Saint Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, 1987

September 25th 2010

Gerringong, NSW

Caption: The con-celebration in Rome was preceded with a meeting in 1979 between the two Primates held in the Fener.

Caption: The con-celebration in Rome was preceded with a meeting in 1979 between the two Primates held in the Fener.

There are moments in our lives which leave us with such a strong impression that the picture will fade little with the passing of time. One of these instances I experienced in Rome, in December of 1987. I was twenty-seven years old, recently ordained into the holy diaconate of the Eastern Orthodox Church, yet here I was about to witness one of the most significant events in the relations between the two great churches since the “official” schism of 1054.[1] I had been travelling through Switzerland and was in Zermatt where I had decided to stop for a few days, but was able to make some fast changes to my travel itinerary hop on an express train and make it to the Eternal City. It would be just in time for the highly controversial con-celebration in Saint Peter’s Basilica between Pope John Paul II and Patriarch Demetrios I of Constantinople. Some days earlier the two religious leaders issued a joint-declaration from the Vatican stressing “the fraternal spirit between the churches.”[2] This meeting would also coincide with the anniversary of 1200 years from the convening of the 7th Ecumenical Council in Nicaea in 787.[3] In a solemn ceremony, in a place of worship where soaring architecture and astonishing art alone could strike you speechless, the Primates of West and East together recited in Greek the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed as originally put down in 381 AD:[4] without the filioque [“and from the Son”].[5] From that hour ecumenism careered into a new dimension and we would in the following decades become witness to the extreme articulations of both ‘liberals’ and ‘die-hard’ fundamentalists.[6] I believe, the implications of that great moment were not fully seized or realized. Even so, the foundation stone, directly implied in Ephesians 4:1-16 [‘the unity of the church’], has been forever put in place. 

Outside in Saint Peter’s Square among the throng of thousands happy enough to witness the momentous event on the giant monitors, another much smaller act was about to unfold. Entry into the Basilica on that day was by a special ticket, though it was plain enough to see that it was still hugely overcrowded. I was thinking how memorable it would be to witness it all from the inside. To be part of this historic occasion as it actually happened. It was then that I was approached by a nun who appeared to have been the superior of a small group of religious in her company. I could not rightly guess her age on account of her veil, but her face though visibly pale, was strikingly handsome. She smiled with the expected reserve of an experienced religious and promptly introduced herself, “Good morning Father, I am Sister Benedicta.” All the while during this short exchange Sister ‘Benedicta’ kept her hands clasped in front of her blue habit. A rosary with a pearl crucifix was intertwined between her fingers. She asked whether I would accept the biglietto of one of her group who at the last minute could not be there. It would still prove a challenge to make my way to the entrance, let alone get in. I thanked her and took the ticket.

I would have liked to talk to this softly-spoken woman, whose accent betrayed a French background, to have asked something of her life, but before I could rightly thank her, she and her little troop disappeared into the growing mass of people. Many years later in Bucharest when I had similarly lost the “old man” in the maddening rush of afternoon traffic, I would once more remember losing her, too, in the crowd. I reflect as I write this entry many years later, if I really did ‘lose’ them or if [for some reason] it was an unconscious act which I willed to happen: “[a]nd this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.” These disarming words from the Serbian poet Dejan Stojanovic challenge me more regularly as time flashes past and I do further battle with the twin concepts of ‘community’ and ‘solitude’.

I pushed and shoved through this great sea of animated bodies to get to my destination. At last after showing my ticket to the officials I was treated with new found respect and escorted to the front of Saint Peter’s Basilica. My seat was only a few rows behind the impressive congregation of VIPs. The sister’s friend must have been somebody quite important to have been allotted a seat this close to the historic proceedings. Whose place did I take? And why in that mass of people did she choose me? There in the company of cardinals and bishops, and of politicians and celebrities, I became increasingly agitated. At the end of these solemn proceedings together with the other clergy in those front rows, this little boy with the peculiar name from Newtown would meet the Pope. As for the genial Patriarch of the Eastern Orthodox [“the first amongst equals”] I would meet again in the Fener during a Christmas liturgy at the Church of Saint George in Istanbul. I felt my chest puff up and my head begin to spin. Clichés are not altogether redundant. One moment I wanted it all and knew that I could make it happen. For such are the deadly games which the ego, or better still ‘the id’ can play on us, to fuel us with a heightened sense of self-importance. Much of the ‘hard work’ I had reasoned was already done. All the big boxes [education and network] were ticked. A few minutes later I was deeply sickened by what I was feeling and realized that such high-places were not meant for me. I was possessed with too much ‘bad’ pride which I could feel running through me like the foreboding sense of mortality, and I would need to fight against it for the remainder of my life. From that time onwards whenever such opportunities might again present themselves to me, I would have to make sure to ‘uproot’ myself. And flee into the darkness in search of the ‘compensation’. This I would do more than once. I do not wish to pretend it was easy.

It never was. This need to recognize my voice.

[1] https://www.patriarchate.org/meetings-between-ecumenical-patriarchs-and-popes-of-rome-through-history

[2] https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/joint-declaration-8155

[3] https://www.apostolicpilgrimage.org/meetings-of-popes-patriarchs

[4] https://orthodoxwiki.org/Nicene-Constantinopolitan_Creed

[5] http://www.usccb.org/beliefs-and-teachings/ecumenical-and-interreligious/ecumenical/orthodox/filioque-church-dividing-issue-english.cfm 

[6] http://www.orthodoxresearchinstitute.org/articles/ecumenical/hallam_orthodoxy_ecumenism.html

Saint Peter’s Basilica 1987

Gerringong, NSW

There are moments in our lives which leave us with such strong impressions that the picture fades little with the passing of time. One of those moments I experienced in Rome, in December of 1987. I was twenty-six years old and only recently ordained into the holy diaconate of the Eastern Orthodox Church, yet here I was about to witness one of the most important historical events in the relations between the two great churches since the “official” schism of 1054.[1] A few days earlier I had been travelling through Switzerland and was camped out in Zermatt by the foot of the Matterhorn but was able to arrange some fast changes to my travel itinerary, get on a train, and make it to Rome. It would be just in time for the highly controversial concelebration in Saint Peter’s Basilica between Pope John Paul II and Patriarch Demetrios of Constantinople. Some days earlier the two religious leaders issued a joint-declaration from the Vatican stressing “the fraternal spirit between the churches.” In a uniquely solemn ceremony the Patriarchs of East and West together recited in Greek the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed as originally expressed without the filioque.[2]

Outside in Saint Peter’s Square among the throng of thousands happy enough to witness the momentous event on the giant monitors, another smaller act was about to unfold. Entry into the famous Basilica on that day was by a special ticket, though it was plain enough to see that it was still hugely overcrowded. I was thinking how memorable it would be to witness it all from the inside, to be part of this historic occasion as it actually happened. It was then that I was approached by a nun who appeared to have been the superior of a small group of religious in her company. I could not rightly guess her age on account of her habit, but her face though angular and pale, was a handsome one. She smiled with the expected reserve of someone in her position and with a light tap to my wrist introduced herself, “Good morning Father, I am Sister Benedicta.” During this short exchange she kept her hands clasped neatly in front of her. I noticed an unusual silver rosary with a pearl crucifix intertwined between her fingers. She asked whether I would accept the biglietto of one of her group who at the last moment could not be there. “Thank you very much, yes, of course.” It would still prove quite a challenge to make my way to the entrance secured by the Swiss Guard. I would have liked to talk to this softly-spoken woman, whose accent betrayed a French background, to have asked something of her life, but before I could rightly thank her she disappeared into the growing mass of people. Many years later in Bucharest when I had similarly lost the “old man” in the maddening rush of afternoon traffic, I would once more remember losing her in the crowd.

I pushed and shoved through this vast sea of animated bodies to get through to my destination. At last once there, and after showing my ticket to the officials, I was treated with new found respect and escorted to the near front. My seat was only a few rows behind the impressive congregation of VIPs. Sister Benedicta’s friend, I thought, must have been somebody quite important to have been reserved a spot this close to the historic proceedings. Whose place did I take? There in the company of cardinals and bishops, and of politicians and celebrities, sitting inside an architectural wonder of Renaissance ingenuity (the breath-taking art of the great masters alone was enough to strike you dumb), I felt my chest puff up and my head begin to spin. The pomp and ceremony elevated to an undreamed-of degree intoxicated my senses. Not far, there immediately before us, the Papal Altar where the ancient tomb of Saint Peter lies directly below. One moment I wanted it all and knew that I could make it happen. A few minutes later I was sickened by these thoughts and realized that such high-places would never be for me. The truth? I was possessed with too much ‘bad’ pride and I would need to fight against it for the remainder of my life. At first chance when such opportunities might again present themselves, I would have to uproot. And flee quickly into the darkness in search of the ‘compensation’. “Oh, dear Jesus and Mother of God, what will become of me?”

[1] Meyendorff, J. The Orthodox Church, (Saint Vladimir’s Seminary Press, New York 1981), ch. 3, 39-60.

[2] Siecienski, A.E. The Filioque: History of a Doctrinal Controversy, (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2010).