AS IN HER HANDS, RECONCILATES THE SPANIARDS AND BRINGS PEACE TO UKRAINE. I understand that in this monastery, which was actually a cathedral or Orthodox sanctuary, masses were said in Greek and the entire canon was sung according to the Byzantine rite, facing the Gate of Donations or the iconostasis. Services were held at dawn and lasted longer than today. They lasted almost two hours, as the song by Mio Cid recalls.
Byzantine Rite of Saint Christine of Lensk, Church near Paradise
January 23, 2025 - Antonio Parra Galindo (Cuideru)
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The Passion of Saint Christine of Lensk
It is a mystery and I do not know why I am drawn to these mountains. Could it be that in Pola Lena I won a prize for a short story "ex aequo" with Evaristo Casariego's daughter, a beautiful brunette who looked like the woman who later, after so many twists and turns, became my wife? The Plan of the Gods. I believe in the Latin "fatum", the German "schiskal" and the Russian "sudba". Our destiny is written in the stars, and an earthly force drew me to these northern lands, the center of Mozarabic Christianity, of which I am the herald and preacher. The last time, already an old man and with a stick in my hand, I climbed the hill that leads to the hermitage; let's assume that it is a pre-Romanesque cathedral consecrated by an Arian bishop. The first time I sat in my newly purchased Seat Seiscientos on vacation was when I was 25 years old and I tasted the best cider from the cider mill that flowed from the barrels of the cellar in the town of Pajares, in the department of Tramontana. And there it was, after so many years, like a mystery in the middle of paradise. I sang the Nicene Creed in Latin and the caretaker, a very kind woman, asked me: "Are you a priest?"
And MJ said: "Yeah, but he got away with it."
The lady replied: "Just like me. This church is carried on a portable altar.
Everything went as before, with long Latin masses and beautiful Gregorian chants. You said it.
Let's not forget that the church is two thousand years old, but at the entrance to the iconostasis there is an episcopal altar, consecrated by Bishop Donato on the feast of the Apostle Peter. A side staircase leads to the Holy of Holies, which must have been draped with golden curtains; behind it was the choir.
The temple is small and cozy, an ideal place for singing and praying. Let the light shine through the windows and multi-paned openings.
There is no sacristy in Byzantine churches. The prelate dresses with the faithful, and a light breeze blows into the room through the open door. The rustling of chestnut and birch leaves swaying in the wind, the bleating of sheep, the mooing of goats, a farmer driving his cart to work and crossing himself.
May Saint Christina of Lensk help us.
Will there be a miraculous revival of the SRI, which has remained inactive in the face of such a crisis?
Will our faith be revived, as is the case in Russia?
I want to hear the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles sung in these narrow walls by the voices of the deacons (an outstanding baritone and tenor).
Just like yesterday in Moscow, the Moldovan Konstantin and the Ukrainian Platonov at the water blessing mass.
A dream that I nourish as my gaze slides over the plain wedged between two mountains where the highway passes.
Goodbye, Paula Lena, see you later
