Nuns follow ancient ways in modern Stanwood

STANWOOD — At the end of a dead-end street on the edge of Stanwood city limits, past herds of sleeping cattle, down a long gravel driveway, there is a place people go to find God.

The ranch-style home is Jamestown blue, painted in August by the women who live there. In the summer, yellow sunflowers in a garden out front reach toward the heavens. In winter, fog thick as cotton isolates the home, obscuring the view of the gray slanted roofs of a nearby housing development.

From the outside, the house looks ordinary.

Inside, little does.

An ornate carved wooden iconostasis, imported in five pieces from Greece, fills the entire length of a wall. An offering of olive oil burns in a candilis suspended from the ceiling. Two-dimensional gold-leaf paintings of saints hang on nearly every wall in the house.

Four women in identical black habits live, work and pray here.

The Orthodox Christian nuns hold daily services in a chapel inside their home. They sleep in sparsely furnished cells and, in a workshop they built beside their house, pour and sell the candles that fill the Convent of the Meeting of the Lord with a sweet, honey aroma.

Living in a modern world, they follow ancient traditions.

They fast and feast according to the Julian biblical calendar. They chant centuries’ old prayers and always wear the long, black cassocks Orthodox nuns have worn for more than 1,000 years.

“When you become monastic, you really put the world behind you,” said Mother Thecla, the abbess.

Every day begins with prayer.

Mothers Thecla, 46, Mary, 53, and Evdokia, 40, and Sister Mariam, 21, stand together in the chapel, chanting psalms. They sing quickly, without outward emotion. Four mouths move in unison. Words tumble into each other and blend together.

“Lord of Mercy. LordofMercy. lordofmercy. “

Candles burn.

It is for this — prayer — that the women gave up television, the possibility of marriage and children, and the freedom to spend vacations or holidays with their families.

Prayer is their purpose.

And yet, to live today, they need money. So after the service, they work.

Sister Mariam creates a forest with beeswax turtles, bears and trees on a shelf in the gift shop. Mother Evdokia hangs baroque lanterns in a window. Mother Thecla digs a box of red-and-green mosaic candleholders out of the attic.

They make about 40,000 beeswax tea light candles a year, plus thousands of votives. Sales are on the rise, but candle profits aren’t enough to pay the bills. So they sell gifts from local craftsmen and vendors and receive donations from time to time.

They travel to the gift center in Seattle to meet with sales representatives and buy products that feel natural to them.

“We like things that are what they are — that aren’t trying to be something else,” Mother Evdokia said, arranging a display of candle holders.

Although the nuns scorn television, fiction books and newspapers, they share a cell phone and operate their own Web page to sell their Quiet Light Candles.

Mealtime sacred

A bell rings outside the convent a little before noon. The lunch that Mother Mary has been preparing is almost ready.

Life slows.

Another bell.

The nuns leave the gift shop and walk through the chilly November air to the kitchen.

Four rassas, floor-length black cloaks with sleeves, hang on pegs.

Silently, each sister slips one on, as if preparing for church.

Meals are holy at the convent.

The sisters refer to mealtime as “trapeza,” an ancient Greek word for table.

They pray.

Together they sit.

At the head of the table, Mother Thecla picks up a book about Archbishop Auxentius and reads aloud. He protested a Greek order to follow the Papal calendar.

“The monks of Holy Transfiguration Monastery lived a hard and aesthetic life,” she says.

As she reads, the others eat tofu and broccoli. They don’t eat meat except on feast days, when they are allowed only fish.

Around them, icons watch. The paintings of saints — Herman of Alaska, Catherine, the martyrs of Armenia — help the sisters connect with the past and focus on God.

To practice discipline during meals, they are usually only allowed to drink after Mother Thecla rings a bell.

Men who visit the convent to assist with services or help with projects always dine apart, in a room near the chapel. Women visitors must put on skirts and cover their heads.

Orthodoxy hasn’t changed much in the centuries since it formed. That’s the point. Believers take their cues from the Bible and from previous generations of Orthodox Christians.

Male clergy don’t cut their hair or shave their beards because Old Testament scriptures warn against the practice.

Orthodox nuns cover themselves completely, except for their hands and the moon of their face, out of modesty and tradition.

“We are not in step with the time,” Father Panteleimon, a Boston-based priest preached during the convent’s feast day service last February. “It is not necessary to be in step with the times. What is in fashion today will not be tomorrow.