Final COA

The night before the campers were going to arrive, as we were setting up our cabins, we were told to put on flip-flops and head to the chapel. I walked over there with my friends expecting just another informational talk, but when I looked into the dark, eerie, moonlit chapel, I knew that they had something different in store for us…

            Ever since I was nine years old, I have gone to an Orthodox Christian summer camp called Camp St. Raphael. It is a weeklong, overnight camp in Wagoner, Oklahoma, about an hour away from Tulsa. I always know I’m almost to camp when we hit the dangerously narrow, windy, dirt road that makes me feel like I’m going to die. After, by the grace of God, we get past that final turn, we immediately see a huge sign that says “WELCOME TO CAMP TAKATOKA” (the camp grounds that we rent). The staff anxiously awaits our arrival, cheering, laughing, and waving. Immediately when I walk off the bus, I am completely overwhelmed with joy. I see the beautiful glistening lake, the big, piney trees, the excitement in everyone’s eyes, and, most importantly, I get to see all of my friends, some of whom I haven’t gotten to see since last summer at camp!

Ever since the very first time I went to camp, it has undoubtedly been my favorite place on earth. When I was younger, it was just a chance to get out of town, play sports, have fun, make new friends, and, mostly, be away from my parents. One thing I loved about camp was I felt completely normal there—all of the kids were raised similarly to me, with a “strange” faith and “weird” parents, most of whom were very strict, Middle Eastern parents like mine. Although I loved camp and enjoyed every second of my time there, I never really cared much for the educational facet. At that age I did not enjoy our Christian education classes, going to church every morning and evening, or even thinking about anything serious. Once I hit my junior year (late, I know), however, things began to change for me.

            I began finding interest in learning about the faith that I had always said I “believed.” I started listening and paying attention to the words of the services and literally fell in love with being in that hot, bug-infested, crumbling camp chapel. I began building relationships with people in ways that I never had before. They were not only based on fun, as before, but now I looked to my friends as people to grow with and learn from, never forgetting to let loose and have fun, of course. The biggest thing I gained from going to camp, I think, would be meeting such great role models. As my interest in the faith grew, I began seeking advice from my counselors, not only learning from what they said, but also by watching how they lived their lives. Many of my counselors from camp are still “counselors” in my life right now. Kouri, my counselor from my junior year of high school, is still one of my most influential role models. Ever since I came home from camp the summer I met her, I said, “When I grow up I want to be just like Kouri,” and I still say that today. Probably the biggest role model that I had through camp, though, was Fr. James, our camp priest.

            Fr. James is the kindest, funniest, most loving and caring man I have ever known. He may be small in size and young in age, but he is abundant in wisdom. His smile stretches from ear to ear and is infectious to all who ever meet him. Fr. James began at my church as the youth director eleven years ago, so I have known him a long time. We started out having a very surface-level relationship—he was really fun and funny and I was just an immature kid who only cared about fun. As I began going to his Bible study when I was older, though, I started to realize just how great of a teacher he is. Fr. James can take the most difficult passages from the scripture and not only make them perfectly clear to us, but he also helps us apply them to our lives. The best thing about Fr. James, though, is that he doesn’t just preach the word, he truly lives it. He is always there for anyone, no matter what they need, he is a great listener, teacher, and, most importantly, a great friend. He never forces faith on anyone, but constantly makes people want to further their faith, just by watching how he lives. He is honestly the most loving, faithful, and humble man I know and his impact on my life has been unbelievable.

This may all seem irrelevant to my “coming of age” moment, but don’t worry, I’ll get there. The summer after I graduated high school, I applied to be a counselor at Camp St. Raphael and got accepted. I was so excited to get the opportunity to come back to camp again and do something different this time. Camp St. Raphael had given me so much and it only seemed fair for me to give that same experience to other kids. When I thought about being a counselor, however, I only really thought of the “fun” parts—teaching Christian Ed (fun for nerds like myself), hanging out with the kids, getting to know the rest of the staff, and just getting to be goofy, while it is totally acceptable. It practically slipped my mind the importance that the role of a counselor can be until I went to staff training.

I followed the returning staff members into the dark chapel, lit by only the light from the moon and stars, seen through the panel windows at the front. We all silently sat on the two long black benches, facing each other, with an aisle in the middle. Everyone entered reverently and silently sat, praying, so I just followed along. As I sat there, I wondered what could be going on- I am not very good with surprises so it was a struggle for me just to sit there. I tried to pray and think but thoughts of anxiety and confusion kept interrupting. A few minutes later, Father James walked out form behind the altar and told us that he was going to wash our feet with holy water just as Jesus did to his disciples to make us clean and prepare us to make a clear path for our campers.

At first, this thought was very weird to me. I was confused and more nervous for the process than anything else; I was the last one on the last bench, though, so I had time to watch and learn. As I watched, I saw Father James get on his knees, pour holy water on the people’s bare feet, and then proceed to kiss their feet. For each person whom he cleansed, their reaction was different—some people seemed indifferent while others’ reactions were more deeply felt and emotional. Once I watched Fr. James do this a few times and the process finally sunk in, it hit me. This was a huge deal- a “pivotal moment,” so to speak.

Fr. James was washing our feet just as Jesus washed the feet of His disciples at the last supper, before His crucifixion. Jesus did this, not only because their feet were dirty from their journey to the last supper, but also, more importantly, to cleanse them of all their past iniquity and make them clean so they could make clear the path to salvation for all Christ’s followers. In the gospel of John, Jesus says, "You call Me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am.  If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.  Most assuredly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. " When Jesus did this, it was an act of pure humility and, although it is on a much smaller scale, that is how I felt when Fr. James cleansed our feet.

Fr. James, the most influential man in my whole life, was on his knees cleansing and kissing our feet….if anything, I should be on the floor kissing HIS feet. He did this out of pure humility and all I could think was how unworthy I was of this cleansing. I did not deserve to have my feet cleansed—and by Fr. James, of all people. Besides the fact that this experience furthered my respect and admiration for Fr. James, it also really marked a change in my life.

By him cleansing me from my past and making me clean to make clear the path for my campers, I had a big responsibility. I had to be a great role model for my campers, just as my counselors still are for me. The turning point for me, however, was that I was, at that moment, transitioning from a camper to counselor…sounds silly, I know, but it really did mean a lot. That was the moment when I realized that I was no longer just the camper who was always asking advice and looking up to people—I had to become the role model, the person people look up to and who gives advice. This realization scared me a lot. I had never really been a “bad” role model, but I never really thought of myself as a role model. I kept thinking about how inspired I was by Kouri when she was my counselor and how much I look up to her and then I realized that, if done right, I could be that for someone else.

As my turn to get my feet cleansed approached, I began getting more anxious. I was overwhelmed with emotions and could not keep my mind from going in so many directions. When Fr. James finally got to me, the last person, I silently began to cry. I was overwhelmed with feelings of unworthiness and fear. I was unworthy of the gift I was receiving and I was especially unworthy of receiving it from Fr. James. I was also overcome with fear- what if I wasn’t a good role model for my campers? What if I lead them astray or give them poor advice? One of my biggest fears is to turn someone away from the faith and that was becoming more and more possible the more people looked up to me. After Fr. James got up from the ground, he gave me an avuncular kiss on the forehead and walked back behind the altar.

When the service was finally done, we all sat in the mysterious chapel, silently, until that first brave person stood up to leave. We all followed by standing, but, rather than leaving immediately, we stood in the church and began to sing hymns of praises to the Lord for this gift that he had just given us. Once Fr. James came out from behind the altar, we all left the church together in silence and walked back to our cabins. Nothing needed to be said; the silence spoke loud enough for all to hear.

For the next hour, I could not stop thinking. As I reflected upon what had just happened, I came to the realization that this service just reiterated for me the importance of living my life like Christ, humbly and lovingly, and that I am a living icon of the Lord. In me, people should see Him and I should see Him in everyone.

This service was a very critical point in my life where I experienced a role change. It was definitely a “coming of age” in the sense that I was no longer just the kid who only admired people, got inspired, and constantly asked questions- I had to become the person that people look up to, the person that inspires, and the person that people feel confident asking advice from. One thing that that I have learned through this process, however, is that just because I have been thrust into the role of “the role model,” that does not by any means mean that I am no longer seeking inspiration and asking questions. Actually, being in this position has even furthered my questioning. I now always look for inspiration in everyone and ask questions, in order to further my knowledge and better myself for others. This “coming of age” moment was just the start of what has become a constant state of striving to improve myself in knowledge, love, passion, and humility.