It Is Only Because of the Light that We Can See the Darkness: Homily for the Thirty-first Sunday After Pentecost & Fourteenth Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 

1 Timothy 1:15-17; Luke 18:35-43

 

We remain in a period of preparation to behold Christ at His appearing.  The One born at Christmas and baptized at Theophany is brought by the Theotokos and St. Joseph the Betrothed to the Temple in Jerusalem as a 40-day old Infant in fulfillment of the Old Testament law, which we will celebrate later this week at the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord. By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the old man St. Simeon proclaims that this Child is the salvation “of all peoples, a light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Thy people Israel.”  The aged prophetess St. Anna also speaks openly of Him as the Savior.   At the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple, we celebrate the appearance of the Lord Who fulfills the ancient promises to Abraham and extends them to all with faith in Him.  By His appearance, He has enlightened the whole creation. Christ is “the true light which gives light to everyone coming into the world.” (Jn. 1:9) 

 If we have any level of spiritual integrity and insight, however, we will recognize how far we are from having the clarified spiritual vision necessary to behold the glory of the Lord at His appearance.  Despite our celebration of these great feasts, we remain very much like the blind beggar in need of the Lord’s healing mercy for the restoration of our sight.  That may seem odd, for we are illumined in baptism, filled with the Holy Spirit at Chrismation, and nourished by Christ’s Body and Blood in the Eucharist.  As we sing after receiving Communion, “We have seen the true Light.  We have received the Heavenly Spirit.  We have found the true Faith, worshiping the Undivided Trinity Who hath saved us.”   Yes, the eyes of our souls have been cleansed, but not to the point that we are fully transparent to the brilliant light of Christ.

 St. Paul wrote, “For it is the God who commanded light to shine out of darkness, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Cor. 4: 6) The Apostle gained the spiritual vision to see himself, as he wrote in today’s epistle reading, as “the foremost of sinners.”  We quote him in confessing that we are each “the chief” of sinners in our pre-Communion prayers.  To pray those words with integrity is a clear sign that Christ is enlightening our hearts, for otherwise we would remain in the utter blindness of thinking that we are justified in self-righteously exalting ourselves before God and over other people.  St. Paul had the vision to do precisely the opposite when he wrote that “I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display His perfect patience for an example to those who were to believe in Him for eternal life.”  In other words, Paul knew that if the divine mercy could extend even to a miserable sinner like him, then there is hope for everyone in Christ Jesus.  That is precisely the kind of humility that even the smallest ray of spiritual light should inspire in our souls.

 If we have truly embraced the Lord’s mercy with the humility of the chief of sinners, then He has already corrected our spiritual vision to the point that we can catch at least a glimpse of how infinitely beyond us the fullness of His eternal glory remains.  That is why we are able to see, at least partially, how much darkness remains within us and how far we are from fulfilling the Lord’s command: “You shall be perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48) He also taught: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matt. 5:8) If we are not completely blind spiritually, hearing these words will inspire us to call out with the humble persistence of the blind beggar for mercy that will further restore and perfect our sight.   

 The blind beggar is a model for us in many ways in how to gain spiritual clarity.  First, he neither denied nor embraced his inability to see.  He did not accept some kind of fantasy that distracted him from facing the truth about his situation.  He did not somehow convince himself that the best he could do was to make the most of being a blind beggar.  He knew that he could not see and desperately wanted healing.  Is the same true of us?  Have we become so comfortable with our darkened spiritual sight that we do not long to become radiant with the brilliant light of our Lord, sharing as fully as possible in His blessed eternal life?  Have we become content with a faith that is little more than an assortment of religious ideas and practices that we use to distract ourselves from confronting where we truly stand before God and in relation to our neighbors?  If we are honest, we will answer those questions not according to our passions but in light of our Lord’s infinite holiness, for we must all engage in the perpetual spiritual struggle of opening our darkened souls more fully to the light of Christ.  We have all become too comfortable with the darkness with us; to the extent that we recognize that, it is because we have opened the eyes of our souls to receive at least a small measure of the light of our Lord. 

 The blind beggar is also a model for us because he called out to Christ when he did not fully understand who He was.  The beggar used a very Jewish term for the Messiah, “Son of David,” when he asked for mercy.  Like everyone else who was waiting for the Messiah or “anointed one” at that time, the beggar surely thought of Christ as merely an especially righteous human being who would bless the Jews by healing the sick, casting out demons, teaching strict obedience to the Old Testament law, and delivering Israel from occupation by the Roman Empire.  They wanted a new King David, not One Who appeared truly as the Son of God Who would conquer death through His cross and empty tomb.  The Savior did not, however, reject the blind man’s request due to this lack of full understanding.  Instead, the Lord graciously restored the man’s sight because he had faith that He could heal him.  Likewise, we must not be discouraged from persistently calling out to Christ due to our imperfect faith or knowledge. Uniting ourselves fully to Him is an infinite vocation that none of us has completed.  We may face deep struggles in entrusting our most painful wounds and weaknesses to the Savior for healing.  We may wrestle with doubt almost to the point of despair.  God may seem distant from the challenges that break our hearts.  Like that blind beggar, however, we must refuse to be denied, cultivating the trust to call for the Lord’s mercy from the depths of our hearts in some form of the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  If we can pray that prayer with any measure of spiritual integrity, even with faith the size of a mustard seed, that is because His light is already shining in our hearts.  The way to grow in faith is to cultivate and magnify that light, which we do by offering even our deepest pains and darkest fears to Christ through prayer from the depths of our hearts, especially when we are sorely tempted not to. Let us do so with simple trust that, as St. Paul wrote, “’whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’” (Rom. 10:13)   

 There is simply no way for us to gain the spiritual vision to behold and know Christ more fully than to embrace the daily spiritual struggle to share personally in His healing and fulfillment of the human person in the image and likeness of God.  When we stumble in doing so, let us use our fall to grow in humility and sense of dependence upon His grace.  There is no way to open the eyes of our souls to His brilliant light without calling persistently from the depths of our hearts for His mercy.  That is precisely the humility that attracts the grace without which we would be completely blind.  That is precisely the humility that we see in St. Paul, who knew himself to be the chief of sinners.  That is precisely the humility that we see in the blind beggar, who refused to stop calling out for the Lord’s healing mercy.  And it must be the humility that becomes characteristic of us as those who recognize the 40-day old Christ at His Presentation in the Temple as the Savior “of all peoples, a light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Thy people Israel.”   He alone can overcome the darkness that remains within us.

 

 

 

Obedience and Gratitude: Homily for the Twenty-ninth Sunday after Pentecost & Twelfth Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 

Colossians 3:4-11; 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 has brought to the world as we regain the “robe of light” repudiated by our first parents. 

             We must never think of our Lord’s birth or baptism, or of our own baptism, as somehow the end of the story.  Saint Paul wrote that, “when Christ, Who is our life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”  As we confess in the Nicene Creed, there is a future dimension of Christ’s appearance, for He “will come again with glory to judge the living and the dead, Whose kingdom will have no end.”  We “look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.”  When Christ returns in brilliant glory, the true state of our souls will be revealed.  The Last Judgment will be the ultimate epiphany or manifestation of whether we have embraced His healing and become radiant with His gracious divine energies.  It will be impossible to hide or obscure on that day who we have become.

             To shine eternally with the light of Christ requires that we undertake the daily struggle to purify and reorient the desires of our hearts toward fulfillment in God and away from slavery to our passions.  The Colossians to whom Paul wrote were mostly Gentile converts who needed to be reminded that they had repudiated corrupt pagan practices and put on Christ in baptism.  That is why Paul told them to “Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.”  It is contradictory to unite oneself to Christ and then to refuse to conform our character to His.  In order to have spiritual integrity, we must continue to repudiate all that keeps us from becoming living epiphanies of our Lord’s salvation. As Paul notes, “anger, wrath, malice, slander…foul talk” and lying should have no place in our lives, for in baptism we have “put off the old nature with its practices and have put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator.”

            As those who live in hope for the coming of the Kingdom, we must struggle every day of our lives to enter more fully into Christ’s restoration and fulfillment of the human person in the image and likeness of God.  There is no other way to appear with Him in glory, whether today or when His Kingdom comes in its fullness.  And the merely human distinctions that we so often celebrate due to our passions and insecurities have nothing to do with sharing in the life of our Lord, for as Paul wrote, “Here there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free man, but Christ is all, and in all.” 

        Today’s gospel reading provides a shocking example of this truth, for the Lord’s healing mercy extended even to a Samaritan with leprosy.  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 gracious interaction with this man shows that His therapeutic ministry extended even to those conventionally understood to be outsiders, sinners, and enemies.  The Lord’s love for humanity transcends all political and personal boundaries, and we must not pretend that His benevolence somehow does not extend to those we consider our enemies for whatever reason.  Doing so will reveal only how very far we are from becoming living epiphanies of His salvation.    

         Remember that our Savior praised the faith of a Roman centurion, who was an officer of the Roman army that occupied Israel.  By any conventional standard, that man was His enemy.  (Lk 7:9) The people of Nazareth 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 love 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 our enemies are any less called to become brilliant epiphanies of salvation than we are.   

Perhaps the Samaritan returned to give thanks because he had never expected to find healing from the Jewish Messiah.  He knew that, in the eyes of the Jews, he was considered sinful and an 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 surely 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.

             This man did not have the pride of someone who expected everything to go his way because of his heritage or personal accomplishments. He could take nothing for granted and was profoundly thankful for a blessing he had never expected.  He was truly humble and thus had the spiritual clarity to see that the only appropriate response to his healing was to fall down before Christ in gratitude.  That is how he showed the faith that made him well.

             We can all follow his example by both obeying the Lord’s commandments and cultivating a deep sense of gratitude.  The Samaritan did what Christ told him to do and, when he saw that he was healed, remembered to thank Him.  We must struggle to repudiate the ways in which we fall short of our high calling to manifest His glory.  When we find the strength to do so, even in small and imperfect ways, we must not thank ourselves but the One Who heals us by His grace.  We must not pretend that we have accomplished something by our own power, but must cultivate gratitude as we continue the journey to share more fully in His life.   The more that we enter into the brilliant light of Christ, the more the darkness within us will become apparent.  Instead of despairing or distracting ourselves by judging others, let us embrace the struggle each day of our lives to find healing from our passions as we embrace more fully our true identity in Christ, becoming evermore brilliant epiphanies of His salvation.  Let us prepare to “appear with him in glory” through obedience and gratitude, for that is the only way to follow the example of the Samaritan, whose faith made him well.

Christ's Baptism Renews the Whole Creation: Homily for the Synaxis of the Holy Prophet, Forerunner and Baptist John in the Orthodox Church

 

Acts 19:1-8; John 1:29-34

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 very 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 do other creatures.  And in the world as we know it, water can kill us through floods and storms. Since the creation has been subjected to futility through the sin of human beings, the very 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, to its place in fulfilling God’s purposes for the flourishing of the creation in holiness.  And since our homes are where we and our families live each day, how could we not want His blessing on our marriages, our children, and the physical space where we offer our lives to the Lord?  When we bless our homes, we join what is most important to us to Christ’s healing and restoration of the entire universe. We find strength to make our daily lives a liturgy, an entrance into the Kingdom of Heaven, which is the natural state of those who bear the image and likeness of God.

Tragically, our first parents turned away from their high calling 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 in order to save Adam and Eve, all their descendants, and the entire creation, fulfilling the glorious purposes for which He brought us all into existence.    

Life after baptism is not, however, without pain, disease, death, and other sorrows.  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 by Herod Antipas for prophetically denouncing the king’s immorality.  After the one who baptized Him was arrested, 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.  In order 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 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 icons of Christ’s salvation and mercy to all we encounter.

We must also be on guard for all 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 meeting 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 discern how to fulfill our vocation to bear witness to our Lord in the midst of a world still enslaved to the fear of death, we must embrace the full meaning of our baptism.  That requires constant vigilance against allowing self-centered desire to creep unnoticed into our hearts and distort our vision of ourselves, our neighbors, and our world.  That requires turning the other cheek, going the extra mile, and treating others as we would have them treat us, especially when we think we are justified in responding in kind to those who have wronged us.  That requires turning away from whatever fuels our passions so that the desires of our hearts are purified and directed toward their true fulfillment in God.  As we celebrate Theophany in “the region and shadow of death,” let us focus mindfully on living each day as those who have died to sin and risen up into a life holiness.  That is how we may become brilliant living epiphanies of the salvation of the world as we wear the robe of light that Christ has restored to Adam and Eve, for He is baptized to do nothing less than “to renew the whole creation.”

 

 

Homily for the Sunday Before the Theophany (Epiphany) 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 member of the Holy Trinity– and His salvation permeates His entire creation, including the water of the river Jordan.  Through Christ’s and our baptism, we become participants in the holy mystery of our salvation, 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 were blind to 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 those who idolatrously use religion to bring themselves glory and dominion in this world.

In order to prepare the way of a Messiah Who did not fit popular preconceived notions, God sent a very bold prophet who surely made most other people 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 open people’s eyes to where they stood before God.   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 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 what Christ’s salvation means for those who bear the divine image and likeness.

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 a calling to thwart those we deem our enemies or to achieve some conventional personal or political goal.  This feast is nothing like that, however, for it calls us to enter 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 obsessive insecurities and fears rooted in the fear of death, but as those clothed with a robe of light and enabled to shine like an iron left in the fire of holiness.  

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.  That means that 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 thinking that we are somehow God’s favorites and that repentance is for someone else, likely for particular people or members of groups upon whom we like to look down.  John would have none of it and would correct us to our faces in no uncertain terms for our hypocrisy.  As he did to the Jews of the first century, he would tell us to stop trying to turn God into an idol who serves our agendas for gaining whatever we happen to want in this world.  He would call us, instead, to become true icons of our Lord, sharing as fully as we can in the divine healing and transformation made possible for us in Jesus Christ.

Those who have put on Christ in baptism and who have received the Communion of His Body and Blood must become epiphanies of His fulfillment of the human person in God’s image and likeness. As we prepare to celebrate Theophany, let us gain the spiritual clarity to behold the glory of Christ’s baptism by straightening the crooked areas of our lives.  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?  Will we be ready for Him?  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.

 

Christ is Born! Glorify Him!: Homily for Christmas in the Orthodox Church

Galatians 4:4-7; Matthew 2:1-12

Christ is Born!  Glorify Him!

      We gather today to celebrate the Nativity in the Flesh of our Lord, God, and Savior Jesus Christ for the salvation of the world.  He is born to fulfill the vocation of every human person to become like God in holiness as “partakers of the divine nature” by grace.  Because He has truly become one of us, every dimension of our life in this world may become a point entrance into the blessed peace of the Kingdom of Heaven.  In contrast with that high calling, the lack of such peace today in so many other parts of the world, including especially the Holy Land and Ukraine, as well as in our own society, relationships, and hearts, becomes quite apparent.

The Prince of Peace was born in the context of a brutal military occupation that required the elderly Joseph and the pregnant Theotokos to take a long and difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem for a census. There He came into the world like a homeless child, born in a cave used as a barn with an animal’s feeding trough for his bed.   Herod, who reigned over Judea under the authority of Rome, plotted to kill the Messiah from His birth, for he certainly did not want a rival king of the Jews.  He cared far more about his own power than the lives of innocent people, as many rulers have done up to the present.  That is why Joseph had to lead the family to Egypt at night as they fled for their lives, just as refugees do today in the land of our Lord’s birth and in so many other places.

When the One Who spoke the universe into existence becomes part of His creation, the tension between the way of the Lord and the path of slavery to the fear of death becomes obvious.  Angels proclaimed His birth and the promise of peace not to those who will stop at nothing to destroy those they perceive as threats to their power, but to lowly shepherds who had no power or prominence.   Though the Messiah was expected to be a new King David who would give earthly power to the Jews, Gentile astrologers from Persia traveled far to worship a Lord Whose Kingdom transcends the divisions of empires, nations, and ethnicities. He fulfills the ancient promises to Abraham such that all who believe in Him become the adopted children and heirs of God.  The God-Man is born to restore all to the blessedness of Paradise as the New Adam.  He comes to heal us from every dimension of the brokenness that still leads Cain to slaughter Abel, from the desires of our hearts to how we engage with our neighbors, society, and world.   He comes to make us radiant with holiness and “perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect,” which requires especially love for our enemies.  (Matt. 5:48) 

The Savior born this day is the Prince of Peace, but not of the illusion of peace that comes from blinding ourselves to the humanity of those we fear and resent to the point that we beat them into submission, whether literally or figuratively.  He is the Prince of Peace, but not of the illusion of peace that comes from indulging our self-centered desires as we neglect the needs of others and refuse to see them as living icons of God.  He is the Prince of Peace, but not of the illusion of peace that comes from projecting our hopes for wellbeing on the success of nations, cultures, and agendas that operate according to the standards of a world enslaved to the fear of death.  Christ’s peace is nothing less than sharing in His life to the point that we become those who will be blessed in His Kingdom:  the poor in spirit; those who mourn their sins; the meek; those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; the merciful; those who acquire purity of heart; and the peacemakers. To know His peace is to become so much like Him in holiness that, regardless of what sufferings and obstacles may come our way, we make even the deepest challenges of our lives points of entrance to the joyful blessedness of His Kingdom.  (Matt. 5:3-12) 

Even as the circumstances surrounding His Nativity were not peaceful by conventional standards, welcoming the Prince of Peace into our lives requires embracing the inevitable tension of mindfully entrusting ourselves to Him as we share in His fulfillment of the human person in the image and likeness of God.  That is not a matter of sentimentality or trying to use religion to achieve any worldly goal, but of responding with true spiritual integrity to the gloriously good news that the Son of God has become one of us—in the world as we know it--for our salvation.  The more that we undertake the struggle to do so, and to treat every neighbor as one for whom the Savior was born, the more we will participate personally in the true peace of Paradise brought by the God-Man.  Let us celebrate this glorious feast by doing precisely that this day and every day of our lives.  

 

 

  

Are We Looking for a Kingdom Not Like the Other Nations? : Homily for the Sunday Before the Nativity of Christ in the Orthodox Church

 

Hebrews 11:9-10, 32-40; Matthew 1:1-25

 As we conclude our preparation for celebrating the Lord’s Nativity, we must resist the temptation to corrupt this blessed season into an excuse for glorifying ourselves in any way.  Instead, we must allow our hopes for whatever we want in this life to be called into question by the God-Man, Who was born in such strange circumstances to fulfill a kingdom not of this world that stands in prophetic judgment over all our agendas, preferences, and desires. We must learn at Christmas to hope only in Him.

Christ is born to fulfill the ancient promises to Abraham, who “looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.”  The many generations of preparation for the Savior’s birth did not occur through the unbroken progress of any earthly city, kingdom, or culture, but through a history characterized by corruption, idolatry, slavery, and exile.  The prophet Samuel was the last of the judges of Israel over a thousand years before Christ was born.  When his sons ruled unjustly, the people asked for a king so that they could be like the other nations.  God told Samuel, “Heed the voice of the people in all that they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected Me, that I should not reign over them.”  (1 Sam. 8:7)

We do not have to know much about the Old Testament to know that wanting to be like the other nations is the exact opposite of what God intended for His people.  Their kings abused their authority like the rich and powerful of any period with David, the greatest of them, infamously taking Bathsheeba, the wife of his soldier Uriah, and then having him killed.  Far from shying away from recalling these horrific events, Matthew highlights them, for he writes in the genealogy that “David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah.” When he wanted to build a Temple for the Lord, God told David, “You shall not build a house for My name, because you have been a man of war and have shed blood.” (1 Chron. 28:3) Doing so surely went with the territory of being a powerful ruler, but wallowing in the blood of those who bear God’s image is a paradigmatic sign of the slavery to the fear of death that sin has brought to the world.  It inevitably threatens grave damage to the soul.

Even David’s son the wise Solomon, who did build the Temple, later fell into the worship of false gods.  Because of Israel’s ongoing unfaithfulness, the kingdom divided into two, with both eventually going into exile after being defeated at the hands of their enemies. Those who returned from Babylon were then dispersed yet again by the Romans.  Those who distort biblical faith today in the service of earthly kingdoms and political ideologies inevitably fall into the idolatry of worshiping their own lust for power and demonizing their earthly opponents.   In contrast, we must follow the example of Abraham, who “looked forward to the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.” (Heb. 13:14) No nation or piece of land must ever become an idol for us or an excuse not to love our neighbors as ourselves.    

The shock of exile for the Hebrews was so important that Matthew describes the Lord’s genealogy accordingly:  “So all the generations from Abraham to David were fourteen generations, and from David to the deportation to Babylon fourteen generations, and from the deportation to Babylon to the Christ were fourteen generations.”  The prophet Daniel and the three holy youths Ananias, Azarias and Misael all went into captivity in Babylon, where they refused to worship other gods and were miraculously delivered from death, respectively, in the lions’ den and the fiery furnace.  Christ, before His Incarnation, was with the youths in the flames.  Being unconsumed by the fire, they also provided an image of the Theotokos, who contained the Son of God within her womb without being consumed by the divine glory.        

It was not by seeking earthly glory or self-interest that these and other prophets foreshadowed and foretold the coming of Christ.  Far from making political calculations or seeking vengeance against anyone, they simply refused to abandon hope in God and to worship idols, even when their refusal seemed certain to lead to their deaths.  Consequently, they are among those who “suffered mocking and scourging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, ill-treated—of whom the world was not worthy—wandering over deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.”  These holy people did so because they lived in expectation, not merely of more tolerable earthly circumstances for themselves, but of the fulfillment of a promise that would not come in their lifetimes and transcended all conventional boundaries, “since God had foreseen something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.”

Though no one forces us to choose today between idolatry and faithfulness, we so often freely worship idols when we ground the meaning and purpose of our lives in some vision of cultural success or personal fulfillment that serves only to inflame our passions and blind us to the humanity of our neighbors.  Even without being forced into exile, we have become accustomed to hoping for nothing more than a somewhat better life in Babylon, however we may define that.  We face the same temptations that our Lord’s ancestors did, and we regularly fall into some version of the sins they committed. On the one hand, it is reassuring to know that the Savior’s genealogy included people whose lives were far from perfect.  In addition to recalling David’s grave sins, Matthew lists Judah, who fathered children with his daughter-in-law Tamar. He also mentions Rahab, a Canaanite prostitute, and Ruth, a Gentile.  The presence of these particular women in the genealogy foreshadows the scandalous, but also perfectly innocent, conception of the Lord by the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.  By including their names among the ancestors of Christ, Matthew reminds us that He is born to bring healing to all the broken, scandalous people of the world, not only to those  who appear respectable according to any set of conventional expectations.  No one is excluded from the possibility of sharing in His salvation.  

 The checkered past of the Savior’s family tree should also remind us of how easy it is to entrust ourselves to false hopes that extend no further than the grave.  When the Son of God became a human person, He did not do so with all the trappings of the false hopes we typically embrace.  He was not born into a family of great wealth, power, or fame.  There was certainly no sin involved in the virginal conception of our Lord, but the circumstances were hardly conventional.  Joseph, the older man to whom the Theotokos was betrothed as her guardian, would have divorced her quietly, had not an angel told him the truth about the situation in a dream.  Living under the military occupation of the Roman Empire, they had to go to Bethlehem for a census at the time of His birth, where He came into the world in the lowly circumstance of being born in a cave used for a barn with an animal's feeding trough as His crib.   

  Despite the temptation throughout Christ’s ministry to overthrow the Romans by force and set up an earthly reign as a new King David, He refused to be distracted from His vocation to conquer death itself, which required that He submit to execution on a Roman cross and wear a crown of thorns, being mocked as the king of the Jews.  Though the false hopes of His disciples had been crushed and He appeared to fail by all conventional standards, the Savior rose in victory on the third day.  His disciples then learned to hope anew for the fulfillment of God’s promises in ways that required a complete change of mind and heart, for they took up their crosses as they learned to serve a kingdom not of this world.  Along with countless generations of martyrs and confessors, they repudiated the idolatry of serving themselves or any earthly agenda as they came to hope only in the Lord.

Our responsibility is even greater than that of those who came before us, for we have received the fullness of the promise.  Time and again, however, we live as though the promise had not been fulfilled, as though a Savior had not been born.  Sometimes we even distort Christ into an inspiration for responding in kind to our enemies with the conventional means of this world, as though King David had fulfilled, rather than dimly foreshadowed, the fullness of the promise.  We must remember that our Savior rejected the temptation to use religion as a means to the end of gaining power, praise, or success in this world.  We must focus on welcoming Him into our lives in humble obedience as did the Theotokos, not on trying to dominate others, for doing so will only fuel our passions and distract us from entrusting ourselves to our Lord and His kingdom. 

  As we prepare for Christmas, let us embrace the scandalous calling to hope in nothing and no one other than the God-Man Who is born to heal and fulfill all who bear the divine image and likeness.  His human lineage shows that He came for people as conflicted, confused, and compromised as we are.  They wanted to be like the other nations and endured exile in foreign lands as a result. We wander as aliens from the everlasting joy of His Kingdom whenever we put serving ourselves or any worldly kingdom or goal before obedience to Him.  We exile ourselves from His blessed reign whenever we view or treat anyone as anything less than His living icon or as a foreigner or stranger from His love.  Like Daniel and the three holy youths, it is time for us to refuse to worship false gods and to trust that the Savior is with us and with all who endure the lions’ dens and fiery furnaces of life in a world still enslaved to the fear of death.  Having been prepared by prayer, fasting, generosity, confession, and repentance, let us receive the God-Man born for our salvation at Christmas, for He alone is our hope and the hope of the entire world.   

 

      

 

 

 

      

 

 

Homily for the Sunday of Forefathers (Ancestors) of Christ in the Orthodox Church

 

Colossians 3:4-11; Luke 14:16-24

              As we continue to prepare to welcome Christ into our lives and world at His Nativity, we must remain focused.  There is no shortage of distractions this time of year that appeal to our passions and threaten to convince us that there are matters more important than accepting His gracious invitation to enter fully into the joy of the banquet of the Kingdom of Heaven.  The  Savior calls us to embrace our true vocation not only during divine services or in the eschatological future, but in every moment of our lives.   

             The people in today’s gospel reading had made themselves deaf to the urgency of their calling, for they rejected the invitation to enter into the joy of the great banquet that represents the Kingdom of God.  They did so for the most mundane reasons:   One owned real estate, another had animals, and a third was married.  They somehow convinced themselves that the commonplace circumstance of having regular responsibilities justified their refusal.  After the invited guests refused to attend, the master commanded his servant to “Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and maimed and blind and lame.”  Because there was still room, the master ordered him to go out even further to “the highways and hedges, and compel people to come in, that my house may be filled.”   Even as God wants all to be saved, the master in the parable wanted as many people as possible to share in the blessings of the festival.

           There may be deeper spiritual significance to the symbolism of the yoke of five oxen in the parable, for there are five books of law in the Old Testament.  Having a field of land may represent those who wanted the Messiah to set up a nationalistic religious kingdom on Earth.  Marriage may represent the belief that God’s blessings were only for their particular family line or ethnic group.  Many did reject our Lord because He interpreted the law in a way that challenged the authority of the Pharisees, rejected the temptation to become an earthly king of the Jews, and extended the blessing of His Reign even to foreigners and enemies.

           In the historical setting of the passage, “the poor and maimed and blind and lame” brought in from the streets to the great banquet represent the Gentiles, who were not the descendants of Abraham and did not know the law and prophets of the Old Testament.  Especially as we prepare for Christmas, we must remember that we are those with no ancestral claim to the blessings of the Messiah.  Our hope for entering into heavenly joy has nothing to do with having the right ethnic heritage or mastering a set of religious laws.  Apart from the mercy of the Savior, we would have no part in the great spiritual heritage of those who foreshadowed and foretold the coming of the Christ across the centuries before His birth.

           Those who looked forward in faith for God’s fulfillment of the promises to Abraham did not do so simply on the basis of the law, which came later through Moses.  The law was necessary for sinful people as a tutor in preparation for the coming of Christ.  The ancestors of the Lord hoped not merely for a great teacher, but for liberation from slavery to sin and death, which the law lacked the power to accomplish. The forefathers of the Savior trusted God that their hope would not be in vain.  The original promise to Abraham extended to the Gentiles, for God told him, “In you all the nations of the world will be blessed.”  (Gen. 22:18) Now all who are in Christ “are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” (Gal. 3:29) Jew or Gentile, “those who are of faith are blessed with believing Abraham.” (Gal. 3:9) The Savior is born to bring all who bear the divine image and likeness into the joy of the heavenly banquet.

         The Hebrews of the Old Testament who prepared for the Messiah’s coming through faith did so of their own free will in response to their calling as the children of Abraham.  That is true also for the Theotokos, who is the highest offering of the Hebrew people and became God’s living temple in a unique way as His virgin mother.  She was chosen for this astounding vocation and responded in freedom to the message of the Archangel Gabriel.  No one forced her at all, but she chose to remain focused on hearing and obeying the Word of God.  Likewise, no one forces us, but we all have the ability to respond to Christ with the obedience of humble faith.

       Unfortunately, those who had convinced themselves that the normal cares of life excluded them from entering into the joy of the heavenly kingdom responded very differently.   As the master said in the parable, ‘”For I tell you, none of those men who were invited shall taste my banquet.’  For many are called, but few are chosen.”  Those who are chosen are those who follow the Theotokos’ example of making receptivity to Christ the top priority of their lives.  Like her, we must use our freedom as those who bear the image of God to seek first His Kingdom.   

         Contrary to some of our favorite excuses, the conventional responsibilities of life are in no way incompatible with uniting ourselves to Christ, for they provide opportunities to reorient the desires of our hearts to God as we love and serve Him in our neighbors.  Nothing but our own sinfulness keeps us from making our daily responsibilities points of entrance into eternal joy.  By mindfully offering them to God every day of our lives, we will gain the strength to obey St. Paul’s instruction to “Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.”  Family life, work, and the countless challenges of living faithfully in our culture present opportunities to find healing from “anger, wrath, malice, slander, and foul talk,” as well as lying.  This is possible not because we have fulfilled a list of legalistic requirements, but because in baptism we have “put off the old nature with its practices and have put on the new nature, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its Creator.” 

          As in the parable, “many are called, but few are chosen.”  As in the parable, many of us have become blind to the profound spiritual significance of living faithfully amidst our daily challenges.  Perhaps we have made work, school, family, our financial situation, or concerns about political or cultural issues into false gods that take precedence over our calling to share more fully in the life of the God-Man born at Christmas for our salvation.  We make the choice every day of our lives whether we are going to offer the blessings and struggles of this life to the Lord as opportunities for finding the healing of our souls or whether we are going to use them as excuses to become further enslaved to our passions.  The path we take will shape us decisively, leading us either into the joy of the heavenly kingdom or into the despair of those who have wasted their lives on what can never truly satisfy the living icons of God.  If we remain so enslaved to our passions that we refuse to welcome Christ into our hearts and lives with integrity on a daily basis, then we will shut ourselves out of the joy that He is born to bring to the world.  Before His holy glory, we are all “the poor and maimed and blind and lame” in need of His gracious healing mercy.

          Christ came to save us who are perpetually distracted by disordered desires in every area of our lives.  He calls us to learn to see all aspects of our life in this world as an invitation to “seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness” with the humble trust that “all these things” we need “will be added unto you.”  (Matt. 6:33) That is our calling every day of our lives and especially now during the busy and often stressful last days before Christmas, when we must remain vigilantly on guard against every temptation to excuse ourselves from focusing on entering into the great joy of the feast of the Nativity in the Flesh of the Word of God. 

          What St. Porphyrios taught about the spiritual possibilities of our daily work applies to the rest of life in this and at all other times of the year:

At your work, whatever it may be, you can become saints—through meekness, patience and love.         Make a new start every day, with new resolution, with enthusiasm and love, prayer and silence—not with anxiety so that you get a pain in the chest.[1] Let your soul devote itself to the prayer “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me” in all your worries, for everything and everyone.  Don’t look at what’s happening to you, look at the light, at Christ, just as a child looks to its mother when something happens to it. See everything without anxiety, without depression, without strain and without stress.[2]

During the remaining days of the Nativity Fast, let us refuse to exclude ourselves from the great joy of the heavenly banquet by focusing on Christ through prayer, fasting, generosity, confession, and repentance.  That is how we will gain the spiritual clarity to accept His gracious invitation to the blessedness of the heavenly banquet, where “there cannot be Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free man, but Christ is all, and in all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] St. Porphyrios, Wounded by Love, 144.

[2] St. Porphyrios, 145.