It's long--read it anyway

It’s time for a write up. It is so late because after the March I was bombarded with school work and it is finally being written up because I am fed up with said school work for the moment and will return after I’m done. (i.e. BreakTime!)

As most of you know, the weekend of Jan 19^th, I traveled to DC for the Right to Life Rally and March with the St. Lawrence Catholic Center. Yes, I’ll admit, I was blatantly scared because I a) didn’t know anyone on the trip, b) knew most everyone there was going to be Roman Catholic and c) because I didn’t know anyone on the trip. Get the idea? We left Friday afternoon, so I went to my first two classes and then planning to retrieve my luggage from my car, realized my key had fallen off my keychain and was sitting on the floor of my locked car. Right, I don’t know how it happened either. Thankfully, University Tow and Repair is quicker than the 45 minutes USAA predicted they would take and helped me out, or I should say, helped me in.

What a wonderful start to a already scary weekend, I thought as I walked into the Catholic Church we were meeting at. After check in there would be a Mass, an icebreaker, than the buses. Thankfully, after my first Roman Catholic Mass, at the icebreaker, I realized I did actually know about three people going on the trip, mostly from previous classes. One of them, Anna who was only an acquaintance before, befriended me pretty quickly and which eased my, at that time, frantic mind. (The whole hand shake instead of the Kiss of Peace threw my off pretty badly. I was confused.)

On the bus, Anna was sitting with another one of our mutual friends, so I sat behind them by myself—until that is Sister Elena sat down next to me. By that time, I had taken out the prayer rope I was working on (by the way, I’ve taken up making prayer ropes. Once I’m better at them, I’ll take requests if any of you’d like.) and she sat down to ask me about it. So I told her about St. Anthony and the devil untying his knots and the Theotokos showing him how to tie this knot, the one with seven crosses. She figured out fairly quickly, mostly by the use of “Theotokos” instead of “Mary”, that I wasn’t R. Catholic. She seemed interested in it, but it was hard to read her at times because she is from Italy and well, come on—Moulton humor doesn’t translate very well at times. J After we stopped for dinner, we watched a movie about the Silent No More Campaign for women and men who have been involved with abortions and now regret them. Afterwards we got into groups and discussed abortion and how to combat ideas and whatnot. Obviously we discussed how faith plays a role in the fight against abortion, so it came out that I was Orthodox. The discussion promptly morphed into “well, what are the differences between the Orthodox and the Catholics?” I love that question, mostly because the Orthodox are Catholic, but it’s hard to explain that to them unless they have a background understanding of Orthodoxy. The conversation was fine, I felt a little ganged up on when I told them we didn’t believe in the Immaculate Conception, but no one was physically harmed in the process. J

Arriving in DC, Anna and I walked to the White House and upon returning, I headed out for my first cab ride to the OCA Cathedral, St. Nicholas. The Cabbie was pretty nice, and he didn’t know the address we were going to, which began an interesting conversation on religions and he promised, fairly enthusiastically, that he was going to Google Eastern Orthodoxy when he got off work. Maybe it’ll come to something. He at least knows where the church is now. Vespers was beautiful, as is most every service at St. Nicholas is and I talked to Fr. Constantine, the head priest and the Chaplin/OCF director at George Town I found out, for a good while afterwards. He’s very funny and reminded me of Dad after a while, which was good, because I was pretty homesick at that point. After Mass in Lawrence, prayers of the hours and the Rosary on the bus, it was good to worship in an Orthodox church. The way back to the hostel however, was the interesting part, interesting and cold. I didn’t walk the 25 odd blocks, but I was tempted to after it took four phone calls and 45 minutes for the taxi to get there. I even tried haling a cab, it looks so easy on Seinfeld, but apparently I look to tourist-y or something. Finally one found the church and picked up a frostbitten and fairly grumpy Elizabeth and took her to the hostel. Usually I feel pretty bad about not tipping, but not that night. Surprising. I went to bed after that. 24 hours on a bus and then the taxi ordeal, I felt as if I had earned it.

Sunday was a free day until the RC’s went to Mass at the Cathedral, so I headed off in another cab for St. Nicholas for Liturgy. I got there fairly early and realized happily enough that they chant 3^rd and 6^th hours, something I’ve never known because every time before we’ve gone to St. Nicholas we always get lost trying to find Massachusetts St. J It happens, Mom. Again, such a beautiful service and I was planning on heading back to the hostel to read or perhaps do some sightseeing again, but something, maybe simply wanting to put off having to call a cab, pulled me downstairs to the coffee hour. I didn’t know anyone except Fr. Constantine, but I sat down with a bagel, cream cheese and some juice and kinda listened in to some other’s conversation around me trying to not seem creepy while I did.

Then, God helped me out a little more than he usually does and a guy named Joe sat down and began a conversation with me. Joe was from out of town as well, came in for the March. We talked along with another couple from the parish, who reminded me a lot of Jim and Cate (which was highly entertaining), the rest of coffee hour. It was good times. Joe and I decided to go sightseeing after coffee hour was “over.” (I don’t think I know a single parish that doesn’t have to kick its parishioners out the door at the end of the day.) We went to get a “real” lunch and then took the metro onto the Mall to see the Washington monument and WWII memorial followed up by a much too short (3 hours) to the Holocaust Museum. We had to run through the metro station to make it back to church in time for the Vespers with the Metropolitan for the March the next day. We were still late but so was the Metropolitan, but he never made it because of the bad weather. He was in town for the March the next day, but had to miss Vespers. My friend Nikolia drove in with the Chicago Orthodox RTL group, so I got to see her for the first time since August when we met at the PSALM conference. After the little meal downstairs, Joe drove me back to the hostel and my wonderful day ended.

It really was a wonderful day and I knew that, but I didn’t fully comprehend it until a few days later. As I fell asleep on the top bunk, thinking about the war memorial, Holocaust Museum, and the March the next day, the phrase “Oh the humanity” resounded through my groggy brain and I felt as if I truly understood what those three words meant and what they held in the depths of their meaning. Late Monday night, somewhere in PA or maybe Ohio, another conversation about Catholicism and Orthodoxy was started in the back of the bus, where I sat on the way back. This time however, Fr. Zachary was there as well. He remained silent about it, but I could tell he was really thoughtful about the things I said. Also, I had told Joe about the previous conversations that occurred on the way up to DC and he explained to me further why we don’t believe in the Immaculate Conception (different views on Original Sin and others). No one could really argue with me after that. I felt like I knew my faith much better, not just because of the explanation to me, but after being able to argue the issue and stand up for what I realized I really believe in, I felt as if I had truly put on the Armor of Christ. The next morning, on our last leg of the trip to Kansas, I realized something else. I wouldn’t have had enough money to take another round trip with a cab to the last Vespers service for the March if I had tried. The only reason I got there was because Joe offered to drive me around that day.

Thank You God, for putting me on that cab one more time Sunday morning and thank You for pushing me to go downstairs to the coffee hour.

The bus ride back was interesting for other reasons as well. As I mentioned before, Fr. Zachary was in the back of the bus as well and he told us (to me, really, but everyone was listening) about while he was a mission in a small town in Russia. He admitted it was completely hopeless, which is why he was transferred back to the States, but he told us of an encounter with a Orthodox monk early one morning. It was a very quiet and desolate morning while the Catholic group walked to Mass and Father walked up to the monk and stuck out his hand in a very American fashion and said loudly “Droog, “which means friend or brother. The monk didn’t say a word but bowed to Father and as Father returned the bow, the monk slowly slid his hand out from under his robes and they embraced hands for a moment. (Oh so Orthodox!) Father Zach told me that since then, he prays everyday that the “higher-ups” will see what he saw and felt that day, that we can become one again. That meant a lot to me, mostly because the entire weekend I had been explaining the differences between the two faiths and it was good to know someone wanted to emphasis the similarities.

Also, I took with me on the trip, Path to Salvation by St. Theophan the Recluse to read. Which, I didn’t realize until Sunday night what a perfect choice it was! St. Theophan basically is teaching us how to sanctify every part of our life, from infancy to death. Oh the humanity! Humanity is a beautiful sight and life is the brightest of the beautiful when sanctified through Christ! Fr. Zach asked me on the way back that he’d been watching me read the book and was very interested in it. I then promptly offered to let him read it. He took it, but I could tell hesitantly. It was kinda funny. But he read it a good portion of the way back to Lawrence. I think I’m going to buy him a copy for himself. J

The best part about going with this group though, was because I’ll admit, I had lost faith in college students as of late. I’m convinced that a plague runs rampant through campuses in which kids believe that “whatever you want to believe is OK as long it doesn’t infringe on other’s rights.” Blah! I hate that. It’s like saying there are multiple truths out there and I’m sorry, there is only one truth. That’s the definition of truth. These kids however, were actually debating me on what is the truth. They weren’t listening, smiling, and nodding while I explained my faith. They were out on the prowl looking for The Truth. While we had different beliefs on what that one truth was, we all had the same goal—to find it. It was very…well, relieving, refreshing, and simply wonderful to know that you don’t have to go through that “phase” and that it’s not really a phase at all, it’s just stupidity.

Basically, I had no reason to worry. The reunion is this Friday with ice skating in KC which should be fun. I miss a lot of the kids from K-State and I only get to spot see most of the kids who do go to KU while we pass in the Underground or hallways. I hope these friendships last. The liberal-ness of the ideals of most music majors is trying after a while and being able to talk about things like CS Lewis and knowing that not all college kids are going to run rampant with premarital sex and boos is a comforting thought.