Funny Things Happen on the way to Phronema*

Subdeacon Andrew was a joy. He’d served for over 40 years as a Deacon in the Episcopal Church before converting to Orthodoxy back in 1996. By the time he was ordered a Subdeacon, he was nearly 80. This, coupled with his childlike nature — no guile at all — made for some delightfully erroneous moments in the altar.

Once, while I was outside the Holy Doors preparing to chant a litany, the Subdeacon came out of the northside Angel Door and stood by me. Thinking he was going to ask me a question or tell me something important, I paid him no mind. The Psalms being ended by the chanters, I commenced the great litany of Matins. After about 4 petitions I looked over at him, still standing by my side, and raised my eyebrows. He smiled and went back to happily staring at the icons on the iconostasis. While the chanters replied to one of the petitions, I leaned over and said, “What are you doing here?” He turned, draped his arms around my neck, hugged me, and said with a big smile, “I don’t know!” We laughed. He retired to the altar.

One Sunday, I’d gotten up early and realized we had no bread for oblation. My long suffering wife arose and made the bread just in time for Matins. While I was puttering around making sure all the preparations for Liturgy were in order, I noticed the Subdeacon cutting up the holy bread (Antidoron) for distribution to the faithful. Yet, about every fifth piece was being popped into his mouth …

“Are you going to receive Communion today?” I asked.

“Plannin’ to,” he mumbled as he chewed.

“Then stop eating up all the holy bread!”

He honestly had not realized what he was doing! He looked a bit embarrassed and said, “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. But it smells so good!”

My favorite story happened one night following Vespers. We had a new family in the church whose beloved Mother/Grandmother had died the year previous. The daughter, a grown woman with grandchildren of her own, wanted us to serve a Panakhida (memorial service). The whole family was gathered, the family Matriarch was crying. The choir began …

Subdeacon Andrew came out and stood by me, beside the memorial table. When it was about time for the censer, I went to receive it from him … he was empty-handed. I said, “Go get me the censer.” Into the altar he went. The choir was singing beautifully …

He exited the altar and handed me the censer. I went to bless the incense … there wasn’t even charcoal inside.

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

I whispered, “There’s no charcoal.” Back into the altar went the Subdeacon. He quickly returned, handing me the censer …

You guessed it. There was charcoal … but no incense!

It dawned on him about the time I was trembling. Back he went …

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

Quickly the aged and beloved Subdeacon reappeared with a censer and lighted charcoal. But, alas, the incense had fallen off the target and wasn’t smoking. Here’s where I took charge. Sometimes, it’s possible to tap the base of the censer on the floor — causing the incense to pop up onto, at least more closer to, the charcoal. This I did.

At precisely the moment of impact, one of the chains on the censer broke, the contents of the censer (that would be, most importantly, a burning coal) spilled out onto the carpet.

Meanwhile the Matriach’s crying, the choir is singing …

Book in one hand, broken censer in the other; I looked toward the Subdeacon, in split-seconds now become eternity, and he resembled a Major League Ump with hands on knees staring down at the smoldering scene as if to see just what would become of it. I stage-whispered, “Pick it up!”

(Now, really. Who wants to pick up a burning piece of charcoal?)

By the time he said, “Wha …” I’d picked it up, burned my fingers and put it in the censer. I grabbed the broken section of chain and did my best to cense the table in the normal fashion.

All in all, I don’t think the grieving family ever noticed.

However, when it was all sung and done, I was beside myself.

We had an old friend staying with us as a house guest. By the time I made it next door to the Rectory, I was slightly disturbed. I flung myself down into a chair and opined: “Is this my last day on earth?!”

To which he replied: “No … that was yesterday!”

* Phronema is a Greek term that is used in Eastern Orthodox theology to refer to mindset or outlook; it is the Orthodox mind. The attaining of phronema is a matter of practicing the correct faith (orthodoxia) in the correct manner (orthopraxia). Attaining phronema is regarded as the first step toward theosis, the state of glorification.
Source

Subdeacon Andrew, aka “Fr Douglas,” served the Lord in the Episcopal Church for over 40 years and the Orthodox Church for 33 months. May his memory be eternal!