The Deacon

In Eastern Catholic churches of the Byzantine rite, the “deacon doors” on either side of the iconostasis, if not adorned with depictions of the archangels, often bear images of deacon-saints. At my parish, we have St. Stephen and St. Philip; at other churches I have seen St. Ephrem the Syrian or St. Romanos the Melodist. It is these two saints that strike me — not only do they happen to be deacons, they are also renowned for their poetry and hymnography. This connection makes me wonder if there could be a connection between the diaconate and the arts of poetry and music.

Certainly, deacons do not corner the market on creativity in the arts among the clergy. Think of the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins or the great composer Antonio Vivaldi, both priests. (However, we also remember that all priests were deacons first!) But I do wonder if there is something about the charism of the diaconate that disposes a deacon to create.

The diaconate arose out of a moral need. In Acts 6, the company of the apostles recognized that the Greek-speaking widows needed attention. The first seven deacons were ordained for this purpose — namely, to keep a watchful eye over the needs of the community. Throughout the existence of the diaconate ministry, the deacon has been front and center with the people, gauging their needs and responding to them with prayerful service.

I am no poet, nor musician, but I do believe that closeness to the Lord’s people gives the deacon a unique vantage point and font from which to draw for creative ministry. Both the saints cited above grew up in the midst of a large community. St. Romanos was a monk in sixth-century Constantinople. He originally had no musical talent, but the Mother of God came to him in a dream and gave him a scroll to consume; he obediently ate it and obtained a sweet voice and musical skill. Romanos was ordained a deacon and spent the rest of his ministry teaching sacred music and composing more than 1,000 hymns, about 80 of which still exist today.

St. Ephrem the Syrian grew up in Nisibis — present-day Nusaybin, Turkey — in the fourth century and was mentored by St. James, the first bishop of Nisibis. His bishop appointed him a catechetical teacher and ordained him a deacon. He began to write hymns and biblical commentaries as part of his teaching office. His writings, which are esteemed by Eastern Catholic and Orthodox to this day, give us a glimpse into the Syriac spiritual tradition. His “Spiritual Psalter” and “Ascetical Homilies” are masterful works and demonstrate his great theological skill.

Of deacons in the West, I would be remiss if I did not mention St. Francis of Assisi, who was certainly a poet and minstrel for God. His unique life experience and closeness to the poor provided him with fodder for contemplation and creative expression. The holiness of his life, manifested through the creative expression of preaching, hymns and poetry, attracted many to the Franciscan charism. Francis’ diaconal service, in humble service to the altar, was the source and summit of his charismatic gifts of intercession between the poorest of the poor and the Lord’s generous mercy. I boldly assert that if Francis were never given the charisms of the diaconate, the Francis the whole world knows would not exist.

It does seem to me that poetry, music and all creative endeavors are fed by experience with people. And the charism of the deacon — as an intercessor, emissary and minister of watchful service — seems to demand a heart for creative solutions. The holy men described above are some limited proofs of my thesis. Perhaps the good deacons reading this publication can provide me with more examples — perhaps from their own ministry of creativity in the service of God’s people?

FATHER DEACON ROBERT KLESKO is a Ruthenian Catholic deacon serving St. George Melkite Catholic Church in Birmingham, Alabama.