Guest Essay: Why Matter Matters to Orthodox Christians

Source: orthodoxartsjournal.org

 by Robert Lockridge

Balancing on spent legs, I grabbed hold of the windsurfer’s uphaul rope and strained to hoist the submerged sail. The moment that it cleared the water, I grabbed the boom and threw my weight backwards catching the wind. The board leapt forward and in an instant I was skipping across the waves. But, like each of my previous efforts over the last hour, I couldn’t “beat to windward”; I couldn’t control the windsurfer and sail upwind. Attempt after attempt, the board and I kept slipping downwind, down the choppy Currituck Sound of North Carolina. 

Tumbling into the water and swimming back to the windsurfer, I “cried uncle”. I rolled up the sail on the mast, laid it down the length of the board and began paddling on my belly back to shore against the wind and tide. Despite my repeated efforts, I had blown a full mile downwind. Fortunately, my family had been watching my struggle from shore, and my sister and uncle, realizing I was in trouble, had come out to tow me in by kayak. I was both thankful to see them and humbled. Then my uncle’s words made sense of my frustration. “You forgot the daggerboard.” Looking under my belly, I saw the daggerboard slot, empty.

Without a dagger board – the removable keel for a wind surfboard – I had no point of contact with the deeper, stiller water, no leverage over the wind and current. Without a daggerboard it was simply impossible for me to windsurf upwind and against the running tide. -—

By analogy, we modern Orthodox Christians may struggle to “beat to windward,” against the secularizing forces we all encounter when we leave the Liturgy and try to navigate our day-to-day lives. I believe that despite our rich, theological, liturgical, sacramental, and ascetical inheritance, we have unknowingly forfeited the daggerboard or keel of our journey of theosis– the integration of our eucharistic tradition into the whole of our lives. Our relationship with the creation is intended to be the ballasting, steadying, means of our communion with God throughout every aspect of life. Over many generations, however, the gap between us and the creation upon which we depend has widened into a gulf, so much so that now, like when I forgot the daggerboard that blustery day on the Currituck Sound, we are entirely unaware of having left anything behind in the first place. As a result, our lives are unhooked and disconnected from the creation in a way that would be unrecognizable to generations of Orthodox faithful who have gone before us. In this way, we are trying to “beat to windward” without our natural bodily intersection with the sacramental creation as leverage for our spiritual journey. 

In For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy, Fr. Schmemann makes the compelling case that man is created as homo adorans –as a worshipping being who “stands in the center of the world and unifies it in his act of blessing God, of both receiving the world from God and offering it to God –and by filling the world with the eucharist, he transforms his life, the one that he receives from the world, into life in God, into communion with Him. The world was created as the “matter,” the material of one all-embracing eucharist, and man was created as the priest of this cosmic sacrament” (15).
However, through the fall, Fr. Schmemann argues that man….

“ceased to be hungry for Him [God] and for Him alone, ceased to see his whole life depending on the whole world as a sacrament of communion with God. The sin was not that man neglected his religious duties. The sin was that he thought of God in terms of religion, i.e., opposing Him to life. The only real fall of man is his noneucharistic life in a noneucharistic world. The fall is not that he preferred world to God, distorted the balance between the spiritual and material, but that he made the world material, whereas he was to have transformed it into “life in God,” filled with meaning and spirit” (18).

The Church has to contend with secularizing forces that are a “negation of man as a worshiping being, as homo adorans” (118). Fr. Schmemann posits that because of the incarnation of Christ, man is intended to be as a priest, receiving the sacramentality of the world as the gift of communion with God and offering it back to God in thanksgiving. The world received by the Church in worship finds its fulfillment, and is intended to be an epiphany of “man’s relations to God, to the world, and to himself” (118). However, secularism unhooks materiality from spirituality and Schmemann believed that the Church has been profoundly influenced by this desacramentalizing force. While theologically speaking Orthodoxy remains deeply sacramental, in its “liturgical piety” there is a dangerous drift toward the replacement of “sacramentality” and “epiphany” by “sacrality” and the “magical incrustation into time and matter (the “natural”), by the supernatural” (see 131-33 on Schmemann’s discourse on the meaning of “holy water”). In other words, while the Church is intended to restore mankind to his priesthood wherein we come to know the whole of life as illumined with Him who is the Life of the world, secularism and secularizing tendencies within piety do the exact opposite–making the world opaque and putting distance between man and his very means of communion with God. It is within this context of understanding that Fr. Schmemann sought to open the doors, so to speak, between what the secularized world wrongly understands as the divide between that which is sacred and spiritual, and that which is material and “profane”.

It is through this framework that we are to understand Fr. Schmemann’s efforts to help restore liturgical practices to their sacramental and epiphanous roles. I am deeply grateful to have received this liturgical inheritance within our parish; to hear the prayers, to see through the royal doors, to participate in the Divine Liturgy in all the ways that our congregation is accustomed. In my estimation, the liturgical distance separating man from his vocation as homo adorans has gotten much smaller within the OCA since Fr. Schmemann first published this book sixty-three years ago. Yet simultaneously, the distance or space between us and receiving the creation as “epiphany” has gotten unimaginably larger. 

Fr. Schmemann argues that there has been a profound desacramentalization of the world. Quietly, and without our even knowing it, this process has unhooked us Orthodox Christians from our intended sacramental relationship with the world, leaving us with little leverage to “beat to windward”. Without this leverage it is increasingly difficult for us to worship God through the whole of our lives as we were created to do. Instead, our lives can end up feeling very bifurcated–with our Orthodox lives and the rest of our lives separate rather than integrated. I am convinced that the theological and pastoral implications of this reality are profoundly important.

In order for the Church to be healthy, for men and women to live into their vocations as homo adorans, there needs to be not only a liturgical restoration but also a restoration of our eucharistic relationship with the creation so that we can fulfill our priestly roles and know communion with God through the whole of our lives, even while living in a secular culture.

Unlike the generations who have gone before us, we modern Orthodox Christians live largely unhooked from the bodily knowledge of our dependence upon creation. As a result, the integration of our sacramental and ascetical practices suffers. For example, throughout the history of the Church, people living in the northern hemisphere have known late winter and early spring to be the “thin time” – the time when the previous season’s harvest is running low; the time before the next harvest season begins; the time before the lambs are born; the time before the calves are born and the cows come into milk. In this way, humanity’s innate dependence upon the natural, sacramentalworld, through the “thin time” was intended to be transformed into a means of communion with God. The Lenten Fast was an offering of an already embodied and integrated reality. The “thin time” was offered back to God and used as a means of our catechesis. Undoubtedly, it stretched people to share with those who had less during a time when some struggled to trust that there would be enough. 

I think it is safe to say that our experience of fasting during Great Lent is significantly different from that of the faithful who have gone before us. For that matter, so are all of our eating habits. Rather than being an extension of innate sacramentality born out of humbling, seasonal limitations that are congruous with our shared, embodied, creation-placed lives, our modern Lenten fast can feel like a compilation of arbitrary consumer choices that are hemmed in by the prescription of the Tradition, but which, by themselves remain opaque, playing no epiphanous role on our journey of theosis. For example, many of us, my family included, enjoy our fair share of Oreos during the Lenten fast. While from the label we know that Oreos are technically within the restraints of the fast, and therefore a permissible, “creamy,” chocolaty dessert during a time when most options are “off the table,” so to speak, the snack itself lacks sacramental depth and has little ability to point us to the story of God’s faithfulness. Without this depth, the Oreo, along with many of our dietary choices can become a means to an end, merely a way to achieve the fast. But in Christ, the means and the ends are intended to be communion with Him. 

When we hear the pre-Lenten gospel reading on the “Publican and the Pharisee,” we all want to know the true humility of the tax collector, who encountered God’s grace as he knelt in the shadows, beating his breast. Yet we do not always know how to go about doing this. Inadvertently our creationally-unhooked fasting can become a means of our self-exaltation and a proof of our rigor, rather than a pathway towards true humility. Though the Pharisee fasted twice a week and gave tithes of all he possessed, his posture remained upright and proud. For him, the fruit of “doing the right things” was not humility but self-righteousness. 

The type of asceticism that is integrated into the whole of an embodied life rather than a seemingly unrelated religious accretion upon it, inculcates a sense of humility and dependence upon God that is woven into the very fabric of one’s existence. There is less space for false piety to rise up when we are being bodily humbled by our beholdency to the creation. And perhaps there is cause for greater joy as well when Pascha comes– when we celebrate the Resurrection of the Lamb of God and simultaneously feast upon the lamb born in spring.

That said, I understand that we’re not going to be literally feasting on lambs that we raise in our urban/suburban contexts!

Nevertheless, I am convinced that unless we recover a comprehensive, embodied, sacramental understanding of the creation through the whole of our lives, the hope we profess will prove insufficient against the strong secularizing tide of our time. Unless there is a restoration of our sacramental relationship with the creation, we will be as effective sailing against the current as I was, trying to beat to windward without a daggerboard. I am convinced that the health of the church, the coherence of our lives, the wellbeing of our children, and our children' s children, and the authenticity of our witness depends upon this.

Perhaps we can take encouragement from the icon of “The Mystical Church” or “The Ark of Salvation” in which the Church, including the Theotokos and the saints, are seen at sea in a sailing boat with Christ at the helm tending the rudder. In this icon, the rudder of the boat is understood as the Holy Canons of the Church that Christ uses to steer the faithful in the direction of truth, toward the waters of humility through which deeper communion with God is possible. Unlike windsurfing, where in an individual strains by him or herself atop a floating board that has no girth or weight or ability to sit down into the water, this icon reminds us that as the Church, we are journeying together with one another, and with the apostles, and saints and all the faithful before us. The stabilizing weight of the Church acts like ballast to the boat, preventing it from slipping downwind as easily as we would as isolated individuals. We are not alone in our beating to windward, in our journey of theosis. Therefore, as we consider how to reconnect with our eucharistically integrated inheritance, we should be doing so as a body. 

Over the course of the next year I am going to write a series of essays born out of my family’s life together here in Norwood over the last fifteen years, during which time we have sought to live a eucharistic life in community with fellow Orthodox and other Christians, rooted in a sacramental relationship to this particular, neighborhood of West Norwood. My hope is that through these reflections, on the theme “why matter matters to Orthodox Christians,” we may be encouraged as a body to journey deeper into our sacramental understanding of the Church’s relationship with the creation, the foundation of which is Christ himself.

Monday Morning Meditation -- A Radical Critique of Selfishness - Lazarus and the Rich Man

Source: stjohndc.org

“And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature.” (LK. 8:14)

There is an interior connection between the Parable of the Sower and the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man (LK. 16:19-31), heard yesterday at the Divine Liturgy. For the “rich man” of the parable is the embodiment of a person who has been “choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life,” as described in the Parable of the Sower. Brushing aside the teaching of the Torah, and the Jewish emphasis on charity as one of the great acts of true piety, the rich man remained coldly indifferent to poor Lazarus who was clearly visible at his very gate. Preoccupied with fine linen and sumptuous feasting (v. 19), the rich man was scarcely prepared in his heart to alleviate the sufferings of Lazarus, sufferings that were exemplified by the dogs that licked his sores (v. 20). Such indifference is frightening when seen in the light of the many scriptural admonitions that either chastise the neglect of the poor: “He who closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself cry out and not be heard;” or encourage his care: “He who is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed.” (PROV. 21:13; 19:17)

And the severity of the consequences of such neglect of the poor is vividly described in the parable’s “reversal of fortune,” with the rich man languishing in hades, unable to be relieved of his torment there. The contrast of his fate and that of Lazarus being carried into the “bosom of Abraham” by a heavenly escort is striking. (v. 22-23) 

The Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man was delivered with the Pharisees in mind, for right before Jesus proclaimed the parable, we hear this unflattering description of the Pharisees:  “The Pharisees who were lovers of money, heard all this, and they scoffed at him. But he said to them, ‘You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts; for what is exalted among men is an abomination in the sight of God’.” (LK. 16:14-15) Whatever or whoever may have prompted the words of the Lord during his ministry, our concern now is with our own attitude and treatment of the poor. To think or believe otherwise is to fail to “hear” the parable as it is proclaimed today for our chastisement or encouragement. The words of the Lord – the “Gospel truth” – cannot be properly assessed within the narrow limits of any political allegiances – Democrat or Republican; nor even of a wider-scoped ideology – liberal or conservative. The Gospel transcends these categories as something far greater and infinitely more demanding of our allegiance. 

At a time when neither political parties nor even political ideologies existed or had any real impact on the prevailing cultural or social assumptions of the time, St. John Chrysostom (+407) delivered a series of brilliant homilies on the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. (These seven homilies now exist in English translation under the title on Wealth and Poverty). With his impressive knowledge of the Scriptures; his unmatched rhetorical skills; but most importantly his profound zeal for the moral and ethical teaching of the Gospel; St. John offered a radical critique of selfishness and a radical exhortation to overcome such selfishness for the sake of the poor. Challenging conventional notions of what theft is, he famously expanded its definition by meditating deeply on the parable at hand:

I shall bring you testimony from the divine Scriptures, saying that not only the theft of others’ goods but also the failure to share one’s own goods with others is theft and swindle and defraudation. What is this testimony? Accusing the Jews by the prophet, God says, ‘The earth has brought forth her increase, and you have not brought forth your tithes; but the theft of the poor is in your houses.’ (MAL. 3:8-10) Since you have not given the accustomed offering, He says, you have stolen the goods of the poor. He says this to show the rich that they hold the goods of the poor even if they have inherited them from their fathers or no matter how they have gathered their wealth. And elsewhere the Scripture says, ‘Deprive not the poor of his living.’ (SIR. 4:1) To deprive is to take what belongs to another; for it is called deprivation when we take and keep what belongs to others. By this we are taught that when we do not show mercy, we will be punished just like those who steal. For our money is the Lord’s, however we may have gathered it. If we provide for those in need, we shall obtain great plenty. This is why God has allowed you to have more; not for you to waste on prostitutes, drink, food, expensive clothes, and all the other kinds of indulgence, but for you to distribute to those in need … If you are affluent, but spend more than you need, you will give an account of the funds which were entrusted to you … For you have obtained more than others have, and you have received it, not to spend it for yourself, but to become a good steward for others as well. (On Wealth and Poverty, homily two)

This is a radical teaching, though again not based on any particular social or political philosophy. For St. John the “true philosophy” was adherence to the Gospel. St. John is primarily concerned with uncovering the meaning and implications of what we discover in the Scriptures. If that is challenging to the point of seeming “impossible’” or of least taking us way out of our “comfort zones,” then rather than “soft-pedaling” the Gospel message, St. John would continue in the hope of inspiring us to strengthen our efforts and to put on “the mind of Christ.”

Fragments for Friday

Source: stjohndc.org

We have developed a parish tradition over the years based on the upcoming parable on Sunday of Lazarus and the Rich Man (Lk. 16:19-31). It is explained below. The basket mentioned below will be by the Cross for three straight Sundays, beginning on the upcoming Sunday.

_____

Here, then, is how I see this parable being actualized - made present - in our own lives, at least periodically. The basket, or basket-holder, represents Lazarus, and each one of us represents the rich man. When we go by the basket, we go right past Lazarus. Do we stop and attend to the needs of Lazarus, or do we pass him by as did the rich man? The description of being "rich" is quite relative, for we are all well-clothed and well-fed as was the rich man. We can always put "something' in the basket (beyond what would honestly be deemed a mere token gesture). The right question, therefore, is not: "Can I afford to put something in the basket?" It is: "Can I afford not to put something in the basket in the light of Christ's parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man?" Or, is it possible to kiss the Cross of our Savior, and then walk right by "Lazarus?" Such a thought should strike our conscience, open our hearts - and then our pockets or purses.

Midweek Morning Meditation

Source: svots.edu

Presvytera Deborah was going through some of our accumulated letters that we received through the years, especially in the earliest years of my priesthood. One particular, - and very "precious" letter, indeed - was from Fr. Alexander Schmemann that we received in 1982. (Fr. Alexander died in 1983). The letter is handwritten, and sent to us from a small village in Quebec, Canada, by the name of Labelle. It is the place that Fr. Alexander and his family, together with Fr. John Meyendorff and Fr. Thomas Hopko and their respective families, would "retreat" to for the summer months. The letter was written in response to a letter that I sent to Fr. Alexander, describing my first parish and my earliest years in my priestly ministry. I can say that we were good friends during my three years at St. Vladimir's Seminary in New York. As a deacon, I served with him for a few months before graduation and my first parish assignment.

Be that as it may, Fr. Alexander begins his letter by quoting the Apostle Paul: 

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (II Cor. 12:9)

This is followed by a very warm greeting:

"My dear, truly and dearly beloved Fr. Steven and Deborah ..."

And in the middle of the letter, there is a particular passage that was typical of his style and "worldview.:"

"We must at any price, preserve and deepen our inner life - and by this I mean not only prayer, not only "spirituality," but a certain worldview protecting us from the tremendous problem of "door varnish." The devil is petty, grey and boring ... But as long as there exists friends and books - and above all, of course, Eucharist, as long - almost any time - you can feel the presence, the beauty, the ineffable depth of Christ "in the midst of us" - there can be no despair, no surrender to darkness and pettiness ... "

How very true today, when despair, darkness and pettiness at times seem overwhelming! 

Much to my regret, I had forgotten about the existence of this letter, so what a discovery after many years in the priesthood! 

Monday Morning Meditation

Source: ancientfaith.com

"And as for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart."(Lk. 8:15)

Here is a precise definition of the heart within the Orthodox spiritual tradition wonderfully summarized by Archbishop Kallistos Ware, and found in his classic, The Orthodox Way. An Orthodox "spiritual cardiology" is concerned with "guarding the heart" in the "warfare against the passions:"

HEART (kardia): not simply the physical organ but the spiritual center of man’s being, man as made in the image of God, his deepest and truest self, or the inner shrine, to be entered only through sacrifice and death, in which the mystery of the divine and human is consumated. "I called with my whole heart," says the psalmist - that is, with body, soul and spirit." (St. John Klimakos, The Ladder of Divine Ascent, Step 28).

For an extended meditation on the Parable of the Sower, as found in yesterday's Gospel reading of Lk. 8:5-15, here is an older meditation on that theme:

https://orthodoxmeditations.blogspot.com/2021/10/in-honest-and-good-heart-hearing.html

Capital Punishment

 

Source: wikipedia.org

I am certain that everyone is aware of the debacle of the botched attempt to execute Christa Pike in Tennessee on September 30. She somehow survived two doses of pentobarbital, and is now recovering, but still in poor condition, in a rehabilitation center. It seemed like a grotesque caricature of a person being restored or resuscitated to natural life again (Mk. 3:35-43; Lk. 7:11-16; Jn. 11:1-45). According to an article on the Death Penalty Information Center (written by Anne Holsinger): "No prisoner in the modern era of the death penalty has survived the administration of lethal injection of drugs." And now someone has, raising further troubling legal and ethical issues.

We know that Christa Pike committed a horrific crime when she brutally murdered one or her classmates in 1995. She was eighteen years old at the time of the murder. I am not raising the issue of the legitimacy of her death sentence here. Rather, I would like to keep everyone informed of the Orthodox Church's stance on capital punishment. Perhaps many are not aware of that position. Maintaining a consistent "sacredness of life" - or "pro-life" - position, the various autocephalous churches of worldwide Orthodoxy, reject capital punishment as being inconsistent with that strong "pro-life" orientation. Everyone is free to research the more extensive coverage of that position among the various autocephalous Orthodox Churches. 

Keeping this closer to home, I am providing a link to a statement made by the Assembly of Orthodox Bishops of North America (July 19, 2022). This statement affirms and confirms the sacredness of life, and it acknowledges only God as the One who is able to give or take life. The paragraph on capital punishment can be found embedded in the larger statement. It is rather brief, but it serves to make the Church's position known. 

https://www.assemblyofbishops.org/news/2022/human-life-sacredness

I cannot but ask the following question: Is the state of Tennessee nursing Christa Pike back to a state of reasonable health, with the goal of attempting to execute her a second time?! That does sounds like "cruel and unusual punishment." The legal opinions that I heard are skeptical of her possible attempt to invoke the legal maneuver of "double jeopardy." We will have to wait to see the outcome of this unprecedented case.

Another highly problematic and possible course of action also stands before us. There is actual planning in the highest circles of our administration to live-stream the execution of the mass killer sentenced to die on December 3, in the state of Texas, by a firing squad. This is something jihadists do, but not something that we do in America. This is all shocking, but are we sufficiently shocked? Who would watch such a spectacle? It may prove to be instructive to know that the countries of the world that today hold public executions are: Iran, North Korea, Afghanistan and Somalia. Is this company that we desire to keep? We are better than this, so I can only hope that saner minds will prevail.

The Church in her wisdom consistently affirms the sacredness of life, and rejects the four state-sponsored means of taking human life: abortion, euthanasia, war, and capital punishment. In today's troubled world, I believe that this is a position worthy of the life-giving and life-affirming Gospel of Jesus Christ.

In Christ,

Fr. Steven

Monday Morning Meditation -- The Thundering Message

 

Source: orthochristian.com

We just heard yesterday at the Liturgy the powerful account of Jesus raising from the dead the widow's son at Nain (LK. 7:11-16). This particular event is unique to St. Luke's Gospel. In his Commentary on the Gospel According to St. Luke, the biblical scholar Carroll Stuhlmueller, summarized the over-all impression left by this extraordinary event in the following manner:

This incident, only in Luke, shows the Evangelist's special delight in portraying Jesus not only overwhelmed with pity at the sight of tragedy but also turning with kindly regard toward women (cf. 7:36-50; 10:38-42) ... This narrative possesses the charm, color, and pathos of an excellent story: two large crowds meet, approaching from different directions; the silence with which Jesus touches the bier and stops the funeral procession; the thundering message, calmly spoken, bringing the dead back to life. (The Jerome Biblical Commentary)

Truly, it is nothing less than a "thundering message" when Jesus said: "Young man, I say to you arise!" (LK. 7:14). And when the young man "sat up and began to speak" we should be able to understand, however dimly, the reaction of the crowd: "Fear seized them all; and they glorified God" (7:16). 

The pathos of this story is further increased by the fact that the young man was "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow" (7:12). There was no existing social safety net within first century Israel that would provide support for this woman. Without a son who could help provide for her, this widow would have been totally dependent upon the good will and the charity of her neighbors in the small village that Nain was known to have been. Hence, the power of the simple statement that accompanies the young man's restoration to life:  "And he gave him to his mother"(7:15). What a reunion that must have been! 

Now St. Luke makes it clear just who it was who encountered this funeral procession and dramatically brought it to a halt:  "And when the Lord saw her he had compassion on her" (7:13). It was "the Lord." This was the first of many times throughout his Gospel that the Evangelist Luke will use this exalted title for Jesus. The Greek ho Kyrios — the Lord — is the translation found in the Septuagint of the divine name Yahweh. Ascribed to Jesus in the New Testament, this title reveals that as the Lord, Jesus has power over both life and death. Anticipating his own resurrection from the dead, the Lord Jesus Christ brings this young man back to life, revealing that even death is not beyond His authority and capacity to give life.

We are not told how this young man died. In our contemporary world, death can be more-or-less defined in a clinical manner. The shift in this clinical definition has moved toward a final determination of "brain death." Be it the cessation of breath, permanent "cardiac arrest," or the brain death just mentioned, we can identify death and its effect on our biological organism. And so could anyone in the ancient world, where death was such a more immediate and "up close" reality compared to the rather antiseptic experience of death that we promote today in a attempt to distance the living from the dying as well as that is possible. But as Christians, we certainly understand death in a way that moves far beyond its current clinical definition and determination. That is because we understand life in such a way that the clinical is transcended by the mysterious:  "What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?" (PS. 8:4). Conversant with a biblical anthropology that refuses to limit a human person to his or her biological functions, we perceive ourselves in a more complex and meaningful manner.

There are many ways over the centuries that within our theological tradition we have elaborated on that inexhaustible biblical affirmation that we are created "according to the image and likeness of God." The Church Fathers will speak of the human person as a psychosomatic union of soul and body. Or, following the Apostle Paul of a union of spirit, soul and body. (I THESS. 5:23) Because of some of the Greek philosophical connotations - primarily dualism - of using the terminology of soul and body, there has been a concerted movement within theological circles today to use the more biblically-based terms of "spirit and flesh" to describe the mystery of human personhood. Whatever the exact terminology employed to describe the fullness of human existence, the essential point being made is that the human person is more - much more - than "what meets the eye." We are even greater than the angels according to some of the Fathers, because we unite in our person the "spiritual" and the "material" as the pinnacle of God's creative acts. We have our biological limitations, but we can still know the living God! Even though we are so frail in our humanity, the psalmist can still exclaim in wonder:  "Yet you have made him little less than the angels, and you have crowned him with glory and honor" (PS. 8:5).

In describing the mystery of death as it pertains to all creatures, including human beings, the psalmist says (and we hear this at every Vespers service):  "When you take away their spirit, they die and return to their dust" (Ps. 104:29). This is what happened to the young man from Nain regardless of whatever may have been the immediate cause of his death. Something had happened that could not be fully described as merely brain death. His "spirit" had been taken away and his flesh was destined to return to the dust. Another expression that became almost classical as a theological description of death - and which essentially means the same thing - is that of the "separation of soul and body." Either way, the wholeness and integrity of the human person is lost in death. This is what renders death a tragedy and why the Apostle Paul can refer to death as "the last enemy."

When the Lord brought this only son of his mother to life again, the spirit of the young man returned to his flesh - or the soul to his body - and he began to live again in the full meaning of that word. Yet, this is not resurrection in the fullness of that word's meaning as we apply it to Christ:  "For we know that Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him" (ROM. 6:9). The young man was resuscitated to life. He lived — and died — again, to then await the resurrection of the dead at the end of time, a resurrection prefigured and promised by the Lord's resurrection and victory over death. The same can be said of the synagogue elder Jairus' daughter and, of course Lazarus, the friend of Christ who had been dead for four days.

We are told today that we are essentially a walking bag of chemicals with an evolved consciousness. This further implies that at death this biological organism collapses, all consciousness is irreversibly lost, and that final oblivion is our common fate. The Scripture revelation that we accept as coming from God tells us something radically different. To hear the Gospel is to fill us with the faith, hope and love that can only come from the living God. It is to hear of a different destiny and one that makes life infinitely more meaningful and hopeful. We too can cry out together with the crowd at Nain: "A great prophet has arisen among us!" and"God has visited his people!"(LK. 7:16). And living within the Church we know that this is the Lord who "shall come again with glory to judge the living and the dead; whose Kingdom shall have no end."

Midweek Morning Meditation

Source: goarch.org

As  a fine exegetical supplement to Fr. Paul's homily from Sunday (Lk. 6:21-36), I am sharing this, prepared by our parishioner Kevin Rains. There is a good deal to assimilate here!

The text and its root (Luke 6:36 / Exodus 34:6)

• Luke 6:36 — "Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful" — echoes Exodus 34:6's "The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious..."
• That revelation comes immediately after the golden calf - Israel's worst act of unfaithfulness. God names himself merciful before any sacrifice or repentance restores the relationship. Mercy as self-disclosed nature, not a reward for good behavior.
• Jewish tradition calls Exodus 34:6-7 the "Thirteen Attributes of Mercy" — the most quoted verse about God's character in the Hebrew Bible, reused nearly verbatim in crisis after crisis (Nehemiah 9, Joel 2, Jonah 4).

The Greek word

• The beautiful, feminine tone of this passage: (Luke's word) translates Hebrew rachum, which shares its root with rechem - womb. This is visceral, maternal mercy, not a judge's clemency.
• Ginesthe ("be") is a present imperative — "keep becoming," not a single decision. Mercy is a direction like St Gregory of Nyssa talks about as an ann infinite joirney into God , not a state we ever arrive at.
• Oiktirmōn appears only twice in the whole NT: Luke 6:36 and James 5:11 ("the Lord is compassionate and merciful" — after Job's endurance).

The non-transactional nature of God (vv. 32-35)

• "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same." God is kind "to the ungrateful and the evil" (v. 35).
• The real test of mercy is never the easy case - it's the person who hasn't earned it.

Liturgical enactment

• "Lord, have mercy" is sung/spoken roughly 30-40 times in a single Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom - were basically rehearsing Exodus 34
• The Eucharist itself enacts v. 35 — given to the ungrateful before worthiness is proven.
• Confession follows Moses' own pattern (Exod 34:8-9) — mercy declared first is what makes repentance possible.

Patristic witness (catena bible app)

• Cyril of Alexandria (on Luke 6:35-36): compassion is an attribute of the divine nature; this virtue restores us to the form of God.
• Clement of Alexandria: uses homoiōsis ("assimilation to God") for what mercy produces.
• Worth noting honestly: no Father explicitly equates Luke's "merciful" with Matthew's "perfect" (5:48) but several converge independently on the same destination (likeness to God). Those passages taken together seem to suggest that becoming perfect equates to becoming ever more merciful

Justice connection - since I’m on this justice learning experience in Alabama right now this seem poignant 

• Mishpat (justice) and hesed (mercy) are paired constantly in the OT - never opposites. Micah 6:8: "do justice, and love kindness/mercy."
• Deuteronomy 10:18-19 - God "executes justice for the fatherless and the widow," grounded in Israel's own memory of being shown mercy in Egypt. (Also Isaiah 1.17, James 1 fro these categories of widows and orphans) 
• Jesus defines "neighbor" in the Good Samaritan not as a legal category but as "the one who showed mercy" (Luke 10:37).
• Acts 6 (the diaconate) and St. Basil's Basiliad (4th c., among history's first hospitals) show the Church turning mercy into institution, not just sentiment.

Fragments for Friday -- The Protecting Veil of the Mother of God

Source: orthodoxmonasteryicons.com

This feast became the heart of that experience of Mary as Mother, of the one who at the Cross was given to all humanity as Mother (Jn. 19:27), and who as Mother brings into her own heart all of our sorrows, all our sufferings, all unbearable pain of our earthly existence. "A sword will pierce through your soul also, that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed" (Lk. 2:35). These words, prophetically spoken to her by the righteous Elder Simeon on the day she brought the Child into the Temple to consecrate Him to God, have deeply penetrated the souls of the faithful. The mother of Jesus Christ, standing at the Cross of her Son and taking upon herself all of the terrible pain of compassion and co-suffering, became a gift to us, to humanity, a gift of maternal love, maternal care, maternal compassion ...

Fr. Alexander Schmemann

Thursday's Theological Thoughts

Source: ancientfaith.com

On October 1, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos. The Great Horologion describes the Feast in this manner:

The Feast of the Protection commemorates the appearance of the most holy Theotokos in the Church of Blachernae in Constantinople in the early sixth century, as recorded in the life of St. Andrew the Fool for Christ's sake. While the multitudes of the faithful were gathered in church, Epiphanius, the friend of St. Andrew, through the saint's prayers, beheld the Virgin Mary above the faithful and spreading out her veil over them, signifying her unceasing protection of all Christians. Because of this we keep a yearly feast of gratitude, imploring our Lady never to cease sheltering us in her mighty prayers.

As we chant in one of the hymns of the Feast:

Heaven and earth are sanctified,
the Church shines and all people make glad.
For behold, the Mother of God with the hosts of angels,
with preachers and evangelists, prophets and apostles,
has invisibly entered.
She prays to Christ for Christians
and entreats Him to have mercy on this city and people
who glorify the Feast of her Protecting Veil. (Stichera at Great Vespers)

We will celebrate the Feast of the Protection with the Divine Liturgy this morning. We also commemorate St. Romanos the Melode on October 1. As we all know, the icon of St. Romanos is on one of our deacon's doors.