Holy Trinity Orthodox Church

05/26/2026

The Church Fathers and Us

By His Eminence Metropolitan Saba (Isper)

There are two opposing currents regarding the Church Fathers, often clashing heatedly. One advocates following the Fathers' teachings in all matters, considering any deviation from them, any new interpretation of their pronouncements, or even any confrontation with new doctrinal challenges, as a form of heresy and a departure from Orthodoxy. Some adherents of this current even accuse those who disagree with them as being heretics. The other current, however, considers itself modern and contemporary, seeing no need for the Fathers. It views them as something antiquated, outdated, from the past, or a mere bright spot in history. Followers of this current focus on the present, its realities, and its challenges. They embrace the theological teachings of other churches, disregarding the rich ecclesiastical heritage of ours.

One current venerates the Fathers while the other disregards their importance. Which is correct? In truth, both are mistaken, for they proceed from incorrect premises, confining the Church Fathers to the past alone and neglecting the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit and His sanctifying action in the purified, the enlightened, and the divine.

The teachers among the Church Fathers linked the life of holiness with theological knowledge. They were not theorists, even though they explained and interpreted, and some of them went to extremes in one area or another. They were not founders of philosophical or even theological schools of thought. They did not start from the philosophical thought they had mastered, but rather placed it at the service of faith, adapting it to express the truth they found in Christ. They spoke in language appropriate to their time. The Church needs to explain and interpret the faith to each generation in language it understands, and the Fathers excelled at this.

We may find among some, especially those in a time distant from us, a difficult language for us, a style we do not appreciate, or positions that do not align with our current scientific, social, or political understandings. This stems from the differences in methods, theories, concepts, and challenges between our time and theirs. In truth, we cannot speak of them collectively, for they are not a monolithic entity in every respect. Each carries the language, concepts, sciences, customs, and culture of their own era. They may differ in their stance on a particular ecclesiastical issue, as has happened repeatedly throughout church history, but they do not differ in the fundamentals of the faith. Let us recall the differing positions taken by the Apostles Paul and Peter, and how they resolved them at the Apostolic Council (Acts 15).

In fifteenth-century Russia, a major debate took place between Saints Joseph and Nilus, to the point that monks of that period were called either Josephites or Nilusites. The point of contention centered on the ownership of monasteries. Should monks have the right to own land and institutions? The Josephites argued for their right to ownership in order to dedicate it to serving the poor, while the Nilusites rejected this out of respect for the spirit of monastic poverty and the complete detachment they had vowed.

The brilliance and holiness of the Fathers lay in preparing themselves for God's work within them and in their ability to re-evangelize the people of their time with the true Gospel, or what we call today "evangelization." This word, derived from "Gospel," means planting the Gospel in the present society, or applying theology in the "here and now." The Church is called, in every time and place, to use the language of the people to whom it proclaims the Gospel and to explain it to them.

Some limit the era of the Church Fathers to the first eight centuries. This is not Orthodox teaching, to say the least, for it implies that the Holy Spirit ceased to work after the eighth century. This is not true. God remains present in His Church and will continue to be active in it for all eternity. God has never failed to provide His Church with Holy Fathers who nourish humanity with sound teaching and true spiritual sustenance. Thus, we see the chain of transmission continuing from the days of the Apostles and St. Ignatius of Antioch in the first century, up to St. Sophrony the Athonite (of Essex).

If we study each Father individually and compare the teachings of any two of them who lived in different eras, we will find a single core of faith expressed in different ways faced by the Fathers of previous centuries. The issues raised today were not relevant in previous centuries. Consider, for example, the relationship between the Bible and ancient cultures, the issues of the biological sciences, political and social theories, changes of moral values, and so on. After the 17th century, humanity began a new approach to intellectual inquiry, and science has developed significantly since then. This scientific progress has instilled in the human mind a critical approach to everything. Those concerned with education must take these factors into account in order to safeguard the faith, protect believers, and guide those who are far from it.

Should the Church refrain from addressing contemporary challenges simply because the early Church Fathers did not discuss them since they were not relevant in their time?

The problem lies not so much in the theological approach itself, but rather in the way we approach theology. Theological discourse has never been separated from divine vision in the Orthodox Church specifically. Therefore, its fundamental tenet is "the theologian is the one who prays." When people are sanctified, pass through the stage of purification, and attain enlightenment, God dwells within them, and they draw from His light, which illuminates their mind, enabling them to express Him in a manner appropriate to their time. And if they teach those who are not yet enlightened, they rely on the teachings of the sanctified and follow their path of holiness. Theological teaching is not a particular intellectual framework. The Church is not a philosophical school. It is similar to someone who speaks of love because they have tasted it, known it, and experienced it.

For the Fathers, the ascetic life and prayer were intertwined with the gift of teaching, guidance, and interpretation. What they offered, and continue to offer, to the Church and the world is the product of lived experience, not intellectual theorizing influenced by this or that philosophical school.

Fidelity to the Fathers requires us not to cherry-pick their teachings, that is, not to take a saying here and another there to prove a preconceived notion or refute a position we deem deviant. Rather, we should engage with them through what our Church theologians call "the patristic mind" or "patristic consciousness." The Church is "patristic" in the sense that the teachings of its Fathers are fundamental to understanding its theology, spirituality, and mentality, and therefore it cannot do without them. Living in the company of the Fathers means emulating their relationship with Christ and the virtuous lives they led, drawing deeply from their teachings.

When you live according to the true spirit of the Church, you acquire an Orthodox, or "patristic," sense through which you perceive everything, which also alerts you to errors. But you don't acquire this alone; rather, it comes within the church community with which you live in unity of faith. The community protects you from extremism or excess and thus helps you to remain upright.

05/15/2026

All smiles for the National Orthodox Baby shower at Holy Trinity Church in VA! 😁☦️

05/12/2026

The Sanctifying Dimension, Part Three By His Eminence Metropolitan Saba (Isper)

A True Story for Reflection

After I told one of my friends the story related below, he asked me, "Why do we not meet priests of this kind?" I will leave the answer to the reader.

While browsing an Orthodox website one day, I came across this story, rich with spiritual lessons for anyone willing to reflect. I wanted to share it briefly with my dear readers because I found in it a practical answer to what I had presented in the previous two articles.

This story appeared in a recently published electronic book in Moscow, issued in Russian, English, and French, titled Everyday Saints. It contains real stories as well as symbolic ones. Among them is the story of "the novice bishop." The word "novice" here refers to monastic novitiate. (We have received a great blessing from this man in this Archdiocese, because he served as a bishop for several years in America.)

The story centers on Bishop Basil Rodzianko, who fell asleep in the Lord in 1999. He was born into a Russian aristocratic family. His grandfather was the president of the Imperial Duma, which forced the family into exile in 1920, when the bishop was still a child.

They ended up in Serbia. There he grew up, was educated, and came to know great church figures, among them the one who later became archbishop and then Saint John Maximovitch. Basil married a young woman whom he loved deeply, chose the priesthood as the path of service to his people, and took Saint Vladimir as his patron. After the communists came to power during and after the Second World War, he refused to leave Serbia, even though he faced the real danger of arrest as a priest.

And that is exactly what happened. Once the new Yugoslavia had become established, persecution against the Church intensified. He was sent to a prison camp for eighteen months. But the conflict that arose between the leaders of Russia and Yugoslavia at that time, Stalin and Tito, led Tito to release all the "White Russians" from the prison camps and expel them from the country.Father Vladimir chose Paris because his spiritual father, the holy Archbishop John Maximovitch, was there. Saint John received him with joy and, after a time, sent him to London to serve a small Serbian parish. Father Vladimir was highly intelligent and distinguished himself in teaching and evangelism. He also knew Russian, Serbian, French, English, Bulgarian, and a little Romanian, which qualified him to present a weekly Orthodox religious program in Russian on the BBC.

In the 1960s, he passed through a painful period. After losing his wife, his grief drove him to vodka, to the point of addiction. The effects of alcohol did not outwardly appear on him because his physical strength enabled him to continue fulfilling his duties without visible failure. But one day, his wife appeared to him in a dream, reproached him sternly, and showed him her sorrow over what he was doing. He awoke from the dream and gave up alcohol once and for all, overcoming his human grief.

After the death of his previous spiritual father, he chose Metropolitan Anthony Bloom, the well-known Metropolitan of London, famous for his spiritual depth, as his new spiritual father. In time, Metropolitan Anthony recommended him to become a bishop in North America, since he had proven to be a successful missionary. According to Russian Orthodox tradition, a bishop must be a canonical monk before his episcopal consecration. And so it was.

When he made his confession before his monastic tonsure, he said to his spiritual father, "I understand well how I will live the vows of chastity and poverty, but I still do not understand how I will live the vow of obedience. A bishop is the one who gives directions, guidance, and instructions. He is the one who is obeyed."

Metropolitan Anthony was silent for a moment, then answered, "Always consider yourself a novice monk, and obey everyone who asks you for a service that you are able to fulfill." Father Vladimir took this counsel as a law of obedience and strove to live by it for the rest of his life. He was tonsured a monk, taking his new name from his new patron saint, Basil.

He used to visit his homeland, Russia, many times during his years as a bishop. On one occasion, he met an elderly woman on a street in Moscow. As soon as she saw him, thinking he was a priest, she said, "Please, father, bless my little home. For three years now I have been asking the priest of my parish to bless it, and he has not answered my request."He accepted her request immediately based on his vow of obedience. His companion tried to dissuade him, saying he was under no obligation to do this. So, he asked her, "Where is your home?" She replied, "Not far. We take the bus from the outskirts of Moscow for only forty minutes!" Yet they were in the center of Moscow, which meant they first needed to take the metro for at least half an hour, and then the bus. Still, the bishop did not change his answer. First, they all went to the church to get the vestments needed for the house blessing. Then, they went to the woman's home, which consisted of one room, eight square meters in size, on the ninth floor of a large, old building.

On the way, she told the bishop that her children and grandchildren never called her and paid no attention to her. After the blessing of the house, she served tea and cake to the bishop and his companion, and he accepted from her an old ruble, so as not to wound her feelings. She thanked him and said, "Now I can depart in peace, after my home has been blessed!"

Does not this elderly woman, who grew up under harsh religious persecution and was raised on atheist propaganda in school and society, show a profound and moving sense of holiness and reverence? And should not priests like this bishop abound in proportion to the many families who possess this sanctifying awareness of the importance of divine blessing?

In 1990, during another visit, Bishop Basil met a young priest who had graduated from the theological faculty with distinction, yet did not continue on to higher studies because he chose instead to serve a neglected parish in a village in the Kostroma region and restore its crumbling eighteenth-century temple. This priest asked the bishop to bless his church by celebrating the Divine Liturgy there. As usual, the companion tried to prevent the bishop from accepting. This time, the distance between where they were and the church in question was much farther-only six hundred kilometers! The bishop obeyed. He set out with the priest and his companion by car, after obtaining the episcopal vestments.

After several hours of travel, traffic came to a halt because of an accident between a motorcycle and a truck. The bishop learned that the motorcyclist had died. He got out of the car and went to the site of the accident, where he found a young man weeping bitterly over his dead father. He said to the young man, "I am an Orthodox priest." Then he asked him, "Was your father a believer, so that I may read the prayers for him?" The young man replied, "Yes, yes, certainly. Please read the necessary prayers. My father was a very faithful Orthodox man, and he had a spiritual father. But he did not go to church."

Bishop Basil asked in surprise, "How could he have a spiritual father and yet not go to church?" The young man answered, "My father had been an atheist. But he listened regularly to the weekly spiritual talks of Father Rodzianko (Bishop Basil himself) on the BBC. Through him, he came to faith, and he obeyed everything that this priest said, considering him his spiritual father."

Tears streamed from Bishop Basil's eyes as he put on his epitrachelion and began to pray for the soul of his spiritual son, who until that moment had been unknown to him.

Who could have imagined that God had arranged this meeting so that this man would not be deprived of the blessing of his spiritual father? These are the hidden purposes of God. They may not be revealed to us quickly every time, but the fact that they remain hidden does not mean that God is not following us in the details of our lives, leading us toward the salvation for which we hope.

O Lord, grant Your Church priests like these righteous ones. Forgive, and do not allow us to justify, our shortcomings.

05/05/2026

Saint Irene was the daughter of a princelet called Licinius; named Penelope by her parents, through a divine revelation she was brought to faith in Christ and at Baptism was renamed Irene. In her zeal for piety she broke in pieces all the idols of her father, who commanded that she be trampled underfoot by horses. But while she remained unharmed, one of the horses rose up and cast down her father, killing him. By her prayer she raised him to life again, and he believed and was baptized. Afterwards, in many journeyings, Saint Irene suffered torments and punishments for her faith, but was preserved by the power of God, while working dread miracles and converting many thousands of souls. At last she came to Ephesus, where she fell asleep in peace, in the first half of the fourth century. Two days after her death, her gravestone was found lifted off, and her grave empty. At least two churches were dedicated to Saint Irene in Constantinople, and she is also the patroness of the Aegean island of Thera, which is commonly called Santorin (or Santorini), a corruption of "Saint Irene."

04/24/2026

04/24/2026

Christ is risen! This warrior saint is the patron of nations, hospitals in Lebanon and Syria, the military, and nearly four dozen churches of the Antiochian Archdiocese.

Blessed feast of St. George to the countless people who bear his name!

https://www.antiochian.org/regulararticle/311

09/16/2025

Reminder: Ember Days Fast
September 17, 19 & 20
Wednesday-Friday-Saturday

08/29/2025

Special Dates...
Sunday, September 7:
Sunday School Classes Resume after fellowship time
Inquirer's Class Resumes after fellowship time

Tuesday, September 2
6:45pm at Liberty University DeMoss Room 1362.

08/28/2025

From Father Alban...

St. Bartholomew replied to the authorities that he would rather shed his blood than suffer the shipwreck of his faith or conscience, and the King then had him tortured, beaten with rods, crucified head downwards, like St. Peter, and flayed alive, literally skinned as he hung from his cross. Since he continued to exhort the people while still alive, he was finally beheaded with an axe. The question for us is not so much whether we would rather shed our blood than deny the faith. It is always the question of whether the life in Christ is more important to us than the life of the world. It always comes down to this. Do we find that each year another piece of the world falls away from us, as the Kingdom becomes increasingly real, or that we are accumulating to ourselves more and more of it, and dulling thereby our sense of the Kingdom in our midst. Is our ascetical practice trimming us to fighting weight for the Kingdom of God, or are we getting flabbier each year with the weight of worldly attachments. These are always the questions for us - summed up in 3 words: Are we prepared?

- Excerpt from Homily on 8.24.25