The Saturday of the Akathist Hymn

In the modern Greek tradition, the Akathist Hymn to the Mother of God, thought to the composition of St. Romanos the Melodist is sung in its entirety on the Fifth Saturday of Great Lent (or, in parish practice, at Compline on Friday night).

As we have just come out of the Feast of the Annunciation (at least those of us on the Revised Julian Calendar), this Saturday gives closure to the greatest gift God has given: His Son, born of the Virgin for us and for our salvation, humbled to become that which was lower to elevate us to that which is higher. It is a glorious hymn and it is little wonder that this hymn is often sung in monasteries daily before the noon meal.

A prince of the angels was sent from heaven, to say to the Theotokos, "Hail!" And seeing Thee, O Lord, take bodily form at the sound of his bodiless voice, filled with amazement he stood and cried aloud to her:

Hail, for through thee joy shall shine forth:
Hail, for through thee the curse shall cease.
Hail, recalling of fallen Adam:
Hail, deliverance from the tears of Eve.
Hail, height hard to climb for the thoughts of men:
Hail, depth hard to scan even for the eyes of angels.
Hail, for thou art the throne of the King:
Hail, for thou holdest Him who upholds all.
Hail, star causing the Sun to shine:
Hail, womb of the divine Incarnation.
Hail, for through thee the creation is made new:
Hail, for through thee the Creator becomes a newborn child.
Hail, Bride without bridegroom!--First Oikos

"When God so wishes," said the bodiless angel, "the order of nature is overcome and things beyond man's power come to pass. Believe that my words are true, all-holy Lady, utterly without spot." And she cried aloud, "Let it now be unto me according to thy word and I shall bear Him that is without flesh, who shall borrow flesh from me, that through this union of natures He may lead man up unto his ancient glory, for He alone has power to do so."--Third Sticheron at Psalm 140 of Vespers for the Saturday of the Akathist Hymn

The marvels of the Incarnation are not put forth so profoundly anywhere else. What a perfect hymn as we ever draw closer to our Lord's Passion and Resurrection which was to make man as God.

You're doing Great Compline? Is this a Church or a Monastery?

This evening, before Great Compline began, we were fortunate to have a visitor: the priest from the local Serbian church. He is from the old country and is very tall and imposing. He has a beautiful baritone (I remember when he chanted in Serbian the troparia to St. Nicholas and was just astounded how beautiful it was). And he is a kind man.

Sitting down next to me and a fellow chanter, he asked (though he already knew) if we were going to chant Great Compline. I responded yes. He then retorted, "It's like a monastery." We all chuckled. Now, I know he was joking. We are a simple parish church. I think we may have some future monastics among us and maybe even some who practice a truncated form of monasticism, but a monastery we are not. But, every good joke has an specter of truth behind it.

It seems to be a pretty accurate picture that a great number (not a majority, I think) of Orthodox churches in this country do not, even during Lent, increase the amount of services. Not all churches have the Wednesday Liturgy of the Presanctified. Church services continue as normal on Sundays and Sundays only. Holy Week is a different story. Of course, a lot of this has to do with the fact that there were simply many areas of the United States where immigrants from Greece, Russia, the Levant, Romania, Bulgaria, etc. did not have priests to minister to them. A priest may have been available only once a month or maybe even once a year. Thus, there were fewer services and so the laity came to be accustomed with maybe celebrating one liturgy a month, if that. More services were simply out of the question. And so, that became the standard.

Of course, today, with greater ease of transportation, such problems are mitigated, though many Orthodox communities struggle to have a full time priest especially in more isolated areas of the United States. And even in those communities, only Sunday liturgies are the norm because that's a huge increase from what was available only a generation ago.

Despite that, I find it odd that a church having services outside of Sunday liturgy may be jokingly referred to as a monastery. The hours are not just for monastics. It is impossible for one who lives in the world to set enough time aside to worship and pray as a monastic. So, why should the presence of one of the hours in a parish church warrant this particular label?

I have my theories, none of which I like including that there is a hostility towards monasteries, especially from people who are from the old country. But there are plenty of people from the old countries who enter monasteries here in the New World. Maybe I'm reading too much into one little comment. I was certainly not offended by it, but I always like to find out the origins of things. Or perhaps I'm traveling down a road to nowhere. It would not be the first time!