On A 15th Annivesary of Ordination

Saturday, August 26, 1995. Columbia, South Carolina. The midlands of South Carolina are being drenched by remnants of a tropical storm blown in from the Gulf of Mexico. At our home some miles East of Columbia, a ramshackle antebellum plantation house, the yard is flooding, our old car will not start, and the bishop needs to be picked up from the airport. This task is assigned to Rachel, a friend of our older daughter, Ryan.

When Rachel arrives with the bishop, Victor Mar Michael Herron, who has flown in from Knoxville, we jump our car and get it running. It is time to head into Columbia. We have arranged to use a large Lutheran sanctuary for the service. Lutherans are the best friends Independent Orthodox/Catholic jurisdictions have ever had when it comes to the use of worship space. This sanctuary dwarfs the few brave souls who venture out for the service. At some point, Mar Michael and I run to the store to pick up something or other. “You know you can still back out,” he says. He has to say that. He had also said it around a year earlier when, on September 18, 1994, our younger daughter’s birthday, I had been ordained a deacon. In both cases, I declined to back out.

We transferred the celebration of the Holy Apostle Titus from August 25 to August 26 for the ordination liturgy. We also commemorated Moses the Black, whose date on our calendar is August 28. Mar Michael presided at the Liturgy of the Word and I acted as his deacon. Our younger daughter, Cary, served as acolyte throughout the liturgy. Susan read the lesson from the Letter to Titus:

“…For a [presbyter], as God's steward, must be blameless; he must not be arrogant or quick-tempered or a drunkard or violent or greedy for gain, but hospitable, a lover of goodness, master of himself, upright, holy, and self-controlled; he must hold firm to the sure word as taught, so that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and also to confute those who contradict it.”

Kyrie Eleison!

I led a responsive chanting of the psalm.

I do not recall if I or Mar Michael read the Gospel. The reading, Mark 10:32-38, records Jesus telling his disciples that he will be crucified and wondering if they “will be able to drink from the cup of which I will drink.”

All ordinations are another step on the road to Golgotha.

Mar Michael preached. I remember little of what he said except for some nice things about me and my family that, at least when it comes to myself, were not exactly accurate. We both then approached the altar, facing liturgical east, and I knelt, my head resting on my arms crossed on the altar. Using the Byzantine formula for ordination, he placed his pallium over my head, laid his hands upon my head, and cried aloud:

“The divine grace, which always heals that which is infirm and completes that which is lacking, ordains the most devout Deacon Gregory to the office of Priest. Let us therefore pray for him, that the grace of the All-Holy Spirit may come upon him!”

Mar Michael then offered the following prayers:

“O God without beginning or end, Thou who art before every created thing, and Who honors with the title of Presbyter those whom Thou deem worthy to serve the word of Thy truth in the divine ministry of this order: Thou, the same sovereign Master, preserve in purity of life and in unswerving faith this man whom Thou hast been pleased to ordain through me by the laying on of hands, graciously imparting to him the great grace of Thy Holy Spirit, making him wholly Thy servant, well-pleasing to Thee in all things, and worthily exercising this great honor of the Priesthood which Thou hast conferred upon him by the power of Thy wisdom. For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, in both worlds and unto the Aeon of aeons.”

“O God, great in might and inscrutable in wisdom, marvelous in counsel above the sons of men: Thous that self-same Lord, fill with the gift of Thy Holy Spirit this man whom it has pleased Thee to advance to the degree of Priest; that he may become worthy to stand in innocence before Thy altar, to proclaim the Gospel of Thy kingdom, to minister the word of Thy truth, to offer unto Thee spiritual gifts and sacrifices; to renew Thy people through the font of regeneration, that when he shall go to meet Thee, at the second coming of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, Thine only-begotten Son, he may receive the reward of good stewardship in the order given to him, through the plenitude of Thy goodness. For blessed and glorified is Thine all-holy and majestic name, of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit, in both worlds unto the Aeon of aeons.”

Mar Michael then bade me rise, vested me as a priest, and led the congregation in proclaiming Axios! Axios! Axios!

I then celebrated the Divine Liturgy for the first time, Mar Michael presiding from the chair.

Afterward, we returned to our home for a small gathering of those who had attended and perhaps a few others. Mar Michael stayed the night, and before he left, I celebrated again for him and the family, this time in the chapel we had prepared in the house itself. He seemed satisfied that I knew what I was doing, at least technically.

Obviously, much has happened since then. There have been ups and downs. However, I have never doubted that I am called to the priesthood of Christ’s Holy Catholic Church, and this calling has been affirmed by many people, both in and outside the ACCA. There has been little success as the world measures success, but God does not call us to be successful, only faithful. If I have been faithful, God is responsible. If not, then I am responsible. In any event, please keep this sinner, the most unworthy priest Gregory, in your prayers, and may our Lord continue to keep united in one heard and mind this little Church, the Antiochian Catholic Church in America, in which I serve as a priest, and may the Most Blessed Trinity unite us all in the Kingdom of Heaven. Unto Thee, O God, is due all glory, honor and worship, to the Father, and to the Son+, and to the Holy Spirit, both now and ever, in both worlds and unto the Aeon of aeons. Amen.

A note of thanks and request for continued prayers

As I write this, I am lying in a hospital bed, having been admitted early yesterday morning due to having experienced a heart attack, my second. Fortunately, it appears that little damage has been done and I anticipate having a ROUTINE (as opposed to emergency) cardiac catheterization procedure on Monday. Thanks to all who are praying or are otherwise expressing their love and concern for me and my family. Please continue the prayers!

To correct some genealogical misinformation

In looking for something else (ain't that always the case), I have discovered a truly bizarre mistake concerning my genealogy, published several places on the Internet. I am posting the following here in order to correct this mistake.

To wit:

My father was Rex Ralston Blevins. My mother, his wife, was named Attie Marguerite Blevins (her maiden name was, in fact, Blevins as well).

Maud Godsey, or Maude Godsey, was Rex's MOTHER, not his wife. Maud, therefore, was my maternal grandmother.

Weird.

For One College Student, Finals are Over...(Updated)

And that student is our dear daughter. One year down, two years to go! (Before graduate school.)

"On a slightly more personal, and longer, note"

(Even though she is a Junior, Cary will apparently have to spend two more academic years at Loyola in order to complete her Environmental Science major and English Literature minor.)

Celebrating Epiphany/Theophany and 25 Years of Marriage

January 6 is the celebration of Epiphany/Theophany, the end of the 12-day Christmas season. Khouria Susan and I also celebrate the Nativity season as our wedding anniversary: we were married legally before a judge on December 25, 1983 and celebrated a Blessing of Marriage on January 6, 1984 in an Episcopal Church in Racine, Wisconsin. Therefore, on January 6, we not only marked Epiphany/Theophany, but we also celebrated 25 years of marriage. This is entirely appropriate; while this feast primarily commemorates the Baptism of our Lord, it also celebrates the Wedding at Cana.

We began the celebration with a liturgy, the Holy Qurbana (Eucharist), which included the Great Blessing of Waters, and followed this up with a service of blessing for marriage, including an exchange of rings, which our daughters, Larkin and Cary, provided for the occasion. This was followed by a reception.

We were privileged to have with us about twenty guests, including our assistant bishop, Andreas Mar Cassian and his wife, Amma (Mother) Caitlin of Kodak, Tennessee. Mar Cassian presided from the chair at the Liturgy, while Amma Caitlin celebrated the Blessing of the Waters. I was the celebrant of the liturgy and Cary, aka the Pious Reader Francis, served as Reader and Acolyte. Mar Cassian then renewed the blessing upon our marriage. Mar Cassian and I each preached short homilies.

Khouria Susan and I wish to thank all who attended and all who helped to plan and execute this celebration, especially our daughters, Larkin and Cary, their friends, Larkin’s special friend, Richie, and Mar Cassian and Amma Caitlin Turner. We love all of you very much and pray that you will be richly blessed in the coming year.

The following photos were taken by Audrey. Thank you, dear.

Mar Cassian, the Pious Reader Francis, and myself during the Liturgy.

From left to right, Khouria Susan, myself, Amma Caitlin, Pious Reader Cary Francis, and Mar Cassian, as the blessing of marriage begins.

Exchanging rings. Daughter Larkin is behind Khouria Susan.

We are truly blessed.

Thanksgiving 2008

It is quiet this early Thanksgiving morning here in central South Carolina, the sun rising above the trees outside my east-facing window immediately to my left, and yes, Khouria Susan, it's a little chilly. The turkey is cooking, and Susan is resting. Junior was unable to come home from Chicago and my brother-in-law and his family were also unable to come down from Virginia. However, our older daughter will join us a bit later, so Thanksgiving this year will be small, just the three of us.

As I have done so many times at quiet holiday moments, I am wandering a bit through old memories, memories of Thanksgivings past, celebrations in my native Northeast Montana, in Milwaukee during my largely misspent college career, memories of other times and other places.

One such memory, from the Marquette/Milwaukee years, involves the microwaving of a turkey at a favorite Wells Street watering hole, Jim Hegarty’s Irish Pub. After an hour or two and many beers later, we then took it home, to our dilapidated college student ghetto flat, and put it in the oven for a while. In the end, that was one tough, undercooked bird. A great memory, but a lousy meal. Other memories, from childhood, have to do with inviting neighbors, three retired bachelor farmers (only one of whom was Norwegian), to share our family table. That made six: mom, dad, yours truly, and Ray, John, and Herman. There was snow on the ground and it was more than “a little chilly”, but that was always the case at Thanksgiving, fifteen miles south of the Canadian border, with nothing but a couple of barbed wire fences between us and the North Pole, a mere 2,500 miles away.

Another set of memories, sparked by Deacon Greg Kandra, are not related specifically to the holiday of Thanksgiving. Deacon Greg has posted, here, a clip from “Godspell”, a production made possible by the Jesus Revolution of the early 1970’s, the latter a phenomenon that shaped my life profoundly, as did the related neo-Pentecostalism of Charismatic Renewal. What is fascinating to me is the extent to which these movements continue to impact American Christianity up until this moment, from the upheavals within Anglicanism to the resurgence of Eastern Orthodoxy to the ever-shifting foci within Roman Catholicism to the founding of the Charismatic Episcopal Church and similar Independent Catholic bodies as well as the emergence of Churches such as the ACCA.

One specific memory that I have in this regard concerns a prayer group/Bible study hosted by a Roman Catholic couple in my hometown, Scobey “Lake Wobegone” Montana. They had been introduced to charismatic renewal by way of the Cursillo movement. I was 14 or 15 at the time, and this prayer group included, at various times, Methodists, Lutherans, members of the Assemblies of God and even, from time to time, my own father, an Evangelical Wesleyan, who consistently cast a decidedly jaundiced eye at mainstream denominations, especially the Roman Catholic Church. On this particular evening, I do not recall who was present, except for the host couple; however, at some point, in walked a Roman Catholic priest, a native of the area, and his father. I had never encountered a priest so closely before. He said little but, as I recall, prayed profoundly. Something stirred within me: a calling. I did not know how or where this calling would be played out, but somehow, at a very deep level that was only semi-conscious, I knew. I was called: this Charismatic, Evangelical Jesus Freak nerd, a son of the radical Reformation if there ever was one, was being called to the sacerdotal priesthood.

Years later, my colleague, Andreas Mar Cassian, and I were discussing our respective youths, his in East Tennessee, mine in NE Montana. He was raised Baptist. Avva Andreas asked me, “What did you want to be when you were 14?” “A priest,” I replied. “Me too,” he said.

Of course, it all seems so much more clear-cut in retrospect. However, on that Winter night, in an aging mobile home in NE Montana, a seed was most definitely planted.

And there were other seeds: having a pastor introduce me to Ignatius of Antioch from the pulpit of the Christian and Missionary Alliance congregation which was my primary church home as a child and teenager; attending a Latin wedding Mass; and, at age 7, encountering the witness of a large, devout Roman Catholic family, especially through its sons who were close to me in age and who, even though very young themselves, were willing and quite able to explain to me the basics of the Apostolic Faith in its Roman Catholic iteration, including, as I vividly recall, the three types of baptism: water, desire, and blood. I have long since lost touch with them, Brian, Johnny, and Michael, but I pray for them regularly, and I hope they have perservered in their faith.

For all of this, and for so much more, especially for my family, friends both past and present, and for my Church, I give thanks this day. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and may God remember us all in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Will the Last One to Leave Please Turn out the Lights?

Picked up by the AP, it got reported as far away as Boston:

This high school grad is all class

Opheim High School, Opheim, Montana, some 45 miles West of my hometown, Scobey, aka "Lake Wobegon", graduates a class of one. And the Governor shows up to give the commencement address.

Congratulations, Jeff. I know you got one heck of an education.

Many Years!

....to Chorepiscopus (Archpriest) Andreas Richard Turner and Amma (Mother) Caitlin Turner, St. Elias parish, Kodak, Tennessee. Avva Andreas today celebrates his...uh, late-40-something birthday. Amma Caitlin, Avva's beloved spouse, was ordained to the priesthood today back in 1994.

Happy Birthday!

and

Ad Multos Annos! (to both of you)

On a Personal Note...

Today also marks the 31st anniversary of my baptism and confirmation/chrismation, which occurred during the Easter Vigil at the Church of the Gesu, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, back in 1977.

from
the Fundamentalism of the Christian and Missionary Alliance, of the Wesleyan (sort of) Church of the Nazarene, of the Pentecostal Assemblies of God and the charismatic renewal of the "Jesus Revolution"
to
Roman Catholicism
to
Anglo-Catholicism
to
Byzantine Orthodoxy (almost)
to
the Antiochian Catholic Church in America

"What a long, strange trip it's been."

Thanks be to God.

A Eulogy

As mentioned below, my elder daughter's biological father, Glen, died last week in what is believed to have been a vehicle-pedestrian hit-and-run accident. He was buried last Saturday, the funeral Mass being held at the Roman Catholic Church of the Nativity, on James Island, in Charleston, South Carolina. Nativity's Pastor, Fr. Tom Kingsley, presided at the Mass and at the graveside. Fr. Tom, who had not known Glen, did a fantastic job and gave an excellent homily, reflecting on Mark 15:33-39: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He called upon all present, in their sorrow, to pray the psalms and to express, rather than repress, their grief. At the request of Glen's widow, Myra, and his children, Larkin Ryan and Richard, I gave the eulogy, toward the end of the Mass. I had not planned to post the eulogy here, but I am doing so at the request of some people who were unable to attend the funeral.

Good morning. Thank you, Fr. Tom. For those who don’t know me, I’m Gregory Ned Blevins, and I’m a priest of an Independent Syriac Orthodox Christian Church. I’m also married to Larkin Ryan’s mother, Susan, so Glen and I shared a daughter, and he was my friend. As you might imagine, I feel a little awkward standing before you today, but Richard, Ryan, and Myra prevailed upon me to say a few words concerning Glen, and I’m pretty sure that he would appreciate the irony of the situation.

First, on behalf of all the family, I want to thank Fr. Tom, the organist, the cantor, the reader, the servers and everyone here at Nativity as well as Jimmy McAllister and his entire staff for all their hard work. I also want to thank all of you for coming today to remember Glen, support his family, and to pray for his repose. I would also be remiss if I did not acknowledge that 17 years ago, almost to the day, we buried Glen’s older brother, Chuck, and Ryan and Cary’s maternal grandmother, Clelia Allen, who both died on March 6, 1991.

I have known Glen now for over 25 years. During that time, there were many ups and downs, as there are in all of our lives. However, he was always devoted to his children and their friends. He welcomed my daughter, Cary, into his life in many ways as if she were his own and he called her his “special daughter”, as we found out last night. He was very proud of you, Richard, and I know that your mother, Annette, is as well, along with your grandmother and all of your aunts. He told everyone about his children. He loved to expand his circle and yours. People who met for the first time last night felt as if they had known each other all of their lives because of the good things they had heard about each other from Glen.

He had many friends, both at work and elsewhere. It may seem trite, but Glen truly never met a stranger, and he always had an uncanny ability to make you laugh.

Until he could no longer do so because of his health, Glen spent his career as a technician for the phone company. Because his job required him to do so, he stayed in Charleston during Hurricane Hugo, back in 1989. We spoke with him on the phone from Spartanburg at the height of the storm. Although he retired as a supervisor, he supported his union, the Communications Workers of America, and had served as a union steward. He was also a member of the Pioneers.

Though Glen’s relationship with his Church was complicated due to his marital situation, he always thought of himself as Roman Catholic. Myra says that, recently, Glen had been teaching her about the Catholic understanding of the role of the Blessed Virgin in our lives. He was old school when it came to the Church. He would have preferred, for example, that the Mass was still in Latin, at least sometimes. It seems that Pope Benedict agrees.

Glen was a spiritual person. He found a relationship with his Higher Power, the God of his understanding, in the rooms and program of a 12-Step fellowship, and it was there that he met Myra. He took me to my first 12-Step meeting and many of my own memories of Glen revolve around attending meetings with him. I remember that when a group of us would go to Shoney’s after a meeting, Ryan, who was then a child, often came along. One summer night at a Shoney’s restaurant, Glen, myself and several other men loudly sang “Silent Night” because we felt that our fellow patrons needed some entertainment. You can ask Ryan about this later.

On Tuesday, only hours before Glen’s death, Ryan and her boyfriend Richie drove down from Columbia to pick up some furniture from Glen, Myra, and Myra’s parents, the Petersons. Although he was worried about his scheduled back surgery, Glen was in an upbeat mood and they had fun together. Glen took great pleasure in beating Richie at ping pong. Ryan is very grateful for this last day that she and her father had together.

Richard says that in the past few years, he and his father had become more than father and son, that they were able to become friends, and he is grateful for that. He was able to hang out with his children, and they got to know him as a person as they never had before.

Myra will cherish memories of Glen’s extraordinary consideration and affection for her. She says that whenever she would show Glen something in a catalogue, he would actually pay attention. Sometimes, a few days later it would show up via UPS.

Therefore, let us remember that Glen had a good heart and sincerely and deeply cared about the people in his life, and let us commit him into the hands of a loving God. We perhaps have wondered why Glen was allowed to die in such a way, at this time of his life, as a relatively young man. We don’t know. We cannot know. But as we have heard in the Gospel reading, and as Fr. Tom has said so well, we do know that our God, having been made human, died under some pretty lousy circumstances himself, and is there for us: and He is there for Glen. I have been awestruck over the years as I have observed the grace of God working in each chapter of Glen’s life. I saw God at work last night at the wake.

Finally, because he loved the Latin liturgy and related to the Blessed Virgin Mary, I would like to offer the prayer “Hail Holy Queen” in Latin:

Salve Regina, Mater misericordiae.
Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Ad te clamamus exsules filii Evae.
Ad te Suspiramus,
Gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle.
Eia ergo, Advocata nostra,
Illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
Nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens, o pia, o dulcis Virgo Maria.
Ora pro nobis, Sancta Dei Genitrix.
Ut digni efficiamur promissionibus Christi.

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy!
Our life, our sweetness, and our hope!
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve,
To thee do we send up our sighs,
Mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.
Turn then, most gracious advocate,
Thine eyes of mercy toward us;
And after this our exile,
Show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus;
O clement, O loving, O sweet virgin Mary.
Pray for us, O holy Mother of God
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

In nomine Patris, et Filii+, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen

Prayer Request

My elder daughter, who is in her late twenties, lost her biological father last night:

Man killed in hit and run accident

I ask your prayers for the repose of Glen and for his widow, Myra, as well as for his/my daughter, Larkin, and his son Richard. Remember also, please, his mother Mildred as well as my wife Susan and our daughter Cary, with whom he was close. He will be buried from a parish of the Roman Catholic Church.

Requiem in Pacem.

Memory Eternal!