Liberated from Bondage and Barrenness: Homily for the Conception of the Theotokos by Righteous Anna and the 10th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 Galatians 4:22-27; Luke 13:10-17

A few months ago I pulled a muscle in my back that hurt for six weeks.  It happened when I bent over just a bit to pour water in our cat’s dish.  That was just a nuisance in the larger scheme of things, but it complicated everything from standing up to sitting down or even walking around.  Even small ailments can be very frustrating when they keep us from doing what we want to do.  More severe injuries can separate us profoundly from our usual activities and relationships, and even from our selves.  When people’s lives are defined by their own pain and disability, their very sense of self is challenged.  That can quickly become a miserable way to live. 

            When Jesus Christ was teaching in a synagogue on the Sabbath, he saw a woman who was bent over and could not stand up straight.  She had been that way for eighteen years.  Just think of how she felt, how limiting and frustrating that illness had to be.  The Lord said to her, “Woman, you are loosed from your infirmity.”  Then He laid hands on her and she was healed.  When she  was able to stand up straight again, she glorified God.

            But there were those standing around just waiting to criticize the Lord, for He healed her on the Sabbath day, when no work was to be done.  Christ answered these critics by pointing out that everyone takes care of his donkey and ox on the Sabbath.  “So ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath?”  The truth of His teaching was so clear that those adversaries were put to shame and the people rejoiced.

            In these weeks of the Nativity Fast, of Advent, we prepare to celebrate the wonderful news of the Incarnation of the Son of God, of our Lord’s birth at Christmas.  And we see in this gospel text a beautiful image of what Jesus Christ has done for us by becoming a human being.  For every one of us is like that poor woman bound with an infirmity for eighteen years, unable to straighten herself up.

             For we live in a world of corruption, of illness, pain, and death.  We do not like to think about it, but there are harsh, impersonal realities from which we simply cannot isolate ourselves. The horrors of war, crime, and hatred between groups of people; the ecological effects of pollution; cycles of violence, abuse, and brokenness in families and in society; and the inevitability of the grave: We do not have to look far to find ways in which we are all held captive.

            As well, we have diseases of soul, of personality, of behavior, and of relationships that cripple us, that keep us from acting, thinking, and speaking as the children of God.  For we have all fallen short of God’s purposes for us, as has every generation since Adam and Eve.  We are all bent over and crippled in profound ways in relation to the Lord, our neighbors, and even ourselves.   

            Joachim and Anna knew all about long-term struggles and disabilities, for like Abraham and Sarah they were childless into their old age.  But God heard their prayer and gave them Mary, who would in turn give birth to the Savior Who came to liberate us all from sin and death.  Today is the feast of St. Anna’s conception of the Theotokos, which we celebrate as a foreshadowing of the coming of the Lord to loose us from the infirmities that hold us captive and hinder our participation even now in the life of the Kingdom.

            The story of the Old Testament unfolded through the family of Abraham, who was told by God that he would be the father of a large, blessed family.   Many Jews continue to think of life after death as being accomplished through ongoing generations of children and grandchildren, not by victory over death itself.  But if God’s blessings extend no further than the grave, then we will never be loosed from bondage to the wages of sin, which is death.  

            The history of the Hebrews was preparatory for the coming of the Christ, the Messiah in Whom God’s promises are fulfilled and extended to all who have faith in the Savior, regardless of their family heritage.  Christ did not come to privilege one nation over another or to set up an earthly kingdom, but to fulfill our original calling as those created in the image and likeness of God.  That means ultimately to share in the eternal life of the Holy Trinity as distinct, unique persons who become radiant with the divine glory. God breaks the laws of nature in order to save us, enabling elderly women like Sarah and Anna to conceive and bear children and a young virgin named Mary to become the mother of His Son, Who Himself rises from the dead after three days in the tomb.  This is a story of liberation, of breaking bonds, and of transcending the brokenness and limitations of life in this world of death.   

            Fortunately, the Lord did not treat the woman in today’s reading according to her physical condition as simply a bundle of disease, even as St. Anna’s fate was not defined by barrenness.  Instead, He gave her back her true identity as a beloved person, a daughter of Abraham, by enabling her to stand up straight for the first time in years.   On that particular Sabbath day, Jesus Christ treated her as a unique, cherished child of God who was not created for a corrupt, impersonal existence of pain, disease, and despair, but for blessing, health, and joy.  She glorified God for this deliverance, as did those who saw the miracle.

            The good news of Christmas is that the Lord is born to do the same for us and for the whole world, to set us free from the slavery to decay, corruption, and weakness that distort us all.  He comes to deliver us from being defined by our infirmities so that we can leave behind our bondage and enter into the joyous freedom of the children of God.  He comes to restore us as living icons who manifest His glory and salvation in unique, personal ways.  Have you noticed that icons portray people as distinctive persons?  For example, the unique character of the Theotokos, St. John the Baptist, and St. Luke shines through the beautiful icons on the iconostasis.

            The same should be true of us.  We become not less ourselves, but more truly ourselves, when we open our lives to Christ’s holiness and healing.  In contrast, sin and corruption are pretty boring.  No matter how creative we try to be, there are only so many ways to hate, lie, cheat, and steal.  You can only say so much about murder and adultery.  Holiness, on the other hand, is infinitely beautiful and fascinating.  For the more we share in the life of the Holy Trinity, the more we see that the process of our fulfillment in God is eternal, that there is no end to it or to Him.  And since our fundamental calling as human persons is to grow in the likeness of God, we become more truly ourselves—as distinct, unique people– whenever we turn away from slavery to sin and passion in order to embrace more fully the new life that Christ has brought to the world.

            Unfortunately, people in our culture usually do not view Advent and Christmas as opportunities to be loosed from our bondage to sin and death.  Too often, we turn them into occasions for strengthening our addiction to money and possessions, to excessive food and drink, and unhealthy relationships with others.  Of course, that is really a way of saying that self-centered indulgence is nothing but bondage to ourselves, which ends up leaving us hollow, miserable, and stooped over.  That is not surprising because we were not created to find eternal fulfillment and peace in the things of the world, even in one another.  That is why we must resist the cultural temptation to become so busy with shopping and planning and partying this time of year that we ignore the glory and gravity of our Lord’s Incarnation.  For He comes to fulfill us all as His sons and daughters, to extend to us all the blessing and joy of the heavenly kingdom, and to loose us from our slavery to sin and death.     

            We must not remain stooped over, bound, and barren this Advent.     Instead, let us use the remaining weeks of this holy season to prepare to receive the Christ Who heals us, Who sets us free, and Who restores us as the unique children of God He created us to be in the first place.  For we, too, have become the daughters and sons of Abraham in Christ Jesus.  Let us embrace the great blessedness of those who have been set free by the Savior born at Christmas.     

Fighting Our True Enemies as We Prepare for Christmas: Homily for the 27th Sunday After Pentecost & the 14th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Ephesians 6:10-17; Luke 18:35-43

            We often fall into the trap of blaming other people for our problems.  That is true whether we are upset with someone in particular or with a group or organization.  It is tempting to think that if others would do what we want or at least leave us alone, then all would be well.  It does not take too much spiritual insight to see, however, that things are never quite that simple.

St. Paul certainly had ample opportunity to blame other people for all his struggles.  He endured beatings, shipwreck, imprisonment, criticism from opponents, and all kinds of difficult challenges within the churches he oversaw; and, of course, he died as a martyr.  But when he encouraged the Ephesians to “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might,” he stressed that “we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”  Paul had the insight to see that his enemies were not the pagan Roman Empire or those who misinterpreted the faith or questioned his authority as an apostle.  No, his true foes were the corrupt spiritual powers who tempt people to sin.

His message to the Ephesians is that they must be prepared to resist temptation and spiritual assault, in whatever forms they take,  by putting “on the whole armor of God.”  Their struggle for faithfulness will be a battle in which they must cover themselves with truth, righteousness, “the gospel of peace,” and “the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one.”  They must put “on the helmet of salvation, and [carry] the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”  He called his primarily Gentile Christian audience to live in stark contrast to the standards of their culture.  Instead of serving the false gods of money, power, pleasure, and earthly glory, they were to offer themselves fully to the Lord.  They had to gain as much spiritual strength as possible in order to respond faithfully to the great challenges they faced in serving Jesus Christ.  Those challenges would be quite profound, for the Romans soon began imprisoning, torturing, and killing Christians for not worshiping the pagan gods whom they believed protected their empire.

The temptation must have been great both for Paul and for the other believers of that era to hate their persecutors.  That would seem like a normal human reaction in the world as we know it.  Christians, however, are called to something very different from living according to the standards of the world as we know it.  In order to become more like God in holiness as partakers of the divine nature by grace, we must engage in constant combat against the temptation to think that our true enemies are persons or groups who wrong us or whom we do not like for whatever reason.  Those who annoy or threaten us are not our true enemies, but fellow children of God who bear the divine image.   Our true enemies are the spiritual forces of darkness that encourage us to hate those who harm us and to refuse to forgive them.  If we want to know where those enemies are at work, we should look first to our own hearts before daring to diagnose anyone else.

In order to defeat these powerful enemies, we need to put “on the whole armor of God.”  That means opening ourselves as fully as possible to the healing energies of our Lord through full participation in the sacramental and ascetical life of the Church.  Prepared by prayer, fasting, and Confession, we should receive the Body and Blood of Christ frequently as the most powerful nourishment for the healing of our souls.  The more that we live in communion with Christ each day as we reject temptation, the better prepared we will be to share in His life through this holy mystery for “the forgiveness of sins and life everlasting.”  The Nativity Fast calls us to daily prayer, fasting, and generosity to others in order to prepare ourselves to welcome the Savior born at Christmas.  In other words, this is a season for putting “on the whole armor of God” as we battle against our own temptations to look for the fulfillment of our lives anywhere else than in the God-Man Who becomes one of us for our salvation.

That is precisely how St. Paul and countless other martyrs, throughout history and to this very day, have found the strength to turn the other cheek and love their oppressors as they followed in the way of the Savior Who said from the Cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”  Their victory comes not by defeating human beings in any conventional sense, but by conquering their own temptations to preserve their lives in this world by denying Christ and responding to their tormentors with anything short of His love.

Most of us, of course, cannot see how we could possibly live or die that way.  We have become blinded by our own passions to the point that we often feel perfectly justified in hating, condemning, and refusing to forgive people for wronging us in much smaller ways.  When that happens, we become blind to the identity of our true enemies:  the demons who tempt us to live as those who do not share in the life of Christ.   We also then become blind to our own spiritual state in preferring the weakness of Adam and Eve, who stripped themselves naked of the divine glory, to the strength found in wearing “the full armor of God.”

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus Christ restored the sight of a blind beggar identified as Bartimaeus in Mark 10: 46-52.  This man persistently called out for the Lord’s mercy as He passed by, even though others told him to be quiet.  Because of his bold and persistent faith, Christ restored his ability to see.  When we catch a glimpse of our spiritual blindness and weakness, we must follow Bartimaeus’ example of focusing our attention on the Savior as we ask for His healing and strength.  He persevered in calling out “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” even when people told him to shut up.  It is precisely when we are tempted to give up in despair that we must persist like the blind beggar with our daily prayers, our fasting, our almsgiving, and our conscientious participation in the full sacramental and ascetical life of the Church.  That is how we will open ourselves to the healing presence of the Lord in our lives.

Instead of pointing a judgmental finger at anyone or making excuses of any kind for our inflamed passions, we must humbly look to Christ and put ourselves in the place of all those who have embraced His mercy for the healing of their souls.  That is an essential practice for putting “on the whole armor of God” each day of our lives.  If we are to do battle with the forces of darkness that have taken root in our souls, we must do so not with illusions of our own power or righteousness, but by uniting ourselves to the Savior as fully as possible as blind beggars in need of His healing.

As we prepare our hearts to welcome the Lord at His birth this Christmas, let us remember that He does not come to deliver us from other people with whom we are at odds.  No, He is born to destroy our bondage to the fear of death that so easily inspires hatred and fear toward our neighbors and blinds us to our own corruption.  He is born to make us radiant with the divine glory and participants in His life by grace.   He is born to conquer our true enemies and to fulfill His gracious will for all who bear His image and likeness.  Now is the time to prepare our hearts to receive Him.

The Nativity Fast as a Cure for Foolishness: Homily for the 25th Sunday after Pentecost and the 9th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Ephesians 4:1-7; Luke 12:16-21

We may have a hard time identifying with the rich man in the parable from today’s gospel lesson.  He had such an abundance of grain and other possessions that he did not have room to store them; he needed to build larger barns in order to hold all his wealth. Once he did that, he planned simply to relax and enjoy himself for the rest of his days.  He was so wealthy that he did not have to worry at all about providing food, clothing, and shelter for his family or paying his bills.  In first-century Palestine, someone with such riches would have been rare indeed, and I doubt that anyone in our parish is in such comfortable circumstances today.

            We may be tempted, then, to think that this parable has nothing to do with us.  What does it have to do with people who struggle to make ends meet even though they work as hard as they can?  What does it have to say to people who have to follow a budget and wonder how they will ever pay off their debts?  Actually, it has a great deal to say to all of us, regardless of our financial circumstances.  That is because the man’s problem is not that he is rich, but that he is self-centered.  Notice that in the parable he speaks only of himself, of his possessions, and of his plans.  He had become the measure of his own life.  When God requires the man’s soul, however, it becomes clear that to live that way is simply to be a fool, for it amounts to laying up treasures for oneself in this world instead of becoming rich toward God. 

            No matter what our financial circumstances are, we all bear God’s image and likeness.  That means that we will find fulfillment only in becoming more like Him in holiness, only by embracing the healing of our souls in Jesus Christ.  Such a life is never one of self-centeredness.  It is instead a life of communion with the Lord and all the neighbors in whom we encounter Him.  It is a life in His Body, the Church, in which we flourish as members of one another, not as isolated individuals.  That is how we participate by grace in the life of the Holy Trinity, Three Persons Who share a common life as one God. 

            Nonetheless, it is difficult to turn away from the self-centered individualism that can so easily lead to the spiritual poverty of the rich fool.  We may not invest our lives in the accumulation of riches and possessions, but that does not mean that we are free from the temptation to live simply for ourselves.  For example, we may judge everything in life according to our own preferences, as though there is something wrong if our will is not done in family life, work, school, or anywhere else.  Without even realizing it, we then end up judging others based on how useful they are in doing our will.  When they do not obey us, our passions become inflamed against them.  The more we relate to our neighbors in that way, the more we will want our will to be done and the more we will become blind to the dangers of putting ourselves before others.  Consider what kind of an impact that can have on our relationships with our neighbors, who bear the image of God as much as we do.  Consider also its impact on our own souls.  No matter what we believe, to live that way is to commit the idolatry of serving our own sovereign will above all else.  It is simply to lay up treasures for ourselves instead of becoming rich toward God.

            Treasures can take many forms, of course.  We can invest our time, energy, and sense of self-worth in any of our activities or in the service of any of our traits or abilities, including how we look, how we feel, or how well we do literally anything. There is nothing wrong with giving any worthwhile endeavor or necessary concern the attention it deserves.  The problem is when something becomes primarily a tool of self-centeredness.  That means making an idol out of it, instead of offering it to God for Him to bless in fulfilling His purposes for it and for us.  The point is God’s glory, not ours.  

            In the parable, it is no surprise that the man whose life was simply about acquiring wealth wanted to spend the rest of his days indulging in food, drink, and pleasure.  All of his energy and attention had been focused on getting more of what he wanted for himself.  The more that we gratify our self-centered desires, the stronger a hold they have over us and the more we become their slaves.  The more settled the habit of getting what we want, the harder we will find it to limit our desires in any area of life.  In the eyes of our corrupt world, a life of conspicuous self-indulgence may make someone look like a great success.  Slavery to the passions, however, is hardly a path for fulfillment for those who bear the image and likeness of God. 

We are now in the Nativity Fast, the 40-day period of abstaining from the richest and most satisfying foods as we prepare to celebrate the birth of our Savior at Christmas.  The weeks of Advent are also a time for confessing and repenting of our sins, generosity to the needy, and intensified prayer.  This season warns us that the Messiah is coming and we must be ready to receive Him.  Because we are all so much like the foolish man in the parable, we need a challenge to our usual obsession with ourselves in order to prepare to celebrate the Lord’s birth.  Otherwise, our Christmas will simply be about us enjoying ourselves to the point that we become blind to its having any greater significance than “eat, drink, [and] be merry.”   Though it is odd to say in our culture, we need to make Advent a time of intentional spiritual discipline if we are to gain the health necessary to receive the great richness in God that the Savior was born to bring. 

            Otherwise, we will continue investing ourselves in ourselves, especially in the illusion that we are isolated individuals who will find fulfillment in getting whatever it is we want on our own terms.  As appealing as that way of life may sound, it is simply a path to weakness and despair.  It is neither suitable nor satisfying for those called, as St. Paul put it, “to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all lowliness and meekness, with patience, forbearing one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”  We simply cannot find the healing of our souls or relate to one another as Christ commands if we make gratifying our own desires the measure of our lives.  There is no greater threat to the peace of our souls or of our relationships with others than self-centeredness rooted in pride.

            Even as we fast this Advent from rich food, let us fast from serving our own selfish desires, as we take steps to put the needs of others before our own preferences.  Let us confess and turn away from habits of word, thought, or deed that only strengthen the illusion that our lives are our own, and especially those that keep us from truly loving our neighbors.  Let us give generously of our time, energy, and resources to help those who will not help us achieve any of our goals in this world, but in whom we encounter and serve our Savior.  Instead of sacrificing everything to serve our own sovereign will, let us offer ourselves to the Lord for the accomplishment of His gracious purposes for our lives and for our neighbors. 

            The Nativity Fast calls us to become rich toward God as we prepare to receive Christ at His birth.  We should all use these weeks to invest ourselves in Him, for He alone brings fulfillment to those who bear His image and likeness.  We would be fools to give our lives to anyone or anything else, including ourselves. 

 

To be Healed by the Good Samaritan: Homily for the 8th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Luke 10:25-37

            It is tempting to use religion to help us feel better about ourselves. Too often, we want to make God in our own image and let ourselves off the hook from anything that challenges us to do something different from what we want to do. It can be very appealing to try to use God for purposes other than the healing of our souls.

That is the attitude that Jesus Christ rejected in today’s gospel reading. After describing how the Old Testament law required loving God “with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself,” the lawyer wanted to justify himself by narrowing down the types of people he had to love.  That is why he asked “And who is my neighbor?”  He wanted to limit what God required of him.  That way, he could assume that he was a righteous man.

The Lord’s parable does not, however, place any limits on what it means to love our neighbor.  He tells us about a man who was robbed, severely beaten, and then left on the side of the road to die. Obviously, anyone who saw him in that condition would have an obligation to help him.  All the more is that the case for the religious leaders who were going down that same road.  They surely knew that the Old Testament law required them to care for a fellow Jew in a life-threatening situation.  Like the lawyer, however, they must have come up with some excuse not to treat him as a neighbor.  We do not know exactly what they were thinking, but they somehow justified passing by on the other side without helping him at all.

Ironically, a Samaritan is the one who treated the unfortunate man as a neighbor.  The Samaritan did not limit his concern to his own people.  He did not restrict the demands of love in any way.  Even though he knew that the Jews despised and had nothing to do with Samaritans, he responded with boundless compassion to the fellow’s plight.  He was not calculating how little he could do and still think of himself a decent person.  No, he spontaneously sacrificed his time, energy, and resources to bring a man who was a stranger and a foreigner back to health.  Even the lawyer got the point of the story, for he saw that the one who treated the man as a neighbor was “The one who showed mercy to him.”

The Lord used the story of the Good Samaritan to teach us about what it means to share in His life. Purely out of compassionate, boundless love, Christ came to heal us from the self-imposed pain and misery that our sins have worked on our souls.  He came to conquer our slavery to the fear of death, which is the wages of sin.  Like the Samaritan, He was despised and rejected.  In the parable, the religious leaders were of no help to the man who was robbed, beaten, and left to die.  They passed by and left him in the condition in which they found him.  Likewise, the legalistic, hypocritical religious leaders who rejected the Messiah were of no spiritual benefit to those who needed healing from the ravages of sin.   Laws can be interpreted and applied however someone sees fit, but they lack the power to heal anyone, much less to raise the dead.  At their best, they tell us what to do, but still lack the power to enable us to obey them.

Christ has brought salvation to the world, not by merely giving us a code of conduct, but by making us participants in His divine life by grace.  By becoming fully human even as He remains fully divine, He has restored and fulfilled the basic human vocation to become like God in holiness.  Only the God-Man could do that.  If we are truly in communion with Him, then His boundless love must become characteristic of our lives.  Among other things, that means gaining the strength to love our neighbors as ourselves by showing them mercy.  Doing that even for those we love most in life is often difficult because our self-centeredness makes it hard to give anyone the same consideration we give ourselves.  When it comes to particular people we do not like or to members of groups we perceive as threats or enemies, learning to love them as the Savior has loved us may seem impossibly hard.

Here it is helpful to remember what the Samaritan in the parable did for the robbed and beaten man.  He administered first aid, took him to an inn, paid the innkeeper to care for him, and promised to pay for any additional expenses when he returned.  Christ does the same for us in baptism, the Eucharist, and the full sacramental life of the Church, which is a hospital for our recovery from the ravages of sin.  Through the Church, He also calls us to spiritual disciplines that help us gain the strength to convey His mercy to our neighbors by loving them as we love ourselves.

In order to be able to do that, we must seek healing and strength for a life in communion with Christ through the ministries of His Body, the Church.  People who are recovering from severe injuries must cooperate with their physicians and therapists in order to become well.  They must take their medicine and dedicate themselves to exercises, stretches, and other disciplines in order to regain health and function.   We must approach the Christian life in a similar way in order to grow in our ability to manifest the Savior’s compassionate love to our neighbors.

This is not an optional calling only for those want to become especially holy.  No, it is a basic dimension of the Christian life.  However we treat “the least of these,” the most miserable and difficult people we encounter, is how we treat our Lord.  St. John the Theologian taught, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar.  For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, Whom he has not seen.” (1 John 4:20)

It is, of course, much easier to view the Church as simply a social club, a place of beauty, or where we go to feel better about ourselves.  To think that way, however, makes us like the lawyer who tried to limit the requirement of loving his neighbors in order to justify himself.  If we limit the significance of the Church to serving our desires, then we are trying to use God to get what we want.  To do so is to fall into a dangerous form of self-centeredness that is blind to the true meaning of the Savior’s compassion.  He makes us members of His Body in order to share His life with us, in order to perfect us in love in His image and likeness.  He has come to heal us, but we must cooperate with His therapy if we are to grow in spiritual strength.

For example, we do not receive the Eucharist in order to fulfill a legal obligation, but for “the forgiveness of sins and life everlasting.”  If we receive Communion, we must live in communion with Christ by conveying His compassionate love to our suffering neighbors.  We do not take Confession for legalistic reasons, but to be healed from the damage our sins have done to our souls.  All the holy mysteries of the Church strengthen us for a life of ever-greater union with Christ, which will bear fruit in how we treat the people we encounter every day.  Even as He offered Himself fully on the Cross for our salvation, there is no limit to the offering that He calls us to make of our lives for the sake of others.  Those who have received His mercy will extend that same mercy to their neighbors, no matter who they are.   The Lord’s words at the end of the gospel reading apply directly to us:  “Go and do likewise.”

What's at Stake in How We Treat our Neighbors: Homily for the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost and the 5th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Ephesians 2:4-10; Luke 16:19-31

           A few days ago, seven Coptic Christians were killed in Egypt as they were going on a pilgrimage to a monastery.  A week ago, eleven Jews were killed as they worshiped in a synagogue in Pittsburgh.  Houses of worship of whatever kind are increasingly targets for violence and vandalism.  Many of the perpetrators of such terrible deeds are motivated by distorted religious beliefs that lead them to think that God wants them to hate, kill, and assault people of other faiths or ethnic identities.  Nothing, of course, could be more contrary to the way of Christ, for how we treat other people is how we treat Him.  Whether we are finding the healing of our souls through sharing in His life is shown by how we treat others, regardless of who they are or what they believe.   Each person we encounter bears His image.

Today’s gospel reading describes a man who found the meaning and purpose of life in rich food and expensive clothes.  He was so absorbed in gratifying his self-centered desires that he had become blind to the humanity of poor Lazarus, a miserable beggar who wanted only crumbs and whose only comfort was when dogs licked his open sores.  There could be no greater contrast than the difference in life circumstances between these two men.

After their deaths, their situations were reversed.  The rich man had spent his life rejecting the teachings of Moses and the prophets about the necessity of showing mercy to the poor.   As such, he had done his best to turn away from God and weaken himself spiritually.  In life, he had made himself unable to recognize even the basic humanity of Lazarus as one who bore God’s image.  Consequently, after his death he was blind to the glory of God and perceived the divine majesty as only a burning flame that tormented him. When the rich man asked Father Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers to warn them of the consequences of living such a life, the great patriarch responded, “‘If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.’”

It would be hard to overstate the importance of that response.  We all have the ability to make ourselves blind to the most obvious teachings about how we are to treat our neighbors.  Since every neighbor is an icon of God, how we treat them reveals our relationship to the Lord.  Christ taught that what we do “to the least of these,” to the most wretched people, we do to Him.  If we spend our lives hating and disregarding the people around us, we will become those who hate and disregard our Lord.  That way of life is so corrupt that it will make us blind to the good news of our salvation, to our Lord’s victory over the power of sin and death in His glorious resurrection on the third day.  It is a way of shutting ourselves out of the joy of the Kingdom.

If we want examples of where that path leads, just look at those who have become so spiritually blind that they think it is good to despise and kill others in the name of God.  They are not that different from the rich man in the parable, who stepped over starving, bleeding Lazarus every day as he served only his desires for pleasure and self-indulgence.  He had lost the ability to see Lazarus as a neighbor and lived accordingly.

Terrorists and murderers may seem very different from self-centered people who ignore the needs of others, but the roots of their spiritual problems are the same.  They lie in the passions, in our slavery to the distorted desire to find meaning, purpose, and fulfillment in anything other than God.  It is impossible for us to have spiritually healthy relationships with anything in creation if we make idols out of them.   Since we are all made in the divine image and likeness, we will never find peace or satisfaction when our lives revolve around pleasure, possessions, power, revenge, or anything else but the Lord.  The more we give our lives to them, the more we will be their slaves and the more we will justify doing anything to gratify them.  The resulting spiritual blindness leads only to more blindness, more corruption, and more depravity.  When we lose the ability to see any human person as an icon of God and a neighbor in whom we are called to serve Jesus Christ, we become just like the rich man in the parable.

St. Paul taught the Ephesians that the very ground of their life was “God, Who is rich in mercy…[and] even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ…”  They did not somehow earn God’s favor by doing enough good deeds by their own power, “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not of your own doing, it is the gift of God.”  The apostle also teaches that those who have received His grace are “created in Christ Jesus for good works…that we should walk in them.”

A life that displays the love of Christ in relation to our neighbors is not something that we achieve simply by trying to follow a rule.  Instead, it is a sign of being healed from slavery to our passions by the grace of God.  Healing comes to our corrupt souls through our Lord’s mercy, which we cannot earn and do not deserve.  The point of the Christian life is not simply to follow laws or develop virtues based on our own ability.  It is instead to be transformed personally by the gracious divine energies to the point that the boundless love of our Lord becomes characteristic of who we are as we live and breathe in this world.

If we know that we are being saved through the undeserved grace of God, despite our sins, we must manifest that same grace in relation to our neighbors, especially those we are inclined to hate, condemn, or disregard.  Jesus Christ modeled such a gracious life by ministering to the despised Samaritans and Gentiles, and even praising the faith of a Roman centurion as being superior to that of anyone in Israel.  (e.g., Lk 7:9)  When some of the disciples wanted to pray that fire would destroy a Samaritan village that had rejected them, the Lord refused and corrected them for having the wrong spirit. (Lk. 9:54-55)  He died for the salvation of those who crucified Him, and even prayed for their forgiveness from the cross.  Throughout His ministry, the Savior rejected the temptation to become the expected nationalistic ruler who would serve passions for revenge and domination against enemies and foreigners.  He refused to become a conventional worldly leader by hating and destroying people for being of a different faith and ethnicity.  He had nothing to do with the dark paths that continue to lead people to such spiritual blindness to this very day.

If we recognize the love and mercy that the Savior has extended to us, despite our past and present sins, we will understand that our lives must become icons of His love and mercy to our neighbors.  If we are not being transformed by the Lord’s grace in a fashion that leads us to serve Him in the Lazaruses of our lives, including our enemies, then we risk becoming ultimately like the rich man in the parable.  If we blind ourselves to His presence in the suffering and difficult people around us every day, then we will prefer slavery to the passions over the great victory that our Lord has achieved through His glorious resurrection on the third day.  How we treat others manifests whether we are finding the healing of our souls.   Since we have received grace, let us show grace to our neighbors, no matter who they are or what they believe.  Otherwise, we will reject the gracious Lord Who has made even “strangers and foreigners” like you and me into “fellow citizens of the saints and members of God’s household.”  (Eph. 2:19)

Faith Beyond Words: Homily for the 22nd Sunday after Pentecost and 7th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Galatians 6:11-18; Luke 8:41-56

What does it mean to have faith?  What do we want from religion?  What can we hope for from God?  These are the kinds of questions that we tend to overlook because they threaten to take us out of our comfort zones.  Many people do not want to think about “the big questions” too much because they can easily make us uncomfortable and require us to change what we believe and how we live. They call us into question.

            In today’s gospel reading, the faith of Jairus and his wife was put to the ultimate test when Jesus Christ said of their daughter, “Do not fear; only believe, and she shall be well…[and]  Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping.”  We do not know exactly what Jairus had believed about the Lord other than that he knelt before Him and asked Him to come to his house, where his daughter was dying.  It was one thing to believe that this rabbi had the spiritual power to heal the sick, but probably something quite different to trust that He could raise the dead. 

            The gospel passage does not quote any of Jairus’ words.  It does not tell us explicitly how he and his wife responded to the Lord’s challenge to believe that she would be returned to life and health.  These events probably rocked them to the depths of their souls.  Perhaps they could not find the words to respond to what was going on in that moment.  But they had enough faith to go into their house with the One Who had promised to save their daughter if they believed and did not fear.  Even though the mourning and weeping had already begun, they offered Him the faith of which they were capable at that moment.  Their trust enabled them to receive a miracle well beyond all reasonable expectations.

            The same is true of the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years.  She had spent all her money paying physicians who could not help her. Her malady was medically incurable at that time, and also made her ritually and socially unclean.  The passage does not tell us just what she believed about Christ, but only that she reached out and touched the hem of His garment in a crowd so large that she hoped she could do so without drawing attention to herself.  She must have had some level of faith that even that small gesture would open her to receive healing through Him.  That is what happened, but when the Lord announced that someone had touched Him, she knew that her secret was out.  That is when she “came trembling, and falling down before Him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed.”  When she openly confessed what Christ had done for her, He said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”      

            Both the bleeding woman and Jairus faced circumstances so dark that they could not reasonably expect to be delivered from them.  In the usual course of events, incurable chronic disease and death cannot be overcome.  That these challenges were so profound is reflected by the fact that these characters speak so little in this passage. They did not use words to state clearly what they believed about Christ.  The woman did not say anything until after she had been healed, which came through the only gesture of faith that she had the strength to make:  secretly touching the hem of the Savior’s garment.  And once she was healed, she spoke only after she had been found out.  Though Jairus had asked Christ to come to his house where his daughter was dying, our gospel passage does not record him asking for her to be raised after her death.  He and his wife probably struggled in stunned silence to believe that the Lord could fulfill such an astounding promise.

            It is often difficult, if not impossible, to put into words our deepest fears, hopes, and loves.  There are so many dimensions of life that are too profound for precise definitions.  All the more is that the case for God, the infinitely holy “I AM” Who is beyond our knowledge and control.  Orthodox theology teaches that we are completely ignorant of God’s essence, but know God as He has revealed Himself to us in His divine energies.  While we may use words to make true statements about God, genuine spiritual knowledge requires participation in His life.  That participation requires faith in the sense of opening and offering ourselves to Him from the depths of our souls. That kind of participation transforms us into “partakers of the divine nature” by grace as we become more like God in holiness. 

            In our epistle reading, Saint Paul described this fulfillment of the human person as becoming “a new creation.”  He opposed the Judaizers who wanted Gentile converts to be circumcised in obedience to the Old Testament law before becoming Christians.  As a former Pharisee and expert in Judaism, he knew that such practices do not conquer death or release people from bondage to sin.  But through His Cross, the Savior has done precisely that and made it possible for us to participate personally in His eternal life.  Not a matter of legal observance or having certain ideas or feelings about God, the healing of our souls comes through faith.  That is how we pursue the journey to become more fully human in God’s image and likeness.

            We may be tempted to think that faith is something we have already mastered, for hopefully we believe the words we say in the Nicene Creed and in the prayers and worship of the Church.   At some level, we have entrusted ourselves to Christ.    But the goal of becoming “a new creation” is not one that we may ever say we have accomplished or completed.  To become like God in holiness is an eternal, infinite journey.  It requires, as St. Paul writes, to embrace a crucifixion of oneself in relation to the world.  That means dying to the corrupting effects of sin in order to enter more fully into the new life of the risen Lord.  Not much spiritual insight is required to see that we all have a long way to go on that journey.   

            Jairus and the bleeding woman remind us by their examples that we need a faith much deeper than words, ideas, or feelings.  To become “a new creation” in Christ, we must reach out to Him as best we can for the healing of our chronic and seemingly incurable diseases of soul and body.  Even when all seems lost for us or our loved ones, we must struggle to obey the command:  “Do not fear; only believe.”

We will probably lack the works to describe how the Lord is present and what He is doing in our darkest moments.  Faith does not require complete rational comprehension; if it did, we would not call it faith.  At the end of the day, faith is about uniting ourselves to Christ in His great Self-Offering on the cross.  He did not conquer sin and death with ideas or words, but by offering up Himself purely out of love.  If we are becoming “a new creation” in Him, then our lives must be characterized by sacrificial, trusting obedience from the depths of our souls, especially when despair seems to make much more sense than hope in the world as we know it.  The clearer our spiritual vision becomes, the more we will see that faith requires something much deeper than knowing the right words or following the rules.  It requires the humble trust of those who desperately want health instead of sickness, who want life instead of death.  The Lord accepted the secret touch of the bleeding woman and the stunned obedience of Jairus.  And He will accept our faith also, if we simply do what we can to entrust our lives to Him from the depths of our souls and leave the rest in His hands.        

Mindfulness in the Garden of our Souls: Sunday of Holy Fathers of Seventh Ecumenical Council & Fourth Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Titus 3:8-15; Luke 8:5-15

           If the Lord’s disciples had trouble grasping the meaning of the parable of the sower, we should not be surprised if we do also.  Unlike them, we do not live in an agricultural society in which people were familiar with planting seeds and growing crops.  In that time and place, there was no doubt that life itself depended on the success of raising plants to maturity.  That is still the case today, of course, but most of us are far removed from the actual production of our food. We probably have more experience with trying to keep grass alive and green during our hot and dry summers than with growing crops to eat.    As frustrating as lawn care can be, just imagine how the common people of first-century Palestine felt when they cast their seed on the dry, rocky ground.  They knew that their lives depended on at least some of those seeds taking root and growing to fruitful maturity.

Though we usually do our best to ignore it, the same matters are at stake for us in the Christian life.  Jesus Christ is the Word of God become flesh for our salvation.  As the God-Man, He has restored and fulfilled the unique glory of the human person in God’s image and likeness.  He has shared His life with us such that we may become radiant with the divine glory through personal union with Him.  The Savior was born into the same world we inhabit with all its corruptions, distractions, and sorrows.  His ministry drew large crowds at times, yet all but a handful of His closest followers had abandoned Him by the time of the crucifixion.  Christ’s preaching and healing had touched so many, but only a few remained faithful to the end, especially the women who stood at the foot of the Cross and then went to anoint His dead body on Sunday morning.  That was when they saw the stone rolled away from the tomb and heard the unbelievably good news of His resurrection. In their steadfast faithfulness, they were in a unique position to bear good fruit for the Kingdom of God.

Our challenge is to respond to Christ like those myrrh-bearing women whose obedience made it possible for them to become the first recipients of the news that the Lord had conquered death.  This is a high calling, for left to our own devices, we would remain like dry, rocky soil that grows only weeds.  Had the Savior come simply with a set of religious instructions, we would surely have misinterpreted and disobeyed them.  Even if we followed them, we would still be enslaved to death.  But since He has vanquished the grave and made us participants in His life by grace, the Lord has enabled us to flourish in His image and likeness as we become our true selves by sharing in the divine life.

Today we commemorate the Holy Fathers of the Seventh Ecumenical Council, which met in Nicaea in 787.  The Council defended the practice of venerating icons, distinguishing between the worship given only to God and the honor given to images of our Lord, His Mother, and the Saints.  The honor given to the image ultimately goes to the one represented in the icon.  The Council’s decrees concern not only the use of religious imagery, but also the deepest truths of our salvation.  Apart from the mystery of the Word made flesh, there would be no icons.  For the Son of God had to become a human person with a body like ours in order to be seen and touched, in order to inhabit our world.  He had to have a real human body in order to be born, die, and leave an empty tomb after His resurrection.  His icon reminds us not only of the truth of the incarnation, but of how He has made it possible for us to fulfill our basic human calling to become like Him in holiness.

Farmers do not harvest a bumper crop by accident, for they must remain vigilant against threats of all kinds as they prepare the soil, plant the seeds, provide them water and fertilizer, and protect them from weeds, pests, and bad weather.  The same will be true for us as we seek to grow to fruitful maturity in the Christian life.  The healing of our souls will not happen by accident, but requires a daily struggle against temptation in all its forms, especially those associated with “the cares and riches and pleasures of life.”  It is so easy to direct our desire for fulfillment to anything except God.  The results of doing so for the health of our souls, however, will be as disastrous as those for a crop when farmers decide they have something better to do than to stay on guard.  Even if we initially made a good beginning, we can easily fall away, wither, and die.

In order to bear good fruit for the Kingdom, we must remain focused on sharing more fully in the life of Christ.  That is how we become better icons of Him, how we embrace the fulfillment of our humanity in God’s likeness that He has brought to the world.  Mindfulness is essential, for unless we keep a close watch on our thoughts, we will easily fall prey to distractions that turn our attention away from “the one thing needful” of hearing and obeying the Word of God. (Lk 10:42)  We do not want to become like those St. Paul mentioned in today’s epistle reading, inclined to fill their minds with “stupid controversies…[that] are unprofitable and futile.”  Instead of wasting their time, energy, and attention, he teaches that they should “apply themselves to good deeds, so as to help cases of urgent need, and not to be unfruitful.”

Mindfulness is simply staying focused so that we see clearly what we are thinking, desiring, saying, and doing.  It is entirely possible to live in the world with all our daily cares, but nonetheless to recognize the truth about our thoughts as we turn our attention away from those that are contrary to sharing more fully in the life of Christ.  We face the same challenge with what we say and do, but our thoughts and desires should be our most fundamental concern for they lead to our words and deeds.  As we cultivate the habit of recognizing that pride or anger, for example, is rearing its ugly head in what we think or want, we should turn our attention and energy to the Lord in a humble prayer for strength in rejecting the temptation.  Instead of being shocked or upset that we have any thought or desire, we should simply refocus on doing what we know we should be doing for the healing of our souls in the service of God and neighbor.

If we do not grow in mindfulness, we risk having unholy thoughts and desires grow like weeds in our hearts.  They can easily choke the spiritual life out of us as they lead to deeds and words that make it impossible for us to become better icons of Christ, unless we later come to our senses and turn away from them.  As with a garden, it is much better, of course, to keep a clear eye on the weeds from the beginning, mindfully doing what it takes to prevent them from becoming a serious threat.  Once they have taken over, the job is much more difficult.

Focused prayer from the heart in silence fuels mindfulness, for it is through being fully present before the Lord that we gain the spiritual vision to know the truth about ourselves.  We must turn off our media and screens, shut our mouths, and stand before Him without distraction on a daily basis. That is the first step in gaining the spiritual clarity to discern the particulars of how to become “those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bring forth fruit with patience.”  Mindfulness is essential for cultivating the garden of our souls for the Kingdom as we become more fully ourselves in the image and likeness of God.