eucharist to those unable to attend liturgy, mediated between the faithful and the clergy, and taught, counseled, and guided the faithful on their Christian journey, especially those new to

By Sister Rebecca   Icons are called windows to heaven precisely because they offer us a glimpse into the spiritual world: God’s Time, Eternal Time. In viewing an icon, we actually commemorate the mystery it reveals. The icon of Our Lady of the Sign offers us a mystical vision of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. The name of the Icon comes from the prophecy of Isaiah 7:14: “The Lord Himself will give you a sign: Listen carefully, the virgin will conceive and give  birth  to a  son , and she  will  call his name Immanuel.”   Icon: Our Lady of the Sign, Holy Wisdom Nave   The Icon of the Theotokos of the Sign is commemorated in the Orthodox Church in November.   Here at New Skete Monasteries, we celebrate the feast on a Sunday close to the Feast, so that the members of our chapel community may join in the celebration. One of our very good friends, Jerry Leary, a few years ago sent me a poem he wrote at the time of the commemoration of this particular icon:   Our Lady of th

One of the signs of a book that could be deemed prophetic is its continued relevance close to fifty years after its original publication. Olivier Clément’s Dialogues with Patriarch Athenagoras , recently translated from the French by Jeremy Ingpen, is just such a book. Set within the framework of an intimate dialogue between Clément, an outstanding Orthodox theologian, and Patriarch Athenagoras, the Ecumenical Patriarch from 1948 to 1972, this book opens a treasury of Orthodox reflection that we desperately need to hear in our day. The power of the book lies in its ability to let the reader eavesdrop on the interchange of two brilliant thinkers as they reflect on any number of important issues, both spiritual, theological, and cultural.             The book is divided into three parts. The first, “A Man Called Athenogoras,”   gives a historical overview of the Patriarch’s life, helping the reader to understand the context he came from. It is the tale of a bright young man whose gi

  By Sister Cecelia September 1 begins the Orthodox liturgical new year, and that made think of all the NEW things that have happened and will happen in the near future. It is new that the foliage is not very spectacular this year. That is the first for me in over 50 years! For the first time, the eleven apple trees in our orchard produced only one apple because of the late freeze in the spring. For the first time, the three hazelnut trees bore nuts—and with a very bountiful crop. We will roast our own hazelnuts for the first time. It will be a tasty treat. In October the monks welcomed their second novice this year, and that is a welcome new sight. The nuns have recently received several inquiries seeking monastic life—so, new faces soon, perhaps. New faces reminds me that in September a beautiful well-mannered German Shepherd named Tori was lent to me to care for as long as she is in the breeding program.  Our walks are energized by her running gracefully through the fields chasing a

  By Brother Vladimir   Metropolitan Anthony Bloom, of blessed memory, once instructed his audience on a BBC television series to set aside regular periods of silence for sincerely praying this (seemingly) simple prayer: “ Help me, O God, to put off all pretenses and to find my true self .”   Since my first encounter with this prayer, I’ve often returned to it as a way of acquiring what the Zen tradition calls “beginner’s mind.” For in its pithy phrasing is contained the inner dynamic of prayer as entry into a deeper, more profound knowledge of self . “Enter eagerly into the treasure house that is within you, and so you will see the things that are in heaven; for there is but one single entry to them both,” St. Isaac the Syrian informs us.   When approaching this short prayer, one should tread carefully: its words, when deeply felt and experienced, are extremely potent. There is no rule book as to how such a prayer, pronounced with faith, will grow and evolve for any give

  By Brother Vladimir   Note:  this is a description of my experiences in the first month of moving back to the Northeast to be closer to New Skete. The transition from the frenetic noise of Silicon Valley to the stillness of rural upstate New York was startling. During this writing, I lived in a log cabin in Salem, New York, and drove to New Skete for daily morning and evening services.   The rhythms of life are more tangible when a person lives in the country. Surrounded by rolling hills, expanses of forests, and mountains, the imagination gradually becomes purified of the dross; stripped of the heavy images that have been deposited there, often without our knowledge. The inner life gradually becomes clarified like fresh spring water.              Sensory impressions are a subtle food for the soul no less than the physical food we ingest and the invisible air we breathe. So often we fail to regulate what we absorb, and the quality of our impressions is too coarse, too heavy, unrefine