The singing of last Sunday's Divine Liturgies, performed by two of our female quartets, was outstanding. Bravo Paula, Kostya and ladies for treating us to such good, prayerful music. If you didn't have a chance to tune in, here are links to the two recordings.
Exclusively women's choirs sing at the Liturgy on the Sunday of the Myrrh-Bearers to underscore the important role of women in the life of Christ and the Church throughout the ages.
Here is a photo of the Slavonic quartet taken after Sunday's Liturgy. Unfortunately , I didn't have time for a photo with English-language quartet.
Yesterday I sent out the latest excerpt from the Russian book "Day by Day", a reflection on the verse “Take up your cross and follow Me” (Matt: 16, 24). Ellie Sutter, our longtime former parishioner and choir member who now lives in Kentucky sent me a poem on the very same subject written by our onetime choir director Natalia Maksimova. Ellie graciously provided an English translation of the this verse. It follows the Russian original. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.
хХх
/Легенда/
Легенда говоритъ, что путникъ шелъ усталый.
Несъ Богомъ данный крестъ. И крестъ давилъ его.
И не хотѢлъ онъ въ жизни больше ничего,
Лишь крестъ громоздкiй свой перемѢнить на малый!
И къ Богу онъ воззвалъ . . И предъ усталымъ взоромъ
Его явилось множество великое крестовъ.
БезцѢнныхъ и простыхъ, всѢхъ видовъ и цвѢтовъ:
Большихъ и маленькихъ, и гладкихъ и съ узоромъ.
И путнику сказалъ Господь: “Возьми, попробуй,
ПримѢрь любой изъ нихъ. И Я тебѢ отдамъ
Тотъ крестъ, который ты себѢ назначишь самъ,
Чтобъ онъ не вызывалъ ни ропота, ни злобы.”
И путникъ съ радостью свой тяжкiй крестъ оставилъ
И началъ примѢрять все множество крестовъ.
Но . . этотъ – тяжелѣй тягчайшихъ былъ оковъ,
Тотъ – рѢзалъ плечи, тотъ – страданья не избавилъ.
И сколько человѢкъ мятежный не пытался
Крестъ новый, крестъ иной найти для силъ своихъ –
Онъ только болѢе и тверже убѢждался,
Что Богомъ данный крестъ былъ легче всѢхъ другихъ.
хХх
/A Legend /
A legend tells of how a weary traveler walked.
He was carrying the cross God had given him. And the cross
weighed on him.
And he wanted nothing more in life,
Than to exchange his bulky cross for a small one!
And he called out to God . . And before his tired gaze
A great abundance of crosses appeared.
Priceless ones and simple ones, of all types and colors:
Large and small, and smooth and patterned.
And the Lord said to the traveler: Take, try,
Try on any one of them. And I will give you
The cross that you assign for yourself,
So that it doesn’t arouse either grumbling or rancor.
And the traveler joyfully left his heavy cross
And began to try on all the many crosses.
But . . this one – was heavier than the heaviest of shackles,
That one – cut into his shoulders, that one – did not relieve his suffering.
And no matter how much the rebellious man tried
To find a new cross, a different cross suited to his strength –
He only became more and more firmly convinced,
That the cross given him by God was lighter than all the others.
