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August concluded with some dreary weather, rather like the overcast days I remembered from back home. There were some nice times. At one point, Chuck, Mark and I took a walk around campus, learning where our classrooms were, along with other important locations around town, especially looking for good pizza. During one of the sunnier moments, I took my camera with us on a walk, even enlisted a groundskeeper, to shoot some video of our first days at Penn State. While we took in a movie or two, mostly, the three of us spent our days apart, each of us in our own courses of study. During the week, I took a bus to Syracuse to attend the New York State Fair as was my family's tradition. That done, it was back to Penn State and classes. There, I found a phone message from Father John about where services would be held, and an offer for a ride. I called him back to accept the offer.

"Who was that?" Mark asked as he came in, arms loaded down with some bottles.

"Father John, a priest," I told him. This was a subject that had not come up in any discussions yet; matters of faith. For me, while I'm not ashamed of what I confess, it is a matter between me and God alone. Sorry, but your opinion does not enter into it, and I in turn will respect your privacy as to what you believe. Thanks so much.

"Are you Catholic?" he asked, peering at me with curious eyes.

"Heh, no," I grinned. "I went to a Catholic high school, yeah. And I was practicing for a while, kind of," I explained. "But, well, I came to the conlusion that I'm not Catholic."

"OK," he smiled, carrying his bottles into his bedroom, putting them into the minifridge.

"We're having our first service this coming Saturday," I mentioned. "Would you like to come?" Not sure why I asked, but I did feel weird, in a good kind of way, around Mark.

"I guess," he sighed. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just shrugged it off. "Well, I guess one of those things about the university of far away. I want to see other churches."

"We don't have a church building of our own yet, so," I shrugged myself, sitting down on the sofa, "you could sort of see what we're all about, but you won't really see what it is." I looked at him, "if you can understand that, let me know, because I just confused myself."

He shook his head, offered me a bottle of cola and sat down next to me. "Not a clue!" he laughed. "But maybe you'd like to hear what I wrote?" he offered. He had not done much, but I liked what I heard, asking him to play a few measures over.

"It's pretty good," I smiled. "Thank you. Just one thing: I think the ending should be mourning soft but in a major key to suggest some joy."

"The girl froze to death," he pointed out.

"Yes, but she did get into heaven with her grandmother, right? So a touch of joy to go with the sadness."

He wrinkled his nose, saying with hesitation, "I can try." He went to his room, carrying the keyboard, muttering some nasty words about directors.

---

Father John and his wife met us in the lobby of my dorm. "Mark, this is Father John and Matushka Sophia," I introduced them.

"You're welcome to join us tonight," Father John told Mark. "Are you Orthodox?"

"I don't even know what that is," he replied. "I'm Christian."

"That's good enough I suppose," he chuckled good naturedly. "If you have questions, just ask, but please don't ask during the service itself." Addressing both of us as we got into the car, he added, "I hope you boys won't mind helping out a bit, carrying some supplies in."

We drove across town, and out of town just a little bit to a Lutheran church kind enough to donate a classroom for our use. Some supplies ended up being almost everything that would be needed for the service: a censer, candles, some vestments, and a few icons as well as stands for them. Mark looked at me quizzically, concern in his eyes, probably for my mortal soul.

A few folks showed up. Some, we could tell from how the entered the space were Orthodox; most were Lutherans here to make us feel welcome. Father John asked me to read the opening psalm, and invited all who wished to sing in the choir; his wife directed the choir. After concluding the service, before we left, Father John gave a short sermon of instruction.

"Happy new year," he said. "Some of you may be surprised to hear me wish you a happy new year since it is only September, but this is when the Orthodox Church starts its calendar of feasts and fasts. It is also a new year for all of us here. This is the first year of Orthodox missions to State College, Pennsylvania. This is the first year of college for many students. This is the first time some of you have even heard of the Orthodox Church.

"We want to thank the clergy and laity of Pine Hall Lutheran Church for giving us use of their facilities, a true sign of Christian love. While we very much appreciate your donation, we do not want to be the distant relative who stays long past the holiday season, so we want to let you know we're looking for a permanent home of our own. *general chuckle* During our time here, however, we will be happy to answer any questions you have about our tradition of worship and practice, and about our church. For tonight, I want to leave you with this simple lesson.

"How many times have you heard the phrase 'love the sinner, but hate the sin?' This statement is only half correct. We are to love the sinner because we are instructed by Jesus Christ in the scriptures to love everyone, even our enemies. We are not instructed to hate anyone or anything. Hate is a negative emotion that brings darkness to all who employ it. A better, a more enlightened version of this statement would be: 'Love the sinner, live a Christian life and forgive the sin.'"

---

"You look confused," I teased Mark after we got back to the dorm.

"I've never seen anything like that," he said. "I've seen a Lutheran church before, but not a service like that. Something was missing."

I simply nodded.

"What do you believe anyway?" he asked.

"I don't know if I can explain it all. Really."

"Well, what are the basics?"

"What Father John said."

He started to ask a question, but pushed it aside. "What about movies or dancing?"

"They can be fun entertainment and good exercise?"

He frowned at that.

"I'm not sure what you mean, really. Sorry," I flopped on the sofa.

"Are they sins?"

"No. They are not sins in themselves."

He looked even more confused. "How did you find the orthodox church?"

"It was my mother's church. My dad is Roman Catholic, and when mom and dad married, they decided to do neither and went to the generic services the air force offered. When I was 11, they finally gave up on it and decided that Bill and I should choose for ourselves where to go."

"OK."

"And, when I first saw services, I didn't know. It took a few years attending before I felt ready, and I went to join. But it turns out grandmom already had me baptized and chrismated into the Orthodox church."

We both chuckled at that. "That's cheating," he said.

I shrugged. "Maybe? But I think, once you know what you believe, once you know what is the right way to act, you have to chose it every day."

He nodded. "Want to do breakfast before church tomorrow?"

I shrugged, "Yes, but we fast before communion, so I'll pass. But lunch after?"

"OK. Good night."