is a small church in rural Wisconsin, the oldest Orthodox parish in the state and if no one told you where it was you’d probably not find it. Still there was a joy there this morning, the joy of people who come from miles away to worship and keep this venerable parish alive.
Yes, there are fancy parishes all over the large cities, parishes with every convenience. Yet, in Huron, Wisconsin, truly a wide spot in the road, it costs something to attend liturgy. Mileage, time, convenience. it all adds up. The people who were there this morning had to want to be there. God knows the reasons but there was effort involved.
I think God remembers such things and perhaps one day this tiny parish will flourish again, so full of people, as one of the regulars said, that they worried about the choir loft collapsing under their weight. Until that day the bell rings, everyone who can tries to sing, and God is glorified in this little temple where the farms start to give way to the northern forests.
May all the good that comes from God be with them. I hope to be back some day.