February 2009
Beloved Brothers and Sisters,
In November we conducted the first “Orthodox Institute Ontario.” We have now offered mini-Institutes in almost all dioceses. With attendance at 47, this was the largest of the mini-Institutes to date.
During the last four months of 2008, my life revolved around my father. I was privileged to see the working out of a “Christian ending to our lives.” Each person’s life is a sacred story. At our last Orthodox Institute the theme was “Faith Through Stories” — in the sharing of stories, our faith is nurtured. And so I share this story of my father’s “journey home,” and ponder some questions along the way.
We are at the start of another journey now — Lent, and then Holy Week, and fi nally Pascha. It is this larger story that gives meaning to all of our lives, and reason for telling my father’s story. Think about your own life, and the times when your faith was enriched. Perhaps there will be a time when you need to share that story with a friend, or with your students. May you have a fruitful Lenten journey!
Carole Buleza
Director
First “Orthodox Institute Ontario”
The Orthodox Institute Ontario Training Session held at St. Elias Cathedral in Ottawa from November 14th to 15th, 2008, offered the courses Teacher Training I, Teacher Training II, and the special theme for 2008, “The Divine Liturgy.” His Grace, Bishop Alexander, gave his blessing on the event and was the keynote speaker.
The 47 registrants came from St. George Church (Montreal), St. Ignatius Mission (St. Catherines), St. Mary’s Church (Montreal), St. Mary’s Church (Mississauga), Dormition of the Theotokos Greek Orthodox Church (Ottawa) and the teachers and Superintendent from St. Elias Cathedral.
The Department of Christian Education newsletter is published in the months of September, December, February, and April.
The offi ce is staffed from 9:00-3:00 Monday through Wednesday. Phone (717) 747-5221. FAX (717) 747-5832. E-mail: DCE@antiochian.org.
Web page: www.antiochian.org/christianeducation
The Department gratefully acknowledges the ongoing support of The Order of St. Ignatius which helps fund the programs we offer.
Orthodox Institute Ontario
Our beloved Parish Priest, the Very Reverend Father Ghattas Hajal, introduced His Grace, Bishop
ALEXANDER, as the keynote speaker on Friday evening. The title of the address was: “Are you at …
or in … the Divine Liturgy?”
We started with a light breakfast, and then the classes began. During the Divine Liturgy course, Father Ghattas explained the symbolism of each piece of his vestment, and showed how they were worn. He also showed the group how he prepares for Communion and explained the various steps in the preparation.
Delicious lunchon and supper meals were offered, and we thank those who provided for us. We concluded the day with Vespers at 6:00 p.m.
The course instructors, Myra Kovalak, Alan Sanger, and Linda Funk, did a wonderful job and are truly dedicated to their calling! All the participants had nothing but high praise for the instructors. May God continue to bestow his blessings upon them.
We eagerly look forward to hosting another Session in the near future!
Joann Nicholson, Superintendent
The Homecoming
Carole Buleza
Autumn is considered a quieter season, a time for refl ection. Indeed, it was for me this past year. In September my father came down with aspiration pneumonia, which put him in the hospital for a week. After that, he was admitted to a rehabilitation hospital. Several weeks later he took up residence in a skilled nursing facility. We wondered if this was the beginning of the end.
All his life my father was outgoing; he had a few words for everyone he came across. He chose not to be concerned about himself, but to make life good for those around him. He often made people smile or laugh with the jokes he told. “What’s new today?” he would say to a nurse, and then ask about their children or follow up on a previous conversation. Dad would sometimes greet the nurses with a line or two from an old song. He made each nurse feel special, as if they’d made his day. In so doing, he made their day. Each week Parkinson’s disease took over more of his body; by December he could not walk at all. During his daily “rounds” of the ward, he reached out to touch other residents as his wheelchair passed by them. He would have loved to have said a few words in passing, but could no longer speak audibly. The other residents began to reach out and touch him when they saw he was coming.
Just before being taken to the hospital in September, he told me about a dream he’d just had. “I dreamt about your mother last night. We sure had some good times together.” I was caught off guard when he shared his dream — first, he never remembered what he dreamt about, and second, he hadn’t spoken of my mother, who died in 1973, for many, many years. This was the first of four signifi cant dreams or visions leading up to his passing. The fourth occurred about a week before his death, at a time when he seemed fully awake. As I entered the room that day I said, “So, how are you doing?” “Fine,” he replied, “except I keep hearing a voice over and over again.” He seemed mildly impatient with the voice. Thinking it was someone on the P.A. system, I asked what the voice was saying. He told me that the voice was gently saying, “I’m waiting for you.”
Late in December, during another bout with pneumonia, my father fi nally realized there was something we weren’t telling him. He demanded to know his condition. How do you tell someone they are soon to die? I gathered two priests, the doctor, and my family with whom he had lived for the last 17 years. I reminded him of the dreams, and interpreted them for him. The doctor then explained his medical condition. Dad seemed unfazed.
Finally I said, “You only have a few days left, Dad, do you understand that? Are you ready to die?” He calmly replied, “I’m ready.” I thought to myself that God had answered the prayer for a “Christian ending to our life, painless, blameless, peaceful; and a good defense before the dread Judgment Seat of Christ.”
My father wanted very little those last days. He still asked to be wheeled up and down the hallway. Then, on the second day after our gathering at his bedside, he rallied. His voice became stronger and he was awake for most of the day — it was as if a ray of sunshine had touched him. The hospice nurse told me that in the process of dying, it is not unusual for a person to rally just before the end. The rally lasted one day. I had seen this one other time in my life, in the imminent death of a little child at our church. I wondered, and still do, whether this is a way God prepares the person for the Kingdom, or whether this is God showing us that there is life — healed and made whole — after death.
On the fourth day after the gathering, Saturday, my father was “sleeping loudly”; we could not rouse him. My husband spent the evening reading the Psalms to him. When I began my shift, I continued reading the Psalms, and, as he was Catholic, I prayed the Rosary while holding his hand. Once, I lost my place and as I paused to fi gure it out, I felt him softly squeeze my hand twice, as if to say, “Get on with it.”
The nurse kept checking on Dad that night. When the signs indicated that the time was very near, she urged me to tell him it was okay to leave us. So, I did. I began by recalling his dreams to him. Then I named all the loved ones who were waiting for him. Could he see them? I recalled to him that in heaven there is no sickness, sorrow, or sighing, that it is a place of brightness, verdure and repose. I asked him if he saw the light. I tried to picture it myself as I spoke the words to him. “Dad, it’s time to cross over to the glorious Kingdom of God.”
He died soon after Saturday became Sunday. As the nurse checked for a pulse I did not cry. It was very peaceful.
* * *
I wish I could have kept vigil at my mother’s hospital bedside, to help her cross over. My father and I arrived about an hour after she had died. My dad was talking to the doctor, and a nurse asked if I wanted to see her. She opened the door to her room and I walked in.
I suppose it would have been appropriate to cry then. I did not cry — I did not even have a chance to — as my mind was riveted to two immediate realities. First, I was the only “living being” in the room; my mother’s body was not equal to her life. Second, I knew, beyond a doubt, that her life had not ended, not dissipated, not vanished. The energy and spirit of my mother lived on somewhere. My belief in the Resurrection became real that day — because of Jesus’ death and Resurrection, I would see my mother again!
And so, as I stood at my father’s bedside, I revisited those realities, and I was peaceful. His life had not ended. I would see him again.
In a few days we would bury my father. I’d been working to have my mother’s remains brought to Pennsylvania from California so that she could be buried here and her grave could be blessed at my father’s funeral. I was exchanging fi nal paperwork with the cemetery in California when Dad died. I realized my plan wouldn’t work. What I did not know was that God had another plan — the casket would arrive in a few days and they would be buried together.
Another event that had left me wondering occurred the day before the viewing. Typically, this is the day when a family member comes to the funeral home to see the deceased and make sure everything is correct. I did so. I then asked, out of curiosity, where my mother’s casket was. They asked if I wanted it brought in. I said okay, and was pleased to see that the new casket looked very nice. I placed my hand on it and thought how this was such an unusual circumstance. I looked over to my father, and realized that all three of us were in the same room, together again after 35 years. I felt like I was being carried back in time, one memory tumbling over another. I was a child again with my parents, loved and at peace. I had found “home” again, and I wanted to stay forever. It was an amazing experience. That room is now a special place in my heart.
In the several days that followed, I tried to fi gure out why the time with my parents was so powerful. Maybe my experience was a “foretaste” of the wonderful homecoming we will have with those who bid us to “cross over” when our time has come. And perhaps it will be a foretaste of the love and happiness into which we will be immersed when we are welcomed into our eternal home by our Lord and Savior.
Memory eternal, Michael and Anna!