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But blessed a hundredfold be that day on which you repent of all your unclean works, your unclean words and thoughts, and turn to God with a cry for mercy! That day is worth more to you than a thousand other days.
—Bishop Nikolai Velimirovic, Prolog
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Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,
As we move forward in the pre-lenten Sundays and the upcoming week of the Last Judgment (MATT. 25:31-46), perhaps we can "meditate" throughout this week on the Parable of the Prodigal Son from yesterday's Liturgy. When thought over deeply, we begin to understand how inexhaustible it really is!
This parable is chosen at this particular time in order to draw us toward repentance (Gk. metanoia); to remind us that Great Lent is the “school of repentance;” and that without repentance, our other “lenten efforts” become rather meaningless – if not spiritually dangerous. What will it take to convince us that we, too, need that “change of mind” and return to our heavenly Father that is the truest expression of living according to the Gospel?
As I ponder that question, I ask myself further: Have I ever really heard this parable in the way that Christ refers to “hearing?” And that would mean being shaken at the very core of my being. Am I only paying “lip service” to this greatest of the parables, as I listen to it as a wonderful short story that is exciting to analyze and discuss; but not quite capable of moving me any closer to genuine repentance? Again, these are the questions that come to my mind as I have heard this parable in the Liturgy for over forty years now as a priest.
Yet, if we have spent some time in analyzing the richness of this parable, then we realize that it is not only about the prodigal son, with the two other characters – the father and the older brother – acting in a clearly subordinate manner or for the sake of rounding out the story. They are both integral to the parable and hold equal weight as we try and grasp the parable as a whole. Without the father and the older son, the parable would suffer from a certain one-sidedness or incompleteness.
This is absolutely true when it comes to the very core meaning of the parable - which is repentance. We are deeply moved by the movement of the prodigal son toward his return to his father’s home. We first read of his journey to a “faraway country” and rapid and total decline wherein he wastes his inheritance in “loose living.” An all too-familiar tale. This is followed by a spiraling descent that has him longing for the pods that serve as food for the pigs he has been hired to tend. His re-ascent begins with his “coming to himself” after what must have been a painfully honest self-assessment of his stricken condition of estrangement from even basic human fellowship. This culminates in the thought of returning to his father and begging for mercy and the actual movement of “arising” and doing it.
None of this would have born any fruit, however, without the compassion and love of the prodigal son’s father who embodies the forgiveness that completes his repentance. If the father had been stern, or absorbed with his own sense of being offended; if he had chastised his son with the predictable and perhaps satisfying retort, “I told you so;” then the parable would collapse with an all too-human reaction that would be plausible but unworthy of the Gospel that Jesus came to proclaim. For the father of the parable is a figure of our heavenly Father’s compassion, love and forgiveness that Christ came to offer to all and every sinner. The father remains unforgettable as a “character” precisely because he confounds our expectations in his boundless love fully revealed by running out to his son, falling on his neck and kissing him. This is how the Father “Who is without beginning” acts toward his wayward creatures who have spent their inheritance – the “image and likeness” of God – in the faraway country of self-autonomy and the “swinish” fulfillment of the most base desires. Our repentance results in a cosmic joy that God shares with the angels and the preparation of the “banquet of immortality.”
The older son represents precisely that all too-human response referred to above of hurt feeling and an offended sensibility that leaves him insensitive to his repentant brother’s return and salvation. No matter how justified such a response would seem from our human perspective, it remains outside of the Gospel’s “transvaluation of values.”
This is our “invitation” to Great Lent offered to us by the Lord Jesus Christ: “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand” (MATT. 4:17). To help us understand the beauty of that movement of repentance, the Lord delivers what just may be his “parable of parables,” the one we usually name after the prodigal son. So before we get out our lenten cookbooks, we must first really “hear” this parable and pray to God that He will direct and guide us toward true repentance.
The lenten cookbook will not save us – but repentance will.
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At the Liturgy on Sunday, we heard what must be the shorter epistle reading on our lectionary - I Tim. 1:15-17. Here is that text:
"The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. And I am the foremost of sinners; but I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ may display his perfect patience for an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever and ever. Amen."
We know part of this text very well, of course, as we recite it together as a kind of communal pre-Communion pray as we prepare to receive the Eucharist at the Divine Liturgy. The question is then raised: How can each and every one of us be "the foremost of sinners?" I would like to again share a key passage in Peter Bouteneff's book How To Be a Sinner, as an insightful and deeply challenging response to that very natural question:
"I am the foremost of sinners." How can I make sense of this statement as I strive to make it my own? ...
For one, to the best of my knowledge, it is actually true. I can't fully know the misdeeds, circumstances, external strictures, inner struggles, or repentance of other people. It is not mine to analyze other people's shortcomings or their motivations. Doing so will not benefit me. Plus, their failings are fully known only to God. I have access to and control over only myself. I can bring only myself before God's judgment. And I will tell you that the picture is not very pretty. Given the circumstances in which I was raised, my education and life in the Church, what I have seen and what I know, for me to harbor the kind of thoughts that I have, to speak the words that I say, and do the deeds I do is utterly inexcusable. As for the state of my repentance? The quality of my prayer? Forget it. I can't say how it goes for anyone else. I honestly have no idea. But there's a real good chance they are doing this all better than I do, thanks be to God. (p. 56-57)
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Very honest and, in my estimation, very true for each and every one of us.
“There were present at that season some who told Him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And Jesus answered and said to them, ‘Do you suppose that these Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish. Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse sinners than all other men who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish.” (Lk 13:1-5)
I’m thinking of this Gospel-passage today, which deals with one man-made (or man-intended) and another, not man-made or man-intended disaster, which brought sudden death onto the victims. The first was Pilate’s massacre of people on the temple mount, and the second was the collapse of a tower in Siloam, which killed 18 people. It reminds me of two current disasters, also bringing sudden death to their victims, – the man-made and man-intended war against Ukraine and the wildfires in Los Angeles County. The latter are perhaps partly man-made, but certainly not man-intended. Just like the tower in Siloam was man-made, but certainly not with the intention of it collapsing and killing people.
Our Lord makes two points here. First, He warns against assuming that the victims of these sudden and senseless tragedies had been judged for their sins. We are all sinners, and to assume that victims of such tragedies are somehow worse than the rest of us and hence deserved to die, is wrong. His second point is that all of us need to repent, meaning, change our focus, because we don’t know exactly when or how we will die. If we are not mindful of this fact and not attentive to our own “repentance,” preferring to judge others instead (as do those who thought that the victims of Pilate or of the collapse of the tower), we will “likewise perish,” says the Lord, – in the sense that our death will catch us unprepared for it. But if we are always in repentance-mode; always focusing and re-focusing on our path of salvation and our journey to new life in God’s kingdom, death will not find us unprepared, however or whenever it happens.
It is natural, when tragedy strikes, to ask why. And when it is both man-made and man-intended, when it is a crime, it is important to bring to justice the criminal(s) responsible. But it is not our place or our right to blame the victims, or to usurp God’s judgment over them, because He alone is the Judge of our sins. So, let me read the headlines about sudden deaths as a warning to repent, as a call to self-examination, rather than as an occasion to judge the victims. All our lives are essentially a house of cards, which can collapse at any moment, for man-made or not man-made reasons. Help us, save us, have mercy on us, and keep us, O God, by Your grace.
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One of themes raised yesterday in the homily was precisely that of repentance: "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." (Matt. 4:17) The need for repentance pervades the Gospels within a seemingly endless amount of situations. As Christians, we are called to endlessly seek that "change of mind" that brings us closer to Christ and the Kingdom of Heaven. I just the passage that Sister Vassa brings to our attention the other day. I believe that her distinction between "man made" disasters and not "man made" disasters is very helpful.
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 it was only yesterday evening when we chanted the Akathist Hymn "Glory to God For All Things" as we acknowledged 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.
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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
"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).
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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 sang and chanted yesterday evening for the Church New Year beginning today, 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. To put that another way from the Akathist: "Where You are not is only emptiness."
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!"
May the Church New Year fill us with "blessed dissatisfaction" so that we desire to seek and love God all the more!
Dear Parish Faithful,
If the Lord comes to us, we should receive him with great joy and humility. But let us be careful not to seek mystical experience when we should be seeking repentance and conversion. That is the beginning of our cry to God. “Lord, make me what I should be, change me whatever the cost.” And when we have said these dangerous words, we should be prepared for God to hear them. And these words of God are dangerous because God’s love is remorseless. God wants our salvation with the determination due its importance. And God, as the Shepherd of Hermas says, “does not leave us till he has broken our heart and bones.”
—Metropolitan Anthony Bloom & George LeFebvre, Courage to Pray
Dear Parish Faithful,
Anger is the result of people’s failure to do or say what we wish, or of things that do not go the way we prefer. Rather than adapt to circumstances by way of the practice of patience, we often succumb to the sin of anger. Paramount in the equation of anger is the “remembrance of wrongs.” …
...The pervasiveness of this sin warrants special mention. We live in an age where, though we have less and less direct contact with others, we seem so easily tempted by thoughts, feelings, fantasies, and injuries believed caused by our neighbor.
Whenever we become obsessed by some past event in which we perceive that we have been wronged, we give the devil ample opportunity to lead us toward greater temptation. We forget that our warfare is not with each other! We are to engage in spiritual warfare against the Enemy of our salvation and his willing hosts, the demons. When we remember wrongs, we fall prey to the Father of Lies and engage in combat against our fellow brothers and sisters.
—Fr Joseph David Huneycutt, Defeating Sin
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As far back as the fourth c. Evagrius of Pontus (+399), the great "desert psychologist," came up with a list of the "passionate thoughts" (logismoi) that can tempt and trouble the human mind and heart. One of those "thoughts" was anger. Later, St. Gregory the Great (+604) devised the more familiar list of the "seven deadly sins," and his list also included anger. To this day, we continue to analyze the effects of anger on the human mind. Fr. Joseph above offers some good insights into this "passionate thought," that are worthy of our reflection.
Dear Parish Faithful,
We must care for ourselves, think about ourselves, reflect on ourselves. But keep it light. A good sense of humor about yourself helps immensely. Don’t overdramatize either your sins or your virtues, because frankly, chances are that neither are all that spectacular.
Peter Bouteneff, author of How To Be a Sinner
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A helpful piece of short "spiritual advice" that I would think speaks to all of us. There is a thin line between high drama and soap-opera, as there is between pathos and bathos. And perhaps we straddle both of those lines more than we think. I recall that the great religious philosopher, Vladimir Solovyov (+1900) once reflected that among all of created beings, that it is only the human being who has the capacity for laughter.
Dear Parish Faithful,
Of the many intriguing points about the Parable of the Prodigal Son, one of them is the fact of just how "open" it is in the end. After reading of these three wonderfully etched characters of the compassionate father, and of the two sons - one prodigal and the other unforgiving - we find ourselves facing a real dose of uncertainty when the parable is completed.
Sequentially, we heard of the remarkable "resurrection" (anastas in the text) of the prodigal son once he "comes to himself," and literally throws himself before the father whom he callously abandoned to pursuit his fortune and his misguided understanding of both independence and pleasure. Then, we heard of the compassionate father who responds with an outpouring of forgiveness and love, as he refuses to react with a predictable offense at his son's misadventures when he returns seeking mercy. And finally, we hear of the even more predictable response of the other son who, almost choking with resentment at the mercy shown his unacknowledged brother (a relationship that he does not admit to), as he bitterly lashes out at his father's seemingly blissful indifference to his life of toil in pursuit of fair recognition of his filial piety. The poor father has two very difficult sons to deal with, and he does so with an amazing patience and loving admonition. The image of our heavenly Father as revealed by Jesus finds its truest expression in the father of the parable.
But a parable is not a fairy tale, and though the final sentence is undoubtedly positive and even echoes the very core of the Gospel: "Your brother was lost, and is now found," that is not the same as hearing: "And they lived happily ever after." It is not even equivalent to hearing: "All's well that ends well." Hence, the "openness" of the parable's ending is that we cannot assume with any certainty that the unforgiving brother experienced a "change of mind" (the meaning of the Gk. word for repentance - metanoia). The possibility remains that his resentment may have continued to smolder even if he went into the party and partook of the fatted calf and appeared to "make merry." There is no real indication of his final response.
And the prodigal son? We left him humbled and on his knees before his father; perhaps filled with jubilation at his "reversal of fortune" as he now rejoices in a sumptuous feast prepared for him shortly after his desperate willingness to even eat the pods thrown to the pigs. But was his repentance permanent or ephemeral? Did he suffer another bout of restlessness and instability? Did he "hit the road" yet again?
Christ gives us a remarkable glimpse of the gift of salvation and of a "fresh start" in this parable. Of this there is no doubt, as many see this as the "parable of all parables;" the one that comes readily to mind when the heart of the Gospel is reflected upon: the salvation of sinners by a merciful God. And yet we can also say that Christ was a "realist," and that he leads us into the deepest recesses of the Gospel, while simultaneously acknowledging the barriers presented to a sinful humanity to actually repent: habit, hard-heartedness, indifference and resentment, to mention a few of the more obvious sins.
We know how we want the parable to end, as our better intuition seeks reconciliation and deep communion between human beings made in God's image and likeness. But the "openness" in the end, without an assurance of that longed for "happy ending" reveals the contingency of all life within the theater of history and its demands for constant choices. Repentance must be sustained once embraced - an ever-deepening process of "turning around" and "changing one's mind" so that we seek first the Kingdom of God and all righteousness, leading to the human transformation that that implies.
Again, Christ offers us an unforgettable image of repentance, compassion, and even the "no exit" of cold indifference. This openness is perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the Lord's incomparable parables.
Please feel free to share any comments or further insights into this "parable of parables."
Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,
Let us flee from the pride of the Pharisee and learn humility from the Publican's tears. Let us cry to our Savior: Have mercy on us, O only merciful One. (Kontakion of the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee)
At Sunday's Divine Liturgy, we heard the first of four pre-lenten Gospel readings: The Parable of the Publican and the Pharisee (LK. 18:10-14). A parable is a story, and therefore is not based on an actual event, but who would deny that it reveals to us the truth about our relationship with God? That is why, in some of our prayers, we ask the Lord to grant us the spirit of the Publican and the Prodigal even though they were not individual historical characters. And yet these characters - the positive and the negative - are representative of all humanity. The parables are thus timeless sources of revealed Truth. They challenge us today, as they challenged our Lord's contemporaries.
This short parable describes "Two men" that "went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector (or publican)." (LK. 18:10). The Lord continues:
The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, 'God , I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get. (v. 11-12)
The primary sin of this man who would have been considered "righteous" among his fellow Jews, is that of self-righteousness. True righteousness is God-sourced; but the pharisee's righteousness was self-sourced. Perhaps it is significant that Christ specifically says that he prayed "with himself." His "prayer" to God was a concise formulation of self-praise. He trusted in himself more then he trusted in God. He did the "right things," but in the wrong spirit. The sinners that he encountered on a daily basis only served to affirm him in his own perceived righteousness. The comparisons and contrasts were always to his advantage. He "needed" the sinners that surrounded him! His pride was his downfall. If pride leads to the self apart from God, then pride is the bitter road to nowhere. "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled." (v. 14)
Of the publican, the Lord offers this short but moving description:
But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, 'God, be merciful to me a sinner!' (v. 13)
Aware of his sin, the publican manifests deep, heartfelt repentance. This humble recognition of his sin is, paradoxically, the publican's road back to fellowship with God based on forgiveness and restoration. Empty of pride, there is now "room" for God. Humility is the "mother of the virtues" according to the saints, and this is not the way of the world. Humility demands great trust on our part, for the humble suffer reproach in this world, and our fear of being taken advantage of works against nurturing a humble spirit. Humility is the beginning of God-centeredness as opposed to self-centeredness. "He who humbles himself will be exalted." (v. 14)
We all know the temptation toward self-righteousness and pride. The "rewards" are meaningless, for the exalted self ultimately experiences loneliness and emptiness. The proud person lives and dies alone. Yet, we still find it diffiicult to avoid such temptation. The "world' has driven the thirst for autonomy and its pride-based assumptions into our minds and hearts. To follow the Lord in His humility demands a total reorientation of our accumulated worldly "values" and worldly "wisdom." It means trusting in God, and not in oneself. Great Lent creates the environment wherein we can focus our attention on this never-ending battle for the heart's loyalties and final place of rest. The parable is a wonderful reminder of how we should approach this battle.
Icon of 'The Indiction', the Church New Year
Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ, As baptized and chrismated Orthodox Christians who confess our sins and receive the Eucharist, I will assume that our deepest and dearest conviction is equal to that of the Apostle Peter: that Jesus is the Christ and the Son of the living God. This is what distinguishes us as a parish community – a shared conviction that unites us as the local Body of Christ. Here conviction is synonymous with the content of our faith. This is what we believe, a conviction about Christ expanded in the Nicene Creed that we confess at every Liturgy we attend, and beginning with the words, “I believe.” As our faith hopefully deepens through the years, we become further convinced that the convictions we hold are true. Since these convictions are about God, then we are touching upon “ultimate reality.” What this demands is seriousness and sobriety of both our minds and hearts: “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God!” (HEB. 10:31) Personally, I find it impossible to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, and not to have that conviction as the most important and significant aspect of one’s very existence. I believe that this conviction transcends all others, and that it is the guiding force of our commitments. Since, ultimately, this conviction chooses life over death, it is thus a matter of life and death. This conviction transcends the difference between male or female; rich or poor; even Conservative or Liberal! The words of Christ make this clear. How else can we interpret this “hard saying” of the Lord:
“He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and he who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”(MATT. 10:37)
Otherwise, we may just be fooling ourselves about our deepest convictions. With the best of intentions, such a delusion can result in a certain hypocrisy. However, if we look at this more positively, we can understand that this is where conviction leads to commitment, or perhaps a renewal of our commitment if it has weakened. Even if we continue to struggle with the battle between faith and doubt when assessing our conviction about Christ; or if we share the anguished cry of the anonymous father in the Gospel: “I believe, help my unbelief!” (MK. 9:24); even then we realize that our convictions can remain abstract or sterile without a genuine commitment to embody them in our daily lives. If we believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then we must witness to this truth with all of our strength. In other words, we commit to living as Christians tangibly, concretely, and as unhypocritically as possible. Broadly understood, the words of Christ to the rich young man who was seeking the way to “eternal life” can serve as a sure guide to embodying our convictions about the Lord in a conscious commitment to following Him: “If you would enter life, keep the commandments … You shall not kill, You shall not commit adultery, You shall not steal, You shall not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (MATT. 16:17-19)
Even further, we can continually study and do our best to embody the moral and ethical teachings found in the Sermon on the Mount, beginning with the beatitudes. Now there is an ennobling and worthy lifelong project that will probably never reach completion! Be that as it may, I would like to focus more in the remainder of this meditation on our ecclesial lives which we live out on the parish level and which we take home with us during the week. If the Church new year is a wonderful opportunity to (re)commit ourselves to our lives in Christ, then we can always begin with the ABCs of the spiritual life: prayer, almsgiving and fasting (MATT. 6:1-18). At home, on a daily basis we must commit to praying with regularity. We need to have our eyes and then our hearts open to those who need our assistance. And we need to practice the discipline of fasting according to the Church calendar as part of our ascetical efforts of freeing ourselves from over-dependence/obsession with food and drink. Reading the Scriptures with regularity as part of our daily lives can certainly be added to this. This is all basic, but if we have forgotten it, then it can be restored through repentance and effort. As a parish community, our most foundational commitment is to the Lord’s Day Liturgy. The Eucharist on the Lord’s Day is the “alpha and omega” of our parish existence. All parish life flows outward from the Eucharistic Liturgy and returns there for both sustenance and greater vision. The sharing of our time, talent and treasure will, to a great extent, be determined by our joyful experience of God in and through the Liturgy. A “reluctant giver” will view the Liturgy as a religious obligation that needs to be fulfilled; but a “cheerful giver” is one who approaches the Liturgy as an inexhaustible gift from the Lord. For it is there, at the Liturgy, that we are truly a koinonia – a communion – of brothers and sisters in Christ; for we commune together of the Body and Blood of Christ, uniting ourselves with Christ and with one another. When we speak of commitment in communal terms, it is our continuing presence at the Liturgy – and as Eucharistic beings – that should define us. I believe that this is one of the many strengths of our parish. A very high percentage of our “parish census” is at the Lord’s Day Liturgy on any given Sunday. (Arriving on time may just be another matter that needs to be worked on!). I also encourage you to expand your liturgical commitment, and "make room" to be present for our other services throughout the year - from Feast Days to Vespers. Yet, as our society becomes ever more “secular,” there are increasing temptations to view Sunday as any other day with various attractions and things to do. Sunday has lost its privileged status in our contemporary world. “Rest” is a rather quaint concept today, suitable for the unengaged, the elderly, or for those who cannot quite keep up with the fast-paced rhythms of today’ world. Thus, a wide range of events have now spilled over into Sunday, posing an ever-widening challenge for our loyalties. Among the clergy, at least, a major concern and topic of open discussion is the proliferation of children’s sporting events that are regularly scheduled now for Sunday morning. Loyalty to the team is promoted in almost “evangelical” terms. This is one instance of the many pressures put upon the contemporary Christian family, and which demand careful thinking and hard decisions. Yet, all decisions must return to the twin realities of conviction and commitment. The Church New Year is a blessing that allows us the time for renewal, for reflection on our priorities, and for repentance if we have somehow lost sight of our “first love” – the conviction that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God; and if our commitment to Christ has somehow melted away into directions that do not necessarily lead to life. Yet, “now is the acceptable time! |
Dear Parish Faithful,
GREAT LENT - Day Five
"It is good not to get angry, but if this should happen, St. Paul does not allow you a whole day for this passion, for he says: 'Do not let the sun go down on your anger.' (Eph. 4:26) Will you wait til all your time is ended? Why hate the one who has grieved you? It is not this person who has done the wrong, but the evil one."
Amma Syncletica (+460)
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Anger, according the saints, is a "passion." Meaning we lose control of this impulse, but are rather controlled by it. It is hard to think straight or to pray when you are angry. I would imagine that this is a common experience. The Apostle Paul is exhorting us to limit the extent to which this passion rules our life. Be done with it at the end of the day. Be forgiving as our heavenly Father is forgiving, seems to be what the apostle is teaching. As to the last sentence from Amma Syncletica, I highly doubt that she is saying "blame the devil" for your reckless impulses. As I highly doubt she is relieving us of our personal responsibility when we unleash our anger on someone - including our loved ones.
My sense is that she is alerting us to the ever present reality of temptation, the source of which is ultimately the "evil one." The Apostle Peter teaches us: "Be sober, be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring line, seeking some one to devour." ((I Pet. 5:8) I rather think that it is easier to control of food and drink intake - fasting - than it is to control our anger. Great Lent is a season of reconciliation.
Dear Parish Faithful,
The following piece on the meaning and purpose of Great Lent was written by our own Kevin Rains. Kevin wrote this for the inquirers that he and Anthony Flick are currently teaching about the Orthodox Faith in our present and ongoing Catechetical Class. (If anyone would like to join the class, please contact me or Kevin). It is an excellent summary of the many dimensions of Great Lent, that can be read by those just learning about Orthodoxy, and by those who have been immersed in the life of the Church for many years.\
- Fr. Steven
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Great Lent is here. In our recent catechumen class, I briefly touched on the significance of Great Lent and some of the core practices of this special season. It has rightly been called a “school of repentance.” This is such a special time of preparation and if we allow it, Great Lent will shape us in profound ways. Namely, it will prepare us to encounter the resurrected Christ on Great and Holy Pascha.
How do we embrace this time as fully as possible? I want to offer a number of ways, though not an exhaustive list. Some of the practices listed here will not be as helpful or even possible for some. As always consult Fr. Steven for how to most fully engage this season in your context.
First, we fast. I don’t think it is necessary to get too far into the weeds on how we fast as there is ample information on our website, the oca.org website and many other trusted sources online. Of course, we all also have the inherited wisdom of our Tradition and more closely to home, people in our very own parish who have observed Great Lent for many years. At a minimum, we fast from certain foods. Most Orthodox keep what is roughly equivalent to a vegan diet throughout the 40 days of Great Lent.
Second, we pray. There are many wonderful opportunities to pray more deeply both in private and with the gathered Body of Christ. A couple that come immediately to mind are the Canons of St. Andrew offered every night during the first week of Lent. This prayer-poem is among the most beautiful inheritances within our Tradition. And of course, there is the prayer of St. Ephraim which most will have memorized by the end of Lent due to how often it used in this season:
“O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power, and idle talk. But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to Thy servant. Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own transgressions, and not to judge my brother, for blessed art Thou, unto ages of ages.”
Third, we read. There are some recent classics for those who have never gone through an Orthodox Great Lent that I can confidently commend to you. Father Schmemann’s Great Lent and The Lenten Spring by Father Thomas Hopko. Fr. Steven knew and studied under both of these great priests and theologians. Fr Steven also regularly recommends other books and, of course, you can’t go wrong by reading any of the Church Fathers. However, Fr. Schmemann’s and Fr. Hopko’s books are wonderful and approachable distillations of our Tradition as it relates to Great Lent.
Fourth, we love. Part of this love is expressed through generosity as we give to the poor. And Jesus calls us to the triad of fasting, praying and giving in his central teaching in the Sermon on the Mount (Gospel of St. Matthew chapters 5-7 but especially chapter 6). We were also reminded last Sunday in the teaching of the Great Judgement from Matthew 25 that those who care for the suffering - the sick, the imprisoned, the stranger in need, the hungry, the thirsty - are those who are invited into a glorious future in God’s presence.
I’ve personally sensed a very fresh call to this practice. When Dn. Jonathan read and Fr. Steven spoke on this passage I heard it in a new way. I have often heard this passage as a threat to do more, to help more… or else! This time I heard in it an invitation. In a sense, we are like the students who are given the questions for our Final Exam ahead of time. We know what is coming and we are being told not only the question of the Final Exam but also the answer! How will our fate be determined at the end of time? By how much we loved and cared for those in need around us.
The link between repentance - the major through-line of Great Lent - and caring for those in need is clearly reinforced in the teachings of John the Forerunner. John came announcing “Repent for the kingdom of God is near.” The crowd who heard this asked John, what should we do? In essence, they asked, “How do we repent?” John’s answer: ““If you have two coats,” he replied, “give one to the poor. If you have extra food, give it away to those who are hungry.” Sound familiar?
John the Forerunner’s answer is very much in line with not only Christ’s invitation in the Last Judgement (Matthew 25) but also in the prophets that preceded him who spoke often of God’s desire for justice - caring for the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed. One example among hundreds is Isaiah’s famous passage.
Isaiah chapter 58 opens with God’s people declaring that they have repented and fasted. They are essentially asking God, “Now, what more do you want?” To which God replies with the now-familiar theme:
“No, the kind of fast I want is that you stop oppressing those who work for you and treat them fairly and give them what they earn. I want you to share your food with the hungry and bring right into your own homes those who are helpless, poor, and destitute. Clothe those who are cold, and don’t hide from relatives who need your help.” (Isaiah 58.6-7)
Friends, may we fast for God’s glory, our formation in the way of Christ, and in ways that serve our neighbor! In essence, Lent is a fresh opportunity for us to learn to “Love God and our neighbor as ourselves.”
