It's Divine Tradition

Detail of the dome

As you enter

The faith I was raised in, Serbian Orthodox, you probably call Greek Orthodox or Russian Orthodox; they were so designated because back in the 11th century the Eastern Orthodox Church decided to use instead of Latin the local language of the people. We like color, brocade, gold, silver, ikons, incense, candles, stained glass, and lots of faces looking in at us from the next world -- that's what ikons are, windows into the spiritual world -- and that's why their artists fast and pray and paint them only when divinely inspired, and never sign their names. For these reasons we don't do mosaics.

St. Sava Serbian Orthodox Church in Phoenix hired three traditional-style painters from Serbia who worked on the walls and domed ceilings for several weeks at a cost of $130,000 to turn the church into a spiritual experience, and add notes in Cyrillic (and English, where it fit) so you know which of the hundreds of saints you're looking at. The effect is both riotous and harmonious, and the figures, larger-than-life-sized, are detailed down to the toenails; marvelous to see. This is my parents' parish. The liturgy is in Serbian, but the most important prayers and the sermon are repeated in English, for a service lasting two hours, which I spent gazing and marveling at the artwork (see, in the picture at right, the rainbow ring surrounding Jesus). How they made all these scenes and portraits fit, and how they even started to design it, is just about incomprehensible.

A Baby Bird Was Born

Probably a sparrow's egg. Found it on a walk along Doc Sargent Road, brought it home because it was so beautiful. Also inspirational.

Prayer in Reverse

I practice prayer in reverse: God speaks to me. I have to go somewhere very quiet and ask if he has anything to tell me. I started this late in life and don’t do it often.

I sit still and listen. Sometimes there’s no message. Over the past 12 years I have received three messages:

“Your heart is full of hatred.” (At the time I was locked in a bitter, unspoken battle with two others. The statement was so unexpected and piercing that I burst into tears. Then I had some realizations and got the poison out of my life.)

“The mistakes are okay.” (That message was about four years ago.)

“Pleasure.” (This was last year. I had asked, “What is your will for me?” God continued, not in words, but in his other language, which circulates through the body like blood: “Look around you. Look up at the sun and trees. It’s all beautiful and green. I didn’t make all this for you people to cry and suffer in. I made it for your pleasure.”