Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Great Lent with Commemoration of our Righteous Mother Mary of Egypt in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 9:11-14; Mark 10:32-45

 

Whenever we catch a glimpse of our personal brokenness and weakness, we may experience a temptation to think that there is no hope for us to find healing and strength, regardless of what we do.  We may easily accept that we are simply too far gone to ever come to our senses and find our way home like the prodigal son.  We may believe that no amount of repentance could ever enable us to be restored as God’s beloved sons and daughters. On this last Sunday of Great Lent, the Church calls us to refuse to be distracted by such foolish and prideful notions as we celebrate our Righteous Mother Mary of Egypt, who became a glorious saint despite her previously wretched way of life.  In her brutally honest account of her youth, St. Mary describes how she had from the age of twelve endured the miserable existence of a sex addict.  She had refused money for her innumerable encounters with men and said that she “had an insatiable desire and an irrepressible passion for lying in filth. This was life to me. Every kind of abuse of nature I regarded as life.”  Though we do not know why she left her parents’ home at a young age, she may well have been a victim of sexual abuse.  She confessed forcing herself on “youths even against their own will” as she sailed to Jerusalem and said that she was actually “hunting for youths” on the streets on the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross when she followed the crowds to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. 

When an invisible force prevented Mary from entering the Church in order to venerate the Cross, her eyes were opened to her wretchedness and she pleaded for the help of the Theotokos in finding salvation.  Thus began her almost 50 years of intense ascetical struggle in the desert.  By the time Father Zosima stumbled upon her, Mary had become so radiant with holiness that she walked on water, rose above the ground in prayer, was clairvoyant, and knew the Scriptures, even though she had never read them.  Pride had no place in her soul, as she was aware only of her sinfulness and ongoing need for the Lord’s mercy.  Mary was not focused on achieving any earthly goal, but instead on doing whatever was necessary to find healing and restoration as a beloved daughter of the Lord, a living icon of Christ. 

So much religion in our world today is merely a smattering of pious platitudes and sentiments intended to help people feel better about indulging their passions, whatever they may be.  This is hardly a new problem, for our Lord’s disciples betrayed, denied, and abandoned Him when they finally realized that He was not going to become a conventional political ruler who would satisfy their desires for earthly glory with victory over the Roman Empire.  As today’s gospel reading shows, even as the Savior predicted His Passion, the disciples James and John were jockeying for position by asking for places of prominence when He came into what they thought would be earthly power.  They had no idea what they were asking, of course, for the path to our Lord’s Kingdom requires taking up our crosses in union with His great Self-Offering. Doing so has nothing to do with ruling over anyone in this world but requires persistent, humble obedience whereby we open ourselves to receive the healing divine mercy of the Lord.  Through the struggle of reorienting ourselves to the blessedness of a Kingdom not of this world, we learn not to entrust our hearts to the false gods of our passions and instead gain the strength to manifest Christ’s merciful, selfless love for our neighbors, regardless of who they are.  As He said, “For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

The struggles of Lent teach us that prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and other spiritual disciplines are not tools to help us achieve any earthly goal.  Instead, they help us to see more clearly where we stand in relation to God so that we will be able to offer ourselves more fully to receive His healing.  Our great difficulty in doing so shows how far we are from becoming like God in holiness.  To recognize that truth and still persist in repentance requires suffering because of the inevitable tension between the corruption and weakness of our souls and the blessedness and strength to which the Lord calls us.  It is not a punishment but simply the consequence of enduring the struggle necessary to become a beautiful living icon of the Savior. 

St. Mary of Egypt did not allow the hurt pride called shame to keep her from facing the truth about her spiritual state or from taking up her cross in the difficult way that was necessary for her healing.  She did not accept the lie that she should embrace and act on her inclinations, habits, and compulsions to be true to herself.  She did not distract herself from confronting her sins by condemning others or trying to use religion as a tool to gain anything in this world.    Instead, she had the humble courage to entrust herself fully to the ministry of the “High Priest of the good things to come…[Who] through His own blood, entered in once for all into the holy place, having found eternal redemption.”  Her example shows that absolutely nothing we have done, said, or thought makes it impossible for us to find the healing of our souls through Him.  St. Mary of Egypt is a shining example of hope for us all.

Like her, we must confront truthfully how we have corrupted ourselves in order to open our hearts to Christ for His healing.  His own disciples betrayed, denied, and abandoned Him because they wanted a Messiah Who would serve their desires for earthly power and glory.  As Christ said, “the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles.  And they will mock Him, and scourge Him, and spit upon Him, and kill Him; and after three days He will rise.”  Acquiring the spiritual strength to serve such a Lord does not come easily to people like us who are so weakened by slavery to our passions.  That is why we need the holy mystery of Confession in Lent to gain the strength necessary to follow our Lord to His Cross and empty tomb.  It is only through humble repentance that we may acquire the persistent obedience shown by St. Mary of Egypt.  Like her, we must refuse to let anything, including our own hurt pride, keep us from confronting our personal brokenness with brutal honesty as we take up our own crosses in faithfulness to the Savior Who offered up Himself for the salvation of the world. Not one of us is too far gone to embrace the healing mercy of the One Who rose victorious over death itself on the third day.    

 

             

 

 

Homily for the Third Sunday of Great Lent: Veneration of the Precious and Life-Giving Cross in the Orthodox Church

 Hebrews 4:14-5:6; Mark 8:34-9:1

 

            Today we venerate the precious and lifegiving Cross upon which Christ offered Himself for the salvation of the world purely out of love for those enslaved to the fear of death, which He conquered through His glorious resurrection on the third day.  The Cross is not the sign of a civil religion that grants spiritual sanction to any power structure of this world. Neither is it a magical good luck charm that makes all our problems go away.  It is certainly not a way of demonstrating our superiority over any person or group.   The Cross of Christ is the opposite of such distortions, for it stands in radical judgment of those who would attempt to use religion to help them seek first the things of this world, such as power, pleasure, and possessions.  That was the mindsight of the corrupt religious leaders who called for the Lord’s crucifixion because they perceived Him as a threat to their attempt to use God to gain earthly power.  It was also the perspective of the Romans who believed that worshiping their many gods protected their rule.  By having “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” written in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin on the Cross, Pontius Pilate did not miss the opportunity to let everyone know what happened to those suspected of challenging Roman authority.  (Jn. 19:20) Those who place loyalty to empires, nations, or other earthly projects before faithfulness to Christ inevitably end up rejecting Him as surely as those who nailed Him to the Cross. As He said, “For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of man also be ashamed, when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels.”

 

On this Sunday of the Adoration of the Holy Cross, right in the middle of Lent, we do the opposite of making any type of success in this world our highest goal.  Today we venerate the Cross on which Jesus Christ offered Himself for the salvation of the world.  Through His crucifixion, the New Adam entered fully into the misery and wretchedness of the first Adam to the point of death to liberate us from slavery to its corrupting power and make us participants in eternal life.  The Cross is the Tree of Life through which we return to the blessedness of Paradise.  It is “a weapon of peace and a trophy invincible” that even the high and mighty of this world cannot defeat.

 

            As our epistle reading states, our crucified and risen Lord is the “great High Priest” Who ministers in the heavenly temple, where He intercedes for us eternally.   To enter into His salvation, we must take up our own crosses as we refuse to make any earthly goal the deepest desire of our hearts. Denying ourselves means putting faithfulness to Him before anything else, including indulging weaknesses and desires that hold us back from fulfilling our high calling.    Even as common bread and wine are fulfilled as our Lord’s Body and Blood when offered in the Divine Liturgy, we too are transformed when we unite ourselves to the High Priestly offering of the Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world.   If we refuse to embrace the struggle to do so, we will shut ourselves out of the blessedness of His Kingdom, both as a present reality and as a future hope.

 

            We must not adore the Cross only in religious services, but daily as we take up our crosses to love God with every ounce of our being and our neighbors as ourselves.  The disciplines of Lent present opportunities to gain the strength to so as we take small steps to die to that which keeps us enslaved to the self-centered ways of the first Adam.  In prayer, we open our hearts to the Savior and learn experientially that our life is in Him.  In fasting from the richest and most sustaining foods, we open ourselves in humility to receive His strength for resisting deeply ingrained habits of self-indulgence. In sharing our time, attention, and resources with others, we follow Christ in offering ourselves for the good of our neighbors.  In forgiving our enemies and welcoming the stranger, we participate in the merciful lovingkindness of our Lord.  These are the most basic disciplines of the Christian life, and they are necessary to help us gain the spiritual strength to take up our crosses, especially in response to the deep challenges of our lives and the appealing temptations to apostasy and paganism that are all around us.   We must remain constantly on guard against popular  distortions of Christianity that place their trust in the fallen powers of this world and have no place for a Lord Who loved and forgave His enemies and reigns from a Cross and an empty tomb.

 

If we refuse to deny ourselves even in small ways this Lent, we will demonstrate where our true loyalties lie and become even more accustomed to serving ourselves instead of God and neighbor.  Doing so will reveal that we are ashamed of our Lord and His Cross and prefer to offer our lives to other gods, especially to ourselves.  Even if we continue down that path to the point that we somehow gain the whole world, we will risk losing our souls by committing idolatry every bit as much as those who condemned Christ because He stood in the way of fulfilling their passionate desires for earthly power and glory. We will then be even more guilty than they were because we know that His Cross is nothing less than the salvation of the world.

 

There is perhaps nothing worse than distorting our calling as Christians to the point that the Cross becomes merely an empty symbol that we use to satisfy our lust for any earthly or self-centered goal, no matter how popular or appealing.  If we do not do the hard work of actually taking up our crosses and denying ourselves out of love for God and neighbor, then our lives will bear witness that our true lord is someone or something other than Jesus Christ.  St. Paul taught that “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” (Gal. 5:24) When we realize how far we are from fulfilling that goal, we must humbly call for the Lord’s mercy from the depths of our souls as we struggle to take even small steps in denying ourselves, taking up our crosses, and following Him.  There is simply no other way to enter into the joy of His Kingdom.

 

Whether in the first century or today, salvation has not come to the world through the pursuit of power, possessions, and pleasure.  It does not come through the achievements of the powerful and popular people who seek first the kingdoms of this world.  The same kind of spiritual depravity that drove religious and political leaders to crucify Christ is still very much with us.  When we show that we are ashamed of the way of the Cross by refusing to embrace the daily struggle to take up our own, we demonstrate that we are not that much different from them.  As we continue our Lenten journey, let us confess how we have fallen short of fulfilling the high calling that is ours and learn to offer every dimension of our lives to the Savior for healing as we take up our own crosses.  Whether in Lent or any other time, that is the only way to enter into Paradise through our great High Priest, Who offered Himself fully upon the Cross for the salvation of the world purely out of love.  That is what His Cross is all about.   

 

   

 

           

             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homily for the Second Sunday of Great Lent with Commemoration of Saint Gregory Palamas, Archbishop of Thessalonica, in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 1:10-2:3; Mark 2:1-12

           

            We will misunderstand these blessed weeks of Lent if we assume that they are intended to help us have clearer ideas or deeper feelings about our Lord’s crucifixion and resurrection.  We will be even more confused if we think that our intensified prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and repentance somehow earn God’s forgiveness or make us better than other people.  Quite the contrary, Lenten disciplines are simply opportunities to open ourselves in humility as embodied persons to the gracious healing of the Lord so that we may share more fully in His life.  That is another way of saying that the point of Lent is to grow in our personal knowledge of God through true spiritual experience, encounter, and transformation.    

On this second Sunday of the Great Fast, we commemorate St. Gregory Palamas, who defended the experience of monks who, in the stillness of prayer from their hearts, saw the Uncreated Light of God.  The eyes of their souls were cleansed and illumined such that they beheld the divine glory as the Apostles did at the Transfiguration of the Lord on Mount Tabor.  St. Gregory taught that to know God is to participate in His gracious divine energies as we are transformed in holiness in every aspect of our existence.  He proclaimed that our calling is to know and experience God through true spiritual union with Him that sanctifies every dimension of the human person.  To do so is to encounter the great “I AM” of the Burning Bush from the depths of our souls in a way that illumines us entirely. (Ex. 3:14) It is to shine brilliantly in holiness like an iron left in the fire of the divine glory.   

In today’s gospel reading, Christ healed a paralyzed man, enabling him to stand up, carry his bed, and walk home as a sign of the Savior’s divine authority to forgive sins. In doing so, He restored not only a body to health but a whole person who faced all the practical challenges of daily life in the world as we know it.  Though Palamas focused primarily on the hesychasm of monks, he also taught that “those who live in the world…must force themselves to use the things of this world in conformity with the commandments of God.”[1]  When we mindfully embrace the struggle to purify our hearts so that we may live according to love of God and neighbor, which are the greatest of the commandments, and not according to our self-centered desires, we know and experience Christ from the depths of our souls.  We pray, fast, give, forgive, and confess and repent of our sins during Lent so that we may open our hearts, and every aspect of our lives, to the purifying healing of our Lord’s gracious divine energies. That is how we may truly participate in the joy of His resurrection even as we live in a world still enslaved to the fear of death.       

The Savior’s healing is open to all in every time, place, and circumstance of the world as we know it.  Christ sent the formerly paralyzed man home to resume a conventional life in a land occupied by a foreign military power and ruled by tyrants in which the weak were routinely crushed by the mighty. That is the setting in which the God-Man lived, died, and rose from the dead in order to make us participants in His divine glory.  In order to share in His life in a world that remains full of hatred, bloodshed, and corruption, we must intentionally offer ourselves for healing as we mindfully refuse to worship at the perennial pagan altars of pride, power, and pleasure in all their malign forms.  Doing so requires constant vigilance and struggle against falling back into the spiritual blindness and weakness that our passions so easily bring upon us.  A few minutes of daily prayer, modest restraints on the desires of our stomachs, and small gestures of generosity, when done in humility on a regular basis, open us to receive the grace to participate more fully in His restoration and fulfillment of the human person in the divine image and likeness.         

Since even such small steps will quickly reveal our abiding weaknesses, they teach us to call mindfully for the Lord’s healing mercy each day in order to grow in our liberation from slavery to the paralysis of sin.  Prayer is not about pondering ideas, cultivating emotions, or merely mouthing words, but requires being fully present to God from the depths of our souls.  We must intentionally devote time and energy to doing so, if we want to gain His healing and strength to rise up from our beds of spiritual paralysis and move forward on the journey to the heavenly kingdom.      

This is not a calling only for those who are great examples of holiness.  Remember that Christ came to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance.  He was a physician to the sick and blessed the poor and needy.  He cast demons out of the possessed, raised the dead, and showed mercy to those considered notorious sinners and hated enemies and foreigners. It was not those who were perfectly at ease according to the standards of the fallen world who received Him with joy, but those with broken hearts who knew their own weakness and misery.  No difficult circumstance or challenge of our lives excuses us from answering the calling to unite ourselves to Christ from the depths of our hearts each moment.  Indeed, it is precisely such struggles which should inspire us all the more to call out in humility for His mercy. 

The Sayings of the Desert Fathers records that God revealed to Saint Antony the Great of Egypt that “there was one who was his equal in the city. He was a doctor by profession and whatever he had beyond his needs he gave to the poor, and every day he sang the Sanctus with the angels.”  This example of someone living and working in the world reminds us that the only limits to our participation in the life of Christ are those that we impose on ourselves.  As we continue our Lenten journey, let us make the circumstances of our lives, whatever they may be, points of entrance into the blessed life of our Lord.  Let us know Him as God from the depths of our hearts as we come to shine brightly with the divine glory by grace.  We will do so not through rational speculation, historical remembrance, or cultivation of emotions about the Savior’s Cross and empty tomb, but by embracing the daily struggle to lift up our hearts in prayer and to live faithfully so that we may enter into the joy of the One Who has destroyed the power of sin and death by His glorious resurrection on the third day.  It is only by truly participating in His life that we may gain the strength to take up our beds and walk to our true home.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] The Triads, II.ii.5.

Homily for the First Sunday of Great Lent (Sunday of Orthodoxy) in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 11:24-26, 32-40; John 1:43-51

 

On this first Sunday of Great Lent, we commemorate the restoration of icons centuries ago in the Byzantine Empire.  They were banned due to a misguided fear of idolatry but restored as a proclamation of how the entire creation, including every dimension of our personhood, may shine brightly with the gracious divine energies of our Lord.  The icons convey the incarnation of the God-Man, Who is fully human with a real body, which was necessary for him to be born, live in this world, die, rise from the grave, and ascend into heaven.  Were any aspect of His embodied  humanity an illusion, we could not become “partakers of the divine nature” through Him.  Icons of the Theotokos and the Saints display our calling to become radiant with holiness by uniting ourselves to Christ as whole persons, which requires healing the passions that lead us to abuse food, drink, money, sex, natural resources, and our neighbors. https://www.antiochian.org/regulararticle/616

Today’s commemoration shows that our Lenten journey is not about escaping from life in our bodies or in our world.  Quite the opposite, the icons call us to find healing for every dimension of our personal and collective brokenness in the brilliant light of the Lord. The God-Man shares His salvation of the human person with us so that even our deepest struggles may become points of entrance into the blessedness of His Kingdom.  During this season of Lent, we must pray, fast, give, forgive, and confess and repent of the ways in which we have refused to embrace our calling to become ever more beautiful living icons of Christ, which is necessary for us to gain the spiritual clarity to see that every human person bears the divine image as much as we do.  If we are approaching this season with integrity, the ways in which we have fallen short of our high calling will quickly become apparent.  The more we struggle against our slavery to self-centered desires, the more apparent their hold upon us will become.  If you have been surprised during the first week of the Great Fast how your passions have reared their ugly heads, you are certainly not alone.  If you have picked yourself up whenever you have fallen, gotten back on the path when you have strayed from it, and grown in your awareness of your need for the mercy of the Lord, then your Lenten journey is off to a good start.    

Above all, we must not despair in the face of our weakness because the goal is not merely to change our diets and become more religious.  It is, instead, as the Savior said to Nathanael, nothing less than to “see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.”  As those who bear the divine image and likeness, our calling is to share fully in the eternal life of the God-Man by grace. As we read in our epistle lesson, the Old Testament saints “did not receive the promise, since God had foreseen something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.”  In Jesus Christ we have received the fulfillment of the ancient promise to Abraham as “partakers of the divine nature” who are called to be “perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  (Matt. 5:48) That is truly an eternal goal, but we participate already in a foretaste of such blessedness when we open our hearts to His healing through repentance.  As Christ taught, “The Kingdom of God is within you.”  (Lk. 17:21)

Even as the icons proclaim the truth of our Lord’s incarnation using materials like paint and wood, they call us to manifest His holiness in our own bodies.  They remind us to make our daily physical actions tangible signs of Christ’s salvation.  In fasting, we limit our self-indulgence in food in order to gain strength to purify and redirect our desires toward God and away from gratifying bodily pleasures.  In almsgiving, we limit our trust in possessions in order to grow in love for our neighbors, in whom we encounter the Lord.  In prayer, we limit our focus on our usual distractions to become more fully present to God as we open our hearts to Him.  As experience teaches, even the smallest efforts to practice disciplines that open our hearts to receive Christ’s healing mercy reveal that there is so much within us that would rather remain in the darkness of corruption.

Nonetheless, our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit and empowered to become radiant with the glory of our Lord’s resurrection.  Literally no aspect of our humanity is excluded from the vocation to shine with God’s gracious divine energies.   No matter how difficult the struggle with our passions may be, we must not become practical iconoclasts by refusing to become more beautiful living icons of Christ in any aspect of our existence.  Instead, we must open even the darkest and most distorted dimensions of our lives to the healing light of Christ as we call out for His mercy from the depths of our hearts.

The Savior entered fully into death through His Cross in order to overcome the corruption of the first Adam.  He rose and ascended in glory in order to make us radiant with His holiness.  As we celebrate the historical restoration of icons today, let us continue the Lenten journey in ways that will enable us to be more fully restored as the beautiful living icons of God, for that is what it means to become truly human in the divine image and likeness.  The disciplines of this season are not ends in themselves but simply present opportunities for us to become by His grace those who will “see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.” https://www.ancientfaith.com/podcasts/hopko/the_triumph_of_orthodoxy/

 

 

 

 

 

Homily for the Sunday of Forgiveness in the Orthodox Church

 Romans 13:11-14:4; Matthew 6:14-21

 

            On this last day of preparation before we begin our Lenten journey, we must focus on doing what we presently have the strength to do in following Christ to His Cross and glorious resurrection. Whether today or during the coming weeks, we must not be distracted or discouraged about what our weaknesses or life circumstances may keep us from doing.  Instead, we must keep our eyes on the prize of taking the steps that we can take on our journey home from self-imposed exile to Paradise, which the Savior has opened to us through His Passion.

           

A few weeks ago, we read that Zacchaeus was restored as a son of Abraham when he did what he could do by giving more than justice required from his ill-gotten gains to the poor and those whom he had defrauded.  The publican returned to his spiritual home by praying from his heart as best he could, calling only for the Lord’s mercy.  The prodigal son had done his best to destroy his relationship with his father, but he was still able to take the long and difficult journey home after coming to his senses. Last Sunday we heard that the ultimate standard of judgment for returning to our true home is whether we have become living icons of the Savior’s merciful lovingkindness, which is shown by whether we do what we can to care for “the least of these” in whom we counter Him each day.  Today’s gospel reading reminds us to do what we have the strength to do in forgiving, fasting, and showing mercy in ways that direct us back to the Paradise from which Adam and Eve were cast out when they stripped themselves naked of the divine glory and entered an existence so tragically enslaved to the fear of death that their son Cain murdered his brother Abel.  We have all followed in their path of corruption, especially in our refusal to forgive those who have wronged us.     

 

As the Lord offered up Himself on the Cross, He said to the penitent thief, “Truly I tell you, you will be with me today in Paradise.” (Lk. 23:43) Hades and the grave could not contain the Savior Who entered fully into death, for He is not merely human but also God.  Our first parents refused to fulfill their calling to become like God in holiness and instead distorted themselves and the entire creation.  The Savior’s restoration of the human person in the divine image and likeness reveals that our calling is nothing less than to become perfect as our Father in Heaven is perfect. Even the strictest Lent observance will not enable us to achieve that goal, for God’s holiness is infinite.  So much of the corruption of the old Adam remains within us, for we typically prefer to live according to our passions in ways that keep us in the misery of exile.

 

            That is why we must all approach Lent with a deep awareness of how we far we are from sharing fully in the New Adam’s fulfillment of our vocation to become like God in holiness.  The only way to escape our self-imposed exile is to do what we can as we take intentional steps to share more fully in the life of the One Who calls us to Paradise.  As St. Paul taught, we must “put on the armor of light” and “make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”  That means mindfully investing our energy, time, and attention in ways that will strengthen us spiritually.  It means refusing to invest our energy, time, and attention in whatever keeps us from sharing more fully in the life of Christ.  Lent calls us to give ourselves so fully to prayer, fasting, generosity, forgiveness, and other spiritual disciplines that we will have nothing left to fuel “the works of darkness” that bring only weakness and despair.

 

            A holy Lent is not about going through the motions to gain the praise of others or even of ourselves; such vain hypocrisy will never help us acquire the spiritual strength necessary to love and forgive our enemies. The same Lord Who said from the Cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” tells us that we must forgive others their offenses against us if we want the Father to forgive our sins.  (Lk. 23:34) Refusing even to begin the journey of forgiveness is a sign that we have become far too comfortable living in exile.  If the Savior’s merciful love is not becoming characteristic of us, then we are not on the path toward Paradise.  Forgiveness is often a difficult struggle that shows us how strong our inclinations are to remain separated from God and neighbor.  If we refuse even to take the first small step of wanting to gain the strength to forgive those who have wronged us, we will choose slavery to our passions over the hope of eternal joy.   

 

            Because it is so hard to forgive as we hope to be forgiven, we need spiritual disciplines like fasting, prayer, and almsgiving to strengthen us in pursuing the path that leads to Paradise.  Our first parents’ self-centered refusal to restrain their desire for food enslaved them to death and corruption.  Struggling to abstain from satisfying ourselves with rich food during Lent will help us see more clearly how addicted we are to gratifying our self-centered desires.  Doing so helps us grow in patience and humility, which fuel forgiveness.  Slavery to pride, however, makes forgiveness impossible because it blinds us to the truth about our souls. In Forgiveness Vespers, we ask for and extend forgiveness to one another personally. Since we are members together of the Body of Christ, we weaken each other whenever we refuse to do what we can to embrace the Lord’s healing. 

 

            Even as we stand on the threshold of the Lenten journey, we must be prepared for our passions to fight back mightily when we deny them.  Pursuing spiritual disciplines brings our weaknesses to the surface, often leading to anger as a way of distracting us from reckoning with our own sins.  As St. John Chrysostom asked, “What good is it if we abstain from birds and fishes, but bite and devour our brothers and sisters?”  We must mindfully struggle to keep our mouths shut when we are tempted to criticize or condemn each other this Lent.  Whenever we fall prey to our passions, we must ask forgiveness of those we have offended and then get back on the path to Paradise with renewed commitment.  No matter how many times we wander from the narrow way, we must return to it. We all have the strength to do that, no matter how many times we fall.

 

            Lent calls us to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”  When we set out to pray, fast, give, and forgive with integrity, we will learn quickly how much we still share in the corruption of the old Adam.  That should help us see how ridiculous it is not to extend to others the same mercy that we ask for ourselves.  In preparation for the struggles of the coming weeks, let us humble ourselves and forgive one another so that we may acquire the spiritual strength to “cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”  Let us begin our Lenten journey with the joyful recognition that “now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.  The night is far spent, the day is at hand.”  It is time to wake up and focus on doing what we have the strength to do even as we refuse to judge what others are doing. The coming weeks are not about trying to impress God, our neighbors, or ourselves.  They are about taking the steps we can take at this point in our lives in the journey of repentance that alone can lead us out of exile and into our true home, the Paradise that our Lord has opened to us through His glorious resurrection on the third day.   

 

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.