Templar Edification

Each year on the sixth Sunday of Easter, following the Divine Liturgy, I gather together at the main door of our church with a modest group of congregants bearing both hymnals and brooms. With the Crucifer before us, we perambulate about the borders of the parish property, “beating the bounds” with the brooms and reciting the Litany of the Saints in call-and-response. In recent years I’ve included a child with a smartphone so as to livestream the procession, thus answering the call to “keep Church weird.” The term Rogation derives from the Latin rogare, meaning “to ask.” Rogation Days are traditional times of fasting and prayer for God’s blessing in agriculture, and for divine protection against natural disasters. We want an amicable environment, not an angry one, as a happy harvest is our goal. The Western Church observes several Rogation Days. Major Rogation falls on 25 April, a time when the old pagan Romans used to sacrifice a dog to Rogibus, their deity of agricultural disease. Th...

May to me is without question the most beautiful month of the year. Growing up in Pennsylvania, autumn had always been my favorite season, yet since settling in Minnesota I’ve developed a new appreciation for spring—which doesn’t hit until May. Away recedes the ice and snow after six long months of winter, and up pop the sights and sounds and smells of fresh new life, new growth, new warmth. It is simply lovely. One of the themes to which I have often returned during my year as Grand Prelate has been to debunk the popular notion that Christian holidays are secretly pagan in origin. Halloween, Christmas, and Easter regularly come under fire as the year rolls ‘round, and I find myself pointing out that Christian observances are overwhelmingly Jewish in their origins, as well befits a religion centered upon worshipping a rabbi as our God. Besides all that, “pagan,” as G.K. Chesterton memorably wrote, is really just another word for human. Seasonal celebrations around the world share simil...

For most folks, Easter lasts but a day: a morning of formal worship followed by an afternoon family feast. But in point of fact, Easter is an entire season on the calendar of the Church, one that lasts a full 50 days, beyond the Ascension to Pentecost. I’m not above using this to my clerical advantage, as I may have been known to introduce liturgical modifications with the assurance that it would “only be for Easter.” Muahaha. It is a remarkable claim of the Christian community not simply that Jesus rose from the dead but that He then continued to appear to individuals, groups, and significant crowds for 40 days following His death and Resurrection. As I’ve pointed out before, both at Candlemas and Lent, 40 holds symbolic importance in the Bible, as ancient peoples knew that it takes roughly 40 weeks for a pregnant woman to come to term. It is a number indicating new life, new birth. The nature of these Resurrection appearances proves no less remarkable. Jesus’ conquest of death soars ...

Holy Week is Sunday for the entire year. Early on in our history, the Church celebrated but two holy days: Sunday, the weekly day of Resurrection; and Pascha, our Lord’s annual Passover from death to life. While most Christians throughout most of history have continued to celebrate Jesus’ Resurrection as Pascha, we in English call it Easter. Even so, you can hear echoes of the Greek in terms such as Paschal Lamb or Paschal Candle—for indeed, Jesus is our Passover Lamb. In liturgical traditions, Holy Week marks the culmination of the Church year, celebrating with great solemnity and jubilation our Lord’s Passion, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. It all begins with Palm Sunday, when Christ rides triumphally into Jerusalem to shouts of “Hosanna!” while crowds lay their cloaks and palm branches before Him. Keep in mind that Jesus has journeyed to Jerusalem several times a year throughout His life in order to celebrate the biblical holy days, especially Passover: the foundational story of God...

March 25 passes largely unobserved in much, if not most, of the modern Western Church. Yet for the majority of Christian history this has proved an auspicious date indeed. March 25, precisely nine months before Christmas, commemorates the Annunciation—sometimes known in English circles as Lady Day—when the angel Gabriel announced to the Blessed Virgin Mary that she would bear the Son of God. This event marks the beginning of the Incarnation; that is, of the Creator becoming one with Creation by taking on human flesh. Regardless of our stances on when human life begins, we cannot deny that each of us begins within the womb. And so Mary becomes what Martin Luther called finitum capax infiniti: the finite containing the Infinite. She is the New Ark bearing forth the New Creation. She is, in short, the Theotokos, the Holy Mother of God. To deny her this title would be to deny the divinity of her Son. Medieval tradition understood that March 25 marked not only the date of Jesus’ death on th...

In the early centuries of the Church, Christianity tended to be rather selective regarding whom we would or would not Baptize. It wasn’t a matter of proving one’s worth; the grace of Christ is freely given to sinners, superabundantly, profligately. But people had to know what they were getting into. Jesus promises His followers a cross, after all, and for nearly 300 years Christians had been persecuted by the Roman Empire. The baptismal symbolism of death and resurrection—joined to Christ’s own death, already died for us, that we need never fear death again, and to Christ’s own eternal life already begun—would have been far more than mere sentiment in those days. Christians courted death simply by professing our faith in Christ. Indeed, many were killed while awaiting their Baptism, thus held to have been “baptized in their blood.” In ancient Rome, catechumens could expect a three-year period of preparation, prayer, and formal instruction for at least an hour a week. Jerusalem sped thi...

As 2 February marks the Candlemas, so 3 February brings us to the commemoration of St Blaise, a figure of some import in the Middle Ages who has fallen into relative obscurity today. Indeed, I wouldn’t bring him up in these pages save for the fact that some parishes (such as ours) continue a wonderfully quirky tradition in his honor: the annual blessing of the throats. Blaise was famous, among other things, for saving someone from choking on a fishbone. It became de rigueur to take a pair of tapers blessed at Candlemas the night before, to cross them under a person’s throat, and to pray that they would be delivered “from every ailment of the throat and from every other disease.” I confess that I continue this tradition in part to “keep Church weird,” an operative dictum of mine. Yet even I don’t light the tapers, as had been the elder custom, lest I touch off someone’s hairspray. This is but one example of blessings held throughout the Church year—bread blessing at Lammas, beer blessin...