Feasts & Fasts

St. Kassiani

Russian icon
Modern
Wikimedia Commons

Every year on Tuesday evening of Holy Week the “Hymn of Kassiani” is sung.  The text references the reading for Holy Wednesday morning, the story of a woman who anoints Jesus’ feet with costly ointment, foreshadowing his imminent preparation for burial (Matthew 26:6-16).  The hymn is written by a woman, it is about a woman, and it is traditionally sung by women.  As a woman, I have joined with other women to sing it many times.  Every year, I meet this moment with mixed emotions.  As with many iconic and hymnic references to women, this undeniably beautiful piece highlights the redemption of a particularly sinful woman whose sin is, of course, related to sex.  I say “of course” since if one was to attend carefully to the various references to women in our theological literature, sexual sin seems to be the particular purview of women.  A friend of mine (not Orthodox), with whom I had discussed the ever-bizarre world of “what does one do or not do with one’s significant other while dating,” commented after coming to hear me sing the hymn: “No wonder you have all this angst about dating when every reference to a woman is paired with ‘sin’ and ‘sex.’”  The fairness of her comment about my angst aside, the frequency of this pairing is quite disturbing.

Which is why I was so delighted at the way our priest chose to frame the hymn last night.  You see, St. Kassiani (Sep 7), the woman to whom authorship of this (and many other hymns) is attributed, was not even remotely angst-filled.  Rather, she was bold, cheeky, and quite willing to take on authority.

The Presentation of the Theotokos

Russian icon
16th century
Wikimedia Commons

Today, we were invited to bring our children to the church of God, presenting them much like Joachim and Anna presented the girl Mary.  In her delight at being dedicated to God, Mary ran up the steps of the temple.  Tradition says she danced on the steps before God.  There she was welcomed by her relative, the levite Zacharias who took her into the holy of holies, that sacred space into which the high priest entered only once a year.  A young girl stood in the place where God, according to Jewish practice, stood.

by Irene Dimiris-Papageorgiou
(trans. from Greek)

I stand waiting. I know.
I know God is here. In silence.
Who believes me?
Me, a woman.
A woman waiting. Knowing.
Knowing death is trampled. Christ is risen! I tell them all.

I don't hear their affirmations.
Of God's resurrection. Of my witness.
Of me.

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