The Adoration of the Holy Cross: Homily for the Third Sunday of Lent in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 4:14-5:6; Mark 8:34-9:1

            We do not have to look very closely at dominant trends in our culture today for signs that many people are offering their lives for the service of false gods, regardless of how they identify themselves religiously.  The evidence of their idolatry is not primarily in where they congregate to worship, but in how they seek first the things of this world, such as possessions, power, and pleasure, and in how they hate and condemn those whom they perceive to stand in the way of their acquiring them.  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 self-centered agendas.  It was also the perspective of the Romans who believed that worshiping their many gods protected their empire.  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 rule.  (Jn. 19:20) 

         On this Sunday of the Adoration of the Holy Cross, right in the middle of Lent, we do the complete opposite of making success in this world, however defined, 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 in order to liberate us from slavery to its corrupting power and make us participants in eternal life through His glorious resurrection on the third day.  The Cross is truly the Tree of Life through which we return to the blessedness of Paradise.

             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.   In order to enter into His salvation, we must take up our own crosses as we refuse to make any earthly goal our highest good.  Denying ourselves means putting faithfulness to Him before anything else, including indulging personal inclinations 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 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 in order to love God with every ounce of our being and our neighbors as ourselves.  The disciplines of Lent help us gain the strength to do precisely that as we take intentional steps to die to that which keeps us comfortably enslaved to the self-centered ways of the first Adam.  By devoting ourselves to prayer, we open our hearts to the Savior and learn experientially that our life is in Him.  By refusing to gratify our desires for the richest and most sustaining foods, we open ourselves in humility to receive His strength for resisting deeply ingrained habits of self-indulgence.    When we share our time, energy, and resources with others, we become more like Christ in offering ourselves for the good of our neighbors.  These are the most basic disciplines of the Christian life, and we all need to practice them in order to gain the spiritual health necessary to take up our crosses, especially in relation to the great challenges of our lives.  

 If we refuse to deny ourselves even in small ways this Lent, then we will 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 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 power. Indeed, we will be even more guilty because we know that His Cross is not a sign of ultimate defeat to be repudiated, but “a weapon of peace and a trophy invincible” to be honored.     

 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 achieve our desire for any earthly goal, no matter how appealing or noble.  If we do not actually take up our crosses and deny ourselves out of love for God and neighbor, then we will condemn only ourselves when we use the Cross idolatrously to justify getting whatever we want personally for ourselves or the factions, nations, or other groups to which we have given our hearts.  Whenever we recognize that we are coming anywhere close to using the way of Christ to seek the things of this world as ends in themselves, we must call for the Lord’s mercy from the depths of our souls as we struggle to embody St. Paul’s teaching that “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” (Gal. 5:24)

 We adore the Holy Cross today because it is ultimately a sign of the blessed eternal life that the Savior has brought to the world through His victory over the corrupting power of sin and death.  As we continue our Lenten journey, let us offer every dimension of our lives to Him 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 our salvation.

 

We Must Learn to Mourn and Rejoice with the Widow of Nain: Homily for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost & Third Sunday of Luke with Commemoration of Our Righteous Mother Pelagia the Penitent of Antioch in the Orthodox Church

 

2 Corinthians 9:6-11; Luke 7:11-16

            I am sure that many people today reject or have no interest in the Christian faith because they have not seen in others the healing of the human person brought by Jesus Christ.  Perhaps they have heard Christians speaking primarily about morality, politics, emotion, or a view of salvation that has nothing to do with the realities of life in the world as we know it.  Or they may have seen many examples of hypocrisy on the part of those who identify themselves with the Lord, but who live their lives in opposition to His teachings even as they look for opportunities to condemn their neighbors.  Regardless, many today have concluded that there is nothing in the Christian life worthy of their devotion.

            Today’s gospel reading provides a different and powerful image of Christ’s salvation in the midst of the tragic realities of life and death.  The widow of Nain was having the worst day of her life and had no reason to hope for a blessed or even tolerable future, for in that time and place a widow who had lost her only son was in a very precarious state.  Poverty, neglect, and abuse would threaten her daily; she would have been vulnerable and alone.  When contrary to all expectations the Lord raised her son, He transformed her deep mourning into great joy. He restored life both to the young man and to his mother.

The Lord’s great act of compassion for this woman manifests our salvation and provides a sign of hope in even the darkest moments of our lives.  We weep and mourn not only for loved ones whom we see no more, but also for the brokenness and disintegration that we know all too well in our own souls, the lives of our loved ones, and the world around us.   Death, destruction, and decay in all their forms are the consequences of our personal and collective refusal to fulfill our vocation to live as those created in the image of God by becoming like Him in holiness.  We weep with the widow of Nain not only for losing loved ones, but also for losing what it means to be a human person as a living icon of God. 

           The good news of the Gospel is that the compassion of the Lord extends even to those who endure the most tragic and miserable circumstances and the most profound sorrows.  Purely out of love for His suffering children, the Father sent the Son to heal and liberate us from slavery to the fear of death through His Cross and glorious resurrection. The Savior touched the funeral bier and the dead man arose.  Christ’s compassion for us is so profound that He not only touched death, but entered fully into it, into a tomb, and into Hades, because He refused to leave us to self-destruction.   He went into the abyss and experienced the terror of the black night of the pit.  The Theotokos wept bitterly at His public torture and execution.  When He rose victorious over death in all its forms, He provided the only true basis of hope that the despair of the grave will not have the last word on the living icons of God.  His Mother and the other Myrrh-Bearing Women were the very first to receive this unbelievably good news.    

            Death is not only a physical reality, but also a spiritual one.  It is possible to have physical health, material possessions, high social standing, and innumerable other blessings while being enslaved to self-centered desire to the point of spiritual death.  Thankfully, Christ said that He “came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”  (Luke 5:32) Today we commemorate our Righteous Mother Pelagia the Penitent of Antioch.  She was a beautiful woman from a pagan family who became quite wealthy as a prostitute. Having heard part of a sermon on divine judgment as she passed by a church, she was overcome by remorse for her way of life, repented, and was baptized.  She then gave away all her wealth to the poor, went to Jerusalem, and undertook the great ascetical labor of living alone in a cave as the Monk Pelagius, devoting herself to fasting, prayer, and all-night vigils.  That she was a woman was discovered only when her body was prepared for burial. 

             Saint Pelagia is not alone as a woman whose ascetical repentance led her to become a monk.  For example, Saint Theodora of Alexandria pursued a similar path after falling into adultery.  She did not want to be found by her husband in a community of nuns and, as the Monk Theodore, was known in the monastery for her strict spiritual discipline and piety.  After being accused of fathering a child, she was cast out of her community for seven years as she cared for him and then was allowed to return.  Upon her death, her fellow monks who learned the truth about her mourned for how they had falsely judged her.     

            The paths that these great saints trod were unusual and surely hard for people of our time and place to understand.  They took the identity of male monastics not out of a rejection or denigration of how God had created them as persons of female biological sex, but in order to embrace in their particular circumstances the type of asceticism that they needed for the healing of their souls in light of the spiritual maladies that they had suffered as unique persons due to their sins.  The Church certainly does not impose their vocations on anyone, for as free persons we must all discern the path to the Kingdom that is best for us with the guidance, but never the compulsion, of our spiritual father or mother.  For example, we also commemorate today St. Thais of Egypt, who repented of her debauchery by burning all of her riches in the city square and then spending three years in seclusion as she prayed for the Lord’s mercy.  She did not take on the identity of a male monastic.  “From the moment I entered into the cell,” said St. Thais to St. Paphnutius before her death, “all my sins constantly were before my eyes, and I wept when I remembered them.” St. Paphnutius replied, “It is for your tears, and not for the austerity of your seclusion, that the Lord has granted you mercy.”[1] 

            The widow of Nain wept bitterly out of grief for the loss of her son.  Christ wept at the tomb of his friend St. Lazarus, not only for him, but for us all who are wedded to death as the children of Adam and Eve who were cast out of Paradise into this world of corruption.  We weep with broken hearts out of love for those whose suffering is beyond our ability to ease, those who are no longer with us in this life, and those from whom we have become otherwise estranged. The corruption that separates us from God and from one another takes many forms and the same is true of our healing and restoration.  The particular paths that we must follow in order to embrace Christ’s victory over death as distinctive persons will certainly vary.  But they must all be routes for gaining the spiritual clarity to learn to mourn our sins and take the steps that are best for our healing and restoration.  We must learn to weep for ourselves as those who have caught a glimpse of the eternal blessedness for which we came into being and who know how far we are from entering fully into the joy of the Lord. 

            St. Paul wrote that “he who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.”  That is true not only in terms of almsgiving, but also in terms of how deeply we invest ourselves in what is necessary for the healing of our souls.  Many people today surely do not take the Christian faith seriously because they have not encountered people who do precisely that.  In ways appropriate to our own circumstances, let us take Saints Pelagia, Theodora, and Thais as examples of those who fulfilled in their own lives the teaching of our Lord: “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.”  (Matt. 5:4) The widow of Nain provides us all a sign of the hope that is ours in Christ.  Through our humble repentance, may we open ourselves to receive the joy that overcomes both the dark night of our spiritual blindness and even of the grave.        

               

 

   

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[1] http://ww1.antiochian.org/node/16761