COFFEE WITH SISTER VASSA -- “REALISM” vs. FAITH, HOPE & LOVE

But the end of all things is at hand; therefore be serious and watchful in your prayers. And above all things have fervent love for one another, for “love will cover a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:7-8)

There’s a lot of talk today, about the need to be ‘realistic’ and accept the world as it is and ourselves as we are, meaning we don’t have to worry our pretty little heads about the things that are wrong with ourselves and our world. But the Holy Spirit calls us and liberates us to change the things we can change, according to our various vocations, through faith, hope and love. The vision that opens up to us through faith, hope and love ‘sees’ more than ‘things as they are’; it sees things as they will be, in God, at “the end of all things” that St. Peter says “is at hand.” You could say that this vision also sees less, in the sense that “love will cover a multitude of sins”; in the sense that we let things go, because of our “fervent love for one another.”

This doesn’t actually mean ‘not seeing’ the multitude of sins in ourselves and others. St. Peter in today’s Epistle-reading calls us to be both “serious and watchful” in our prayers, like grown-ups. It means seeing ourselves and others, warts and all, through the prism of love, as God sees us, always envisioning our potential, to continue becoming who we are in His eyes, His beloved children. And this is not just an intellectual exercise, which remains in our already-mentioned pretty little heads. The more we clarify our vision, in “serious and watchful” prayer in communion with God’s Spirit, our faith, hope and love grow and liberate us to move forward and act in ways that foster in ourselves and others the change we desire; the change we believe in, the change we hope for, and the change we love, as we experience it gradually in and among ourselves. 

Let me not be a slave to “realism” this Wednesday, but let God into my heart with His undying faith, hope and love for all of us and our world. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen!

COFFEE WITH SISTER VASSA -- NOT RENDERING TO CAESAR WHAT IS GOD’S

“... Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? Shall we pay, or shall we not pay?” But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, “Why do you test Me? Bring Me a denarius that I may see it.” So they brought it. And He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?” They said to Him, “Caesar’s.” And Jesus answered and said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (Mk 12: 14b-17)

St. John Chrysostom’s commentary on this passage from today’s Gospel-reading underlines that the " image and inscription" (Caesar's) denote civil obedience (taxes), while the " things that are God's" refer to the human soul, which bears the image of God. Our ‘soul’ (that is sometimes called our ‘heart’) is that which makes us ‘tick’ and without which we would be dead. Our ‘soul’ contains our innermost allegiance, sense of belonging and purpose, and our conscience or sense of right and wrong, holy and not-holy. We are not to offer our ‘souls’ or hearts to Caesar, because we are not Caesar’s but God’s.

In our fallen state, when our heart or soul is split in its allegiances, our vision of who and whose we are becomes obscured, and we begin rendering to Caesar (or someone else) the things that are God’s, like our primary allegiance, our very conscience or even our worship. We cease to ‘see’ clearly, because of this mixed-up kind of heart, this impure heart. The Pharisees, who together with the Herodians posed the above-quoted question to Christ, were known to be hypocrites who loved “ to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others” (Mt 6:5). So, their vision was focused not on God but on ‘others’; rendering to ‘others’ the things that are God’s. In our own personal lives, we might slip into a codependency, in which we are willing to do anything for a certain someone, even if it means overstepping our own conscience. This would also be an example of rendering what is God’s to someone other than Him.

In our political lives, we might slip into accepting ‘Caesar’s’ sense of right and wrong as our own, even if it does not correspond with God’s, in which case we are rendering unto Caesar the things that are God’s. There’s a lot of that going around these days, when many Christians seek to justify the unjustifiable when it comes to politics or geopolitics, arguing from a perspective of ‘pragmatism,’ ‘Realpolitik,’ ‘ the law of the land,’ or some other phrases that are supposed to make what is clearly wrong right.

Lord, grant us wisdom and heal our hearts, so we can see more clearly, who and whose we are. “ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Coffee With Sister Vassa -- THE SPEECHES AT DAVOS & ST. PETER

“Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, to the pilgrims of the Dispersion/Diaspora in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia (...) They stumble, being disobedient to the word, to which they also were appointed. But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; who once were not a people but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy.” (1 Peter 1:1 and 2:8b-10)

This morning I’m thinking both about the above-quoted passage from today’s Epistle-reading, and about the speeches made recently by several world-leaders at Davos. Both St. Peter and the world-leaders reflected on what makes us “us,” based on each leader’s worldview, at a time when ‘we’ are confronted with ‘them’ who have quite different worldviews.

The Apostle Peter is explaining to dispersedChristians (‘ of the dispersion’ or ‘diaspora’) how and why they have now been united into “ a people,” having received a new purpose, identity and sense of belonging: You “ were once not a people,” he writes, “ but are now the people of God... (so) that you may proclaim the praises of Him...” Let’s remember that this new sense of identity led Christians to be regarded with suspicion by Roman society, because Christians did not participate in Roman rituals that involved worshipping idols, including the Emperor. St. Peter himself was executed by the authorities along with many other Christians, when Emperor Nero scapegoated them for the Great Fire of Rome.

In that light, it’s interesting that at Davos the Prime Minister of Canada, Mark Carney, noted that totalitarian systems are sustained “ not through violence alone, but through the participation of ordinary people in rituals they privately know to be false,” as he called for ‘us’ as countries and companies to stop participating in these rituals and “ not live within the lie.” Nonetheless, he also called ‘us’ to be both “ principled and pragmatic,” referring to Alexander Stubb’s (the President of Finland) “ value-based realism.” The President of France, Emmanuel Macron, also tried to balance principles & pragmatism, warning against “ adopting a purely moral posture” and calling for “ an efficient materialism” instead. But as Macron came to the end of his speech in his cool aviator sunglasses, he underlined what “we” prefer, as those who cherish the rule of law and its predictability as “a good place” to live: “ We prefer respect to bullies,” said Macron, “ science to plotisme (conspiracy theories in French), and the rule of law to brutality.”

This is no exhaustive analysis of the complicated issues at hand, dear readers. You think about all of it further. For myself, I feel challenged at this time to listen in to what the Apostle Peter and the rest of Tradition says to us about who “we” are, as Church. We have an identity and a purpose, as “ His own special people,” to “ proclaim the praises of Him,” not bow down before other gods, nor cave in to hopelessness and fear. I’m so grateful for that dignifying call we share together. I’m also grateful for the statesmen and stateswomen we have today, who are at pains to articulate a way forward. Regardless of what we tend to think about the messy business of political leadership, – someone has to do it! Let’s pray for them and one another, and Happy Friday to all of you.❤

Fragments for Friday -- Ascending with Zacchaeus

“Today salvation has come to this house.” (LK. 19:9)

According to our liturgical calendar, this coming Sunday is called “Zacchaeus Sunday.” And this particular Sunday is the first “signal” that we are approaching the beginning of Great Lent. Those with the slightest familiarity with the Church’s liturgical cycle know that we are now five Sundays and four weeks away from the Lenten season. Great Lent, therefore, will begin on Monday, February 23. With the four pre-lenten Sundays subsequent to Zacchaeus Sunday, no one can claim that Great Lent caught him/her unaware. We are given ample “warning” for what just may be a seismic shift in lifestyle once we embrace Great Lent.

Zacchaeus Sunday, of course, is based upon the appointed Gospel reading of LK. 19:1-10, and the account there of how Zacchaeus and his household were “saved” by the healing and forgiving presence of Christ. This was in response to the conversion of Zacchaeus and his repentance before the Lord. It is quite interesting that we have the name of this particular publican. Perhaps he was a known member of the earliest post-resurrection Christian community centered in Jerusalem, yet scattered throughout Israel. Be that as it may, this conversion had a strong impact on the early Church as this account was recorded by the evangelist Luke.

In a relatively short, yet very dramatic narrative, St. Luke vividly brings to life not only the encounter between Zacchaeus and Christ, but a series of profoundly interconnected themes that deserve our close attention. These four are clearly essential:

+ desire
+ repentance
+ atonement
+ salvation

Zacchaeus, as Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote in his now classic study Great Lent, is the “man of desire.” It was his burning desire “to see who Jesus was” (19:3), that led him to “climb up into a sycamore tree to see him.” (19:4) Though despised as a publican/tax-collector who defrauded his fellow villagers in Jericho, that position gave him a certain begrudged “prominence,” so the spectacle of Zacchaeus scrambling up the sycamore tree must have exposed him to public ridicule and derision. Zacchaeus’ desire must have been strong indeed to suffer that anticipated reaction. Thus, desire to “see Jesus” can lead anyone to overcome many of his/her human frailties and limitations, as well as the fear of violating any of the accepted rules of social etiquette if necessary. Our human limitations, that sinfulness that leaves us all short of the glory of God (ROM. 3;23), is represented here by Zacchaeus being “small of stature.” Our own sinfulness “cuts us down to size” and leaves us short of the stature of Christ that we are meant to grow into. Desire to change is a first movement on to the path of this desired growth. In hearing or reading this passage, we learn to humble ourselves in the realization that the sinful publican Zacchaeus has attained a stature that we need to emulate: “the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.” (EPH. 4:13)

Once Zacchaeus and his household are blessed with the presence of Christ, he openly repents of having “defrauded anyone of anything.” (19:8). His heart has been “wounded” by the obvious love of Christ who, in turn, had to suffer the reproach and murmuring of the witnesses to this event for being “the guest of a man who is a sinner.” (19:7) Jesus had heard this before, but always remained untroubled or “above” such accusations in His messianic role of bringing “good news” to “prostitutes and publicans.” Zacchaeus atones for his former sinfulness by openly declaring “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold.” (19:8) This is not a legalistic transaction. Zacchaeus is not purchasing the favor of God. Rather, he is moved to a concrete expression of a changed life that goes far beyond mere words or internal disposition.

The unmerited gift of salvation is how Christ “seals” the initial movement of Zacchaeus toward the restoration of his full stature. Salvation – soteria – means wholeness; the wholeness of soul and body that only God can restore. Zacchaeus has received this gift of salvation because, contrary to certain elements then current within Jewish piety that would have left him marginalized as a religious and social pariah, “he also is a son of Abraham.” (19:9) The salvation of Christ is extensive and intensive: universally offered to all of people, and offered to the “worst of sinners.” This is made clear by Christ’s solemn pronouncement that closes the narrative concerning Zacchaeus: “For the Son of man came to seek and save the lost.” (19:10) All – Jew and Gentile, the righteous and the unrighteous – are lost but God “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” (I TIM. 2:4)

In one of the many fine paradoxes - or ironies – found in the Gospels, the despised publican Zacchaeus becomes our teacher: “So the last shall be first, and the first last.” (MATT. 20:16) When that sinks in deeply, we can begin our own ascent to God on the ladder of the virtues, as Zacchaeus ascended on his humble sycamore tree.

Coffee With Sister Vassa -- HOW CAN WE RELATE TO THE DESERT-DWELLERS?

Today, when Older Calendar people celebrate the Forefeast of the Lord’s Baptism, and NC-churches – the day of St. Anthony the Great, I’m thinking about the two desert-dwellers, John the Baptist and St. Anthony. What does the desert or ‘wilderness’ signify in their lives, and how can we relate to it?

We don’t know anything about what John did in his solitude in the wilderness, before his “voice crying out in the wilderness” started to attract crowds of city-dwellers to him. But we can presume it was something similar to what Anthony did: Anthony engaged in solitary fasting and prayer, by which he battled various temptations (like boredom, laziness, and ‘phantoms of women’) from demons. The uninhabited desert was teeming with demons, until Anthony’s persistent prayer (and abstinence from what they had on offer) cleared the place of their villainous dominion. This ‘work’ took Anthony at least fifteen years, after which he started to attract people who wanted to learn from him, and many who even wanted to live side-by-side with him, in the now-safe place he had (co-)created with the power of God. Thus, the ‘ human footprint” in the desert was a good thing, because it was a deified human footprint.

After our baptism, we all go out into our own ‘wilderness,’ which is our life, more or less teeming with demons. Even our Lord was “ led by the Spirit into the wilderness” after His baptism, “to be tempted by the devil” (Mt 4:1). We have important ‘work’ to do in our respective wildernesses, both inside and outside ourselves, so that the space we occupy in this world becomes a haven for others. We have a little seed of faith planted in us, that we are to let God grow into a beautiful, shady tree, “ so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches” (Mt 13:32), as the Lord tells us in the Parable of the Mustard Seed.

The point of solitude and ascetical discipline, which we may not think are accessible or perhaps even desirable for us, is to stop fighting or competing with fellow human beings, so we can clear our hearts to focus on the root(s) of what makes the ‘space’ inside and outside our hearts uninhabitable or unwelcoming, to God and others. We don’t have to move to the desert to find alone-time with God; there were and are those who live/d in big cities, like the fools-for-Christ, who have found creative ways to exit the rat race of competition with others, while living in their midst. Sometimes God does this for us, when we couldn’t do it for ourselves; He allows us to lose something or someone, through physical or other maladies (our own or theirs), or simply through our ageing process, which takes us out of the rat race at least to some degree. We might find ourselves alone with our ‘demons’ in new ways, at this point, not entirely unlike the challenges confronted by Anthony in his desert. These are dignifying challenges, because God is calling us to collaborate with Him in the big project of redeeming us and the world, in each of our little spaces. God, let us do our little bit today, to re-focus and re-deem (take back) our time, by the prayers of John the Baptist, St. Anthony, and all Your saints. Amen!