Lenten Meditation -- Fourth Friday of Great Lent

Source: stjohngoc.org

The thing about Confession is that it is natural. That is, it is Real. Almost everything else we do with our sin is false and unnatural. We punish ourselves, justify our actions, and hide. Yet, in Confession—in opening ourselves to God the Light—we expose the hypocrisy of our double life. In truth, we’ve been living a lie. Without Confession, Absolution, and Reconciliation we live a lie before God and Man as if it were Reality. In reality, no one is fooled—not our neighbor, not ourselves. And—let’s be real—certainly not God.

—Fr. Joseph David Huneycutt, Defeating Sin

Lenten Meditation -- Third Friday of Great Lent

 

“I am the foremost of sinners” [1 Tim. 1:15]. 

How can I make sense of this statement as I strive to make it my own? … Surely, there are worse sinners than me. …

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. … I have access to and control over only myself. 

—Peter Bouteneff, How to Be a Sinner

Monday Midday Meditation -- 'Let us give thanks unto the Lord!'

 

Source: uocofusa.org

"Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine?" (LK. 17:17)

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

The cleansing of the ten lepers (LK. 17:11-19) is clearly a remarkable story that reveals the exousia, or authority, of Christ over sickness. Yet, in addition, it is a healing story that is just as much about the need to offer thanksgiving to God whenever we are a recipient of His abundant mercy.

As the story opens, we first hear the plaintive and pathetic cry from these lepers: "And as he entered the village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices and said, 'Jesus, Master, have pity on us'." (v.12-13) Did these lepers truly believe that Jesus could do something for them that no one else could possibly do?

In response to whatever level of faith they may have had, Jesus cleansed the ten lepers simply by His word:  "When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to priests." And as they went they were cleansed." (v. 14).

Lepers, of course, were not allowed to be near the other members of their community, for they were declared to be unclean and therefore, ritually impure (LEV. 13:45-46; NUM. 5:2-3). Their cleansing not only freed them from a debilitating illness that left its victims visibly disfigured; but it also restored them to fellowship in their community. Their ostracism was now over. 

According to the Law, the priests that Jesus sent them to would declare their healing and make that restoration to society a possibility. Yet, considering the enormous generosity of Christ in being the source of both their cleansing and restoration, we read with great surprise that only one of them returned to Jesus in order to thank Him:

Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell at his feet, giving him thanks. (v. 15-16)

What adds to our surprise is that this newly-cleansed leper "was a Samaritan." (v. 16) We know that Jews and Samaritans were hostile to each other and that "Jews have no dealings with Samaritans."(JN. 4:9) In the light of that reality, it is all the more significant that there was a Samaritan among the ten lepers. Perhaps, as lepers, they were forced to keep company; but could it be possible that in their misery they understood that they shared a common humanity that transcended their ethnic/cultural/religious barriers? So, perhaps in their collective misery, these lepers overcame their mutual hostility as they remained together on the outskirts of the village. 

Be that as it may, Jesus wanted to point out the incongruity of a Samaritan returning to offer thanks to God, while His fellow Jews failed to do so. And then Jesus asks what is a very convicting question that goes to the very heart of the matter:  "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner"?" (v. 17-18) Even Jesus calls the Samaritan a "foreigner!" (It is of note that it was a foreigner - Naaman - who returned to Elisha after being healed of leprosy (II KINGS 5:15, LK. 4:27). But the question "cuts deep," we can say. 

Christ does not "need" to be thanked. Jesus is not petulant; and He is not offended by the cleansed lepers who failed to return as did the Samaritan. It was the lepers who needed to offer thanksgiving or praise to God for what had been done for them. That was the point that Christ drew attention to through His publicly-stated question. Significantly, Jesus tells the Samaritan:  "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well." (v. 17) Did the cleansed and thankful leper receive more than the others had done?

St. Athanasius the Great implies this in his comments on this passage:

"They thought more highly of their cure from leprosy than of him who who had healed them.... Actually, this one was given much more than the rest. Besides being healed of his leprosy, he was told by the Lord, "Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you." You see, those who give thanks and those who glorify have the same kind of feelings. They bless their helper for the benefits they have received. That is why Paul urged everybody to 'glorify God with your body.' Isaiah also commanded, 'Give glory to God'." — Festal Letter 6

The leprosy that was treated with fear and great caution in the Scriptures can serve as a vivid metaphor for human sin. In the Orthodox Tradition, we treat sin more as a sickness than as the breaking of a commandment. Sin is more of a "condition" than a "crime." It is, actually, the "human condition" into which we are born when we enter this world. Thus, "Since all are sinners and fall short of the glory of God" (ROM. 3:23), we all need to be healed by God. And we all have been: through the redemptive death of Christ on the Cross and His Resurrection from the dead. And then through our personal death to sin and resurrection to life with Christ through the mystery of Baptism. (ROM. 6:3-11) 

For this we give thanks to God from a heart overflowing with gratitude, thanksgiving and love because we are overwhelmed by what God has done for us in and through our Savior Jesus Christ. We may have been healed through Baptism, but without the response of thanksgiving, this healing remains incomplete, and it will not bear much fruit. 

On the Lord's Day we come to the Eucharistic service of the Church - the Liturgy - which is the Service of Thanksgiving, we could say. Our presence signifies our own "return" to the Lord in response to His healing presence in our lives. (For the baptized who do not return to thus give thanks, we find a resemblance to the healed lepers who failed to return in order to praise God). And it is then that we offer thanksgiving to God as we offer ourselves up to God through the sacrifice of Christ actualized in the Liturgy. And then we receive the Eucharist - the "thanksgiving food" - to nourish us in this movement of growing love toward the most Holy Trinity:

"Eucharistisomen to Kyrio!" - "Let us give thanks unto the Lord!"

Monday Morning Meditation

Source: uncutmountainsupply.com

 Dear Parish Faithful,

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)

_____

Very honest and, in my estimation, very true for each and every one of us.

Sister Vassa: 'On Casting Stones'

 

ON CASTING STONES

“Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to him a woman caught in adultery. And when they had set her in the midst, they said to him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do you say?’ This they said, testing him, that they might have something of which to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with his finger, as though he did not hear. So when they continued asking him, he raised himself up and said to them, ‘He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.’ And again h e stooped down and wrote on the ground. Then those who heard it, being convicted by their conscience, went out one by one, beginning with the oldest even to the last. And Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had raised himself up and saw no one but the woman, he said to her, ‘Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.’” (Jn 8: 3-11)

I’m thinking of our reaction, when someone in our public eye is “caught in adultery,” or “in the very act” of some other sex-related sin. I’m not talking about criminal acts like rape and domestic violence, but about sexual missteps that are morally reprehensible, but not legally actionable. We do not physically stone the culprits to death, but we quite readily bombard them with our collective outcry, mostly on social media, to the point that the culprit’s name and career is erased from the public sphere, with no hope for redemption, regardless of their very-public apologies or explanations. (I’ll note parenthetically that our “verbal stoning” is usually unleashed on men, and only rarely on women.)

Why does Christ call us to take note of our own sins, in these situations? It’s not because “two wrongs make a right.” It’s rather because, while our “eye” is blinded by the “log” in it, we can’t say, as He does to this adultress, “Go and sin no more,” empowering her to do so by His grace-filled word. All we have to offer, in our unreflectingly-angry lack of self-awareness, is death-bringing stones, which can only destroy, but can’t empower anyone to do better. Thank You, Lord, for not “condemning” us, as we so often do one another, but empowering us to do better, by Your compassionate and grace-filled Word.

Coffee With Sister Vassa

_____

Sister Vassa lives in Vienna, so I am unaware of how publicly "sexual sins" are reported in her social and cultural setting. But it sounds similar to America, unless she is basing her words on a more international scale. Americans are obsessed with the sexual sins of other people - at least Christians are - just as we are obsessed with sex in general. The pervasiveness of sex in our society is clearly unhealthy, and we do our best to watch over our children's access to its less than desirable effects. 

Yet, all of the churches, including the Orthodox Church, are beset with the same sexual sins and of course they are deeply damaging to all the people involved. And it is worse when there are attempts to "cover up" these sins when they become high-profile cases. "Circling the wagons" to save the institutional reputation of the Church is clearly counter-productive; and only proves that the Church does not take these sexual sins seriously, though they are denounced in public pronouncements and from the amvon. All of this only leads to justifiable accusations of hypocrisy by the secular world. As Metropolitan Kallistos Ware once famously said: "Peeping through the keyhole of another person's bedroom is a very undignified position!" 

Her use of the term "verbal stoning" is effective. I do not think that she is at all advocating any kind of "moral relativism," as Christ certainly did not in the dramatic episode from St. John's Gospel that Sister Vassa recounts above. 

Her call for us to be vigilant so that we can remove the "log" from our own eyes is always timely. If we can drop the stones we have prepared for other people and their sins, I think we would feel much lighter.

LENTEN MEDITATION - Day XIII

 

 

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

_____

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.

 

'Living in Reality, Free and Fearless...'

Dear Parish Faithful,

GREAT LENT: The Tenth Day

"We condemn others only because we shun knowing ourselves."  ~ St. Seraphim of Sarov

In his new book, How to Be a Sinner, the Orthodox theologian, Dr. Peter Bouteneff, reflects on this joyful paradox: If we acknowledge that we are sinners; and if we repent and confess our sins, this is all a movement of freedom and liberation. This is so because such acknowledgement, accompanied by repentance and confession, is the path to salvation, and that means the reception of God's mercy, grace and love. And there is nothing sentimental about any of this, because we were "bought with a price" (I COR. 6:20) when the Son of Man came "to give his life as a ransom for many." (MK. 10:45).

The alternative is not attractive:

"Many of us spend a lot of our time and energy avoiding genuine self-discovery. We take refuge in the world's abundant noise, distractions, and mediocrity because even a glimpse of our sins can be horribly unpleasant." (p.42) 

Dr. Bouteneff outlines five "benefits" that flow naturally from this self-knowledge. Below, I am offering a few of his insights under the heading of these five "benefits." Hopefully, they will further help us along the path toward God through self-knowledge of our sins, repentance and confession.

1. Perception of Reality

 

• "We cannot see things as they are if we do not see ourselves as we are." (p. 43)
• "To propose that I am sinless is essentially a guaranteed falsehood, a denial of reality, even in a relativistic and "post-factual" culture. (p. 44)
• "To the extent that we are also true to reality, we have a clearer relationship with ourselves, others, and God." (p. 44)

2. Freedom

 

• "The liberation of our conscience, through admitting our sins, is linked to a kind of surrender." (p. 46)
• "The freest, least self-conscious people are usually those who know full well that they are broken, that they are sinners, and that they depend on a higher power for their very life." (. 47)
• "Self-knowledge and surrender to God's immeasurable love and strength don't turn you into a church mouse. Quite the opposite; you become fully alive, sure-footed and truly free." (P. 47)

3. Assurance

 

• "Once we perceive and acknowledge our faults and surrender them to God, we have the deepened assurance of being loved and forgiven." (p. 47-48)
• "Living with and living into another's total love - especially God's - is painfully humbling. Strangely, we may prefer the feeling of being hated to the exposed... feeling of being totally loved." (p.48)
• "Whether people treat me like gold or dirt, I will always recall that I am known and loved, and that my life is taken up into the living God." (p. 48-49)

4. Non-Judgment

 

• "We are supposed to be entirely occupied with our own sin, to the extent that we rightly condemn ourselves." (p.50)
• "But condemning others as unworthy of God's salvation is wrong."
• "There is thus an inextricable connection between knowing one's one faults and the refusal or even inability to judge another person." (p. 51)

5. Compassion

 

• "Our deepening realization of our own sin coupled with our increasing experience of God's mercy will fill us with compassion for others." (p. 52)
• "We will not pretend to know or fully understand the intricacies of the internal and external factors of their heart." (P. 52)
• "We will fervently wish for them nothing but God's grace, blessing, and love. We will pray that they come to a conscious knowledge of that love," (p. 52)

Dr. Bouteneff closes this section with an encouraging yet sober note:

"Living in reality, free and fearless, judging no one, with true compassion towards all, even as you work toward the correction of your life - these are the repercussions of a healthy knowledge of yourself, realistically acknowledging your sins and your total dependency on our loving God. These are gifts which may give you an inkling of why it might be worth embarking on the journey to seeing yourself as a sinner." (p. 52-53)

Dr. Bouteneff's approach, as these few insights will hopefully make clear, is very holistic, a genuine characteristic of good Orthodox theology. As we are in Great Lent, the season in which we confess our own sins in and through the Sacrament of Confession, I hope that some of the insights above will deepen that experience - and deepen our sense of the grace and love of God.


For those who would like to order and read this book, here is the link to SVS Press:
https://www.svspress.com/how-to-be-a-sinner/

Bored By Sin

Dear Parish Faithful,

Today is the Feast of the Meeting of the Lord. And we just completed a wonderful Liturgy with many worshipers present.

However, February 2 is also Groundhog Day. Not a "feast day" on my calendar, I can assure you. Yet, Groundhog Day brings to my mind a film by the very same title, i.e. "Groundhog Day."

I know that many people have seen this film, but I wonder how many realize just how "theological" of a film it actually is, though under the cover of being a romantic comedy. That theological dimension is what struck me probably after more than one viewing.

Some time ago, I wrote a film review of "Groundhog Day" and titled the review "Bored By Sin," which I thought was one of the major themes of the film. Many of you have probably read this review in the past; and it is one of the meditations included in my new book. Yet, for those who have not read it before; or for those who may want to revisit it, I have included it here below. If you have actually seen "Groundhog Day" and would like to share your own comments or understanding of the film, please feel free to do so in the comments panel below. I can assure you that I would be glad to hear back from you.

Fr. Steven

+ + +

'Bored By Sin'

Archpriest Steven C. Kostoff

Perhaps some of you recall the film "Groundhog Day" that goes back to 1991. If not quite a "cult classic" (it was too mainstream for that), it was immensely popular and was subject to multiple viewings and an endless flow of commentary and interpretation. The lead role seemed to be a perfect fit for precisely Bill Murray's type of deadpan and highly ironic sense of humor.

Having enjoyed the film myself, and having seen it a few times, I suggested "Groundhog Day" for our latest Feature Film Festival for the parish, based on some of the themes that I will expand on below. When we watched the film together I believe that it was thoroughly enjoyed by one and all. There was certainly a great deal of laughter!

Yet, the purpose of our watching films together, beyond the social significance of "getting together" as a group, is to find those films that are morally and ethically probing, in addition to their "entertainment value." Movies and movie-going dominates our popular culture, so trying to deepen that experience a bit strikes me as a sound idea. In other words, we try and choose films that will make everyone think. That is the purpose of our post-film discussions.

So why choose a film such as "Groundhog Day," a film described as "zany" and "wacky?" 

Now, there is no doubt that "Groundhog Day" plays as a very effective and highly entertaining romantic comedy. However, this is deceptive for there are layers of meaning underneath that rather well-worn and rather predictable genre. 

How many people are aware of the fact that at least for a few years after its release, "Groundhog Day" was subject to a great deal of philosophical and even theological commentary and interpretation? I recall reading many insightful reviews of this film in some very "high brow" journals. What makes all of that even more intriguing is that the director, Harold Ramis, claims that all of that went beyond his intention in making the film. The creative process can be mysterious.

"Groundhog Day" is essentially a romantic comedy with a real twist. It charts the life of a rather cynical and ambitious Pittsburgh weatherman, Phil Connors, played perfectly by Bill Murray. His self-absorption and unapologetic egoism are of gargantuan proportions. His charm is manipulative and self-serving. As the center of the universe, apparently everyone and everything around him is meant to satisfy his needs and desires. As he admits later in the film, he is a "real jerk." Phil the weatherman is sent to Punxsutawney, PA, in order to cover the groundhog day festivities there. In his mind, it promises to be a boring excursion into small town existence. At one point, he contemptuously calls the local population "hicks." He is accompanied by his TV station's producer, Rita, and cameraman Larry. Obviously, Phil does not want to be there, and can't leave soon enough once his responsibilities are fulfilled. However, a blizzard that he failed to predict, sends him back to the small town for at least one more night. When confronted with the blizzard, he angrily shouts back to the highway patrolman: "I make the weather!" But even he is forced to succumb to the power of nature and back to town he goes.

Yet, Phil wakes up the "next day" only to discover that it is February 2 and groundhog day all over again - exactly, down to every detail. He is now trapped in an inexplicable "time warp" that forces him to relive the same day over and over again, apparently without end - into eternity itself. It is the myth of the "eternal return" but on a daily basis in small town Punxsutawney! It is a living nightmare. The film wisely makes not even the slightest attempt at explaining this new reality. How could it? It simply is, and Phil is helplessly caught in it alone, for the same people that he meets are unaware of his predicament. They remain as static and unchanging as the surrounding environment. 

At first bewildered and frightened, Phil begins to make "adjustments" to his new situation. His "selfish gene" kicks into action. He soon realizes that his newly-achieved "immortality" means that his actions on one day have no consequences for there no longer exists a "tomorrow." There is no one or nothing to answer to. As it plays out in the film, it is something of a lighthearted version of Dostoevsky's aphorism, "if there is no God, then everything is permissible." Phil can now break any conceivable law - civic, social, moral, divine - with total impunity. He can now unleash his hidden passions with no restraint or "anticipatory anxiety." He can "eat, drink, and be merry" without the slightest cost to his well-being - or so it seems to him. The film exploits all of this to wonderful comic effect, and it is hard to dislike Phil in the process, "jerk" that he is. But perhaps our sympathy with Phil is grounded in the "fact" that he is living out some of our own uninspired fantasies. As in: what would you do if you won a billion dollar lottery? Or, what would you do or be like if there were no consequences to your actions?

One of the great insights of our spiritual tradition is that sin - beyond its moral, ethical and spiritually corrupting effect - is ultimately boring. Besides immediate satisfaction it remains a distortion of true life, and instead of yielding an enhanced sense of life - or "living life" as Dostoevsky would call it - sin devolves into an empty caricature of life. It is the negation of life. That is why spiritual death precedes biological death. Repetition is not a relief, but an increase of this intolerable boredom. The passions are insatiable. Sin is thus an existential vacuum that is suffocating in its long-term effects. Unconsciously, or perhaps intuitively, Phil begins to realize this after endless bouts of "wine, women and song." Daily dissipation has worn him out. He embodies the biblical "vanity of vanities." His moral universe is unaware of a "higher reality," so he looks elsewhere for relief.

Although consistently maintaining its comic touch, the film now steers us in a darker direction. Attaining a sort of pseudo-omniscience by being able to predict the daily events around him, and realizing that he cannot die, Phil begins to fancy himself a "god." Not "the God" as he admits, but a "god" nevertheless. There is nothing new left to experience so he turns to suicide. Life is boring, so he will now try death! Phil now explores the many "creative" ways in which a person can commit suicide - from driving trucks over steep cliffs, swan-diving off of tall buildings, or electrocuting himself in the bathtub. This can be interpreted as a grisly form of finding relief to the nightmare quality of having to live out the same day in isolation from a non-comprehending humanity; or the thoroughly desperate attempt to discover some more "kicks" in his morally meandering and meaningless existence.

But what actually "kicks in" at this point of the film is the slow transformation of Phil after he has bottomed-out in the manner described above. The film has a "moral," and I believe that it is effectively realized in a natural and unforced manner that is not merely sentimental or banal keeping in mind the genre and intent of this film. And again, with a lighthearted touch that probably increases its effectiveness. Remembering that this is a romantic comedy, the question becomes: will the guy - or how will the guy - get the girl in the end? Phil has resorted to endless subterfuge in order to seduce Rita the producer. Try as he might, this is the one thing he could not succeed at, regardless of his great advantage of knowing her "inside out" after living out an endless amount of days with her over and over, each one ending with a well-deserved slap to the face as Phil's real intentions become obvious. Rita is quite attractive, but more importantly she is a genuinely "good person" with a pure heart and honest intentions. Within his juvenile universe of a warped moral sensitivity Phil does not understand this.

Yet, something happens within Phil and he begins to radically change by no longer living for himself alone. He somehow breaks through his narcissistic and solipsistic one-person universe. (There is a key scene involving a death in which he realizes that he is not actually a "god"). He discovers the "other," and this discovery is transformative. He beings to live altruistically. In fact, the film can be seen on one level as the transformation of Phil Connors from a "jerk' into a genuine human being. And this will prove to be the way into the heart of Rita. Genuine virtue, as the great saints both taught and realized in their lives, is never boring as long as it does not lapse into formalism and/or moralism. It bears fruit a hundredfold when practiced with patience and the love of the "other" primarily in mind. It is the means of ascending up the ladder of divine ascent, as St. Klimakos demonstrated. Virtue is endlessly creative, since it extends and expands our humanity beyond the limits of the self. As Phil will discover, it is also the means of breaking through the meaningless "eternal return" that has taken him down into the inferno and back. But perhaps that is something that you may want to see for yourself.

"Groundhog Day" remains consistent from start to finish. The ending is satisfying and not simply anti-climatic. The screenplay is clever, sharp and humorous, and regardless of its intentions, or lack thereof, raises many genuinely "profound" issues that can be explored and expanded upon. I may have given away too much in my commentary, but I would still recommend it if you haven't seen it before. It is highly entertaining. When we think of such topics as sin, repentance and virtue, the film lends itself to a "Christian interpretation" that is not unduly forced, but rather flows naturally and instinctively from the predicament as conceived and presented. Such discoveries can be rewarding. All in all, a worthwhile film from a variety of perspectives.

The Ninth Day: On Sin and Destiny

 

Dear Parish Faithful,

GREAT LENT - The Ninth Day

"The sin that reigns in man through the power of the devil and of death arouses fear, anguish and in general the instinct of self-preservation. Thus through fear and self-interest Satan produces sin in man... and brings about his failure to fulfill his destiny."

  

- John Romanides

 

 

The Eighth Day - 'Nothing is truly bad...'

Dear Parish Faithful,

GREAT LENT - The Eighth Day

"Except for sin nothing in this life - not even death itself - is truly bad, even though it brings affliction to us."

- St. Gregory Palamas

 

 

Zacchaeus and the Temptation of Comparison

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

I noticed and then read the two fine short homilies posted on our parish websiteconcerning the story of the publican Zacchaeus and his conversion to following Christ. One was written by Fr. Thomas Hopko; and the other by Fr. Ambrose Young (in which he extensively quotes Metropolitan Anthony Bloom). These two homilies offer a great deal of insight into the character of Zacchaeus and the nature of his repentance, and I would highly recommend that you take the time to read them. I see no reason to write a further meditation that would cover the same ground.

However, there is a point that I would like to add as a general comment on reading and reflecting on the Scriptures, and their “application” to our own lives. Or, rather, I would like to add a word of caution in the face of what I would call “the temptation of comparison.”

By this I mean that when we read the Scriptures and encounter a character such as Zacchaeus – or other unnamed publicans – as well as the prodigal son, and other “great sinners;” we may well console ourselves with this consciously or unconsciously formulated train of thought: 

“Well, I am not quite so bad as these sinners. I am basically a good person who has not fallen to the depths of sin that these figures found in the Gospels have. They are there precisely to show us that even great sinners can be forgiven by God in His mercy. And I appreciate the dramatic effect of such a lesson. I certainly need to improve myself; and I certainly need to work on my relationship with God. But I have not defrauded others as Zacchaeus did, and I have not wasted my life in loose living as did the prodigal son. Most people like and respect me. Of course I, too, am sinful, but in comparison to the sinners mentioned in the Gospels, it would be false humility on my part to admit to an equally sinful life. In other words, I may be a sinner, but I am not such a great sinner.” 

Even if “objectively” true – and we can never claim absolute certainty about that - such a line of reasoning would basically waste the entire meaning of the passage on us, and perhaps further mean that we would have been better off not even listening to or reading the given passage! Such self-righteousness is considered to be a great sin in the Gospels. If, in comparison to Zacchaeus and the prodigal son, we are not as bad of sinners, does that mean that we are not as equally in need of the mercy, forgiveness, compassion, and love of God?

We seem to be drawn to such comparisons because we always come out looking good, or at least better than the other, when making these comparisons. One further and fascinating attribute of “human nature.” This, in turn, appeals to our vanity and self-regard. We are very much preoccupied with how others perceive us; our self-image as projected outwardly is of great concern to us. We would be mortified – and then either angered or depressed - if we thought that others thought poorly of us. We have a deeply-felt need to be able “to hold our head high” when compared to our neighbor. If only we were as concerned about how God may see us!

There may be another revealing side to the “temptation of comparison:” How does our repentance “compare” with that of Zacchaeus or the prodigal son, or other great sinners encountered in the Gospels? When the Lord came to his home, Zacchaeus was moved to give one-half of his possessions to the poor, and he agreed to restore fourfold what we had stolen from others. Do our fruits of repentance even begin to match that of Zacchaeus? And who compares well with the prodigal son throwing himself on the mercy of his father with no expectations in return? Have any of us been so overwhelmed by the saving presence of Christ and the sheer graciousness of the Gospel to react in such a manner? Perhaps it is this comparison that can teach us some humility.

Before approaching the Chalice in order to receive the Eucharist, each one of us makes the same confession as we collectively share the same preparatory prayer: “I believe, O Lord, and I confess that Thou art truly the Christ, the Son of the living God Who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am first.” 

The very point of this public confession is that we are not comparing ourselves with others, but confessing to our own sinfulness before God. If analyzed comparatively, such a prayer would be reduced to a kind of empty rhetoric. Compared to the great villains of history and the great sinners that fill our news stories, we again come off as good, decent human beings. But that does not mean that we are in less need of the saving grace of the Gospel. Do I need “less grace” than the great sinners of history and contemporary life because I am comparatively not as bad? Hopefully, the absurdity of such a question is more than immediate. 

The only way that we can effectively prepare for the approaching Lenten season is to open our minds and hearts to the Gospel lessons of humility, repentance, conversion, the fruits of repentance and a renewed love of God and neighbor. We do this by listening to each Gospel passage as a direct call from Christ: “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand!”

The Probing Question of Christ: 'Do You Want to be Healed?'

Dear Parish Faithful and Friends in Christ,


CHRIST IS RISEN!
INDEED HE IS RISEN!


When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” (JN 5:6)

In the fifth chapter of the Gospel of Saint John we find the account of the healing of the paralytic by the Pool of Bethesda near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem and the profound discourse that follows. Archeologists have fairly recently discovered this pool, demonstrating the accuracy of Saint John’s description. This passage, of course, is always read on the Fourth Sunday of Pascha.

The paralytic had taken his place among a human throng of chronic misery, described by the evangelist as “a multitude of invalids, blind, lame, paralyzed” [verse 3].  Being there for 38 years and not being able to experience what were believed to be the healing capacities of the waters of the pool, the paralytic seemed resigned to his destiny.

Then Jesus appeared.  He saw the paralytic and He knew of his plight.  And then Jesus asked the paralytic a very pointed and even poignant question: “Do you want to be healed?” [verse 6].

Surprisingly, considering what must have been his own misery, the paralytic’s answer was less than direct and not exactly enthusiastic: “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is troubled, and while I am going another steps down before me” [verse 7].

Nevertheless, and even though the paralytic does not commit himself to an act of faith in the healing power of Jesus, he receives the following directive from Jesus: “Rise, take up your pallet, and walk.”  And then, in that somewhat laconic style of describing the healing power of Christ that characterizes the Gospel accounts, we read simply, “And at once the man was healed, and he took up his pallet and walked” [verse 9].  The “sign” is that Christ can restore wholeness to those in need.

I believe that we need to concentrate on the question Jesus posed to the paralytic, “Do you want to be healed?”  (The King James version of the question is:  “Wilt thou be made whole?”)  For, if the various characters that Jesus encountered in the Gospels are also representatives or “types” of a particular human condition, dilemma, or state of being, then the question of Jesus remains alive in each generation and is thus posed to each of us today.

If sin is a sickness, then we are “paralyzed” by that sin to one degree or another of intensity.  But do we really want to be healed of the paralyzing effect of sin in our lives?

The answer seems obvious, even a “no-brainer,” but is that truly the case?  Or, are we more-or-less content with continuing as we are, satisfied that perhaps this is “as good as it gets” in terms of our relationship with God and our neighbors? 

Do we manage to politely deflect the probing question of Christ elsewhere, counter-posing a reasonable excuse as to what prevents us from exerting the necessary energy from our side?  Our teaching claims that we must also contribute to the synergistic process of divine grace and human freedom that works together harmoniously for our healing.

Perhaps it is easier and more comfortable to stay as we are – after all, it’s really not that bad - a position reflected in the non-committal response of the paralytic.  For to be further healed of sin will mean that we will have to make some changes in our life, in our interior attitudes and in our relationships.  It certainly means that we will have to confess our faith in Christ with a greater intensity, urgency and commitment.  Are we up to that challenge?

Actually, we could more accurately say that we have already been healed.  That happened when we were baptized into Christ.  (There are baptismal allusions in the healing of the paralytic by the pool of water).

Every human person is paralyzed by the consequences of sin, distorting the image of God in which we were initially created.  Baptism was meant to put to death the sin that is within us.  We were healed, in that baptism is the pledge to life everlasting, where death itself is swallowed up in the victory of Christ over death.  For we are baptized into the Death and Resurrection of Christ.

So, with a slight variation, the question of Christ could also imply: Do you rejoice in the fact that you have been healed, and does your way of life reflect the faith and joy that that great healing from sin and death has imparted to you?  Are you willing to continue in the struggle that is necessary to keep that healing “alive” within you?

Direct and simple questions can get complicated, often by the paralyzing effect of sin in our lives.  We can then get confused as to how to respond to such essential questions.  Every time we walk into the church we are being asked by Christ, “Do you want to be healed?”  Responding with a resounding “yes!” would be a “sign” of the faith, hope and love that are within us by the grace of God.

'This is the great work of a human being...'

Dear Parish Faithful,


GREAT LENT:  The Twenty-Fifth Day

"In time of religious peace, we take up our cross and follow Christ by putting our evil passions and desires to death through virtuous living. But when persecutions come, we must despise our own life, give up our soul for the sake of our Faith and therefore take up our cross and follow the Lord, so as to inherit eternal life. 'He that finds his life,' says the Scripture, 'shall lose it; and he that loses his life for My sake shall find it.' (MATT. 10:39)

- St. Gregory Palamas


"Sin is a blazing fire. The less fuel you give it, the faster it dies down; the more you feed it, the more it burns."

- St. Mark the Ascetic


"This is the great work of a human being: always to take the blame for his own sins before God and to expect temptation to his last breath."

- St. Anthony the Great

'Let us give thanks unto the Lord!'

Dear Parish Faithful,


"Were not ten cleansed?  Where are the nine?"  (LK. 17:17)

The cleansing of the ten lepers (LK. 17:11-19) is clearly a remarkable story that reveals the exousia, or authority, of Christ over sickness. Yet, in addition, it is a healing story that is just as much about the need to offer thanksgiving to God whenever we are a recipient of His abundant mercy.

As the story opens, we first hear the plaintive and pathetic cry from these lepers:  "And as he entered the village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices and said, 'Jesus, Master, have pity on us'." (v.12-13)  Did these lepers truly believe that Jesus could do something for them that no one else could possibly do?

In response to whatever level of faith they may have had, Jesus cleansed the ten lepers simply by His word:  "When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to priests."  And as they went they were cleansed." (v. 14).

Lepers, of course, were not allowed to be near the other members of their community, for they were declared to be unclean and therefore, ritually impure (LEV. 13:45-46; NUM. 5:2-3).  Their cleansing not only freed them from a debilitating illness that left its victims visibly disfigured; but it also restored them to fellowship in their community.  Their ostracism was now over. 

According to the Law, the priests that Jesus sent them to would declare their healing and make that restoration to society a possibility.  Yet, considering the enormous generosity of Christ in being the source of both their cleansing and restoration, we read with great surprise that only one of them returned to Jesus in order to thank Him:

Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell at his feet, giving him thanks. (v. 15-16)

What adds to our surprise is that this newly-cleansed leper "was a Samaritan." (v. 16) We know that Jews and Samaritans were hostile to each other and that "Jews have no dealings with Samaritans." (JN. 4:9) In the light of that reality, it is all the more significant that there was a Samaritan among the ten lepers. Perhaps, as lepers, they were forced to keep company; but could it be possible that in their misery they understood that they shared a common humanity that transcended their ethnic/cultural/religious barriers?   So, perhaps in their collective misery, these lepers overcame their mutual hostility as they remained together on the outskirts of the village. 

Be that as it may, Jesus wanted to point out the incongruity of a Samaritan returning to offer thanks to God, while His fellow Jews failed to do so. And then Jesus asks what is a very convicting question that goes to the very heart of the matter:  "Were not ten cleansed?  Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner"?"  (v. 17-18)  Even Jesus calls the Samaritan a "foreigner!"  (It is of note that it was a foreigner - Naaman - who returned to Elisha after being healed of leprosy (II KINGS 5:15, LK. 4:27). But the question "cuts deep," we can say. 

Christ does not "need" to be thanked.  Jesus is not petulant; and He is not offended by the cleansed lepers who failed to return as did the Samaritan. It was the lepers who needed to offer thanksgiving or praise to God for what had been done for them.  That was the point that Christ drew attention to through His publicly-stated question.  Significantly, Jesus tells the Samaritan:  "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well."  (v. 17)  Did the cleansed and thankful leper receive more than the others had done?

St. Athanasius the Great implies this in his comments on this passage:

"They thought more highly of their cure from leprosy than of him who who had healed them.... Actually, this one was given much more than the rest. Besides being healed of his leprosy, he was told by the Lord, "Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you."  You see, those who give thanks and those who glorify have the same kind of feelings. They bless their helper for the benefits they have received.  That is why Paul urged everybody to 'glorify God with your body.'  Isaiah also commanded, 'Give glory to God'."  — Festal Letter 6

The leprosy that was treated with fear and great caution in the Scriptures can serve as a vivid metaphor for human sin. In the Orthodox Tradition, we treat sin more as a sickness than as the breaking of a commandment.  Sin is more of a "condition" than a "crime."  It is, actually, the "human condition" into which we are born when we enter this world. Thus, "Since all are sinners and fall short of the glory of God" (ROM. 3:23), we all need to be healed by God.  And we all have been: through the redemptive death of Christ on the Cross and His Resurrection from the dead. And then through our personal death to sin and resurrection to life with Christ through the mystery of Baptism. (ROM. 6:3-11) 

For this we give thanks to God from a hear overflowing with gratitude, thanksgiving and love because we are overwhelmed by what God has done for us in and through our Savior Jesus Christ.  We may have been healed through Baptism, but without the response of thanksgiving, this healing remains incomplete, and it will not bear much fruit. 

On the Lord's Day we come to the Eucharistic service of the Church - the Liturgy - which is the Service of Thanksgiving, we could say. Our presence signifies our own "return" to the Lord in response to His healing presence in our lives. (For the baptized who do not return to thus give thanks, we find a resemblance to the healed lepers who failed to return in order to praise God). And it is then that we offer thanksgiving to God as we offer ourselves up to God through the sacrifice of Christ actualized in the Liturgy.  And then we receive the Eucharist - the "thanksgiving food" - to nourish us in this movement of growing love toward the most Holy Trinity:

"Eucharistisomen to Kirio!"  -  "Let us give thanks unto the Lord!"

God so loved this world

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

"Remember, never to fear the power of evil more than your trust in the power and love of God." (Apostle Hermas of the Seventy)

In perhaps his most complex, yet theologically-rich Epistle - that to the Romans - the Apostle Paul provides a passage now justifiably famous for articulating his "theology of the Cross."  This passage in many ways stands at the heart of this Epistle and has been endlessly analyzed and commented on throughout the centuries.

St. John Chrysostom's commentaries are known to this day for their multiple insights into this passage and the entire Epistle. A significant part of this passage (which was proclaimed at last Sunday's Liturgy) reads as follows:

While we were yet helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Why, one will hardly die for a righteous man - though perhaps for a good man one will dare even to die.  But God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.

Since, therefore, we are now justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him for the wrath of God.  For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we have been reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.  Not only so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received our reconciliation.  (ROM. 5:6-11)

We may question the Apostle Paul's characterization of humanity as "ungodly," "sinners," and "enemies" (of God) as unduly bleak or negative; but that may reflect our own unwillingness to look long and hard into the abyss of a fallen humanity engulfed in evil and desperately in need of salvation. Yet, despite that "dark hole" in which we collectively find ourselves - and this regardless of how the brighter side of human nature, reflected in the lives of countless human beings, has always striven to live moral and ethical lives - the Apostle Paul assures us that the love of God, incarnate in Christ, prevailed on our behalf, and thus God acted in order to reconcile us to Himself - a reconciliation that was effected "by the death of his Son."  This is the Gospel, for this is "Good News."

If we turn to the Gospel According to St. John, we hear what is basically the same revealed truth expressed in different language by the Evangelist:

For God so loved the world that he have his only-begotten Son, so that those who believe in him may not perish, but have life everlasting."  (JN. 3:16)

Now for St. John, the word "world" stands for the fallen world of sin and death; of humanity alienated and estranged from God, a "world" both so indifferent and hostile to God's presence that the "giving" of the only-begotten Son culminated in His crucifixion.  Thus, what the Apostle Paul affirms about humanity - "ungodly," "sinners" and "enemies" - is included by St.John's all-encompassing term "the world." But, again, it is this world that God "so loved."  As the New Testament scholar, Andrew L. Lincoln expressed it:

"The force is not, then, that the world is so vast  that it takes a great deal of love to embrace it, but rather that the world has become so alienated from God that it takes an exceedingly great kind of love to love it at all."

Recent events of the most horrific kind imaginable are forcing us to take a careful look at the words of the Apostle Paul and the Evangelist John - both for their negative and positive insights.  The most pressing of these terrible events are, of course, the random mass shootings in our own nation that leave behind nothing but  carnage, mayhem and inexpressible grief.  We are learning the hard way that there are no longer that many "safe" public places that we can resort to, from shopping malls to elementary schools.  Global terrorism seems even more insidious in its utter callousness and disregard for human life, as women and children are killed with a chilling indifference.  The mass murder yesterday in Nice, France, bears this out. These are acts of evil, and they deeply trouble us, as well as make us fearful. We are now facing the renewal of racial tensions in our country. And, as Christ taught, there are "wars and rumors of wars" throughout the world that are further destructive of innocent lives (MK. 13:7-8). Not too difficult to think that our world is spinning out of control. 

The sacred authors of the New Testament saw this with utter clarity. The apostles and evangelists are neither myopic nor utopian. In this they are simply following their Lord and the realism with which he approached human hearts wandering far away from God:  "because he knew all men and needed on one to bear witness of man; for he himself knew what was in man" (JN. 2:25) They understood that there are no real limits to the depths to which sin implanted in the hearts of men can plunge the world around us into. This is the way of the world (see I JN. 2:15-17).  In no way whatsoever did they promise that all this would somehow go away with the advent of Christ.

The New Testament witness to this is that God entered into the world of human sinfulness once and for all in the person of Christ.  That He both suffered on the Cross because of human sin, but in the process, as the eternal Son of God, He absorbed all of that sin, death and evil, nailed it to the Cross, and thus overcame it from within.  We were "bought with a price" (I COR. 6:20).  As a Christian, I would say that there are no real "answers" to the human misery around us, but that Christ is our "Yes" to life that comes from God:  "For all the promises of God find their Yes in Him" (II COR. 1:20).

It may get worst before it gets any better.  We need to cling to Christ with faith, hope and love. We especially need to be alive in the Church for in the Church we will preserve our sanity and our basic humanity.  We will learn and receive the grace to lead lives worthy of our calling as disciples of Christ; and to strive to make the world around us a better place for our children and for our neighbors.  We will make every attempt to fight against evil with good.  And, I hope that we will be able to embrace the truth behind these powerful words from an early Christian witness from the ancient Church:  "Remember, never to fear the power of evil more than your trust in the power and love of God."  

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." (II COR. 1:3-4)

'Do you want to be healed?'

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

CHRIST IS RISEN! 
INDEED HE IS RISEN!

In the fifth chapter of the Gospel of Saint John we find the account of the healing of the paralytic by the Pool of Bethesda near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem and the profound discourse that follows.  

Archeologists have fairly recently discovered this pool, demonstrating the accuracy of Saint John’s description.  

The paralytic had taken his place among a human throng of chronic misery, described by the evangelist as “a multitude of invalids, blind, lame, paralyzed” [verse 3].  Being there for 38 years and not being able to experience what were believed to be the healing capacities of the waters of the pool, the paralytic seemed resigned to his destiny.  

Then Jesus appeared.  He saw the paralytic and He knew of his plight.  

Jesus then asked the paralytic a very pointed and even poignant question: “Do you want to be healed?” [verse 6].  Surprisingly, considering what must have been his own misery, the paralytic’s answer was less than direct and not exactly enthusiastic: “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is troubled, and while I am going another steps down before me” [verse 7].  

Nevertheless, and even though the paralytic does not commit himself to an act of faith in the healing power of Jesus, he receives the following directive from Jesus: “Rise, take up your pallet, and walk.”  And then, in that somewhat laconic style of describing the healing power of Christ that characterizes the Gospel accounts, we read simply, “And at once the man was healed, and he took up his pallet and walked” [verse 9].  The “sign” is that Christ can restore wholeness to those in need.

I believe that we need to concentrate on the question Jesus posed to the paralytic, “Do you want to be healed?”  (The King James version of the question is:  “Wilt thou be made whole?”)  For, if the various characters that Jesus encountered in the Gospels are also representatives or “types” of a particular human condition, dilemma, or state of being; then the question of Jesus remains alive in each generation and is thus posed to each of us today.  

If sin is a sickness, then we are “paralyzed” by that sin to one degree or another of intensity.  But do we really want to be healed of the paralyzing effect of sin in our lives?  

The answer seems obvious, even a “no-brainer,” but is that truly the case?  Are we more-or-less content with continuing as we are, satisfied that perhaps this is “as good as it gets” in terms of our relationship with God and our neighbors?  Do we manage to politely deflect the probing question of Christ elsewhere, counter-posing a reasonable excuse as to what prevents us from exerting the necessary energy from our side?  

Or, finally, do we actually "enjoy" the particular sin/passion that has ensnared us, and thus - if only unconsciously - remain unwilling to part with that "enjoyment," spiritually crippling though it is? 

Our teaching claims that we must also contribute to the synergistic process of divine grace and human freedom that works together harmoniously for our healing.  Perhaps it is easier and more comfortable to stay as we are – after all, it’s really not that bad - a position reflected in the non-commital response of the paralytic.  For to be further healed of sin will mean that we will have to make some changes in our life, in our interior attitudes and in our relationships.  It certainly means that we will have to confess our faith in Christ with a greater intensity, urgency and commitment.  Are we up to that challenge?

Actually, we could more accurately say that we have already been healed.  That happened when we were baptized into Christ.  (There are baptismal allusions in the healing of the paralytic by the pool of water).  

Every human person is paralyzed by the consequences of sin, distorting the image of God in which we were initially created.  Baptism was meant to put to death the sin that is within us.  We were healed, in that baptism is the pledge to life everlasting, where death itself is swallowed up in the victory of Christ over death.  For we are baptized into the Death and Resurrection of Christ. 

So, with a slight variation, the question of Christ could also imply: 

Do you rejoice in the fact that you have been healed, and does your way of life reflect the faith and joy that that great healing from sin and death has imparted to you?

Are you willing to continue in the struggle that is necessary to keep that healing “alive” within you?  

Direct and simple questions can get complicated, often and precisely by the paralyzing effect of sin in our lives.  We can then get confused as to how to respond to such essential questions.  Every time we walk into the church we are being asked by Christ, “Do you want to be healed?”  Responding with a resounding “yes!” would be a “sign” of the faith, hope and love that are within us by the grace of God.

Zacchaeus — The Gospel in Miniature

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

We arrived at the Sunday of Zacchaeus this last Sunday at the Liturgy with the reading of the Gospel According to St. Luke (19:1-10).  The story of the repentance and conversion of the publican (tax collector) who was "small of stature" prepares us for the upcoming cycle of pre-lenten Gospel readings which will, in turn, prepare us for the beginning of Great Lent on Monday, March 14. 

Most attentive Orthodox Christians already know this, as well as knowing the actual story of Zacchaeus very well. Yet, knowing any particular Gospel passage well does not mean that we have exhausted the meaning of that passage.  The Gospel can never grow old, or worse, stale.  The "words of eternal life" (JN. 6:68)  are contained in the Gospels. Therefore, the Gospel is a "living text," which means that every time we hear it, we are open to new insights and new depths of meaning that can even startle us.  Something like an endless "aha!" experience.  Repeated reading and/or hearing of any passage, therefore, should not blunt the revealed truth of the passage, but continue enriching our understanding of the Good News revealed to us in Christ. 

Bearing this in mind, I would submit that in the wonderful story of Zacchaeus, we are hearing the Gospel "in miniature."  For in this story there are sin, repentance, grace and salvation, precisely that interplay of various factors that predominate in the revelation of the Gospel. 

If we were to break that down in terms of this particular story we find that in the concise framework of ten verses, St. Luke narrates an encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus, a sinful man who, in his sinfulness, is representative of all humanity.  He has "missed the mark" - the meaning of the Greek amartia which we translate as sin - with his admission of defrauding others, among perhaps other failings.  The publican was synonymous with a thief, as there was no system in place that could check the abuse inherent in collecting taxes for the hated Roman occupiers of Israel.  And, as a publican/thief, he was "rich" but at the expense of the neighbors he was defrauding.

Yet the story quickly shifts its emphasis to the almost humorous detail of Zacchaeus climbing up a sycamore tree in order "to see Jesus."

Jesus scandalizes the spectators who are witnessing this drama by desiring to enter the home of the sinful publican.  There is no place that is "off limits" for the Messiah as He has come first to call "the lost sheep of the house of Israel."  Scandal is "built into" the Gospel, for the ultimate scandal will be that of a crucified Messiah. In the presence of Christ, Zacchaeus publicly repents, expressed with the words, "Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold" (LK. 19:8).  Repentance is always sealed with divine grace, as Jesus then publicly states, "Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham.  For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost" (v. 10).  We are all "lost" in sin, so the Son of Man has also come to save each and every one of us.  Hence, our contention that the story of Zacchaeus is the Gospel "in miniature."

That salvation, however, cannot be assumed or taken for granted.  The gifts of grace and salvation are bestowed upon us inasmuch as we too will repent and change our pattern of living.  That will depend on our capacity to "see" that we are also "small of stature" - each and every one of us.

Zacchaeus was apparently a short man, and thus he was literally "small of stature," and this forced him up into that sycamore tree.  But clearly, his lack of stature was a metaphor for his sinfulness.  Our human nature - created in the image and likeness of God - "shrinks" through our sinfulness.  Sin makes us a lesser being than what we were created to be.  No amount of status, wealth or power can protect us from the corrosive effects of sin. 

Once we see and acknowledge that painful truth then we, too, must find a way to overcome our shrunken stature even if it means "losing face" with our neighbors.  (How humiliating it must have been for Zacchaeus to climb that sycamore tree in front of his neighbors!)  This becomes difficult if we expend a great amount of energy building up a self-image that we (foolishly?) hope will make us impervious to criticism or ridicule.  The affirmation of others grants credence to our self-affirmation. 

As we strain to protect that artificial good image, we can further become blind to our flawed character.  Then we will learn the hard way, that the more we struggle to preserve the little stature that we have, we will only succeed in further shrinking in stature!  Such is the "human comedy."  But it is actually all quite tragic since we are all participants in the divine-human drama of sin and repentance and the salvation of our souls.

That brings us to the paradoxical nature of the Gospel:  the more we can acknowledge our short stature through sinfulness, and begin the process of conversion through repentance, then the uplifting process of growing "to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ" (EPH. 4:13) can begin. This is an endless process of spiritual maturity and growth - a process that continues in the Kingdom of Heaven. 

There is no room for comparison here, meaning that we cannot find solace in the "fact" that others are clearly so much more sinful than we may be.  To shrink from including ourselves in the company of Zacchaeus, the cheating publican, would be to undermine the power of the Gospel in our lives.  We must humbly align ourselves with Zacchaeus — even "become Zacchaeus" in terms of a shared experience of being forgiven — as we read and/or hear this text.  If we approach the story of Zacchaeus with the presupposition that we are "better" than him, than the living text of the Gospel becomes a "dead text" — perhaps informative or interesting, but unable to open our minds and hearts to God's graciousness.  Let us avoid any such temptation as we continue our movement toward Great Lent the glorious paschal mystery which is our final destination.

"For the Son on Man came to seek and to save the lost."