Homily for the Sunday of the Last Judgement in the Orthodox Church

 

1 Corinthians 8:8-9:2; Matthew 25:31-46

 

            On this Sunday of the Last Judgment, the Church reminds us that true repentance is not about obedience to religious rules as an end in itself.  Our vocation in Lent is, instead, to open our souls to receive the healing mercy of the Lord so that we may enter more fully into His victory over sin and death at Pascha.  The ultimate test of whether we will do so is not how strictly we fast, how many services we attend, or how much money we give to the poor.  It is, instead, whether we will become so receptive to Christ that His love permeates every dimension of our character to the point that we treat our neighbors as He treats us.  That is what repentance is all about. As today’s gospel lesson reveals, every encounter with those who bear God’s image is an encounter with Christ that anticipates our ultimate judgment, which will reveal whether we have become living icons of His healing and restoration of the human person.  

            As we begin the last week before Great Lent, the Savior teaches us that how we relate to our neighbors, especially those who are weak, suffering, and in need, is the great test of our souls.    How we treat the hungry and thirsty, the stranger and the naked, the sick and the prisoner, manifests whether we are finding the healing of our souls in Him.  How we relate to them is how we relate to Christ.  We must not distort the way of the Lord into a culturally accommodated faith that calls for concern only for the wellbeing of our family, friends, and others with whom we identify for some reason.  That would violate the requirement of the Old Testament law that “if a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall not mistreat him.  The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” (Lev. 19: 33-34) As Gentile Christians, we were aliens to the heritage of Israel who have become heirs to the fulfillment of the promises to Abraham through faith in the Savior.  When we refuse to share the undeserved lovingkindness that we have received with the strangers and foreigners of our day, we reject Christ and show that we want no part of His Kingdom.   If we abuse or neglect anyone for any reason, if we celebrate cruelty and hatred toward any child of God, we will demonstrate that our true allegiance is to some false god of this world, not to the Savior Who identified Himself with “the least of these.” 

            Especially in Lent, we must reject the temptation of trying to impress God by doing good deeds of any kind.  Instead of obsessively trying to justify ourselves through religious legalism, our calling is to take the small and imperfect steps that we currently have the strength to take in conveying His selfless love to other people.  The point is not to measure ourselves according to an impersonal standard of legal perfection, but to grow in conforming our character to His as we serve those who need our help.  Doing so is an essential dimension of being able to say truthfully, “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” (Gal. 2:20)

            On this last day for consuming meat until Pascha, we must resist the temptation to obsess about whether we will be able to follow all the Church’s canons about fasting in Lent.  The canons are guidelines that we embrace for the healing of our souls with the guidance of a spiritual father.  They are not objective impersonal laws from a book that everyone must obey in the same way.  St. Paul taught that the key issue in the question of whether to eat meat that had been sacrificed in pagan temples in first-century Corinth was how doing so impacted others, for “food will not commend us to God. We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do. Only take care, lest this liberty of yours somehow become a stumbling block to the weak.”  To cause another to fall back into paganism would be to “sin against Christ.”  His words show that what is truly at stake in fasting is not a mere change in diet or the fulfillment of a law but learning to relate to food in ways that help us to grow in loving and serving our neighbors.  By abstaining from the richest and most satisfying dishes to the best of our ability, we gain strength to reorient our desires from self-gratification toward blessing others.  Eating a humble diet frees up resources to give to the needy in whom we encounter Christ.  Lenten foods should be simple and keep well for future meals, thus freeing up time and energy for prayer, spiritual reading, and serving our neighbors.  Even the smallest steps in fasting can help us gain a measure of freedom from slavery to our passions as we learn that we really can live without satisfying every desire for pleasure.   Especially for those who are new to fasting, it is best to begin with small steps that we can take in a spiritually healthy way. Trying to do more than we can do at this point in our journey is invariably counterproductive and discouraging.  As people with responsibilities in our families, at work, at school, and in relation to our needy neighbors, we must not deprive ourselves of nourishment to the point that we lack the energy necessary to be good stewards of our talents every day.   

The spiritual discipline of fasting is a tool for shifting the focus away from ourselves and toward the Lord and our brothers and sisters in whom we encounter Him each day.  If we distort fasting into a private religious accomplishment to prove how holy we are, we would do better not to fast at all.  That would simply be a way of serving ourselves instead of God and those who bear His image and likeness.  In Lent, our focus must be set squarely on Christ and His living icons, not on us.  The fundamental calling of the Christian life is to become like our Lord, Who offered Himself up for the salvation of the world purely out of love.  If we are truly in communion with Him, then we too must offer up ourselves for our neighbors. And as He taught in the parable of the Good Samaritan, there are no limits on what it means to be a neighbor to anyone who is in need, regardless of nationality, culture, or anything else.  Those who limit their concern for people according to such standards place serving the kingdoms of this world before fidelity to the Kingdom of God.

Discerning how to live faithfully is not a matter of cold-blooded rational calculation or meeting objective standards, but of being so conformed to Christ that we become a “living sacrifice” (Rom. 12:1) such that the Savior’s healing of fallen humanity becomes present, active, and effective in us.  We must grow as persons in communion with Christ and all those who bear His image and likeness, refusing to define ourselves or anyone else according to the divisions and circumstances of our fallen world.   

            Whenever we encounter the Lord in a suffering person who needs our care, there is inevitably a kind of judgment that reveals who we are. That is the case when we see His living icons suffering today as the victims of natural disasters, wars, persecution, and injustice. It is the case when those who bear His image are sick, lonely, hungry, imprisoned, living in fear, or in any other circumstance in which they need our friendship, care, and support.  Since we do not yet respond generously to everyone without a second thought, we must mindfully struggle against our self-centeredness and indifference to the sufferings of others, especially those whom the world tells us to ignore.  We must not shut the eyes of our souls to the brilliant light of Christ when the darkness within us becomes apparent.  We must respond to what every judgment of our souls reveals by taking the steps we can to open our hearts to Christ more fully.   

            Fasting helps us acquire the humility necessary to do so, for it is such a hard struggle for most of us to disappoint our stomachs and tastebuds even in small ways. Serving our suffering neighbors is also a teacher of humility, for most of us are experts in coming up with excuses for disregarding them.  When these disciplines reveal our weakness, we must simply call on the mercy of the Lord from the depths of our hearts and then take the next small steps that we have the strength to take on the blessed path to the Kingdom.   If we will do so throughout the remaining time of our life and persist in returning to the path whenever we stray from it, then we will have good hope of being among those surprised to hear at the Last Judgment, “’Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’”  Like the people on His right hand in the parable, that will not be because we have calculated rationally how to earn a prize or met some legal standard.  Instead, it will be because the self-emptying love and gracious mercy of Christ have permeated our souls and become constitutive of our character.  Every day of Lent, and every day of our lives, let us live accordingly, for “‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’”  

 

 

 

 

 

Homily for the Sunday of the Prodigal Son in the Orthodox Church

1 Corinthians 6:12-20; Luke 15:11-32

 

As we continue preparing for our Lenten journey, the Parable of the Prodigal Son reminds us that true repentance is a matter of returning home from self-imposed exile.  It shows us who God is and how we have all chosen to turn away from a loving relationship with Him due to our insistence on serving our own self-centered and foolish desires, no matter how miserable and weak they have made us.  The parable calls us never to fall into despair, no matter how depraved we have become, because we remain the beloved sons and daughters of a Father Who wants nothing more than for us to return from exile and to our true relationship with Him.

 

The younger son had done his best to reject his father, for he had treated him simply as a source of money for funding a decadent way of life that gratified his passions.  He did not relate to his father as a beloved person to be honored and cherished, but only as the source of his inheritance. His request was the same as wishing that his father were dead; it was the worst kind of insult.  The prodigal rejected his identity as a beloved son so that he could live as an isolated individual who was free to indulge his passions in any way that he saw fit with no responsibilities toward anyone.  Once he burned through the cash, however, he faced the harsh realities of being a stranger in a strange land during a famine.  He sunk so low that he envied the food of the pigs he tended.  The Jews considered pigs unclean and this scene shows that he had repudiated not only his father, but his identity as an heir to the ancient promises to Abraham.     

 

In the midst of his misery, the young man finally came to himself and realized that he would be better off as a servant in his father’s house, where there was bread to spare, than in some Gentile’s pig pen starving to death.  He recognized how he had broken his relationship with his father and no longer had any claim to be his son.  Reality had slapped him in the face and he gained a new level of spiritual clarity, for he finally understood the grave consequences of his actions.  Then he began the long journey home in humility.  

 

That is when the young man got the greatest shock of his life. Contrary to all the customs and sensibilities of that culture, the father ran out to hug and kiss the son who had repudiated him.  The old man must have scanned the horizon every day in hope of his son’s return. Despite the son’s despicable behavior, the father did not give him what he deserved.  He did not even consider receiving him as a servant, but said, “‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet; and bring the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and make merry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’” The party began, but the older son was offended by the injustice of the celebration, as he claimed to have always obeyed his father and was never given a party.  This fellow missed the point of the father’s joy, for “It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”  He had returned from exile to the Promised Land and been restored as a descendant of Abraham.  It was obvious to the father that this was a time to celebrate and not to obsess about past wrongs.

 

The parable reminds us that our return from exile to the joy of our Lord’s Kingdom is not a reward for good behavior.  We have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. (Rom. 3:23) Each of us is the prodigal son, for like him we have chosen to repudiate our identity as the children of God in order to live as isolated individuals according to our own desires.  It does not matter what has led us away from our true home, for if we have put love for anything before Him then we have rejected our vocation to become persons who share in the holiness of the Lord. The passing pleasures the prodigal son sought were base and brought him into obvious misery, even as our first parents’ unrestrained desire for the forbidden fruit resulted in their expulsion from Paradise into our world of corruption.  His behavior was obviously shameful, but many of our habitual sins are equally dangerous, if not more so, due to their subtlety in turning us away from our calling to share more fully in the life of Christ.  That is especially the case if we distort the spiritual disciplines of Lent into opportunities to become more like the older brother in slavery to vainglory and self-righteous judgment by wanting a reward for our apparent virtues and condemning our neighbors for their failings.  He refused to enter into the celebration of the return from exile of a beloved child of God.  He referred to the prodigal as “this son of yours,” for he had become blind to his relationship to his brother as a person whom he was to love. We can easily do the same thing to our neighbors, thus shutting ourselves out of the joy of the Kingdom where, thanks be to God, none of us hopes to get what we deserve. 

 

The father restored the prodigal son by clothing him in a fine robe, shoes, and a ring.    The young man had surely been half-naked in stinking, filthy rags during his journey home.  Adam and Eve had stripped themselves naked of the divine glory when they put gratifying their own desires before obedience to God.  In baptism, we receive the robe of light they rejected as we put on Christ like a garment, but still we refuse to live each day as those who have been restored to such great dignity as the beloved children of God.  The father had the fatted calf slain for a great celebration.  Like the confused Gentile converts of Corinth whom St. Paul had to remind about the holiness of their bodies, we must remember that “Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us.  Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.” (1 Cor. 5: 7-8) In the banquet of the Eucharist, we already participate mystically in the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, being nourished by His own Body and Blood.  Yet we all fall short of our calling to live each day as persons in communion with Christ,  as members of His own Body, the Church.  Like the prodigal son, we so often think, speak, and act as isolated, anonymous individuals enslaved to the self-centered desires that have taken our hearts captive.  No matter how appealing or noble we find the objects of our desires to be, we mar the distinctive beauty of our souls when we act more like bundles of inflamed passion than as beloved children of our Father and as brothers and sisters to one another.    

 

As we prepare to follow our Lord back to Paradise through His Cross and empty tomb, we must see ourselves in the prodigal son, for we also must begin the long journey home after self-imposed exile.  Like him, we must not allow the fear of rejection to deter us.  Like the father in the parable, God is not a vengeful tyrant set on retribution.  “God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8) and constantly reaches out to us, calling us to accept restoration as His beloved sons and daughters. All He asks is that we reorient the course of our lives toward the blessedness of His Heavenly Kingdom.  With King David, we must pray, “Do not remember the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions; according to Your mercy remember me, for Your goodness’ sake, O Lord.” (Ps. 24) “A contrite and humble heart, O God, You will not despise.” (Ps. 50) We must mindfully refuse to allow the hurt pride called shame to keep us from coming to ourselves and returning to our true home. Now is the time to end our self-imposed exile and return to the Lord as His distinctive sons and daughters, irreplaceable persons who bear the divine image and likeness. Now is the time to leave behind the filth and misery of the pig pen and to enter by grace into the joy of a heavenly banquet that none of us deserves.   That is the calling of us all in the coming season of Lent.   

 

 

             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homily for the Sunday of the Pharisee and Publican In the Orthodox Church

 

2 Timothy 3:10-15; Luke 18:10-14

 

Today we begin the Lenten Triodion, the three-week of period of preparation for the spiritual journey of following Christ to His Cross and victory over death at Pascha. The first step in our preparation is to remember that “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” (Jas. 4:6) Today the Church reminds us of how easy it is to distort the spiritual disciplines of Lent in a fashion that makes them nothing but hindrances to the healing of our souls.  Today we are warned that it is entirely possible to corrupt prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and other laudable practices according to our own pride such that they become obstacles to receiving the healing mercy of the Savior. 

 

Contrary to what we are tempted to think, embracing these disciplines with integrity is not a way to impress God, ourselves, or our neighbors.  It is not a way of accomplishing anything at all by conventional human standards.  Even the most conscientious use of these practices never justifies having negative opinions or speaking critical words about anyone else.  To the contrary, even our most feeble attempts to purify the desires of our hearts will quickly reveal the weakness of our souls. They will bring to the surface how disinclined we are to be fully present to God, how addicted we are to satisfying our various appetites, and how much more we care for our own possessions and comfort than for the wellbeing of our neighbors. We will then face the choice of how to respond to what we have learned about ourselves.  If we want to pursue Lent for the healing of our sick souls, we must refuse to blind ourselves from the truth about where stand before the Lord, as did the Pharisee in today’s gospel reading. 

 

The Pharisees were experts in the Old Testament law, which they interpreted very strictly in terms of outward behavior.  The Pharisee was correct to fast, tithe, pray, and live a morally upright life.  The problem is that he did so in ways that served his pride to the point of grave spiritual blindness. Instead of pursuing these disciplines in humility so that he would grow in spiritual clarity and knowledge of where he stood before God, he used them as justification to condemn a neighbor.  Doing so revealed only his own sinfulness.  We can easily fall into the same trap this Lent, for there is a strong temptation to ignore the brokenness of our own souls as we obsess about the apparent failings of others.  As those who confess that we are each “the chief of sinners” before receiving Communion, we must focus on our own need for the Lord’s healing mercy and refuse to become the self-appointed judges of our neighbors. When we embrace such proud delusions, it becomes impossible for us to follow our Lord to His Passion in a true spiritual sense. Doing so amounts to refusing to receive His healing mercy, for we will then be so full of pride that we will imagine we have already reached the heights of holiness by our own accomplishments.   Even as we think that we are models of righteousness, we will worship only ourselves as we deny our need for the Savior’s victory over death.  Like the Pharisee, we will use the word “God,” but in reality we will pray only to ourselves as we wander ever deeper into spiritual blindness. 

 

The more we devote ourselves to spiritual disciplines, the greater the temptation will likely be to focus on the apparent failings of others in order to distract ourselves from the great struggle to become fully present to God, stripped naked of all our pretensions and usual efforts of self-justification.  We need profound humility to open ourselves to the One Who is “Holy, Holy, Holy” as we “lay aside all earthly cares” to focus on the one thing needful.  When even a glimmer of the brilliant light of the Divine Glory begins to shine through the eyes of our souls, the darkness within us becomes obvious. The temptation will then be strong to shift our attention to whatever we think will distract us from confronting our spiritual vulnerability. 

 

The Publican was an easy target for the Pharisee, for tax collectors were Jews who collected money from their own people to fund the Roman army of occupation.  Like Zacchaeus, they collected more than was required and lived off the difference. The Pharisee believed that he was justified in looking down on someone who was both a traitor and a thief, even as we typically think that we are justified in condemning those we love to hate.   Ironically, this tax collector would not have denied the charge. He knew he was a wretched sinner, and his only apparent virtue was that he knew he had none.  Standing off by himself in the temple, the man would “not even lift up his eyes to Heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner.’”

 

Despite his miserable way of life, the tax collector somehow mustered the spiritual strength to do something the Pharisee could not:  He exposed his soul to the blinding light of God from the depths of his heart; he made no excuses and did not try to distract himself from facing the difficult truth.  Christ said that the Publican, not the Pharisee, went home justified that day.  That was not because he had done more good deeds, obeyed more laws, or been more conventionally religious or moral, but because he had the humility to encounter God honestly as the sinner that he was.  Such humility is absolutely essential for opening our souls to the healing mercy of Christ.   Without it, pride will destroy the virtue of everything that we do and plunge us into even greater spiritual darkness and delusion.  But with it, there is hope for us all to receive the healing mercy of the Lord.

 

There is surely no greater sign of the folly of exalting ourselves and condemning others in the name of religion than the Passion of Christ.  Highly religious people like Pharisees and chief priests rejected Him and called for His crucifixion because they had blinded themselves spiritually with their pride and lust for power over other people.  It was not the tax collectors and other public sinners who wanted Him dead, but those who were so self-righteous that they could accept only a Messiah who confirmed that they were deserving of glory and praise.  They defined themselves as holy over against “the sinners,” even though they were the guiltiest of all due to their pride.  Had they come to recognize that and cry out to the Lord from the depths of their hearts for mercy like the Publican, they surely would have received it.

 

There is no clearer warning to us about the dangers of pride corrupting our Lenten disciplines than today’s gospel reading.  The point is not, of course, that we should all become public criminals, but that we must use our ascetical practices to grow in humility as those who know truly our need for the healing mercy of the One Who offered Himself fully on the Cross and rose in glory for our salvation.  Whenever we catch ourselves thinking that at least we are better than that person or group of people, we must focus our minds on the words of the Jesus Prayer or otherwise call out to the Lord from our hearts “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”  If we have identified some earthly agenda with God’s Kingdom such that we exalt ourselves in our own minds over neighbors who see things differently and blame them for all the world’s problems, we must likewise fall on our faces in humility. As the Savior said, “He who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”  Now is the time to prepare for a spiritually beneficial Lent that will help us grow in the humility necessary to reorient our lives toward the great joy of Pascha.   On every step of the journey over the next several weeks, let us remember that “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”  That is really our only hope to find the strength to follow the Savior through the horror of His Cross to the unspeakable joy of His empty tomb.  

 

 

Homily for Saints Athanasius and Cyril, Patriarchs of Alexandria & Twelfth Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 13:7-16; Luke 17:12-19

 

            During the season of Christmas, we celebrated the Nativity in the flesh of the Savior.  Born as truly one of us, He is the New Adam Who restores and fulfills us as living icons of God.  During the season of Theophany, we celebrated the revelation of His divinity as a Person of the Holy Trinity at His baptism, where the voice of the Father identified Him as the Son and the Holy Spirit descended upon Him in the form of a dove.  Christ has appeared in the waters of the Jordan, blessing the entire creation, enabling all things to become radiant with the divine glory. 

 

When we put Him on like a garment in baptism, we participate in the sanctification that He brought to the world as we regain the “robe of light” repudiated by our first parents.  Baptism demonstrates that the God-Man did not come to make only one group of people participants in eternal life.  As St. Paul wrote, “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.”  (Gal. 3: 27-29)            

 

The Messiah fulfilled the ancient promise to Abraham and extended it to the Gentiles, which was contradictory to all the religious and social assumptions of first-century Palestine.  The same is true of our Lord’s healing of the Samaritan leper in today’s gospel reading.  Among the ten lepers the Lord healed, the only one who returned to thank Him was a hated Samaritan, someone considered a foreigner and a heretic by the Jews.  After the man fell down before Him in gratitude, the Lord said, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”  Our Lord’s interaction with this man shows that His gracious blessing extended even to those understood to be obvious foreigners, sinners, and enemies.  That is good news for us who have no ancestral claim to the spiritual heritage of Israel.  As recipients of divine love that transcends all human boundaries, we must never accept that nationality, race, or any such distinctions somehow exclude anyone from the same mercy that we ourselves have received.  Having received the high calling to become living epiphanies of His salvation through baptism, we must never fall into the spiritual blindness of viewing and treating anyone as less than a living icon of the One Who has born and baptized for the salvation of the entire world.   

 

Remember that the Savior praised the faith of a Roman centurion, an officer of the pagan Roman army that occupied Israel.  That surely scandalized religious nationalists who wanted a Messiah to bring political power to their people over against others.  (Lk 7:9) The people of Nazareth even tried to throw Christ off a cliff when He reminded them that God had at times blessed Gentiles through the ministry of great Hebrew prophets and had not helped Jews.  (Lk 4:29) He shocked everyone by talking with St. Photini, the Samaritan woman at the well, and then spending a few days in her village.  (Jn 4:40) The list could go on, but the point is obvious that our Lord’s compassion for broken, suffering humanity extends literally to all who bear the divine image and likeness.  He was born and baptized in order to bring all people into the Holy Trinity’s eternal communion of love.  It is only “the old nature” of corruption that would keep us so enslaved to hatred, division, and vengeance that we would imagine that those we consider foreigners and enemies are any less called to become brilliant epiphanies of salvation than we are.   

 

Another shocking detail of our gospel reading is that the Samaritan alone returned to give thanks for receiving healing from the Messiah of Israel.  He knew that, in the eyes of the Jews, he was considered a complete outcast.  Nonetheless, he obeyed the Lord’s command to head toward the temple in Jerusalem to show himself to the priests.  That must have been a very difficult instruction for a Samaritan to obey, for the Samaritan temple was not in Jerusalem, but on Mount Gerizim.  The Jewish temple was no place for a Samaritan; he would not have been welcome there.  Nonetheless, he set out toward Jerusalem with the other lepers.  When he realized that he had been healed, he was the only one to return to thank the Savior for this life-changing miracle. He reminds us in this regard of the “Good Samaritan” who, unlike the Jewish religious leaders who continued on their way, stopped to show overwhelming concern for the healing and wellbeing of a Jewish man who had been beaten by robbers and left for dead by the side of the road.  And even as the Samaritan cleansed from leprosy surpassed his Jewish companions in gratitude, the Samaritan Photini had understood Christ far better than had Nicodemus the Pharisee.

 

It remains tempting today to distort the way of Christ into agendas that are contradictory to His teaching and ministry, especially when we convince ourselves that we may define people according to the categories of our fallen world instead of seeing ourselves and our neighbors in light of the glory of His Kingdom.  Those who have put on Christ like a garment in baptism must not prefer the nakedness of slavery to passions that lead to hatred, fear, and abuse of anyone who bears the image and likeness of God, regardless of their nationality, political opinions, religious beliefs, or other characteristics.  If we corrupt the way of the Lord into a project that inflames our passions against any neighbor or group of people for any reason, we will most definitely not fulfill our calling to become living epiphanies of His salvation.  Instead, we will become like the self-righteous hypocrites who rejected Christ because He challenged their dreams of earthly power.   

 

Today we commemorate Sts. Athanasius and Cyril, Patriarchs of Alexandria who played crucial roles in resisting heresies that gravely obscured the good news of Jesus Christ. Athanasius combatted Arianism, which denied the full divinity of the Savior.  Cyril repudiated Nestorianism, which denied the unity of divinity and humanity in the Person of Christ.  They both focused on matters that strike at the very heart of the Faith, for only One Who is truly the God-Man can make us “partakers of the divine nature” by grace.  Their focus was not on superficial differences between people but on the most basic questions of how Christ brings salvation to the world.  They did not worship earthly power for they knew that “here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city, which is to come.”  They clarified that our calling is to “continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge His Name.”  They warned us “not [to] be led away by diverse and strange teachings; for it is well that the heart be strengthened by grace,” not by attachment to anything that hinders the healing of our souls.  They reminded us to live as Christ taught and “not [to] neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

 

That they were Egyptians who lived in a time and place very different from our own is irrelevant, for we are members together with them of the one Body of Christ.  We celebrate their memories and ask for their prayers not out of earthly kinship but with the same spiritual gratitude that we have for the Samaritan leper, St. Photini, and all the other “strangers and foreigners” with whom we have become “fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God” by the grace of the One born in Bethlehem and baptized in the Jordan for our salvation. Let us follow their teaching and example to the life of a kingdom that remains not of this world and in which all who respond to Christ “with the fear of God and faith and love” are welcome.

 

 

 

 

           

Homily for the Sunday After the Theophany (Epiphany) of Christ in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 13:7-16; Matthew 4:12-17

In this season we celebrate the great feast of Theophany, of Christ’s baptism by St. John the Forerunner when the voice of the Father identified Him as the Son of God and the Holy Spirit descended upon Him in the form of a dove. Epiphany reveals that the Savior Who appears from the waters of the Jordan to illumine our world of darkness is truly the God-Man, a Person of the Holy Trinity.  He is baptized to restore us, and the creation itself, to the ancient glory for which we were created.

By entering into the water, the Lord made it holy, which means that He restored and fulfilled its true nature.  We need water in order to live.  The earth needs water in order to become fertile, bearing fruit and giving life to animals of all kinds.  We wash with water and use it to maintain cleanliness and health.  Without water, we become weak and die, as would other creatures.  And in the world as we know it, water kills many through floods and storms. Since the creation has been subjected to futility through our fall, the water through which God gives us life may become the means of our death. But when water is blessed, God restores it to its natural state of fulfilling God’s gracious purposes for the flourishing of the creation.  And since our homes are where we and our families live each day, we want His blessing on the physical space in which we offer ourselves to Him.  In opening our homes to the Lord’s blessing, we find strength to make our daily lives a liturgy, an entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Tragically, our first parents refused their high calling to offer themselves and the world for blessing and ushered in the unnatural realm of corruption that we know all too well, both in the brokenness of our hearts and in our relationships with one another.  God gave Adam and Eve garments of skin when they left paradise after disregarding Him.  Through their disobedience, they had become aware that they were naked and were cast into the world as we know it.  Their nakedness showed that they had repudiated their vocation to become like God in holiness.  Having stripped themselves of their original glory, they were reduced to mortal flesh and destined for slavery to their passions and to the grave.   Because of them, the creation itself was “subjected to futility…” (Rom. 8:20)

As we prepared for Theophany, we heard this hymn: “Make ready, O Zebulon, and prepare, O Nephtali, and you, River Jordan, cease your flow and receive with joy the Master coming to be baptized. And you, Adam, rejoice with the first mother, and hide not yourselves as you did of old in paradise; for having seen you naked, He appeared to clothe you with the first robe. Yea, Christ has appeared desiring to renew the whole creation.”   If it seems strange to think of Christ being baptized in order to clothe Adam and Eve, remember St. Paul’s teaching that “as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ.”  (Gal. 3:27)   In baptism, Jesus Christ clothes us with a garment of light, restoring us to our original vocation to become like
Him in holiness.  He delivers us from the nakedness and vulnerability of slavery to our own passions and to the fear of the grave.  Through His and our baptism, He makes us participants in His restoration and fulfillment of the human person. He is baptized to save Adam and Eve, all their descendants, and the entire creation, fulfilling the gracious purposes for which He brought us into existence.    

Life after baptism is not, however, without pain, disease, death, sorrows, and temptations.  In contrast with the divine glory of the appearance of our Lord, the darkness of sin within us and our world of corruption becomes all the more apparent.  In the aftermath of Christ’s birth, Herod the Great had all the young boys in the region of Bethlehem murdered. St. John the Forerunner, who prepared the way for “the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sin of the world,” was arrested and ultimately beheaded by Herod Antipas for prophetically denouncing the king’s immorality.  After the Baptist’s arrest, the Lord went to “Galilee of the Gentiles” to begin His public ministry in fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy that “’the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’” (Matt. 4:15-16) 

We are baptized into Christ’s death in order to rise up with Him into a life of holiness in which we regain the robe of light rejected by our first parents. In every aspect of our darkened lives, He calls us to become radiant with the divine glory He shares with us as the New Adam.  To do so, we must find healing for the passions that have taken root in our hearts and have distorted our relationships even with those we love most.  In how we treat everyone from those closest to us to complete strangers, we must find healing from the corruptions of pride, hatred, anger, resentment, and the desire to dominate or condemn others.  It does not matter whether we are at home, work, school, or other settings, or whether we think we are in private or in public. If we have put on Christ in baptism, we must become living epiphanies of Christ’s salvation and mercy to all we encounter.

We must also be on guard for the ways in which we remain inhabitants of “the region and shadow of death.”  Because the Savior has hallowed the water and the entire creation through His baptism, absolutely nothing is intrinsically evil or profane.  No dimension of God’s good creation requires us to return to the nakedness of passion in any way.  We are without excuse for doing so, for Theophany reveals that we are always on holy ground and must speak, act, and think as those who wear a garment of light.  Though we fall short of fulfilling the goal each day, we must always strive to manifest our Lord’s healing of the human person in every thought, word, and deed.  We must become like holy water restored to its natural place and blessing the world as a sign of its salvation.

            If we are to do so in a world still enslaved to the fear of death, we must embrace the full meaning of baptism.  As St. Paul wrote, “Do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death?  Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” (Rom. 6:3-4) We must, then, be always vigilant against allowing self-centered desire to distort our vision of ourselves, our neighbors, and our world. We must turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and treat others as we would have them treat us, especially when we are tempted to respond in kind to those who have wronged us or whom we consider our enemies.  We must take up the struggle to purify the desires of our hearts and offer them for true fulfillment in God. The more deeply attached we are to any source of temptation, the more mindful we must be concerning it.

            Like people of every generation, we do not have to look very closely at ourselves or at the state of the world to know that Isaiah’s prophecy still rings true: “[T]he people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever,” and His Epiphany calls us to become radiant with His holy light.  In the waters of the Jordan, “Christ has appeared desiring to renew the whole creation.”  So let us now lift up our hearts to receive the great blessing that He is baptized to share with every single one of us in every dimension of our lives in the world as we know it.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homily for the Sunday Before the Theophany of Christ in the Orthodox Church

 

2 Timothy 4:5-8; Mark 1:1-8

Today is the Sunday before the Feast of Theophany (or Epiphany), when we celebrate Christ’s baptism in the river Jordan and the revelation that He is truly the Son of God.  His divinity is made manifest and openly displayed at His baptism when the voice of the Father declares, “You are my beloved Son” and the Holy Spirit descends upon Him in the form of a dove.  Theophany shows us that Jesus Christ, who was born in the flesh for our salvation at Christmas, is not merely a great religious teacher or moral example.  He is truly God—a Person of the Holy Trinity– Whose salvation permeates the entire creation, including the water of the river Jordan.  Through Christ’s and our baptism, we become participants in the eternal life that He shares with us by grace, for He restores to us the robe of light which our first parents lost when they chose pride and self-centeredness over obedience and communion.  He enters the Jordan to restore Adam and Eve, and all their children, to the dignity of those who bear the image and likeness of God.  

At the time of His earthly ministry, however, people were looking for a very different kind of Savior.  The word “messiah” means “anointed one,” and the Jews wanted a leader who would deliver their nation from Roman oppression, not unlike how any people living under military occupation by the armies of another nation typically want their liberation and independence.  Christ’s own disciples thought of Him in those terms until after His resurrection, for even those closest to the Lord had great difficulty accepting that He was not the earthly king they had expected.  They were so focused on how Jesus Christ might fulfill their dreams for power in this world that they could not grasp His true identity as the Son of God, the incarnate second Person of the Holy Trinity, the divine Word Who spoke the universe into existence. His Kingdom is not of this world and stands in prophetic judgment over all our pathetic attempts to use religion to build ourselves up over our neighbors, no matter who they may be.

To prepare the way of a Messiah Who did not fit popular preconceived notions, God sent a very bold prophet who surely made almost everyone uncomfortable.  St. John the Baptist and Forerunner was a strict ascetic, living in the desert, eating only locusts and honey, and wearing camel skin.  Like all the true Hebrew prophets before him, John did not serve anyone’s worldly agenda.  In addition to his stark appearance and lifestyle, his message was severe to the point of being insulting.  He proclaimed God’s truth and did not care who might be offended, perhaps because harsh words were necessary to challenge people to recognize the true state of their souls.  John mocked the Pharisees and Sadducees, calling them a brood of vipers—a bunch of slimy snakes.  He told the rich to share with the poor, soldiers to stop abusing their authority, and tax collectors to stop stealing from the people.  He let no one off the hook, fearlessly proclaiming God’s word even to those who had the power to destroy him. Ultimately, he lost his head for criticizing the immorality of the royal family. 

God shook up Israel with John the Baptist, the Forerunner of our Lord, who began to open their eyes to a Messiah Whom they did not expect.  They needed a call to repentance from a wild and holy man who served none of the petty kingdoms or factions of this world, but who instead called everyone to repent by changing the direction of their lives in relation to God and neighbor.  They were to make straight whatever crookedness was in them.   They were to abandon hypocritical and self-serving distortions of God’s Law.  No one was to say, “But I am a child of Abraham or a religious leader or a well-respected person, so repentance is not for me.”  No one was to point to the offenses of others as a distraction from reorienting their own lives toward God.  The Forerunner called everyone straightforwardly to greater holiness in preparation for the coming of the Messiah, Who is truly the God-Man.

As we prepare for the Feast of Theophany, we must recognize that John’s message applies to each of us today in ways that should make us all uncomfortable.   If we have put on Christ in baptism, we must conform our character to His because we have already received the robe of light.  Having celebrated His birth as Orthodox Christians, we have already proclaimed that the Savior is not merely one of many insightful teachers or inspiring examples, but truly the Son of God.  In Him, we are “partakers of the divine nature” by grace as members of His Body, the Church.  The more that we share in His life, the more clearly we will see how infinitely much more room we have for growth in embracing the healing of our souls because none of us has become a perfect epiphany of Christ’s salvation.   

It would be different if the Epiphany of Jesus Christ as the Son of God were merely an idea to be grasped as an abstract truth. It would be different if Theophany were simply a calling to prove that we are right and others are wrong.  This feast is nothing like that, however, for it calls us to enter personally into the great mystery of our salvation by becoming radiant with the divine glory that the Savior has shared with us.  We must no longer live as those driven by insecurities and fears rooted in the fear of death, including the obsession to prove that we are right about religion or anything else.  Our focus must be on finding healing for our souls so that we will be able to live each day as those clothed with a robe of light.     

In order to share more fully in the eternal life of the God-Man, we must follow the path of ongoing repentance proclaimed by John, always seeing ourselves as those who must prepare the way of the Lord in our lives.  We must persist in cooperating with Christ’s healing mercy, actively making straight whatever remains crooked.  Like those who first heard the Forerunner, we have become too comfortable with life on our own terms, perhaps patting ourselves on the back for being Orthodox and thinking that repentance is only for others.  The Lord calls us to reject such foolishness, for as He taught, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” (Lk. 12:48)   Even as the Forerunner blasted the self-righteous hypocrites of first-century Palestine, he would excoriate us for daring to use our undeserved spiritual blessings as an excuse to distract ourselves from recognizing that we are each “the chief of sinners” in need of the divine healing and transformation graciously extended to us—and to all people-- in Jesus Christ.

As we prepare to celebrate Theophany, let us gain the spiritual clarity to behold the glory of Christ’s baptism by straightening whatever remains crooked within us.  Instead of finding ways to ignore the preaching of the Forerunner, let us take his sobering message to heart as we confess and repent of our sins and reorient ourselves to our Lord and His Kingdom.  The Messiah is born and is on His way to the Jordan where His divinity will shine forth.  Will we have the eyes to behold His glory?  There is only one way to prepare:  namely, to repent as we turn away from all that hinders us from shining brightly with the divine glory manifest in the God-Man. Nothing can keep us from doing so other than our own stubborn refusal to prepare the way of the Lord by making His paths straight in our own lives.  There is no other way to enter into the great joy of the Feast of Theophany, for the Lord calls us to become nothing less than living epiphanies of His fulfillment of the human person in the divine image and likeness. That is why He is baptized in the Jordan for our salvation and the salvation of the entire world.

 

Homily for the Sunday After the Nativity of Christ with Commemoration of Joseph the Betrothed, David the Prophet and King, and James the Brother of God in the Orthodox Church

 

Matthew 2:13-23

        Christ is Born!  Glorify Him!

As we continue to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ for the salvation of the world, we must resist the temptation to think that we have heard the story so many times that we no longer really have to pay attention.  Like the other great feasts of the Church, the Nativity provides us with an invitation each year to enter more fully into the mystery of our salvation.  The miracle of the Word becoming flesh does not change, but we must change in order to welcome Christ into the temple of our hearts more fully each year of our lives. 

        We live in a culture with a sentimental view of Christmas focused on superficial family happiness and commercialism.  Our culture also prizes youth and encourages us to think that we should be ashamed of gray hair, wrinkles, and other perfectly normal aspects of aging.  Today the Church calls us to mature in our understanding of the Lord’s Nativity by commemorating Joseph the Betrothed, an elderly relative of the Virgin Mary who reluctantly became her guardian when she had to leave the Temple where she had grown up.

One of the verses chanted for Joseph states that “a strange betrothal fell unto his lot.” Joseph certainly thought so. This betrothal was an arrangement in which a man became the guardian of a woman without the intimate relations of marriage.  As an 80-year-old widower, he was reluctant to take on this responsibility for a teenaged girl, but he obeyed God’s command nonetheless.  He played an essential, but often overlooked, role in how salvation came into the world. 

The story of Joseph resonates with so much of the heritage of the Old Testament.  An evil ruler wanted to murder the young Savior because he viewed Him as a threat.  Pharaoh had ordered the deaths of Hebrew male infants long ago in Egypt, and now a wicked king like him reigned in Jerusalem.  Herod slaughtered the young boys in and around Bethlehem when he realized that the wise men had tricked him.  In the Exodus, the Hebrews had fled Egypt on the night of the Passover.  Now the young Messiah flees Israel to go to Egypt at night.  Once the danger had passed, Joseph brought the family back to the Promised Land, just as the Hebrews eventually returned after wandering in the desert for forty years. Recall also the story in Genesis of another Joseph.  He went to Egypt unwillingly as a slave, but eventually saved his whole family from a famine by bringing them there.

These connections are surely not accidental, for Matthew’s gospel describes Joseph’s role in the Lord’s early life with obvious Old Testament symbolism.  Joseph’s story is a challenging reminder that God calls us in unanticipated ways to cooperate with His gracious purposes for bringing salvation to the world.  He does not call us to serve Him in a realm of imaginary perfection or according to our own preferences, but in the same world with pregnant women and children whose lives are in danger of deadly violence and with families who must flee for their lives as refugees.  There are surely many rulers and regimes every bit as vicious as Herod today. 

The story of Christmas also magnifies the importance of our free response to God’s calling. We cannot tell that story properly without celebrating the Theotokos, who freely chose to say “yes” when the Archangel Gabriel visited her with the good news that she was chosen to be the Virgin Mother of the Son of God.  Despite his reluctance to become her guardian in the first place, Joseph accepted the responsibility.  After being horrified to discover her pregnancy, he had the faith to believe the message of the angel that the Child was conceived of the Holy Spirit.  Despite his advanced age, Joseph successfully guided his family to Egypt as they fled the murderous Herod.  He had certainly not anticipated or desired involvement in such a dangerous set of circumstances, but he accepted the calling to do what had to be done for the safety of the Theotokos and her Child. 

Joseph reminds us that God uses our cooperation to accomplish His gracious purposes in the world.  That was certainly the case in the Old Testament:  Abraham, Moses, David, and countless others responded to God’s initiative, and He worked through them, despite their many failings.  And through the free response of a teenaged girl came the Messiah in Whom the ancient promises to the descendants of Abraham are fulfilled and extended to the entire world.

The details of our Lord’s conception, birth, and infancy show that God does not force people to obey Him.   We can disregard God and refuse to live as those created in the divine image and likeness.  It is tragically possible to become like Herod in moral depravity and spiritual blindness to the point of disregarding even the basic humanity of innocent children and ruthlessly destroying anyone who stands in the way of getting what we want.  Such corruption is a possibility for anyone, not only for the rich, famous, and powerful. Violence, hatred, and lust for revenge and domination so easily corrode the character of people in all walks of life today. 

Our vocation is not simply to avoid becoming as wicked as Herod, but to become like the Theotokos and Joseph the Betrothed. Her life plans changed at the Annunciation, and we must accept that the healing of our souls will likely not occur according to our own preferences or schedules.   That was certainly the case for Joseph, who took on unanticipated responsibilities because He accepted them as God’s will for him.  Through the free obedience of this unlikely couple in their respective callings, the Savior came into the world. Such obedience is a form of martyrdom in the sense of dying to self-centered desire out of faithfulness to the Lord. 

We also remember today James, the son of the widower Joseph, known as “the Brother of the Lord.”  James wrote in his epistle, “Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good conduct, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.” (Jas. 3:13) He also famously taught that faith without works is dead.  (Jas. 2:17) In order to bear witness to the good news that the Son of God has become truly one of us, we must freely pursue the vocation of becoming like Him in holiness as we grow in our participation in His divine life. Our fundamental vocation remains the same:  to undergo a change of mind such that we offer ourselves without reservation in obedience to God.  As with the Theotokos, Joseph the Betrothed, and James, there is no telling what that will mean for the course of our lives, but saying “yes” in free obedience as we take the steps we have the strength to take today remains the only way to participate personally in the healing of the human person made possible by the birth of Jesus Christ.   Let us look to those we commemorate today as brilliant examples of how to enter into the joy of the Babe of Bethlehem, Who calls us all to salvation.