Last August as we drove on Hwy 5 north from Medford, Oregon, I was struck by what appeared to be a tiny orthodox chapel in clear view of the road. It shared the property with a small, deep green, wooden house and I was left with the impression that the residents must have erected a roadside chapel.As we continued on our way, I could not get the sight of this little chapel out of my mind and I determined that someday I would find out what that place was all about. Now, 10 months later as I am riding north with Bev, I recall the onion shaped dome north of Medford and I start looking for it again.
Sure enough, as we are approaching the City of Rogue River (and I think they must really be using the word city very loosely), there it is again and now there are some additions. Clearly something is happening. Bev, intrepid driver and explorer (a sister under the skin to Elaine) makes a fast exit and we wind our way through the small town to the frontage road. In no time at all, we have arrived at our destination.
It quickly became apparent that this would be more that a park by the side of the road photo-op. There was a car parked next to the chapel and I could see someone working on the dome's tower. The someones, as it turned out, were two young men in their early to mid-twenties, members of the church and using their building skills to complete the work on the tower. They happily came down for a few minutes and, with pleasure, shared the story of their church.St. Innocent Orthodox Church is part of what is formally known as The Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia. They are part of the San Francisco and Western American Diocese. A stroll through their church website is a fascinating story of perseverance and faith. I hope you will take a moment to visit the link for the church and enjoy it as much as I did.
Unlike my first passing by, this very small prayer house has just recently appeared at the site. It is a six sided building with a doorway so small that most people need to turn to the side and bend to get inside. But once in - amazing. The interior is lined with holy icons and the featured icon is of St. John the Wondermaker.
I was very surprised to read that St. John the Wondermaker is a 20th century man. Born in 1896 in the village of Adamovka in the province of Kharkov in southern Russia; he died in San Francisco in 1966. He was the Archbishop of the Russian community for the last four years of his life there. Prior to that, he was the Archbishop of Shanghai's Russian Orthodox community for 28 years.
In a short period of time, I felt I had been touched by a moment of grace and the story Kevin and Andrew told Bev and me of an old man and his HIS moment of grace is a good place to end this roadside encounter.
An old man, 82 years old, road by this site several years ago. At that time, the first church was still up. But as he passed by, he saw this welcoming painting of St. Seraphim of Sarav and he turned into the driveway. In that moment, he, a lifelong atheist, was gripped by such a shaking of faith that he converted in that moment. He talked to the resident of the green house (mentioned above) and then continued to make his way north until he ended up in Seattle and at the doorstep of St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Cathedral. There he pronounced his faith and was accepted into the church.
Listening to this story, I had the clear impression that God had had enough of this old man's stubbornness and reaching down, gave him a shake saying, "Enough! Pay attention!"
A flight of fancy on my part, of course, but the story, now legendary, is true. Since the little church in Rogue River was established in the area only in the recent past of 1982, people still remember witnessing this event.
It's a comfort to know that the little church is there, so visible to travelers on Hwy 5. Just as the old man was moved and touch and as I was, I think a little bit of grace is spreading across the road there, a beacon to anyone in spiritual need, and certainly to anyone like me who simply has a lively imagination and a zest to explore the unexpected.
