The Orthodox Experience of Repentance

Dear Parish Faithful,

This life has been given you for repentance. Do not waste it on other things. ~ St. Isaac the Syrian

Repentance is a great understanding. ~ The Shepherd of Hermas

The springtime of the Fast has dawned, the flower of repentance has begun to open. ~ Vespers of Cheesefare Week

As we fast approach the beginning of Great Lent, I strongly encourage you to read the passage below from Archbishop Kallistos Ware. It is a medley of excerpts from a great article of his entitled "The Orthodox Experience of Repentance." I believe that it takes us way beyond the common understanding of repentance (often confused with the idea of penitence).

To repent is to look, not downward at my own shortcomings, but upward at God's love; not backward with self-reproach, but forward with trustfulness. It is to see, not what I have failed to be, but what by the grace of Christ I can yet become....

Repentance, then, is an illumination, a transition from darkness to light; to repent is to open our eyes to the divine radiance - not to sit dolefully in the twilight but to greet the dawn ...

The connection between repentance and the advent of the great light is particularly significant. Until we have seen the light of Christ, we cannot really see our sins. So long as a room is in darkness, observes St. Theophan the Recluse, we do not notice the dirt; but when we bring a powerful light into the room - when, that is, we stand before the Lord in our heart - we can distinguish every speck of dust. So it is with the room of our soul. The sequence is not to repent first, and then to become aware of Christ; for it is only when the light of Christ has already in some measure entered our life that we begin truly to understand our sinfulness. To repent, says St. John of Kronstadt, is to know that there is a lie in our heart; but how can we detect the presence of a lie unless we have already some sense of the truth? In the words of E. I. Watkin, "Sin ... is the shadow cast by the light of God intercepted by any attachment of the will which prevents it illuminating the soul. Thus knowledge of God gives rise to the sense of sin, not vice versa." As the Desert Fathers observe, "The closer we come to God, the more we see that we are sinners." And they cite Isaiah as an example of this: first he sees the Lord on His throne and hears the seraphim crying "Holy, holy, holy;" and it is only after this vision that he exclaims, "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips" (Is. 6:1-5)

Such, then, is the beginning of repentance: a vision of beauty, not of ugliness; an awareness of God's glory, not of my own squalor.

Repentance reaches its culmination in the Sacrament of Confession. As the parish continues to grow, it is becoming something of a challenge to hear everyone's confession during Great Lent! That is why I am requesting that we spread things out a bit, and that in addition to Saturday evening as the time of Confession, you may also look to some other possibilities: before the Presanctifed Liturgy on Wednesdays (Friday of the first week of Lent); the service on Friday evenings; and daytime visits to the church.

Those of you who have not been to Confession since last Great Lent - a year ago, that is - should only approach the Chalice after you have restored your relationship with the Church through the Sacrament of Confession. "Redeem the time," and make this Great Lent a time to overcome any misgivings, spiritual forgetfulness or plain procrastination.

Fr. Steven

One Small Gesture

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

One of the classics of children's literature is the wonderful novel A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. (She also wrote another classic, The Secret Garden). The young heroine of this novel is an English girl named Sara Crewe, who is initially treated as a "little princess" because her father has acquired some wealth through mining speculation, and was able to establish her as one of the more prosperous girls in a boarding school in London. Yet, when the father loses his fortune and unexpectedly dies, Sara finds herself alone and penniless and now at the mercy of the cold-hearted headmistress at the boarding school. Though now treated as a menial servant, and living in abject poverty up in the unheated attic, Sara maintains a graceful spirit that does not succumb to the physical hardships and psychological abuse of her unwanted poverty.

In a deeply touching passage in the book, Sara, living on near-starvation rations, finds a coin in the street and rushes to the local bakery in order to purchase a few newly-baked rolls. The kind baker gives her a few extra because she knew Sara before her unfortunate "reversal of fortune." Yet, when Sara emerges from the bakery with her rolls, she encounters an unkempt and homeless little street waif who is clearly even more impoverished and hungry than she is. In a spontaneous gesture of compassion and kindness, Sara graciously gives the little girl all of the rolls save one. Unknown to Sara, the baker witnessed this act, and was so impressed by Sara's sharing, that she in turn was moved to compassion and eventually brought the little girl into her shop as a worker.

This profoundly Christian scene of "co-suffering love" embedded in an Edwardian novel meant for young readers, always reminds me of the Gospel passage that we just read this last Sunday, known as the pre-lenten Sunday of the Last Judgement. Then we heard the Parable/Teaching of the Last Judgement, found in MATT. 25:31-46. Jesus powerfully describes an active ministry of love as the way to, and characteristic of, the Kingdom of God. In theological language, this is called an eschatological orientation. (Eschatology is from the Gk. word for the "last things"). Christ enumerates the following deeds of an active love that render a human person worthy of entering into the joy of the Lord at the last judgement:

• feeding the hungry
• giving drink to the thirsty
• welcoming strangers
• visiting the sick
• visiting those in prison

The biblical scholar, John L. McKenzie summarized this teaching in the following manner:

Ministry to the basic needs of one's fellow man is the only canon of judgement mentioned here. One could paraphrase by saying that man is judged entirely on his behavior toward his fellow man. The evasion that this does not include man's duties toward to God is met in this passage; Jesus identifies himself with those to whom service is given or refused, and their behavior toward men is their behavior toward God.

The surprise of those who are condemned is easy to understand; they never accepted the fact that they encountered Jesus in other men and that they cannot distinguish between their duties to God and their duties to men. They are ranked with the devils, whose proper element is the fire of Gehenna. Eschatology means man is capable of a final decision that gives his life a permanent character. Both the righteous and the wicked here have made decisions that are irrevocable.

Like the last discourse in JN, the theme is love based on the identity of Jesus with men. In the last analysis, it is love that determines whether men are good or bad. If their love is active, failure to reach perfect morality in other ways will be rare, and it will be forgiven. But there is no substitute for active love.

Dostoevsky, the great Russian novelist, also stressed the importance of an "active love," especially in the character of the elder Zosima in his final masterpiece The Brothers Karamazov, and in his young hero of that novel, Alyosha Karamazov. Active love, for Dostoevsky, was seen by him to be the most convincing repsonse to all of the arguments of theoretical atheism. In the novel, the elder Zosima says the following to a woman racked by doubts concerning immortality - and God by extension:

Strive to love your neighbor actively and tirelessly. To the extent that you succeed in loving, you will become convinced both of the existence of God and of the immortality of your soul. If you attain complete selflessness in loving your neighbor, then will indubitably be persuaded, and no doubt will even be able to enter your soul. This has been tested, this is certain.

Though fictional, Sara Crewe's one small gesture is the embodiment of an active love manifested in a gesture of mercy and compassion for the neighbor. It had no theoretical or ideological component to it. It was deeply personal and devoid of any hidden motives or calculated gains. It transcended all such categorizations. This, I believe, is what most truly exemplifes this remarkable passage in the Gospel. At a time of acute and endless discussion due to the political processes that are now consuming our attention - to the saturation point and beyond it seems - we hear on a daily basis from the various candidates a stream of proposed programs, pledged policies and passionate promises concerning the care of the many people devoid of any safety nets when they inevitably fall between the cracks of our flawed social systems. The teaching about the Last Judgement by Christ transcends any such programs, policies or promises. It does not matter whether or not you are a Democrat or a Republican; a liberal or a conservative; or a proponent of strong or limited government intervention into the lives of our citizenry. The Parable of the Last Judgement is a direct appeal - perhaps a "warning" - to each person who encounters Christ and His teaching. What are you doing as part of a ministry of active love seems to be what Christ is asking. Or, at the Last Judgement, what have you actually done? Deeds of active love may just be the most potent signs that we took Christ and His teaching seriously.

Fr. Steven

A Wider Context of Fasting

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

In an article contained in the Lenten Triodion entitled "The Rules of Fasting," translated and edited by Mother Mary and Archmandrite Kallistos Ware, we read the following:

In the week before Lent, meat is forbidden, but eggs, cheese and other dairy products (as well as fish) may be eaten on all days, including Wednesday and Friday.

This is why the second Sunday before the beginning of Great Lent is called Meatfare Sunday.

This article goes on to list the foods excluded during Great Lent:

• meat;
• animal products (cheese, milk, butter, eggs);
• fish (i.e. fish with backbones);
• oil (i.e. olive oil) and wine (i.e. all alcoholic drinks)

Obviously, each and every household has to "work" with the discipline of the Fast in a realistic manner, setting some goals that are both challenging, but not impossible to meet Otherwise, we are only inviting frustration and legalism. The above article also offers this advice: "In cases of uncertainty each should seek the advice of his or her spiritual father."

As Archbishop Ware writes at the end of this article: "At all times it is essential to bear in mind that 'you are not under the law but under grace' (ROM. 6:14), and that 'the letter kills, but the spirit gives life' (II COR. 3:6). The rules of fasting, while they need to be taken seriously, are not to be interpreted with dour and pedantic legalism; 'for the Kingdom of God is not food and drink, bur righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit' (ROM. 14:17)

With his usual rhetorical skills in full display, St. John Chrysostom offers a truly holistic approach to fasting:

Sharpen your sword and your sickle which has been blunted by gluttony - sharpen it by fasting. Lay hold of the pathway which leads towards heaven, rugged and narrow as it is. Lay hold of it, and journey on it.

Fasting is a medicine. But like all medicines, though it be very profitable to the person who knows how to use it, it frequently becomes useless (and even harmful) in the hands of him who is unskilled in its use.

Do you fast? Give proof of it by your works. By what kind of works? If you see a poor man, take pity on him. If you see an enemy, be reconciled with him. If you see a friend gaining honor, do not be jealous of him. If you see a beautiful countenance, pass it by. And let not only the mouth fast, but also the eye and the ear and the feel and the hands and all members of your bodies.

Let the hands fast by being pure from plundering and avarice. Let the feet fast by ceasing from running to unlawful spectacles. Let the eyes fast, being taught never to fix themselves with strange beauties ... Do you not eat meat? Feed not upon lasciviousness by means of your eyes! Let the ear fast also. The fasting of the ear consists in refusing to receive evil speakings and calumnies.

Let the mouth fast also from disgraceful speeches and railings. For what does it profit if we abstain from fish and fowl and yet bite and devour the brothers and sisters? The evil speaker eats the flesh of his brothers and bites the body of his neighbor. Because of this Paul utters the fearful saying, 'If you bite and devour one another take heed that you are not consumed by one another' (GAL. 5:15). You have not fixed your teeth in his flesh, but you have fixed your slander in his soul and inflicted the wound of evil suspicion, and you have harmed in a thousand ways yourself and him and many others, for in slandering your neighbor you have made him who listens to the slander worse, for should he be a wicked person, he becomes more careless when he finds a partner in his wickedness. And should he be a just person, he is tempted to arrogance and gets puffed up, being led on by the sin of others to imagining great things concerning himself. Besides this, you have struck at the common welfare of the Church herself, for all those who hear you will not only accuse the supposed sinner, but the entire Christian community....

And so I desire to fix three precepts in your mind so that you may accompany them during the fast: to speak ill of no one, to hold no one an enemy, and to expel from your mouth altogether the evil habit of swearing.

If, by the grace of God, we could place our fasting from food and drink into this wider context of "fasting," then Great Lent will certainly be a time of restoration for our relationship with both God and neighbor.

Fr. Steven

The Compassion - and the Mystery - of the Father

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

"But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him." (LK. 15:20)

The prodigal son was forgiven by his father in a manner that must have overwhelmed him. It would have been unreasonable on his part to expect such a greeting considering his abandonment of his father. With sincerity, his hope was that by throwing himself before the mercy of his father, he would find enough acceptance to allow him back into his home,, if only as a "hired servant." Yet, there were no reproaches, strained explanations or heated exchanges. The father of the parable did not survey the past with the intention of shaming his younger son into an acknowledgment of his many sins. There was a total absence of that most human propensity in such a situation to convey through the slightest intonations of words or gestures that crushing reproach: "What did I tell you!" There was acceptance and forgiveness - together with "compassion," as Christ says. We do not have to depend upon a heavy dose of allegory to immediately recognize that Christ is offering us a model of His and our heavenly Father as the unlimited Source of grace, forgiveness and love. This lengthy parable was the third in a series - all found in LK. 15 - given as responses to the pharisaic reproach of Christ, that "This man receives sinners and eats with them." (LK. 15:2)

As we approach the Sunday of the Last Judgment, this is essential to remember. Judgement is real, but we cannot allow that impending reality to obscure the infinite mercy and love of God, so infinite and merciful that the Father sent His only-begotten Son into the world in order to die and rise from the dead so that we may have abundant life in His name. The kenosis (self-emptying) of the Son, in fulfillment of the will of the Father, is the revelation that God is in search of prodigal humanity. That even though we have "squandered" our inheritance, He will proclaim a feast when we are found. Our human language is inadequate, but perhaps we could claim that God is not "offended" by human sin, but rather "pained" by it. The Father will seek out the lost sheep and not abandon it. First and foremost, then, our heavenly Father is compassionate and "brimming" with a love that is inexhaustible and overwhelming: "This is good, and it is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." (I TIM. 2:3) Isn't "judgment," then, somehow self-inflicted?

A remarkable book was recently translated from French into English with the title The Compassion of the Father. The author, Protopresbyter Boris Bobrinskoy, is the dean of St. Sergius Orthodox Institute in Paris. As a wise and elderly man, he remains overwhelmed by the compassion of the Father, in what he has called "the mystery of the Father." The entire book is a series of theological and meditative articles about this mystery and its relationship to the kenosis of the Son of God, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The introduction of the book further quotes a passage of his from an article about the Holy Trinity and the Sacraments that prepares the reader for the riches of the book to come. Here, Fr. Bobrinskoy reflects upon human fatherhood in relation to (God the) Father:

What is a father if not an overflowing of love? But do we feel it as such? How do we live this filial relationship to the Father? Do we really know the meaning of fatherhood - if only the purely human and earthly - without which this relationship to the father no longer makes much sense? Are we able to understand and to live the meaning and implications of the 'bowels of mercy' and of the tenderness of the Father? What effect does all this have on our awareness and our life? These are questions I ask myself, and I ask them aloud. Questions which the Holy Spirit Himself asks in us, by prompting us to become more aware of the mystery of the person of the Father. For the Father is not only a name: He is also a living person. A person with whom we should enter into a living and personal relationship, through Christ. How do we become sons and daughters, children of the light? In our personal or ecclesial experience, where is the prayer of the Spirit who sighs in us 'Abba, Father'? Let us remember what St. Ignatius wrote in his Letter to the Romans: 'A living water murmurs in me: come to the Father.'

Within the Church's Holy Tradition, there are manifold treasures to draw from: The Scriptures, the Councils, the Liturgy, the Holy Fathers and Mothers, sacred iconography and more. Yet underneath all of this, or perhaps better, through the living Tradition of the Church, we must never lose sight of the compassion of the Father. Our thirst is for a living relationship with the Father, through the Son and in the Holy Spirit. As important as theology is, we cannot reduce this relationship to a theological system - or to canonical norms! When that happens, we have then created one more idol even more difficult to topple because of its outward attractiveness. It is the compassion of the Father that keeps bringing us back to church and receiving the Eucharist. It is was moves us to prayer and almsgiving, and then repentance when we continue to sin. That compassion brought Christ to us in our misery. When we make the slightest movement to return toward that compassion following our self-willed estrangement, the Father leaps out to us and runs to meet us in an embrace of love.

Fr. Steven

From a Far Country...

Dear Parish Faithful,

"And He said, 'There was a man who had two sons' ..."

This is how Christ begins what is perhaps the greatest of his parables, the one we know as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but which could easily be titled the Parable of the Two Sons or the Parable of the Compassionate Father. With this parable, we are invited to enter the "school of repentance" and sit at the feet of the Master, so that we can hear the words of eternal life and "keep them."

After receiving his portion of the inheritance, even before his father had died, the younger of the two sons "gathered all that he had and took his journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in loose living." (LK. 15:13) This one sober understatement does not demand a great deal of imagination to yield its meaning. We know that loose living refers to a web of wrong choices, bad company, unrestrained satisfaction of "the passions," and forgetfulness of God. This spiritually suicidal combination leads to bankruptcy on a further series of interrelated levels: the material, moral/ethical and spiritual. In no time, the prodigal son is forced to feed "on the pods that the swine ate." (v. 16)

Before succumbing to the temptation of trying my hand at an updated melodramatic script that would luridly describe the sins of the wayward young man of the parable - replete with money, sex and drugs - together with all of the didactic apparatus meant to strengthen our resolve to protect our children (since we are now too old for all of that); I would rather more modestly pause at the words about a journey "into a far country." The far country of the parable is geographical, for the young man of the parable ventured far from his home. Yet, a "far country" can also refer to a hidden place in our interior landscape; a "place" in which we can distance ourselves from God and right living to a frightening degree, even if slowly and unintentionally. At first, that interior far country can prove to be appealing. It can appease our vanity, protect our pride and/or feed "the passions" that we can nurture even if hidden from the view and censure of others. This is initially stimulating and seems to promise endless delight - perhaps like the endless freedom that an unsupervised dorm may offer to an innocent college student away from the sheltering, but seemingly restrictive, atmosphere of home.

When the emptiness of such a landscape becomes evident, we too can desperately desire to "feed on the pods that the swine ate." The self-serving (or "self-help!") philosophies that we squandered our "inheritance" from God on, will no longer satisfy us, but in a restless and hungry search for something else to replace these, we can even fall to the level of "swinish delights." Anything to relieve our boredom or frustrations. Without moving anywhere, and without changing the patterns of our lifestyle, we can still withdraw to a "far country" in that interior landscape that can prove to be as treacherous as any unknown environment of the exterior world. It is said of the prodigal son of the parable, that when at "rock bottom," he "came to himself." (v. 17) This is certainly one of the key expressions found in this endlessly rich parable. The young man found his right mind, his sanity was restored, and basically he "got a grip on reality." An undramatic, but perfect way, to describe "conversion," or the process of turning back toward God and the warm embrace of our heavenly Father.

A certain clarity of thought is needed to find our way home when we drift off toward a far country. The short-lived rock band of the late 60's, Blind Faith, had an intriguing song entitled "Can't Find My Way Home." Perhaps that was an honest and clear-sighted assessment of the band's state of mind at that time (money, sex and drugs?), and a poignant recognition of being in a "far country." Two other songs on the album, however, "In the Presence of the Lord," and "Sea of Joy," may have pointed to more promising discoveries. Every year, throuigh the lectionary of the Church, especially in this pre-lenten season of preparation, we are powerfully reminded of just how far away from "home" we may actually be in mind and heart. If we have been equally prodigal with the gifts bestowed upon us by God, then we can equally "come to ourselves" and return home to the embrace of our compassionate Father.

Fr. Steven