- May 21, 2015
- 3,652
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- United Kingdom
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- Eastern Orthodox
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- Celibate
As many of you may know, I was once Orthodox.
It was a wonderful existence where I felt at peace not only with myself but with my neighbours (figuratively speaking). Slow to anger, and with a desire to achieve ever greater depths of holiness, I felt that all was going well.
My catechesis tutor and later god-father was wonderful, but this rosy picture was soon to end.
The university I worked at made changes to its organisation and as a result I lost my god-father.
I carried on regardless.
My personal interests in the western rite caused me to come into contact with a priest. This is where things get shocking. After an evening's company I became too ill to travel home and so had to stay the night. I had stayed at preists houses before and thought nothing of it, but not that night. I hope you are able to fill in the blanks as it would pain me to express in detail what happened.
My world view was shattered.
I considered this man to be holy, nay an exemplar of the faith. Indeed he is in many ways and perhaps he fell into a moment of weakness at my expense, but it was the motivator for my gradual leaving from the church.
I was told that love is the most crucial thing and furthermore, that I should not be afraid to be gay. This confused me immensely and had massive effect upon how I was to view things.
Anyway, I tried to ignore it and would continue going to my parish at university. The thoughts would keep returning.
Not just the liberalism of being gay (which really isn't something I considered before), but memories of the abuse.
I began to grow weary and sort of slipped out of the church.
It has always been clear to me that God had desired for me to be a priest, but after feeling so confused, I didn't think it would be right for me to consider it.
I would start attending the university chapel, which was Anglican. I was able to forget about things and to concentrate on faith.
I took myself to Oxford for a short break and stayed in one of the Anglican theological colleges there (cheap rooms in a very expensive city). Whilst I was there they were having an open day.
I attended evening prayer, and not really knowing what to do, I followed what the others were doing. There was an elaborate ritual at the end of evening prayer where the priest vested and did a lot of genuflecting (till this point I had not come across Anglo-Catholicism of this very high/Romanistic variety). Inclining my neck the pipe organ played a fanfare whilst bells rang. I felt a cold fire fill me and was saturated with the certainty that I was to be Anglican.
Fast forward a few years.
Met the same priest again, same mistake.
Met another priest (Anglican...turns out to be friends with the Orthodox one), made what in hindsight was a narrow escape. I left the house in a hurry for the last bus but minutes after arriving home I was unconscious. I can assure you it is not mere alcohol, I could drink like any other student on campus.
fast forward.
I "discern" a vocation to the ordained ministry of the Church of England.
+1yr of misery as I get entangled in the huge amount of partisan politics of the CofE without any sign that anyone is particularly interested in helping me.
present day.
I was going to Greek class at the local Orthodox church and met a lady who discussed with me my journey (I skipped out the shocking stuff in this post).
I felt, from her, a sense of contentment and peace which I had known myself only a few years ago.
I knew that I was ready to return and yet, I learn that it is necessary for re-chrismation for apostates.
If it were not for the re-chrismation, I would seriously consider it. But as it is, I am filled with a huge amount of sadness and woe which causes me only to feel offense toward the Orthodox church.
This thread is quite silly and I am more than a trifle foolish sharing these things with you.
I at least feel more certainty if I stay where I am. I know that the Orthodox (on paper) believe that the Holy Spirit departs from a person when they become apostate. I trust that I have experience to the contrary, lest I would surely have gone mad.
It seems to me that the harsh rules concerning apostasy are more aimed at keeping people in [through fear] than welcoming those who fell out.
I trust in the love and mercy of God, but there is something profoundly distressing I find about re-confirmation.
It is 5am here in the UK and I am not in the least bit tired. Even if I tried to sleep, this is going to play on my mind which makes sleep impossible and nightmares certain.
It was a wonderful existence where I felt at peace not only with myself but with my neighbours (figuratively speaking). Slow to anger, and with a desire to achieve ever greater depths of holiness, I felt that all was going well.
My catechesis tutor and later god-father was wonderful, but this rosy picture was soon to end.
The university I worked at made changes to its organisation and as a result I lost my god-father.
I carried on regardless.
My personal interests in the western rite caused me to come into contact with a priest. This is where things get shocking. After an evening's company I became too ill to travel home and so had to stay the night. I had stayed at preists houses before and thought nothing of it, but not that night. I hope you are able to fill in the blanks as it would pain me to express in detail what happened.
My world view was shattered.
I considered this man to be holy, nay an exemplar of the faith. Indeed he is in many ways and perhaps he fell into a moment of weakness at my expense, but it was the motivator for my gradual leaving from the church.
I was told that love is the most crucial thing and furthermore, that I should not be afraid to be gay. This confused me immensely and had massive effect upon how I was to view things.
Anyway, I tried to ignore it and would continue going to my parish at university. The thoughts would keep returning.
Not just the liberalism of being gay (which really isn't something I considered before), but memories of the abuse.
I began to grow weary and sort of slipped out of the church.
It has always been clear to me that God had desired for me to be a priest, but after feeling so confused, I didn't think it would be right for me to consider it.
I would start attending the university chapel, which was Anglican. I was able to forget about things and to concentrate on faith.
I took myself to Oxford for a short break and stayed in one of the Anglican theological colleges there (cheap rooms in a very expensive city). Whilst I was there they were having an open day.
I attended evening prayer, and not really knowing what to do, I followed what the others were doing. There was an elaborate ritual at the end of evening prayer where the priest vested and did a lot of genuflecting (till this point I had not come across Anglo-Catholicism of this very high/Romanistic variety). Inclining my neck the pipe organ played a fanfare whilst bells rang. I felt a cold fire fill me and was saturated with the certainty that I was to be Anglican.
Fast forward a few years.
Met the same priest again, same mistake.
Met another priest (Anglican...turns out to be friends with the Orthodox one), made what in hindsight was a narrow escape. I left the house in a hurry for the last bus but minutes after arriving home I was unconscious. I can assure you it is not mere alcohol, I could drink like any other student on campus.
fast forward.
I "discern" a vocation to the ordained ministry of the Church of England.
+1yr of misery as I get entangled in the huge amount of partisan politics of the CofE without any sign that anyone is particularly interested in helping me.
present day.
I was going to Greek class at the local Orthodox church and met a lady who discussed with me my journey (I skipped out the shocking stuff in this post).
I felt, from her, a sense of contentment and peace which I had known myself only a few years ago.
I knew that I was ready to return and yet, I learn that it is necessary for re-chrismation for apostates.
If it were not for the re-chrismation, I would seriously consider it. But as it is, I am filled with a huge amount of sadness and woe which causes me only to feel offense toward the Orthodox church.
This thread is quite silly and I am more than a trifle foolish sharing these things with you.
I at least feel more certainty if I stay where I am. I know that the Orthodox (on paper) believe that the Holy Spirit departs from a person when they become apostate. I trust that I have experience to the contrary, lest I would surely have gone mad.
It seems to me that the harsh rules concerning apostasy are more aimed at keeping people in [through fear] than welcoming those who fell out.
I trust in the love and mercy of God, but there is something profoundly distressing I find about re-confirmation.
It is 5am here in the UK and I am not in the least bit tired. Even if I tried to sleep, this is going to play on my mind which makes sleep impossible and nightmares certain.