Church Sacraments & Rites
Looking Up
Mar 1st

"The Holies for the holy"
Following on from the interest shown in learning more about the meaning of the liturgy, I’ve dug out a little passage from my own little personal book of contemplations. It refers to the part at the end of the liturgy where the priest has finished dividing the Body into smaller pieces and lifts the paten high twice before he takes it away from the altar to give Communion to the congregation:
From facing the altar, the priest turns around and raises the paten twice towards the congregation, saying “The Holies for the holy”, and the people respond, “Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord”.
This is an announcement to all that this is indeed the Holy Body of Christ. We are reminded, as we were during the last part of the prayers, that those who wish to partake of the Holy Body and Blood must themselves be holy. As the priest holds the Holy Body high, our eyes are drawn upward in longing and desire to be made worthy to share in this Heavenly Feast. But we know that we can never make ourselves worthy of such a privilege, so our upward gaze is also a prayer, a request, a supplication:
Unto You I lift up my eyes, O You who dwell in the heavens.
Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their masters,
As the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress,
So our eyes look to the LORD our God, Until He has mercy on us.
Psalm 123
But it is also a reminder of the Second Coming, hence the two raisings of the paten. Christ is raised high in the air, since He shall come back “as the lightning flashes from the East to the west”. At His first coming, many refused to say, “Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord”, but we now affirm that we are ready to receive Him by saying those very words. Then we are all gathered to Him as we approach for Holy Communion, as all peoples will be gathered to Him on the last day. We then receive Him so He dwells in us and we in Him. Thus do we taste the Kingdom of Heaven while we are yet on earth.
But let all those who approach Communion make sure they are prepared, for the unprepared wedding guest was cast out, and there will be those on the last day who will approach Him, only to find themselves thrust to His left hand side.
I will try to share a few more of these contemplations over the coming months, and I would love to hear your own contemplations on your favourite bits of the liturgy.
Fr Ant
Fast or Slow … er
Feb 21st
Regular readers of this blog may have noticed that the Liturgy is one of my favourite topics. That’s probably because the liturgy is actually one of my favourite things in life. I hope you won’t feel offended, but during most of the liturgy I do my level best to pretend you’re not there. The most profoundly moving experiences I have had during a liturgy all happened when I had forgotten that there was anyone else in the Church apart from me and the crucified Lord of the universe on the altar.
What a feeling!
The heart and soul are laid bare before the all-piercing gaze of the Creator Incarnate. There is no hiding, neither from Him, nor from myself. My carefully constructed facades crumble away and all those comfortable little lies with which I’ve been salving my conscience evaporate into the air, an air reverberating with the awful words of what He did for me. Who could resist being touched to the depths of their soul?
And yet, I do remember a time in my youth when the liturgy was anything BUT engrossing. I recall liturgies (mostly in Arabic) as a teenager where the main focus of my contemplation was the pain in my feet and back, and whether some old ‘ummo would get me in trouble if I sat down just now. One of the first things I memorised about the liturgy was exactly when we got to bow down; eagerly anticipated moments!
It took a long time to get into the Coptic Liturgy. It also took a degree of effort on my part: asking questions and reading books. One book that was a turning point for me in my experience of the liturgy was Christ in the Eucharist by Fr Tadros Yacoub Malaty (you can download this book from www.coepa.org). I consider this book one of the true classics of modern Coptic literature and one that will withstand the test of time. In it, Fr Tadros traces the symbolism and Biblical references of the words and the rites and rubrics of the liturgy. Abounding in ancient quotes from the Fathers of the Church, he explains this divinely inspired rite from a surprisingly personal perspective that serves to help open the flood gates of individual prayer in response to the ancient text and tunes of the liturgy.
I have never looked back since reading that book. My love for the liturgy certainly took on a new dimension when I was ordained a priest, but those earlier quiet, private spiritual epiphanies are forever engraved upon my memory. Which leads me mourn the fact that there still remain people in our congregation for whom the liturgy is a chore or duty, or even merely an act of mere habit.
I enjoyed reading the comments people posted to my last blog. There is always a variety of views on the liturgy, and how it could be ‘done’ better. No doubt we can do it better, and I agree that participation by the congregation is the key. The fact remains that in the liturgy book, it says: “CONGREGATION:” All too often the deacons hijack a hymn or response all for themselves, instead of simply leading the congregation. The ideal situation is where the voices of the congregation drown out, or rather, unite harmoniously with, those of the deacons’ choir, so that the two are no longer distinguishable. Those are the moments when one feels the roof of the Church is about to be blasted away by this angelic praising, opening a conduit to unite heaven and earth! OK, I’m waxing a bit lyrical here, but such moments do genuinely make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Perhaps more lessons are needed to teach EVERYONE the complex Coptic tunes? Nowadays of course, we are blessed to have sites like www.tasbeha.org where one can find audio of virtually any Coptic tune that ever existed. I believe there are Coptic churches in America now, who have choirs of females singing antiphonically with the deacons, complete with their own ‘tunias’. When I put that suggestion to some of the young ladies to at our Church, they thought it was a horrible idea, but I wonder if that will change with the years?
I’d be interested in reading your thoughts on how we can get people to participate more fully in the liturgy. Not saying I’ll agree with all of them, but if you come up with something that is likely to work, we might just go ahead and try it!
Fr Ant
Fast or Slow
Feb 17th
How’s a priest to pray?
Life is fast these days. Everything we do we seem to do faster than our parents ever did. Just think of all the devices we have at our disposal to speed things up: microwaves warm and cook food faster; televisions that can fast forward through advertisements; remote controls so you can change the channel/volume faster (no need to get up); electrical shavers so you can shave faster (not from personal experience of course); electric knives and mixers and bread makers and toasters in the kitchen to make food preparation faster; drive thru’s for those who don’t even want to waste any time cooking … the list goes on.
That’s all very well, and we could argue whether all these conveniences have really improved the quality of our lives or not another day, perhaps. But for now I just want to know: how’s a priest to pray? OK, here’s the dilemma: Sunday morning liturgy. The main prayer of the week. The focus of all our spiritual lives. The unique experience of being united with Christ. Should I pray slowly and contemplatively, in order that we all can make the most of this very special time, or should I pray more rapidly because people just don’t have the time or the patience anymore?
I have heard differing views on this point from a variety of people, all of whom are both sensible and sincere. On the one hand there are those who insist that the Church must keep up with the times. It is unfair, they point out, to expect people who are used to everything in life going briskly and efficiently, to come to Church on Sunday and listen patiently to the word “amen” being pronounced with 167 intonated syllables over two minutes. Just say it, and get on to the next part. And there is no place in the modern Church for long, undulating tunes in incomprehensible Coptic. (I have even heard ancient hymns like “Rejoice O Mary” sung in English, but with the tune so condensed that the whole four verses of lyrics are squashed into just one verse of tune. Perhaps we should call this fast food hymns … McAlhan!)
These days, people have other things to do on a Sunday, so let’s just have a nice snappy liturgy so everyone can go and get on with their lives. The famous Fr Bishoy Kamel who served some years as a parish priest in the USA once pointed out that he who makes the congregation become bored in the liturgy commits a great sin. Apparently, he always prayed at one pace, whatever the situation, and it was a moderately brisk, moderately contemplative pace.
And then, on the other hand, there are others who insist that our ancient tradition should not be watered down after 19 centuries of careful preservation. And isn’t Sunday the Lord’s Day? And according to the Ten Commandments, should not the Lord’s Day be devoted entirely to the Lord? Then why quibble over the length of the liturgy? What else is more important than spending just one day a week together with God and with each other?
The long tunes of the Coptic tradition were meant to allow time for deep meditation upon the words they carry. We sing them in the Church, surrounded by a multitude of icons, the holy sanctuary and altar of the Lord, and in the very, physical presence of the Lord Christ Himself upon that altar. At the end of the liturgy we go forward to receive Him for ourselves in Communion. How can anyone want to rush this experience? We should enjoy it, lose ourselves in the moment, savour it as one savours the sweet taste of rich ice cream (oops – it’s Lent! Sorry). What does it say about our priorities in life when our attitude to the liturgy is “when will it finish”?
Do you understand the difficult conundrum that must be resolved by each priest and his deacons every Sunday? I must confess I can see some sense in both views. I hate praying by the clock (would you look at your watch if you were sitting with Jesus?) and yet, I feel the responsibility to finish the service at the advertised time. Even though I might personally lean towards the longer, slower point of view, I can also see that there are many people today who find it genuinely hard to maintain concentration for two or three hours straight.
Perhaps the answer is to take the middle path, much as Fr Bishoy did.
Fr Ant
Height and Humility
Feb 6th
“Who dwells in the highest and beholds the lowly” – Anaphora of the Liturgy of St Basil
How incredible to stand before the altar of God (which is His symbolic throne here on earth) and contemplate His true Heavenly Throne. He dwells in the highest of places, His existence is the highest existence, His glory, the highest of glories, and so on. Yet this Being of unimaginable height still cares for a lowly sinner such as I!
One can imagine Zacchaeus the tax collector as he sat perched in the branches of the sycamore tree, trying to glimpse Jesus through the crowd that milled around Him and hid Him from view. Then suddenly, in an instant, a chance configuration of the crowd opens a direct line of sight between him and Jesus. Imagine Zacchaeus’ surprise as he realises that Jesus is looking directly at him! Not only looking, but speaking, taking note of him, acknowledging his existence! Not only that, but actually promising to come and stay in his own house!
“Why me?” you can almost hear him thinking. “Who am I that the Master should choose my house to stay in? I am not important, or popular or rich. I am not a religious leader or even a righteous man. Everyone despises and hates me, and stays away from me. But He wants to stay at my house!”
We too would feel like that if we truly acknowledged our lowliness before God. Every liturgy, the crowd parts, and Jesus is looking directly at YOU. He asks you also, saying, “Today, I would like to stay at your house”. Will you let Him in? Will you free yourself from other commitments? Will you greet Him as Zacchaeus did, with humility and repentance, or will you greet Him as the Pharisee did, with snobbishness and judgment?
It comes back to one thing: do you see yourself as lowly and humble, or as an exalted good and righteous and deserving person? “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (James 4). If you wish to have Jesus relieve you of your heavy burden, then you must learn from Him, for He is “humble and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). Until I too humble myself before Him and admit my lowliness, I shall never truly experience the full presence and the indescribable glory of the Lord.
The Coptic of this phrase is: Fi-etshop khen ni-etchpsi; owoh etgousht ejen ni-et-theviout. It is one of those phrases in the liturgy where any translation into English fails to do the original meaning full justice.
The word “shop” means to ‘be’, but in a very special way. It mainly means to abide, to be somewhere or simply to be, but it also implies ‘existence’. When used of God in this way, it indicates the theological concept that God IS existence – He is the source of all that exists, and it is He alone who is self-existent; He exists because that is His nature, and not because anyone or anything else causes Him to exist.
The same Coptic word is used in John 8:58: “before Abraham was, I AM [shopi anok pe]”. The “I AM” is usually written in capitals because it was a very clear reference to one of the names of God in the Old Testament. When Moses at the burning bush asked for a name of God to give to the Israelites in Egypt, God told him, “’I AM WHO I AM.’ And He said, ‘Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, “I AM has sent me to you”’” (Exodus 3:14).
Equally beautiful is the word here used for us: ni-et-theviout. The Coptic construction of the word implies far more than is relayed by the English translation, “the lowly”. theviout is an adjectival root that means ‘humble’. But when et comes before it, it comes to mean not that we are humble, but that we have been humbled: it turns the adjective into something that has happened to us or been done to us. Thus, a more accurate translation of this nuance in meaning might be “He that IS, in the highest; and looks upon those who have been humiliated”.
What a beautiful and concise summary of our true state! God is the self-existent Creator who needs nothing. He is not interested in us because we are capable or worthy or strong. He is interested in us most when we are at our weakest, when we are brought low, when we are broken. And this state is one that almost always comes upon us against our own will, for who enjoys being humiliated? Who goes out to seek humiliation on purpose? And yet, it is when we are at our lowest that we are most likely to experience the loving care of God and to feel His presence; to sense that all-encompassing gaze of compassion and care surrounding us and blanketing us with healing and warmth.
And the tune of the Coptic melody brings out this stark contrast of our neediness to God’s powerful compassion beautifully. The melody rises suddenly and dramatically with chosi - ‘highest’; and then it descends rapidly, as if with God’s gaze looking down upon us, to peter out into our lowly humiliation; the last part of theviout.
One imagines a beggar standing at night in a field, looking up at the startling multitude of sparkling gems strewn across the dark velvet backdrop of space and being pierced by its majesty and beauty, and then lowering his gaze once more to behold himself: bedraggled, dirty, torn and bruised from the harsh buffeting of those who despise him.
Such is our state before God.
Fr Ant
A Long, Long Time Ago…
Jan 30th
Sure it’s long, but is there any other experience like a Coptic liturgy in this whole world? OK, I’m a bit biased: I admit that. But the more I pray our beautiful liturgy the more does it steal away my heart.
Here’s a little exercise you might like to try to see a little of what I mean:
Imagine what it might have been like to have been an Alexandrian Christian in the First Century AD. Most likely, you would not have attended the liturgy in a purpose built church building. It would have been at someone’s house, or in a cave or underground tomb in times of severe persecution. No electricity or microphones – only candles and lamps and the human voices emanating from human hearts and minds; sharing together with their voices he experience of the presence of God among them…
Before the liturgy, the gathered people would ask someone to read out the beautiful message in the copy of one of the apostolic letters that had reached Alexandria. One of the deacons respectfully pulls out a parchment and excitedly announces that he has gotten hold of a copy of a new letter from Saul of Tarsus, now known as Paul. The gathering murmurs with anticipation – he has quite a reputation, this Paul!
After absorbing the exhortations of the apostle, the call is made to bring out the group’s chief treasure: a complete parchment of the Gospel left behind by the Apostle Mark, so recently and horribly martyred. A hush falls upon the little gathering as the elder slowly reads out words uttered only a few decades ago from the mouth of God incarnate. At the end of the reading, someone asks a question, and the elder takes a little time to explain, drawing upon all that he eagerly absorbed as he sat at the feet of Mark … in happier times. Then the Eucharist begins.
Those who have offerings bring them out now, mostly offerings of money or clothing for the poor, or food for the Aghape feast that will follow the Eucharist. The designated deacons collect everything and carefully store it away, but two offerings they place on a special table: bread and wine. The elder prays, blessing the offerings and entreating God to accept them from the humble group. Then he turns to the people and exhorts them to lift up their hearts now to God, in prayer and contemplation. He re-enacts that fateful Supper, uttering the very words spoken by the Lamb of God on His way to being sacrificed for the sins of the world, repeating His very actions in blessing the bread and wine and breaking the bread. He winces as the fibres of bread split apart, thinking of how the fibres of Christ’s muscles tore apart as He was brutally stretched out upon that cross. Mark had been there…
And now, the re-enactment is finished. They pray for their daily needs from God who gives all good things, and they remember not only the needs of the living, but also the souls of the dead who have departed in the hope of the resurrection. Finally, the elder turns to the people and invite them to come forward one by one to receive this most precious gift of God. They sing a hymn of joy, a hymn of victory, even though they are but a small and persecuted sector of Egyptian society. But they leave behind their worldly troubles and cares as for a few hours they are transported, first back to Palestine in the last hours of the life of the Christ, and then to heaven itself as the Kings of Kings comes to unite with them and to dwell within their bodies and souls.
This joy they keep within them as they share the Love meal when the prayers are over. It is a joy that sustains them through the harsh reality of their lives, and brings them together as one community, one family, one body. With this joy in their hearts, they say their goodbyes to each other and disperse in little groups and knots to return to their daily lives.
Can you recognise our liturgy in that little story above? That is exactly what the liturgy is, with a few embellishments and additions. How beautiful the experience becomes when one looks at it through the eyes of the first Church…
Fr Ant
I Like Coptic.
Nov 6th
I really like Coptic.
The language, I mean. It is a beautiful thing in itself, and it also opens doors to new dimensions of spiritual growth. When I hear it, I like to think about the words echoing down from at least 5,000 years ago, changing slightly every few centuries to be sure, but still their essence continues from generation to generation, through historical periods as diverse as that of the Hyksos and the Turks (who both ruled Egypt at different times). I imagine an Egyptian peasant chatting idly with his friend on a felucca on the Nile as they drift lazily past the temple of an ancient god, or kindly father gathering his wife and children around him on the roof at evening to pray and read the Bible to them in Coptic.
My son recently introduced me to a Bible system you can download for free called “e-sword” (www.e-sword.net). I already have two Bible programmes on my computer, so I wasn’t very excited, until he told me you can also download the Bible in heaps of unusual formats. So now, I have the Septuagint in Greek, the Old Testament in Hebrew and best of all: the Bible in Sahidic Coptic! OK, I can’t read Hebrew, and I’m on my L plates with Koine Greek, but these versions have little links for each word so that if you hover your mouse over it, it gives you an instant dictionary definition of the word.
Reading the Bible in another language often provides insights into the finer shades of meaning, especially if it’s in the original language used to write it in the first place. I use the Hebrew and Greek versions when I want to get to the bottom of a tricky or uncertain verse, or when I want to discover some of the alternative definitions of the words used that haven’t translated across to the English. For example, there are four different words in Greek that are all translated into the English language as “love”, and each one has a different meaning. CS Lewis has a famous book about this topic called The Four Loves.
There’s more: reading the Bible in Coptic tells me a little about how our ancient forefathers (and mothers) interpreted the Bible. A translation can tell you a lot about the translator. Many words in one language will have no directly equivalent word in another language, so the choice of words, the choice of shades of meaning in the translation tells you what the translator thought was most important in the original. Reading it in Coptic, you can imagine St Anthony walking into the Church as a young man and hearing those exact Coptic words thundering down from the lectern to pierce his heart with longing to follow Christ. The way the phrases are structured in Coptic builds a slightly different picture in my head to that I get when I read it in English.
That’s also why I pray a Coptic liturgy every Thursday. I’m still learning, so it’s only about three-quarters Coptic so far, but growing. There is something different about our liturgy when it’s prayed in Coptic. Perhaps it is because the melodies were made for these words. Or perhaps again it is the sentence structure and the use of the specific words chosen. I am not sure, but I do know that the Coptic liturgy is a precious jewel in our treasure box of Coptic heritage. It needs a lot of effort to learn the language and come to appreciate it, but in my experience, it is effort that is rewarded many-fold.
And finally, there are those who wish to bring Coptic back to life. What a great thing that would be! There are virtual communities out there, such as Remenkimi, who regularly communicate in Coptic – that’s right, they exchange Coptic language emails. Anyone who’s interested in learning more about Coptic will find a wealth of information at their website (www.remenkimi.com).
A word of warning: while the learning and use of Coptic in our spiritual lives can be greatly beneficial, some people can take it a bit too far and become fanatical about it. Coptic should never be forced upon people – it should be a choice they can make if they wish to. There are many who know not the slightest scrap of Coptic and still enjoy deeply fulfilling lives within the Coptic Church, and that is as it should be, for our Church is about Christ, after all, not a human language or culture. It may not be for everyone, but learning Coptic is worthwhile for those who are interested in languages, and those who are interested in authentically experiencing the ancient and unique Coptic spiritual heritage in all its native glory.
Ougai!
Fr Ant
PS HH Pope Shenouda III Coptic Theological College offers courses in Coptic, Hebrew and Greek languages. I can also strongly recommend a “do-it-yourself” Coptic primer by Sam Younan enticingly titled “So You Want to Learn Coptic?“
Outside Looking In.
Feb 20th
I recently heard a talk on CD distributed by St Paul’s Outreach Service (you know, the service that sends them out to a mailing list) by an American convert to Orthodoxy called Francis Schaeffer. He seems to be a very eloquent and deeply thoughtful man. On this occasion, he was speaking about his experiences since abandoning Protestantism and joining the Orthodox Church. The whole talk was an eye-opener, for he gives his impressions from the point of view of an objective ‘outsider’ who has come into intimate contact with the Orthodox Christian community. But the thing I want to address today is a comment he made about how many Orthodox Churches there are. Roughly paraphrased, it went something like this:
“Some people complain that the Orthodox are divided along national and cultural lines – the Greeks, the Russians and so on, but I in fact see only two Orthodox Churches. These two churches often exist within the same parish. Most Orthodox people tend to belong to one or the other of the two, but they drift in and out of each of the two.
“The two Orthodox Churches are the “Social Club” Orthodox Church and the “One, only holy catholic and apostolic Church”.
“The first is where people come to Church just because they ‘belong’. In this Church, people to tend to ignore the reality and the importance of the sacraments and the teaching, focussing more on their interactions with others, maintaining their ethnic identity, internal politics, beaurocracy, gossip and so on. This Church is not going to last very long. There are others out there who do ’social club’ much better than we ever can. They have more money, more resources, and more experience, and they will rob this Church of its members over time.
“But the other Church, the ‘real Church’, is where people appreciate and value the unique mysteries present in the Church, and avail themselves of its power to transform lives. On any given Sunday, in any given parish, you will find members of both these Churches standing shoulder to shoulder in thel liturgy.”
Schaeffer is speaking from the point of view of one who has not grown up inside the Orthodox Church. He has not had the opportunity to develop ‘tolerance’ (in the sense of tolerance to a drug) through over-familiarity. He expresses his amazement at the amazement of life-long Orthodox who cannot understand why he converted. They seem to him to be saying, “You don’t have to be here. Why on earth would you want to join this leper colony?!” Yet those who react like this are the ones who never really use the power of the Church in their lives. They belong to the Social Club Church, and they see him as leaving much better social clubs for an inferior, ethnically based one.
We have such treasures at our disposal, yet often we need an ‘outsider’ to point them out to us. Hearing Schaeffer speak about the sacrament of confession, how much he has felt the difference that being accountable to someone for his spiritual state has made, and how the Holy Spirit is working to slowly change him through this sacrament made me think of how poorly the ‘life-long’ confessor often benefits from his/her confession. What a pity!
Perhaps our expectations come to be lower? Perhaps we can be too close to see the big picture? Perhaps it is yet another example of the old adage, “Familiarity breeds contempt”, or that one never appreciates a valuable thing until one loses it? I recall working in the Illawarra during my intern year and suddenly feeling acutely the lack of a local Church to go to; suddenly appreciating the immense blessing of weekly Communion when I could no longer get it. I hear many such experiences from our tertiary students who travel to distant places to complete their studies.
Why wait till I lose a precious thing before I appreciate it and benefit fully from it? Why not find that appreciation now? Can you imagine approaching Confession with the expectation of real transformation through the grace of the Holy Spirit combined with your own genuine efforts? Can you imagine approaching Holy Communion in the full understanding of this incredible miracle that occurs weekly before your very eyes? Can you imagine the feeling of walking out of Church carrying Christ in your body, dwelling in Him as He now dwells in you?
Let us not wait to be kicked out of our Father’s house before we realise what we have. Let us not be a Prodigal Son or Daughter. We are rich beyond measure! Let us enter into the joy of our Lord…
Fr Ant
Coptic Women Priests?
Oct 15th
I recently came across an interesting book by a pretty conservative Eastern Orthodox theologian on the topic of women in the Orthodox priesthood. You can guess that he was against the idea. What struck me about the book, though, was that some of the arguments he used were totally alien to my understanding of the priesthood.
Especially noticeable was one argument that kept pooping up, whether directly or indirectly, that I might paraphrase as follows:
Priesthood means authority. Authority means control, power, being in charge.
The woman is not fit for this role, since she is the man’s helper, not his boss.
Therefore, we can never have Orthodox women priests.
I’m not sure what you would make of this?
I don’t intend to get into the whole “a helpmate meet for him” argument in this post. It just seemed to me that this argument was weak because it was built on one big mistake: Priesthood is not first and foremost about authority; it is about service.
That this is the teaching of Christ couldn’t be any clearer. He said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who are great exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you, let him be your servant. And whoever desires to be first among you, let him be your slave – just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.” (Matthew 20:25-28)
HH Pope Shenouda III wrote in his spiritual classic a chapter entitled “Poor Men” (Al Masakeen, I think). In it, he describes his pity for those who are ordained to the ranks of the priesthood, pointing out that they will be judged not only for their own deeds, but for those of the people whom they serve. Imagine, he says, the poor Pope – who will be held responsible for the fates of millions of souls! Perhaps you can guess he wrote this when he was still a layman, before entering the monastery. Prophetic, though, wasn’t it!
Now that’s the understanding of priesthood (and indeed, any kind of Church position) that I can relate to. The world is all about power and control and advantage and prestige. But those ideas should get in and contaminate the spiritual service. If ever the priest needs to exercise some sort of ‘power’ or ‘authority’ over his flock, it should never be out of a lust to control others, or pride or selfishness. It should be because that is the only avenue left to him to achieve the will of God and the spiritual goals of the Church. It can also only be successful if the people he serves are willingly accepting that auhtority. Yet it is an authority that any sane man would flee from, for it is very, very dangerous.
What if he makes the wrong decision? What if those he serves suffer because of his orders? There is a great scope for doing damage here! I recently saw a documentary about the Jim Jones tragedy in South America. In short, an American pastor grew gradually more and more manipulative of his flock. Being very charismatic, his influence upon them grew to such an extent that he was able to take 900 of them to a jungle in South America to build a new country, Jonestown, where everything would be perfect. With a frightening array of tools of psychological manipulation, these people virtually became his slaves. Eventually, the whole thing ended with him making them all commit suicide with him. Scary.
No, religious leadership is about serving. It is about the genuine needs of those being served – not the needs of the servant. Because of this, it is often a very harsh, very difficult path to follow. Which means that any sensible person would run a mile to escape it. If you have ever seen a Coptic bishop being ordained, you willhave noticed that he is brought in to Church with two strong bishops holding him firmly by each arm. Although this is largely ceremonial now, its original purpose was to stop the candidate from running away! Pope Shenouda himself repeatedly refused to be ordained as a bishop, until Pope Kyrollos VI virtually forced the matter by one day unexpectedly placing his hand on his head in the corridor, and saying “I ordain you, Shenouda, Bishop in the Orthodox CHurch of God …” There was no escape.
Pope Shenouda is famous for saying “Those who wish to be ordained as priests are usually unsuitable, and those who are suitable, usually do not wish to be ordained”. There is a lot of wisdom in this. Only a person who really understands the responsibility and the sacrifice of priesthood is suitable to be ordained. Yet that is the very person who would run away from it because of that huge responsiblity and sacrifice!
Which seems to me the biggest reason why it is unlikely that we will have women priests in the Coptic Orthodox Church … they are too smart for that
But seriously, I think we are very blessed to have a ‘humble’ attitude to service in the Church. We do not see it as authority, or prestige, or position or power. Priesthood is simply one important service among many others. The Church runs through teamwork, joint effort, not through the efforts of any one individual. There is simply a need for one individual to organise that teamwork, and that happens to be the priest. There is a need for one individual to be set aside for the very scary task of administering the sacraments, and that happens to be the priest. It is a frightening thing to approach an alter with the Body and Blood upon it – frightening because we are sinners, and we are approaching an unimaginably powerful Holiness. But the priest does it because someone has to, and because God has called him to be that someone. No one in their right mind would put themselves forward to do it – only those who don’t quite understand what it really means.
Sadly, in modern life, even Christian Churches have become infected with this idea of power and authority – hence the fight over who is to rule. I hope our Church never loses its innocence. It’s not about anyone ruling.
It’s all about serving.
Fr Ant

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The ratings on my posts make me laugh too sometimes…but hey, I don’t care..I’m using this forum to tell people what I...
haha. Just was commenting on the “ratings” after your posts. Just made me laugh. Btw, the Egyptian community has its faults, as we...
Tony my friend, I’m not looking for popularity! I’m just saying what’s on my mind…if you or others don’t like it,...
You’d loose your money Nathan. Nicely put Angela although I doubt a Blog would help those who haven’t experienced it understand...
Hi Tony. Thanks for that info. I will have a deeper look at those suggested websites. I have the book “so you want to...