On August 15th, I will kneel before the altar and be ordained to the ancient Order of Acolyte—an order that has quietly endured through the centuries, often unnoticed but deeply significant. This moment comes not as a formality, but as a threshold: a sacred invitation to deeper service, devotion, and transformation.

It is no coincidence that this ordination falls on the Feast of the Dormition of the Theotokos and the Feast of Holy Wisdom—two celebrations that speak directly to my heart and my path. The Dormition, or “falling asleep” of Mary, invites us into the mystery of surrender: of letting go into the arms of Divine Love, of trusting the unseen, of becoming vessels for what is greater than ourselves. And Holy Wisdom, known as Sophia in our tradition, reminds us that true knowledge begins not in books or rituals, but in the still, listening heart. These two feasts together remind me that the journey of faith is one of both reverent silence and radiant service.

As I prepare for this ordination, I’ve been reflecting on what it truly means to serve at the altar—not just as a ceremonial assistant, but as someone who helps create a space where heaven and earth meet. The Acolyte’s role is not about being seen. It is about being present. It is about carrying the light, preparing the sacred vessels, and embodying stillness amidst the movement of liturgy. It is about offering my hands to help make the mystery visible.

I remember the first time I served as an altar boy, nearly 25 years ago. I was young, nervous, and enchanted by the bells, the incense, the rhythm of prayer. I didn’t understand much then—but I knew I was close to something holy. And now, decades later, that same holy longing has returned, fuller and more mature, asking not just for admiration but for embodiment.

This preparation hasn’t only been external. It has stirred something inward—a longing to align more fully with who I am called to be. I’ve been praying more slowly. Listening more deeply. Holding silence longer. Letting the gestures of liturgy imprint themselves on my body, not as choreography, but as prayer in motion. Every step toward the sanctuary feels like a step inward as well, into the mystery of God and into my own calling.

For those who have supported me—mentors, friends, companions on the path—I carry you with me. Your prayers, encouragement, and witness have helped prepare this ground. And to those who may feel far from faith, or outside the bounds of traditional church: please know that this ordination isn’t about hierarchy or exclusion. It’s about widening the circle of love. It’s about being a bridge between the sacred and the everyday.

On August 15th, I will say “yes” again—to service, to mystery, to the slow unfolding of the sacred in the ordinary. I offer this “yes” not just for myself, but for all those still searching, still aching, still wondering if they belong.

You do. We all do.

And the Light we carry is meant to be shared.

With hope and devotion,

Joseph Martinka

Candidate for Holy Orders

Shrine of Holy Wisdom, Tempe, AZ