Great Lent and Fasting in the Age of The Screen

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

"Enlighten me through prayers and fasting." (Forgiveness Vespers)

I would like to formulate some thoughts in writing that I have periodically raised, perhaps in homilies or post-Liturgy discussions. Perhaps I can aim for a bit more precision and over-all coverage in the process.

Within the context of the beginning of Great Lent and our ascetical effort during this season, commonly called fasting, I raised the issue of not only fasting from certain foods and drink - the most basic aspect of asceticism because of our sheer dependence on food and drink - but also of "fasting" from the amount of time we spend daily before a variety of screens - television, computer, movie, smartphones, etc.

This raises the issue of "Orthodoxy and technology," a fascinating issue and one that should generate a good deal of theological/spiritual reflection when we think for a moment of our overwhelming dependency in the contemporary world on technology. We may be able to live without technology, but we would hardly be able to function without it. However, my goal is much more modest, as I will explain momentarily.

Without entering into a philosophical/theological discussion about technology, we can at least state that Orthodoxy is in no way anti-technological. Although some Orthodox bishops, priests, and monastics may awaken visions of the Amish, there is no real similarity in worldview when it comes to technology. You may just contact any one of those Orthodox persons through their computers and smartphones - but not the Amish! Or you would be impressed by the websites and over-all computer sophistication of both Orthodox seminaries and monasteries.

 

The Church has never moved to suppress technology or, for that matter, any progress in all of the sciences. This is a crucial aspect of our human capacity to think and create, setting us apart from the rest of the animal world. Yet, one more issue unavoidably related to this is that of the abuse of technology, when it is severed from any clear moral and ethical restraint. Our thinkers and theologians are struggling to keep up with the exponential and seemingly daily moral/ethical challenges that arise out of the obsessive desire to keep pushing forward the frontier of technological progress.

Avoiding these "heavier" issues in this reflection, I would just like to address the more modest issue of our fasting during Great Lent. Or, of expanding our understanding of fasting to now include the time spent before our various screens as already mentioned above. It is, after all, Great Lent. Some modest - should that be substantive? - changes in lifestyle, or the environments that we create in our homes is an important factor in the over-all lenten effort.

With the ubiquitous screen, the questions arise: Outside of our professional obligations and responsibilities, just how attracted, attached, obsessed or, as extreme as this may sound, "addicted" are we to them? How much of that precious commodity of time do we spend in front of screens that could at best be described as distraction, amusement, entertainment, "killing time," etc.? Can we break through the cycles of surfing, shopping, game-playing, facebooking, texting, twittering and blogging that devour huge amounts of our time? And can we show some restraint for the sake of relationships and more serious pursuits which I hope would attract us during Great Lent especially?

To formulate the challenge before us, I would like to turn to an essay written by Jacob Weisner, and printed in the New York Review of Books (actually about three years ago now). Under the title, "We Are Endlessly Hooked," he informs us that:

Americans spend an average of five and a half hours a day with digital media, more that half of that time on mobile devices, according to the research firm eMarketer. ... Three quarters of eighteen-to-twenty-four-year-olds say that they reach for their phones immediately upon waking up in the morning. Once out of bed, we check our phones 221 times a day - an average of every 4.3 minutes - according to a UK study. This number may be too low, since people tend to underestimate their own mobile use. In a 2015 Gallup survey, 61 percent of people said that they checked their phones less frequently than others they knew.

Informative and to the point! And something to think about in a season of restraint and re-prioritizing. Another author, Sherry Turkle, a clinical psychologist and sociologist who teaches at MIT, in her book Reclaiming Conversation, claims that this dependence on such devices severely undermines human relationships - from family members to romantic attachments. The lack of human connection caused by excessive device connection is leaving us disconnected as human beings. In fact, she speaks of "disconnect anxiety." For her, the young person locked into the virtual world of social media is now claiming: "I share, therefore I am." We are losing the capacity for reading, playing, creating and conversing.

The unavoidable questions arise: Are our families and friendships suffering deficiencies in those time-honored activities that are based on mental agility, socializing skills and the deepening or loving relationships? Is it dinner and then off to the screen? Have we mastered the "art of distraction?" If so, can we possibly be surprised if we find it difficult to pray effectively - that is with some concentration and focus?

There is a possible alternative approach: Superfluous time spent before the screen, can now be redirected and spent renewing those activities that are either intellectually stimulating (a good book or creative project); or conducive to personal interaction (game playing); or, on a deeper level, "face-to-face" communion (conversing)? Many years ago, in a paper she wrote on this subject, our own parishioner, Emily Farison, had this to say:

Because people do not communicate in person, words and meanings can get misconstrued all too easily. One cannot observe facial expressions or hear tones of voice through the internet, both of which allow the listener to garner a well-rounded impression of what the speaker intends to express ... Nothing compares to quality time given to a person, where one really listens and focuses on getting to know his friends. Human beings are so complex that one cannot get to know anyone very deeply in a diminutive span of time.

Can you imagine a facebook entry that states: "In observing Great Lent, this site will be inactive until April 27, the day I celebrate the Resurrection of Christ?!" You might just face massive "unfriending" for that one!

What about the screen of the smartphone? This is a wonderful tool for communication, that has even been "life-saving" as we all know of some such stories. You may have to be a modern-day Luddite to argue against the positive use of the smartphone. We acknowledge the important call, the encouraging call, the "where-in-the-world is my child?" call, even the "emergency" call. But these are not what need to occupy us at the moment.

Here also other questions arise: Beyond all of that, has the smartphone become an extension of our very being? Does it seem to be permanently glued to our ears and/or attached to our hands? Are we lost without it? Do we call and chat in order to ... call and chat? Are we "apping" our minds into a kind of stupor? (What happened to the spiritual gift of silence?) After all, just a few years ago, we did live without such phones.

There are styles, colors, sizes, and an endless array of features that turn the smartphone into either a status symbol, a toy, or even as one of those portable idols we read about in the Bible - primarily for adults, of course. (Though, at what age now are children equipped with their own phones?). Texting and twittering are producing a certain type of "illiteracy" that is making a wince-creating wreck of the English language, as in: "luv u." Grammar, spelling, and compound sentences are treated as intrusive. The menus are astonishing for their complexity. The internet is now on your phone! And it is also a ready-made camera: We now live in the age of the "selfie."

Is it possible or even meaningful to show any restraint when living in an age of the screen? If not, then we may be facing the following downward trajectory that can quickly spiral out of control: Attractions become attachments; attachments become obsessions; and obsessions become addictions. Or, as the holy Fathers teach, we become the playthings of our "passions." We are no longer in control, but under control of our impulses, or of the technology mentioned above.

As asceticism is not puritanism, so restraint is not repression. All of our ascetically lenten efforts are ultimately directed to our freedom and liberation - to some degree at least - from the myriad dependencies that occupy our bodies and souls. To fast from meat but then to sit in front of the computer for hours surfing, shopping, game-playing, facebooking and blogging somehow points to a disconnect with the over-all goal of Great Lent as a "school of repentance," or "journey toward Pascha."

Professionally and vocationally, we may be living in the age of the screen. I know that I am. I enjoy and try and make something positive of a "cyberspace ministry," in fact. But I also waste a lot of time in front of that same screen. The irony of writing this meditation on the computer and then launching it out into cyberspace so you will have one more thing to read, is not lost on me.

But the challenge remains to retain a degree of freedom from the technological web that can bind us so tightly. Redirecting a lot of our energy - and time! - to prayer, almsgiving and fasting; the reading of the Scriptures and the lenten liturgical services of the Church; "quality time" with family members and friends, can create in us the joy of liberation from those very bonds. The prominent French Orthodox thinker Jean-Claude Larchet has recently said: "Disconnect to Reconnect!" Sounds like good Lenten advice in the age of the ubiquitous screen.

Fr. Steven

A Brief Reflection on Black Friday

Dear Parish Faithful,

There is something almost "metaphysically unsettling" about "Black Friday."

The very name of this day has an ominous ring to it. It may just be the sheer "nakedness" of the open, unapologetic, unflinching - and idolatrous? - materialism that pervades the day. (Last year, a staggering five billion dollars were spent in less than twenty-four hours). 

Or, is it the sight of the steely determination of compulsive consumers camping out overnight before the store of their choice that offers that ever-enticing single word: Sale? 

Perhaps it is the frantic mayhem of the rush to the doors once they swing open like insatiable jaws leading into a modern-day Moloch awaiting to swallow its victims. 

Could it be the unneighborly pushing and shoving for a product on the shelves or a place in the check-out line? How about an uneasy sense of potential violence hovering in the atmosphere if competitive tempers and nerves begin to fray? 

Perhaps it is more the rapid devolution, in a veritable "twinkling of an eye," from a day of peaceful thanksgiving, into a day of rampant consumerism that is nothing short of unnerving in its effect. (Once upon a time, this Friday after Thanksgiving was a day of rest and relaxation.) As if it is now that Thanksgiving Thursday has become a mere prelude to the Black Friday to follow. 

Or is it, finally, the disheartening havoc wrecked upon any vestigial remainder of "Christmas" that has miraculously continued to linger within our secular culture two millennia after our Savior's nativity in the flesh? We seem to be witnessing a juggernaut that continues to pick up speed and strength as it careens into an unrestricted future with no end in sight. 

There is "Great and Holy Friday" and now there is ... "Black Friday."

Am I exaggerating? Please let me know. Of course, one can show the virtue of patience and simply wait until "Cyber Monday" in the quiet of one's own domicile. Not very certain that it will be spiritually healthier ... but it will be far less chaotic and perhaps even safer!

If only we loved God with the type of fervor displayed by our neighbors and co-citizens on Black Friday and rushed to the Church with such energy for the peaceful and prayerful services of this sacred Season!

What a witness to a spiritually-starving world we could make! But, alas, just when will that happen? Then again, with God all things are possible!

The Abundance of Our Possessions

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

"Take heed and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possession."  (LK. 12:15)

Icon of the Parable of the Rich Fool: He dines like a king at the table in the center, while servants build his new barns on the left. At right, an angel is seen coming to his deathbed to receive his soul.

There is hardly a Christian who would disagree with this teaching of the Lord, as expressed in the words above, when it comes to our relationship with the "abundance of our possessions."  We know that our life does not "consist" in them.  In other words, these very possessions do not, and simply cannot, impart genuine meaning and significance to our lives. These possessions are external to our inner being; for they cannot define us as human beings made "in the image and likeness of God." And we can say that without dismissing these possessions as just so much "mammon."

There are things that we need and there are things that we enjoy.  Yet, I also cannot but arrive at the inescapable conclusion that even though we know this teaching to be true, we seem to pay such teaching just so much "lip service" because of the extent to which we are enamored and captivated (enslaved?) by "the abundance of our possessions!"  Who is the person that can claim otherwise? 

On one level - certainly not the highest! - our lives seem to be a steady progression of accumulating as much as possible, the only limit to this accumulation being imposed on us by the extent of our available resources.  This means that the abundance - or at least the quality - of our possessions will increase as our access to "purchasing power" increases.  (Thus, at Christmas, the extent and quality of the gifts that end up in the hands of children will depend upon the wealth - or lack of wealth - of their parents.  Those who have will simply have more once Christmas comes and goes).

As Christians, then, we find ourselves in the awkward position, indicative of a genuine tension, of accepting our Lord's teaching about the dangers of accumulating possessions as true, and yet unable to arrest the desire and endeavor of adding to this abundance.  The "consumer within" is a driving force indeed!

The Lord reveals the obviousness of His teaching about possessions through the Parable of the Rich Fool, found immediately after the words already cited above. (LK. 12:16-21)  This parable is relatively short and to-the-point, so I will include it here in order to refresh our familiarity with it:

The land of a rich man brought forth plentifully; and he thought to himself, 'What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?  And he said, 'I will do this: I will pull down my barns, and build larger ones; that there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample good laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, be merry.'  But God said to him, "Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'  So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."

Not only short and to-the-point, but almost brutal in its clarity and inescapable truthfulness:  You can plan all you want, but death will cut short the most well-conceived plans with an unexpected finality that makes a mockery of those very plans. When death comes, the rich man's wealth is shown to be a worthless form of security for his "soul." (This parable always brings to my mind the words of Tevye the dairyman, who once mused that the more man plans the harder God laughs!). 

The parable does not make a moral monster of the rich landowner. There is no hint of his being a particularly sinful person. Indeed, he is probably quite indicative of his "type:" at least outwardly decent and a man of status. And he may have attended his local synagogue with regularity.  It is his preoccupation with "the abundance of his possessions" - "what shall I do;" "I will do this" - that renders him a "fool" in the judgment of God; a preoccupation that was self-centered in its orientation, culminating in a blindness that resulted in forgetfulness of God, instead of pursuing the meaningful task of striving to be "rich toward God."  As a Jew guided by the Law, he had that opportunity but squandered it.

His careful plans to build larger barns in order to accommodate his ever-increasing store of crops had the immediate impact of making life easier and enjoyable - a time to "eat, drink, and be merry." This, in turn, was a self-satisfying expansion and investment of his time and energy. In the process he pushed the inevitability of his death into a vague and perhaps far-off future. (The saints teach us that the "remembrance of death" is a key component of our spiritual lives, precisely to protect us from any such foolish forgetfulness). It is an attitude/temptation as alive today as it was in the time of Christ.

As real as the barns the landowner envisioned may have been, they are equally symbolic of a choice he made with the direction of his life. And this choice toward wealth proved to be quite costly.  Is our present-day portfolio-building equivalent to the rich landowner's building of barns?  Are we more preoccupied with becoming "rich toward God," or simply with becoming rich in the accumulation of our possessions?  Will we have to suffer with being called a "fool" when that time comes?

Perhaps we can understand the rich landowner's pursuit of an abundance of possessions as an unconscious strategy toward finding and establishing a sense of security in life. 

We are all aware of the fragile nature of our lives, and the threats posed to our security on a host of fronts:  poverty, illness, death itself.  There is nothing quite so reassuring as the feeling of security that would protect us from such threats.  While to feel insecure is a cause of great anxiety. Civilization and technology are built and developed to provide security for human beings in an insecure world. 

Thus, we find ourselves facing the same dilemma as the landowner of the parable in our own search for security; and often turning to the very means that he did in order to build up that ever-shifting sense of security:  the accumulation of an "abundance of possessions."  How ironic, though, that we tend to "secure our security" with the very means that cannot really provide it, while we neglect trying to get "rich toward God, the only true security! 

As the biblical scholar Timothy Luke Johnson has written:

"It is out of deep fear that the acquisitive instinct grows monstrous.  Life seems so frail and contingent that many possessions are required to secure it, even though the possessions are frailer still than the life"  (Gospel of Luke, p. 201).  

And, as another biblical scholar - Brendan Byrne - writes with a certain bluntness: 

"Attachment to wealth is incompatible with living, sharing and celebrating the hospitality of God" (The Hospitality of God, p. 115).

The impact of the Parable of the Rich Fool is precisely in the choice with which the parable confronts us between two very different types of "security:"  the abundance of our possessions, or being rich toward God.  It seems like a simple choice - especially for Christians - but somehow it ends up being a good deal more complicated.  We need to search our minds and hearts as to why this is true.

Christ did not deliver parables in order to entertain us with pleasant stories.  Neither to simply edify us with a moral story that remains within our "comfort zone."  The choice that the parable does confront us with demands a response - though it is possible that if we do not have "ears to hear," we can walk away from the parable with indifference.  ("Let us attend!" always precedes the reading of the Holy Scriptures in church so as to focus our minds on the appointed readings).

Let us, however, assume that we do have "ears to hear." If, then, the parable shakes us out of the false sense of security that possessions may give us, we then have to reflect deeply on how to become "rich toward God." 

Of course, we must begin by cultivating the gifts of God graciously bestowed on us:  faith, hope and love.  We can direct our prayer towards this. We need to un-hypocritically practice prayer, almsgiving and fasting. 

We further immerse ourselves in the "words of the Word" - the holy Scriptures.  It is essential that we confess our sins, and then wage a "spiritual warfare" against them.  The possibilities within the grace-filled life of the Church are many indeed.  We are neither predestined nor forced to avail ourselves of these possibilities.  We must choose to do so, supported by the grace of God.  This choice may very well determine whether or not, at the end of our lives, we will hear either "Fool!" or "Well-done, good and faithful servant."  As Jesus often exclaimed: "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!"

 

*As a kind of footnote to the above, I would like to point to a tremendous story of great narrative power and psychological insight, that almost reads as an extended and artistic embodiment of this parable:  Leo Tolstoy's "Master and Man."  In the story the rich landowner of 1st c. Palestine is now re-conceived as a wealthy 19th c Russian landowner.  His ultimate fate is rather terrifying.  A great work of literature well worth the time and effort.

 

 

 

Multiplying Our Talents, "for our own salvation and the neighbors' benefit"

Dear Parish Faithful,

This past Sunday, we heard the Parable of the Talents during the Liturgy (MATT. 25:14-30). The parable has a wide possibility of interpretation, but on the whole the Church Fathers understand the parable as a profound reminder that we will answer to God for how we use the various gifts - "talents" - that have been bestowed on us. (The talent is a monetary denomination in Hebrew, but for us it has a more extended meaning, because of the richness of our English "talent").

Multiplying our talents is an image of using our gifts to the benefit of others as members of the Body of Christ. An indifference to this task, or even a self-centered refusal to share what God has given us is severely condemned in the parable. 

Here is an area that we must examine carefully though, because the image of the Master in the parable is a far cry from what we understand from Jesus about the "character" of our heavenly Father. The master of the parable is harsh and quick to judge the third servant. And, the parable itself could be seen to approve of a very capitalistic interpretation wherein the multiplying of our money is seen as a virtue in itself. For this reason, the words of a contemporary New Testament scholar, Brendan Byrne, are essential to bear in mind when studying the parables of Christ:

Once again we have to keep in mind that Jesus took parables from life as he saw it lived, without necessarily commending or reproving the behavior described. He used the way people acted in situations of crisis in everyday life to illustrate - not model - appropriate behavior in view of the kingdom. (Lifting the Burden, p. 189)

In fact, a close reading of the parable could reveal that the third servant misread the character of the master. Be that as it may, I would simply like to share some of the comments of St. John Chrysostom on this parable from one of his numerous homilies on the Gospel According to St. Matthew. St. John is ever the moralist, encouraging his flock to a mode of life that is consistent with the Gospel, regardless of how challenging that may be. St. John also makes an allusion or two based on other parables of Jesus that you will hopefully detect:

Let us, then, listen to these words. As opportunity offers, let us make efforts for our salvation, let us get oil for the lamps, let us make the talent pay: if we hang back and spend our time in idleness here, no one then will pity us there, no matter how many our laments.

The person with soiled garments also condemned himself, and gained nothing; the person with the one talent restored the deposit with which he was entrusted, and he was thus condemned;  the virgins made their appeal, came forward and knocked, all to no avail.

Aware of this, therefore, let us contribute money, effort, support and everything for the neighbors' welfare: talents in this case are each person's resources, be it in support, in money, in teaching, in anything at all of this kind. Let no one claim, I have one talent, and I can do nothing: even with one you are capable of measuring up. I mean you are not poorer than that widow, you are not more unlettered than Peter and John, who were simple and unschooled, yet by giving evidence of zeal and doing everything for the common good, they attained to heaven. Nothing, in fact, is so pleasing to God as living for the benefit of all.

For this reason God gave us speech, hands and feet, bodily strength, a mind and understanding, so that we might use them all for our own salvation and the neighbors' benefit.

From Spiritual Gems from the Gospel of Matthew, p. 147-148.

St. John was the master at what we would today call the "application" of the Gospel to our lives.

Who is to Blame?

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

To deride "the commercialization of Christmas" today is to embark on a useless campaign that sounds both quaint and "dated." It is to evoke a platitudinous cliche that evaporates more-or-less simultaneously with its very utterance. It may provoke a sympathetic sigh or knowing nod of the head from your neighbor, but the conversation will have to move forward for it to be of any significance.

As a priest, it is a theme that I may raise in passing - almost as a pastoral obligation - but not one to any longer spend much time or energy on. The utter obviousness of claiming that Christmas has become commercialized is what renders its articulation almost meaningless. At best, we may only shrug our shoulders when reminded of  the contrast between the manger and the mall, and perhaps sheepishly mutter: "What can one do?" 

If there ever was a genuine battle within American culture over this issue, it has long been determined that consumerism has triumphed over any and all forms of resistance - religious or otherwise. Who would have imagined any other outcome when the virtues of capitalism are proclaimed with an almost evangelical intensity in our society? When the almighty dollar is at stake, the Almighty God may well be forgotten. 

The almost gleeful and naked consumerism that characterizes this time of the year has clearly swept aside any forms of dissent or discontent. The lunacy of "Black Friday" and "Cyber Monday" are mere exclamation points that "seal the deal" and both events are here to stay, and most likely to expand further into our minds and pockets in the near future. It seems as if only deaf ears are being addressed by some still courageous voices crying out from the wilderness in honor and remembrance of the One born in poverty. In a thoroughly secularized society that is proud of its diversity, Christ has long been effectively removed from Christmas.

But we already know all of this...

To me, the far more significant question is how do the countless members of our society who claim to be Christians deal with the rampant and unapologetic "commercialization of Christmas?" Apparently by participating in it at a pace and with a level of eagerness equal to those for whom the birth of Christ means absolutely nothing. Can anyone detect any discernibly different consumer patterns during Christmas displayed by Christians and non-Christians? Do Christians buy or spend less? Are self-designated Christians also found in those lines (pushing and shoving) with non-Christians on "Black Friday?" Are Christians in any less numbers strapped to their seats in front of their computers on "Cyber Monday" spending hours scrolling through a mind-numbing number of sites in search of a deal? I admit to having no data or statistics, but intuitively I can only imagine that Christians are, to say it again, eager participants in the consumer-driven madness of the Season.

Who is to blame for this state of affairs? If we live in what is historically a Christian society, how can we answer other than by saying: Christians! To perhaps soften that a bit, at least in terms of a slow cultural acquiescence over time. Legal battles over public Nativity scenes are beside the point. And I say this while I simultaneously wonder: living in 21st century America, could it be otherwise? The level of resistance required to be liberated from any of this would aspire to the level of the heroic. It could be interpreted as being downright sectarian. It could even cause great distress for our children. 

Actually, I am not writing in order to offer an alternative approach as a kind of Christian antidote to curb the consumer within. I must acknowledge that I am a co-consumer with all the rest. Consequently, this is not a condescending Christian denunciation of "worldly people." I am simply trying to take an honest look at "what is" as we approach the Feast of the Nativity. I am sure that there are Christians who have devised well thought-out strategies that are meant to instill different "values" in their children at this time of the year. I must respect that. And, as anything else "under the sun," those strategies are probably accessible on the internet for those who want to do the necessary research.

My more immediate concern is that for us, as Orthodox Christians, there may exist a certain "bipolarity" in the uncritical assumption of the practices and patterns of a secular Christmas and our own ecclesial commitment to piously "attend" Church for the Liturgy on December 25. We can effortlessly move from one to the other without the least sense of an inherent tension between the mystery of the Incarnation occurring within the simple setting of the cave outside of Bethlehem; and the (excessive?) gift-giving to follow which may be obscurely - if not unconsciously -  patterned after the gift-giving of the Magi. Will the Gift get lost amidst all of the other gifts? If such is the case we, as Christians, must realize that we have forfeited any moral high ground. And, while we are at it, we probably need to admit that we, as Orthodox Christians, with a festal calendar that celebrates "the twelve days of Christmas," now basically treat the feast as "one and done." The frenetic pace of the pre-Nativity season renders us exhausted on the first day of the Feast.

Therefore, I do believe that any Christian attempt to deride the "commercialization of Christmas" by Christians who participate in that very commercialization borders dangerously close to hypocrisy. We are better off at turning our criticism inward as we continue to shop and spend with the best of them. Self-reflective criticism will be much more fruitful in the long run and helpful for the well-being of our souls. Perhaps that could lead to some conscious attempts to alter entrenched attitudes and patterns and bring a greater sense of balance back to the Season.

The counter-commercial response is not, of course, to watch one more Nativity film. Nor to make sure we drive by the local church with its "live" Nativity scene replete with little lambs and a stoic donkey. Those are fine family activities, but we must go much deeper than this. We must take seriously the words of Christ: "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Matt 6:21). 

Our modest goal - though fruitful indeed in its consequences - is to "save some space" in our minds and hearts for "the Coming One" whom we hope will be born in those very same minds and hearts, thus taking flesh and becoming incarnate in and to the world through our lives in all of their diversity and fullness. Perhaps we could offer our minds and hearts to the newborn Christ as our gifts in response to Him coming among us as a light shining in darkness. For without Christ all is darkness. Or, as C.S. Lewis described Narnia when under the spell of the bad witch, it was always winter but never Christmas. 

So, even if the phrase the "commercialization of Christmas" has been reduced to a platitudinous cliche, our own annual immersion into that commercialization may render a periodic reminder of some spiritual benefit. With just a minimum of serious thought, Orthodox Christians should not find it difficult to order their priorities in favor of Christ. After all, the miracle is in the manger, not at the mall.

Can't Get No Satisfaction... Thank God!

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

Relatively speaking, the meditation being presented here was written some time ago - Fall 2007.  I am quite sure that anyone who read it then has long forgotten it!  But for those who are new to the parish, and for those who are willing to give it another read, I thought that it would have a certain resonance since we will be chanting the Akathist Hymn "Glory to God For All Things" tomorrow evening as we acknowledge the Church New Year beginning on September 1.  I say that because there are certain thoughts expressed in the Hymn that led me to write this particular meditation.

* * *

Can't Get No Satisfaction... Thank God!

"My soul thirsts for God, for the living God." —Psalm 42:2

"I can't get no satisfaction" —The Rolling Stones

"We thank God for the gift of "blessed dissatisfaction!"

"I (Can't Get No) Satisfaction" by the Rolling Stones must be considered one of the great all-time "classics" of the pop/rock music world. 

I remember it well from the Summer of 1965. With its driving guitar riff and raspy-voiced lyrics giving a kind of pop-articulation to the disaffection of the lonely and alienated urbanite who, try as he might, just cannot succeed at "satisfying" the material and romantic/sexual goals droned into his mind on the radio and TV; this song - regardless of its actual intentions - managed to say something enduring about the "human condition." (I wonder if the various members of the Rolling Stones ever experience any genuine satisfaction after many years of fame and fortune). 

Be that as it may, a rather odd connection came to me between this song and a verse from "The Akathist of Thanksgiving" that we will sing and chant for the Church New Year on September 1. In Ikos Six of the akathist, one of the verses in the refrain reads as follows:

Glory to You, Who have inspired in us dissatisfaction with earthly things.

Both the Stones' song and the Orthodox hymn speak of "no satisfaction" or "dissatisfaction." However by "earthly things," the author of this remarkable hymn, does not mean the natural world in which God has placed us. The refrain of Ikos Three makes that abundantly clear:

Glory to You, Who brought out of the earth's darkness diversity of color, taste and fragrance,
Glory to You, for the warmth and caress of all nature,
Glory to You, for surrounding us with thousands of Your creatures,
Glory to You, for the depth of Your wisdom reflected in the whole world ...

To the purified eyes of faith, the world around us can be a "festival of life" ... foreshadowing eternal life" (Ikos Two). The "earthly" can lead us to the "heavenly."

"Earthly things" in the context of the Akathist Hymn and the Orthodox worldview expressed in the Hymn, would certainly refer to the very things the Rolling Stones song laments about being absent - material and sexual satisfaction seen as ends in themselves. But whereas the song expresses both frustration and resentment as part of the psychic pain caused by such deprivation, the Akathist Hymn glorifies God for such a blessing! In the light of the insight of the Akathist Hymn, we can thus speak of a "blessed dissatisfaction." The Apostle Paul spoke of a closely-related "godly grief." (On this point, I would imagine that the Apostle Paul and Rolling Stones part company).

This just may prove to be quite a challenge to our way of approaching something like dissatisfaction.

Our usual instinct is to flee from dissatisfaction "as from the plague." Such a condition implies unhappiness, a sense of a lack of success, of "losing" in the harsh game of life as time continues to run out on us; and the deprivation and frustration mentioned above. 

Why should we tolerate the condition of dissatisfaction when limitless means of achieving "satisfaction" are at our disposal? To escape from a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, don't people resort to alcohol, drugs and sex as desperate forms of relief? Or unrestrained and massive consumer spending? And we should not eliminate "religion" as one of those means of escape. 

If those means fail, then there is always therapy and medication as more aggressive means to relieve us of this unendurable feeling. 

Sadly, many learn "the hard way," that every ill-conceived attempt to eliminate dissatisfaction through "earthly things" only leads to a further and deeper level of this unsatiable affliction. Sadder still, there are many who would "forfeit their soul/life" just to avoid the bitter taste of dissatisfaction!

If the living God exists as we believe that He does, then how could we not feel dissatisfaction at His absence from our lives? What could possibly fill the enormous space in the depth of our hearts that yearns for God "as a hart longs for flowing streams." (Ps. 42:1) 

It is as if when people "hear" the voice of God calling them - in their hearts, their conscience, through another person, a personal tragedy - they reach over and turn up the volume so as to drown out that call. 

If we were made for God, then each person has an "instinct for the transcendent" (I recall this term from Fr. Alexander Schmemann), that can only be suppressed at an incalculable cost to our very humanity. 

In His infinite mercy, the Lord "blesses" us with a feeling of dissatisfaction so that we do not foolishly lose our souls in the infinitesimal pseudo-satisfactions that come our way. Therefore, we thank God for the gift of "blessed dissatisfaction!"

When we realize that we "can't get no satisfaction," then we have approached the threshold of making a meaningful decision about the direction of our lives. The way "down" can lead to that kind of benign despair that characterizes the lives of many today. The way "up" to the One Who is "enthroned above the heavens" and the Source of true satisfaction. 

The Rolling Stones uncovered the truth of an enduring condition that we all must face and must "deal with." I am not so sure about the solution they would ultimately offer ... but in their initial intuition they proved to be very "Orthodox!"

I look forward to seeing many of you at the service so that the remembrance of God and thankfulness for the glorious gift of life can be further planted in our minds and hearts.

The Abundance of Our Possessions

Dear Parish Faithful,

"Take heed and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possession."  (LK. 12:15)

Icon of the Parable of the Rich Fool: He dines like a king at the table in the center, while servants build his new barns on the left. At right, an angel is seen coming to his deathbed to receive his soul.

There is hardly a Christian who would disagree with this teaching of the Lord, as expressed in the words above, when it comes to our relationship with the "abundance of our possessions."  We know that our life does not "consist" in them.  In other words, these very possessions do not, and simply cannot, impart genuine meaning and significance to our lives. These possessions are external to our inner being; for they cannot define us as human beings made "in the image and likeness of God." And we can say that without dismissing these possessions as just so much "mammon."

There are things that we need and there are things that we enjoy.  Yet, I also cannot but arrive at the inescapable conclusion that even though we know this teaching to be true, we seem to pay such teaching just so much "lip service" because of the extent to which we are enamored and captivated (enslaved?) by "the abundance of our possessions!"  Who is the person that can claim otherwise? 

On one level - certainly not the highest! - our lives seem to be a steady progression of accumulating as much as possible, the only limit to this accumulation being imposed on us by the extent of our available resources.  This means that the abundance - or at least the quality - of our possessions will increase as our access to "purchasing power" increases.  (Thus, at Christmas, the extent and quality of the gifts that end up in the hands of children will depend upon the wealth - or lack of wealth - of their parents.  Those who have will simply have more once Christmas comes and goes).

As Christians, then, we find ourselves in the awkward position, indicative of a genuine tension, of accepting our Lord's teaching about the dangers of accumulating possessions as true, and yet unable to arrest the desire and endeavor of adding to this abundance.  The "consumer within" is a driving force indeed!

The Lord reveals the obviousness of His teaching about possessions through the Parable of the Rich Fool, found immediately after the words already cited above. (LK. 12:16-21)  This parable is relatively short and to-the-point, so I will include it here in order to refresh our familiarity with it:

The land of a rich man brought forth plentifully; and he thought to himself, 'What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?  And he said, 'I will do this: I will pull down my barns, and build larger ones; that there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample good laid up for many years; take your ease, eat, drink, be merry.'  But God said to him, "Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'  So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God."

Not only short and to-the-point, but almost brutal in its clarity and inescapable truthfulness:  You can plan all you want, but death will cut short the most well-conceived plans with an unexpected finality that makes a mockery of those very plans. When death comes, the rich man's wealth is shown to be a worthless form of security for his "soul." (This parable always brings to my mind the words of Tevye the dairyman, who once mused that the more man plans the harder God laughs!). 

The parable does not make a moral monster of the rich landowner. There is no hint of his being a particularly sinful person. Indeed, he is probably quite indicative of his "type:" at least outwardly decent and a man of status. And he may have attended his local synagogue with regularity.  It is his preoccupation with "the abundance of his possessions" - "what shall I do;" "I will do this" - that renders him a "fool" in the judgment of God; a preoccupation that was self-centered in its orientation, culminating in a blindness that resulted in forgetfulness of God, instead of pursuing the meaningful task of striving to be "rich toward God."  As a Jew guided by the Law, he had that opportunity but squandered it.

His careful plans to build larger barns in order to accommodate his ever-increasing store of crops had the immediate impact of making life easier and enjoyable - a time to "eat, drink, and be merry." This, in turn, was a self-satisfying expansion and investment of his time and energy. In the process he pushed the inevitability of his death into a vague and perhaps far-off future. (The saints teach us that the "remembrance of death" is a key component of our spiritual lives, precisely to protect us from any such foolish forgetfulness). It is an attitude/temptation as alive today as it was in the time of Christ.

As real as the barns the landowner envisioned may have been, they are equally symbolic of a choice he made with the direction of his life. And this choice toward wealth proved to be quite costly.  Is our present-day portfolio-building equivalent to the rich landowner's building of barns?  Are we more preoccupied with becoming "rich toward God," or simply with becoming rich in the accumulation of our possessions?  Will we have to suffer with being called a "fool" when that time comes?

Perhaps we can understand the rich landowner's pursuit of an abundance of possessions as an unconscious strategy toward finding and establishing a sense of security in life. 

We are all aware of the fragile nature of our lives, and the threats posed to our security on a host of fronts:  poverty, illness, death itself.  There is nothing quite so reassuring as the feeling of security that would protect us from such threats.  While to feel insecure is a cause of great anxiety. Civilization and technology are built and developed to provide security for human beings in an insecure world. 

Thus, we find ourselves facing the same dilemma as the landowner of the parable in our own search for security; and often turning to the very means that he did in order to build up that ever-shifting sense of security:  the accumulation of an "abundance of possessions."  How ironic, though, that we tend to "secure our security" with the very means that cannot really provide it, while we neglect trying to get "rich toward God, the only true security! 

As the biblical scholar Timothy Luke Johnson has written:

"It is out of deep fear that the acquisitive instinct grows monstrous.  Life seems so frail and contingent that many possessions are required to secure it, even though the possessions are frailer still than the life"  (Gospel of Luke, p. 201).  

And, as another biblical scholar - Brendan Byrne - writes with a certain bluntness: 

"Attachment to wealth is incompatible with living, sharing and celebrating the hospitality of God" (The Hospitality of God, p. 115).

The impact of the Parable of the Rich Fool is precisely in the choice with which the parable confronts us between two very different types of "security:"  the abundance of our possessions, or being rich toward God.  It seems like a simple choice - especially for Christians - but somehow it ends up being a good deal more complicated.  We need to search our minds and hearts as to why this is true.

Christ did not deliver parables in order to entertain us with pleasant stories.  Neither to simply edify us with a moral story that remains within our "comfort zone."  The choice that the parable does confront us with demands a response - though it is possible that if we do not have "ears to hear," we can walk away from the parable with indifference.  ("Let us attend!" always precedes the reading of the Holy Scriptures in church so as to focus our minds on the appointed readings).

Let us, however, assume that we do have "ears to hear." If, then, the parable shakes us out of the false sense of security that possessions may give us, we then have to reflect deeply on how to become "rich toward God." 

Of course, we must begin by cultivating the gifts of God graciously bestowed on us:  faith, hope and love.  We can direct our prayer towards this. We need to un-hypocritically practice prayer, almsgiving and fasting. 

We further immerse ourselves in the "words of the Word" - the holy Scriptures.  It is essential that we confess our sins, and then wage a "spiritual warfare" against them.  The possibilities within the grace-filled life of the Church are many indeed.  We are neither predestined nor forced to avail ourselves of these possibilities.  We must choose to do so, supported by the grace of God.  This choice may very well determine whether or not, at the end of our lives, we will hear either "Fool!" or "Well-done, good and faithful servant."  As Jesus often exclaimed: "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!"

*As a kind of footnote to the above, I would like to point to a tremendous story of great narrative power and psychological insight, that almost reads as an extended and artistic embodiment of this parable:  Leo Tolstoy's "Master and Man."  In the story the rich landowner of 1st c. Palestine is now re-conceived as a wealthy 19th c Russian landowner.  His ultimate fate is rather terrifying.  A great work of literature well worth the time and effort.