Homily for the Sunday of Forgiveness in the Orthodox Church

 

Romans 13:11-14:4; Matthew 6:14-21

             On the last several Sundays, our gospel readings have challenged us to return home from our self-imposed exile.  Zacchaeus gave more than justice required to the poor and those whom he had exploited from his ill-gotten gains, and was restored as a son of Abraham.  By her persistence and humility, the Canaanite woman received the deliverance of her daughter as a sign that Christ calls all people to return home to Him in faith.  The publican returned to his spiritual home by humbly calling for the Lord’s mercy, even as the Pharisee exiled himself by his pride.  The prodigal son took the long journey home after coming to his senses about the misery of being in exile from the father whom he had abandoned. We recalled last Sunday that the ultimate standard of judgment for entering into our true home of eternal blessedness is whether the Savior’s restoration and fulfillment of the human person in the divine image and likeness has permeated our lives and character.  Today’s gospel reading reminds us to embrace forgiveness, fasting, and almsgiving in ways that direct us back to the Paradise from which Adam and Eve were cast out when they stripped themselves naked of the divine glory and entered into an existence so tragically enslaved to the fear of death that their son Cain murdered his brother Abel.  Within a few generations, their descendant Lamech proclaimed that he would avenge anyone who wronged him seventy-seven fold. (Gen. 4: 24)   We do not have to look very closely at our world, our personal relationships, and our own hearts to see how we have followed in their path of corruption as we stubbornly persist in exiling ourselves from the eternal blessedness which God offers to us all.  

          The season of Lent calls us to take steps, no matter how small and faltering they may be, along the path back to Paradise.  As the Lord offered up Himself on the Cross, He said to the penitent thief, “Truly I tell you, you will be with me today in Paradise.” (Lk. 23:43) Hades and the grave could not contain the Savior Who entered fully into death, for He is not merely human but also God.  The icon of Christ’s resurrection portrays Him lifting up Adam and Eve from their tombs.  The joy of His empty tomb places all our wanderings and sorrows in light of hope for “the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.” 

             Our first parents refused to fulfill their calling to become like God in holiness and instead distorted themselves and the entire creation.  We participate in the Savior’s restoration of the human person in the divine image and likeness when we receive the garment of light in baptism as we rise up with Him into the new life of holiness for which He created us. Christ covers our nakedness and restores us to the dignity of beloved children of the Father who may know the joy of Paradise even now. Upon being baptized and then filled with the Holy Spirit in chrismation, we receive the Eucharist as participants in the Heavenly Banquet.  In every celebration of the Divine Liturgy, we return mystically to our true home. 

  Doing so reveals that our calling is nothing less than to become perfect as our Father in Heaven is perfect. Because He is infinitely holy, we must never think that we have reached that goal.  So much of the corruption of the old Adam remains within us, for we do not live daily as those clothed with a robe of light, but prefer the pain and weaknesses of choosing our own will over God’s.  We typically prefer to live according to our passions in ways that direct us back to exile, not to our true home of the blessedness of the Kingdom of Heaven.

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

             A holy Lent is not about going through the motions of religion in order to gain the praise of others or even of ourselves; such vain hypocrisy will never help us gain the spiritual strength necessary to love and forgive our enemies. The same Lord Who said from the Cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” tells us that we must forgive others their offenses against us if we want the Father to forgive our sins.  (Lk. 23:34) Refusing to forgive others is a sign that we are not pursuing the journey home from exile.  If His merciful love is not becoming characteristic of us, then we are not orienting our lives toward Paradise.  Forgiveness is certainly a difficult struggle that will open our eyes to how strong our inclinations are to remain estranged from God and neighbor.  If we refuse even to crawl slowly along its path, we will know only the  misery of slavery to our own desires and refuse to enter into the eternal joy of the resurrection.   

             Precisely because it is so hard to forgive as we hope to be forgiven, we need spiritual disciplines like fasting, prayer, and almsgiving to direct us to our true fulfillment in God.  Our first parents’ self-centered refusal to restrain their desire for food enslaved them to death and corruption.  We have tragically reproduced their spiritual and personal brokenness from generation to generation.  Struggling to abstain from satisfying ourselves with rich food during Lent will help us see more clearly how far we are from Paradise due to our addiction to gratifying our self-centered desires.  It should also help us grow in patience and humility in relation to neighbors who have treated us according to their passions.  Humility fuels forgiveness, but pride makes forgiveness impossible by blinding us to the truth about our souls. In Forgiveness Vespers, we ask for and extend forgiveness to one another personally. Since we are members together of the Body of Christ, we weaken one another whenever we refuse to embrace the Lord’s healing.  We do not have to give obvious offense in order to do that, which is why we must all learn to see that pride invariably weakens our ability to share in a communion of love with our neighbors. It is precisely our pride that keeps us in exile from God and one another.   

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

             Lent calls us to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”  We must do so in order to return to Paradise through His Passion.  When we set out to pray, fast, give, and forgive with integrity, we will learn quickly how much we still share in the corruption of the old Adam.  That should help us see how ridiculous it is not to extend to others the same mercy that we ask for ourselves.  If we refuse to do so, we risk shutting ourselves out of Paradise.  In preparation for the struggles of the coming weeks, let us humble ourselves and forgive one another so that we may acquire the spiritual strength to “cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”  Let us begin our Lenten journey with the joyful hope that “now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.  The night is far spent, the day is at hand.”  May every step of the journey lead us further away from exile and closer to our true home, the Paradise that our Lord has opened to us through His glorious resurrection on the third day.   

 

 

“God Resists the Proud, But Gives Grace to the Humble”: Homily for the Sunday of the Pharisee and the Publican in the Orthodox Church

 

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

 

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

 Contrary to what we would like to believe, embracing these practices with integrity is not a way to impress God, ourselves, or our neighbors.  It is not a way of accomplishing anything at all by conventional human standards.  Pursuing spiritual disciplines does not in any way justify us in having any negative opinion whatsoever about anyone else.  Far from exalting ourselves, our most feeble attempts at purifying the desires of our hearts will quickly reveal the weakness of our souls. At the very least, they will bring to the surface how disinclined we are to be fully present to God, how addicted we are to satisfying our various appetites, and how much more we care for our own possessions and comfort than for the wellbeing of our neighbors.  We will then face the choice of how to respond to these challenging revelations.  If we want to pursue Lent for the healing of our souls, we must refuse to fall prey to the common temptation to turn our disciplines into ways of blinding ourselves from the truth about where stand before the Lord, as did the Pharisee in today’s gospel reading. 

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

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

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

            Despite his miserable way of life, the tax collector somehow mustered the spiritual strength to do something the Pharisee could not:  He exposed his soul to the blinding light of God from the depths of his heart without trying to distract himself from the truth.  Christ said that the Publican, not the Pharisee, went home justified that day.  That was not because he had done more good deeds, obeyed more laws, or been more conventionally religious or moral, but because he had the humility to encounter God honestly as the sinner that he was.  Such humility is absolutely essential for opening our souls to the healing mercy of Christ.   Without it, pride will destroy the virtue of everything that we do and plunge us into even greater spiritual darkness and delusion.  But with it, there is hope for us all to receive the healing mercy of the Lord.

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

There is no clearer warning to us about the dangers of pride corrupting our Lenten disciplines than today’s gospel reading.  The point is not, of course, that we should all become public criminals, but that we must use our ascetical practices to grow in our humility as those who know only our need for the healing mercy of the One Who offered Himself fully on the Cross and rose in glory for our salvation.  Whenever we catch ourselves thinking that at least we are better than that person or group of people, we must focus our minds on the words of the Jesus Prayer or otherwise call out to the Lord from our hearts “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”  If we have identified some earthly agenda with God’s Kingdom such that we exalt ourselves in our own minds over adherents of competing agendas, we must likewise fall on our faces in humility. We must embrace such spiritual clarity not only with our rational minds, but also with our hearts this Lent. As the Savior said, “He who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”  Now is the time to prepare for a spiritually beneficial Lent that will help us grow in the humility necessary to see ourselves clearly as we reorient our lives toward the great joy of Pascha, for “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

 

 

Offering Ourselves to God and Neighbor like Zacchaeus: Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday of Luke and After-feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Orthodox Church

 

1 Timothy 4:9-15; Luke 19:1-10

Today we continue to celebrate the Presentation of Christ, forty days after His birth, in the Temple in Jerusalem.  The Theotokos and St. Joseph bring the young Savior there in compliance with the Old Testament law, making the offering of a poor family, a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons.  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 recognizes Him as the fulfillment of God’s promises. 

Even as we celebrate His appearance in the Temple, which is recognized by these great saints, we also remember today a very different type of appearance and recognition in Zacchaeus’ encounter with Christ.  Zacchaeus had not lived at all like these righteous elders, for he was a Jew who had become rich collecting taxes for the Romans from his own people.  He was both a professional traitor and a thief who collected more than was required in order to live in luxury. No one in that time and place would have expected the Messiah to appear to such a man or for Zacchaeus to have responded to Him as he did. 

We really do not know why Zacchaeus wanted to see the Savior as He passed by.  He was a short little fellow who could not see over the crowd, so he climbed a sycamore tree in order to get a better view.  That must have looked very strange:  a hated tax-collector up in a tree so that he could see a passing rabbi.  Even more surprising was the Lord’s response when He saw him: “Zacchaeus, make haste and come down, for today I must stay at your house.”  The One Who was presented and recognized in the Temple as a forty-day-old Infant now enters into the home of a public sinner, where the tax-collector received Him joyfully, as had Sts. Simeon and Anna many years earlier.   

This outrageous scene shocked people, for no Jew with any integrity, and especially not the Messiah, would appear in the home of such a traitor and thief.  He risked identifying Himself with Zacchaeus’s corruption by going into his house and presumably eating with him.  But before the Savior said anything to the critics, the tax collector did something unbelievable.  He actually repented.  He confessed the truth about himself as a criminal exploiter of his neighbors and pledged to give half of his possessions to the poor and to restore four-fold what he had stolen from others.  He committed himself to do more than justice required in making right the wrongs he had committed.   In that astounding moment, this notorious sinner did what was necessary to reorient his life away from greedy self-centeredness and toward selfless generosity to his neighbors.  As a sign of His great mercy, Jesus Christ accepted Zacchaeus’ sincere repentance, proclaiming that salvation has come to this son of Abraham, for He came to seek and to save the lost as the Savior “of all peoples, a light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Thy people Israel.” 

The overwhelming transformative grace of God shines through this memorable story.  We do not know Zacchaeus’s reasons for wanting to see the Lord so much that he climbed up a tree, but he somehow opened himself to receive the healing divine energies of the Lord as he did so. Christ did not have to condemn Zacchaeus, whose spiritual vision had been clarified enough to know that his life was full of darkness.  He instead took the initiative to establish a healing relationship with someone considered a lost cause by all conventional standards. When people complained that He had associated Himself with such a sinner, He did not argue with them, but instead let Zacchaeus use that tense moment to bear witness to his gracious healing by giving half of what he owned to the poor and restoring all that he had stolen four-fold. 

Zacchaeus was so transformed by Christ’s appearance in his life that he became a brilliant epiphany of His salvation. He became a living witness that Christ is truly the salvation “of all peoples, a light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Thy people Israel.”  In the coming weeks as we prepare for Great Lent, we will recall how the Lord’s mercy extended to others who were thought at the time to be cut off from God.  For example, Christ’s mercy reached even the demon-possessed daughter of the Canaanite woman, who—like Simeon—understood that His gracious healing extended also to Gentiles.  Not the proud and self-righteous Pharisee, but the humble publican who knew his sinfulness went back to his house from the Temple justified.  The astonishing mercy of the father in welcoming home the prodigal son shows that the Lord restores even those who have lived such disreputable lives that they end up completely miserable in pig pens.  And in our pre-Communion prayers, we remember also the penitent thief on the cross to whom the Lord promised Paradise in response to his simple plea, “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your Kingdom.” (Lk. 23:42)  

            Even as we continue to celebrate His Presentation in the Temple and recognition by Sts. Simeon and Anna, we must never think that the brilliant light of Christ appears only within buildings set apart for religious services or in the hearts of people who are known to be especially righteous. Indeed, His Presentation reveals that He is the Savior of all, including those thought to be strangers and foreigners from His Kingdom. Of course, that includes us.  As St. Paul wrote to the Gentile Christians of Ephesus, “you are no longer strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God having been built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief cornerstone, in whom the whole building, being fitted together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord, in whom you also are being built together for a dwelling place of God in the Spirit.” (Eph. 2:19-21)

            The Temple in Jerusalem, which the Lord entered as an Infant, foreshadowed the true Temple of the Kingdom of Heaven.  As we read in the Epistle to the Hebrews, Christ is the true “High Priest, who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens, a Minister of the sanctuary and of the true tabernacle which the Lord erected, and not man.” (Heb. 8: 1-2) “Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.” (Heb. 9:12) As members of His Body, the Church, we participate already in the life and worship of heaven, especially in the Divine Liturgy.  As St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?...For the temple of God is holy, which temple you are.” (1 Cor. 3:16-17)  

            We cannot truly celebrate this feast without uniting ourselves more fully to our Great High Priest, which means offering every dimension of our lives for greater participation even now in the life of the Kingdom of heaven.  Zacchaeus shows us how to do that, for He responded to Christ’s appearance in His life with extravagant generosity as he gave back far more than he had stolen.  He later ministered with the apostles and ultimately became the bishop of Caesarea in Palestine. He went from making his life a temple to the love of money to a true temple of the Lord.  We must follow Zacchaeus’ example by taking tangible steps in our daily lives to offer ourselves more fully to Christ and to our neighbors, even as we resist the temptation to think that anyone is beyond receiving His salvation.  We must live as the holy Temple we are as members of the Body of Christ, our Great High Priest.  If Zacchaeus can become a saint, then there is hope for us all in Jesus Christ, Who is truly the salvation “of all peoples, a light to enlighten the Gentiles and the glory of Thy people Israel.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

There is No Shame in Repentance: Homily for the Commemoration of St. Mary of Egypt and the 5th Sunday of Great Lent in the Orthodox Church

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

          It has never been hard to find examples of people using religion to get what they want in this world.  It is usually easy to see when others do that, but much harder to recognize when we fall prey to the temptation of trying to use God to fulfill our self-centered desires.  The harsh truth is that doing so is simply a way of worshiping ourselves, no matter what we say we believe.

In today’s gospel lesson, James and John understood Christ’s prediction of His death and resurrection so poorly that they asked for the places of highest honor in His Kingdom, which they surely imagined would be an earthly political realm. The Lord told them that they did not know what they were asking, for to be exalted in His Kingdom would require sharing in the cup and baptism of His great Self-offering for the salvation of the world. It would require “becoming the servant of all.  For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

The Savior taught His confused disciples that His way is completely different from the path of earthly rulers who seek to exalt themselves by lording it over others.  He suffered at the hands of precisely such authorities who could not tolerate any threat to their power.  By ascending the Cross, descending to Hades, and rising from the tomb, Christ revealed the pathetic weakness of those who use the fear of death to serve their own fleeting glory upon the earth.  To attempt to use His Kingdom to fulfill self-centered desires for power, pleasure, or any other worldly goal is to miss the point entirely of why our Great High Priest offered Himself as the Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world. By uniting ourselves to Him in holiness, we become participants by grace in the eternal life of the Holy Trinity, not people who are successful in making the world their god.

Today we commemorate St. Mary of Egypt, who found healing in Christ from notorious addiction to sexual pleasure, which is another form of the idolatry of making the world our god.  Through decades of intense asceticism in the desert, she found healing from domination by lust and became a glorious saint.  She did so not by pursuing the false glory of the world, but by becoming radiant with the glory of God through humble repentance.

Addiction to gratifying our self-centered desires, no matter what they are, distorts the beauty of our souls as those who bear God’s image and likeness.  We must remember, however, that Christ’s mercy extends to even the most corrupt sinner who comes to Him in humble repentance.  Zacchaeus turned from his love of money by returning more than what he had stolen and by giving generously to the poor.  In contrast to the self-righteous Pharisee in the parable, the tax collector humbly begged for God’s mercy and found it.  The prodigal son came to himself and was restored beyond his expectations.  The disciples ultimately abandoned their desire for worldly power and became martyrs, including St. Peter, who had denied the Savior three times.  St. Paul went from being a fierce persecutor of Christians to the apostle to the Gentiles.  St. Mary of Egypt, who began as a horribly depraved person, ended up as such a model of sanctity that we celebrate her memory each Lent without shame or embarrassment. We learn from these examples that there is always hope for the healing of our souls, regardless of the mess we have made of our lives.   Our faith is not in a simple moralism in which the good succeed and the bad fail, but in a Lord Who has conquered the enslaving power of sin and death.  He came to call not the righteous, but sinners to repentance.

The healing of human persons in such remarkable ways is not accomplished by the conventional politics or ethics of this world, regardless of whether religion is somehow invoked to support them.  Such transformation is, instead, a sign of Christ’s victory through His Passion.  His selfless service for our sake knew no bounds and stopped at nothing, not even Hades and the tomb, in order to deliver us from the despair to which we had enslaved ourselves.  He freely entered into the full consequences of our corruption in order to heal and triumph over them.  He did so not for His own sake, but for ours.  “For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

As we begin the last week of Great Lent, let us be on guard against the temptation to use any aspect of our faith for self-glorification.  If our prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and other spiritual disciplines become means of merely accomplishing our goals or of making us think that we have achieved some level of righteousness, they will do us more spiritual harm than good.  They are, instead, simply ways of opening ourselves to the healing mercy of Christ so that we will become more like Him. The more that His life becomes ours, the more we will find strength to take up our crosses as we follow Him into a Kingdom not of this world. The more that we take our eyes off ourselves and serve our neighbors in humility, the more we will find the healing of our souls.  Lent is almost over.  Let us use the coming week to follow the example of St. Mary of Egypt, and of all the saints, in becoming more truly human in God’s image and likeness. Christ did not reject them and He will not reject us, if we come to Him as they did in humble repentance.

Tangible Holiness Through Personal Encounter with Christ: Homily for the Translation of the Relics of John Chrysostom and the 15th Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

Hebrews 7:26-8:2; Luke 19:1-10

It is fair enough for people to ask why the Orthodox Christian faith inspires our loyalty.  There are so many other religions available to us, as well as non-religious perspectives according to which we could live our lives.  We are free to believe and live as we choose, so why should we identify ourselves with Jesus Christ and His Church?

From the earliest years of the faith, the example of how personal encounter with the Savior changes people has been a powerful witness.  The early Christians laid down their lives for Him as martyrs.  They shared their possessions such that the needs of every member of the community were met.  They crossed ethnic boundaries in shocking ways that manifested their unity in Christ. They cared for the sick during plagues and rescued children who had been abandoned by their parents.  In contrast to a decadent culture, they embraced chastity in a way appropriate to their vocations as married people, monastics, or widows.

Profound personal transformations certainly occurred during our Lord’s earthly ministry. Today’s gospel reading tells the memorable story of Zacchaeus, who responded to the Savior’s initiative by repudiating his dishonest, greedy way of life as a tax collector.  After Zacchaeus welcomed Christ into his home, others complained that “He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.”  In that time and place, it was scandalous for the Messiah to identify himself with such a corrupt person by accepting his hospitality.  In response to that charge, Zacchaeus spontaneously repented by giving half of his possessions to the poor and restoring what he had stolen four fold. We do not know the details of the Lord’s conversation with Zacchaeus, but it had such an impact on the tax collector that Christ proclaimed, “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham; for the Son of man came to seek and to save the lost.”

The shocking transformation of Zacchaeus serves as testimony to the healing power of Christ in relation to some of the most powerful temptations that we experience.   Recall what St. Paul wrote to St. Timothy about the dangers of loving money:  “Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” (1 Tim. 6:9-10)  It is one thing to be content with having the physical necessities of life, but quite another to seek the meaning of our lives in the comfort, status, and security usually associated with wealth in this world.

Personal experience teaches that possessions easily become our false gods, but they cannot ultimately satisfy us.  Wealthy and famous people may live in misery, while the humble poor may experience great joy. Those whose lives revolve around money and what it can buy will never be at peace, for there can be no guarantee about what tomorrow will bring. No matter how much or how little we have, worrying about keeping it and acquiring more often enslaves us to self-centered desire and obscures our vision of the needs of others.  It turns our trust away from God and toward an imaginary vision of ourselves as being self-sufficient. When, like Zacchaeus, we open our disordered relationship with money to Christ, we will turn away from self-centeredness to embrace generosity toward others. To live that way in the midst of such a materialistic culture will bear witnesses to the power of the Savior to make us already participants in a Kingdom not of this world.

Today we commemorate the recovery of the relics of St. John Chrysostom, who had died in exile in Armenia thirty years earlier due to the persecution of the Empress Eudoxia.  His casket would not be moved until a letter of apology from Emperor Theodosius the Younger was placed on it.  St. John’s body was found to be incorrupt and was placed on the patriarchal throne in Constantinople, where he was miraculously heard to say, “Peace be to all.”

The life of any saint is a brilliant icon of what happens when a human being becomes radiant with the holiness of God.  Since our basic human calling is to become like God in holiness, we should think of the saints simply as true human beings, not as a special class somehow separate from the challenges of life in the world as we know it.  It is by responding faithfully in the midst of those challenges that they become “partakers of the divine nature” by grace.  The ancient practice of honoring the relics or physical remains of a saint reflects our belief that the body of a Christian is a temple of the Holy Spirit and destined for resurrection into eternal life.  In the Old Testament, contact with the bones of the prophet Elisha raised a man from death. (2 Kings 13:21)  In Acts, handkerchiefs and aprons that had touched St. Paul worked miracles. (Acts 19:12)  It should not be surprising, then, that God continues to do great things through the relics of the saints.  These are signs that His salvation concerns the whole person and conquers even death itself.

In commemorating the translation of the relics of St. John Chrysostom, we must not simply marvel at the great events of past centuries.  Instead, we must recognize that God calls us all to the same holiness present in the lives and relics of the saints.  Like Zacchaeus, they were all imperfect people living in a world of corruption.  They all endured temptations and had to struggle for healing from self-centered desire in various forms.  At some point and in some way in their lives, they also repented like Zacchaeus in reorienting their lives to God as they did their best to set right what they had done wrong.  Like him, they responded to Christ’s gracious initiative in welcoming His healing and strength for charting a new course.

The change in Zacchaeus was profound and obvious.  It involved what he did with his money and power, and definitely impacted the people he encountered every day in practical ways.  He did not abandon the world, but began to live faithfully in it and to bless his neighbors.  The holiness of the saints is similarly tangible.  Chrysostom’s teaching, preaching, and prophetic service of the Church, for example, were clearly evident throughout his faithful ministry.  If we unite ourselves to Christ in holiness, we must also become living icons of what happens when a human person encounters the Savior.   He has held nothing back from us and gives us all countless opportunities to find the healing of our souls as we share more fully in His life by responding faithfully to our daily challenges.   Our calling, then, is to respond like Zacchaeus, Chrysostom, and all the saints in offering even the deeply disordered dimensions of our lives to Him for healing.

That is how we may provide a witness to the power of Jesus Christ to transform broken people like you and me into “partakers of the divine nature.”  We must become living relics of His salvation, living proof of what happens when people with all the weaknesses and problems common to humanity unite themselves in holiness to Him.  Ultimately, that is how we will give an account of our loyalty to Christ as the Savior.  It is only when we follow in the practical path of the saints that our lives will become signs of the good news heard by Zacchaeus:  “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham; for the Son of man came to seek and to save the lost.”

Shining with His Light: Homily for the Sunday of the Holy Fathers of the Fourth Ecumenical Council in the Orthodox Church

Titus 3:8-15; Matthew 5:14-19

              In just about anything we do in life, it is helpful at times to sit back and ask ourselves what we are trying to achieve.  Unless we have a clear purpose in mind, we are probably not going to get very far in anything.  By taking a hard look at ourselves, we may find that there is a disconnect between our goals and our actions.  If so, some adjustments are in order.

            What Jesus Christ told His followers in today’s gospel lesson certainly challenged them to take a hard look at themselves and change their expectations. He made clear that He was not calling them to join a nationalistic campaign for Israel’s liberation from the Romans, as most Jews then expected the Messiah to do. Instead, they would have to abandon their dreams of using Him to gain power.  They would not conquer with an army, a revolution, or a political party, but were to become the light of the world by becoming holy.  That holiness would not be the result of obedience merely to the externals of the law as interpreted by the Pharisees, but would instead reflect its fulfillment to the depths of their souls.

By teaching in the following verses that the commandment against murder extended to prohibit anger and insult, Christ showed that He called His followers to a purity of heart that would enable them to see God.  He did the same by insisting that the law against adultery also condemned lust.  He called the disciples to embody the fulfillment of the ultimate purpose of the law:  to become perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect.  It is in that context that the Savior taught that we must go beyond “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” and instead love, forgive, and bless even our enemies.   Whether in first-century Palestine or today, those who live this way will be a light to the world as they provide a vivid example of a holy life that stands in stark contrast to the usual ways of our age.  It will be as impossible to hide the brilliance of their souls as it is to hide a shining lamp in a dark room.

Today we commemorate the Holy Fathers of the Fourth Ecumenical Council, which met at Chalcedon.  This council taught that Jesus Christ is one person with two natures, being fully divine and fully human. It is only by confessing that He is both perfectly God and perfectly man that it is possible to give an account of how He is the Savior Who brings human beings into the eternal life of God.  For if He is not truly one of us, even as He is divine, how can He make human beings “partakers of the divine nature” who shine with holiness like an iron left in the fire?  Christ enables us to become the light of the world by becoming radiant with His light, by being illuminated with His gracious divine energies.  He is able to share His holiness with us because He is both fully God and fully human.  This is not simply a point from ancient Church history, but the bedrock of our faith and our hope. 

It is also the most basic reason that we must all take a hard look at ourselves and adjust how we think and live as Christians.  For if we truly believe that the eternal Son of God has become fully one of us and makes us participants in His eternal life, then His holiness must become characteristic of our lives.  Anything less than that is a distortion of what it means be a person in communion with our Lord. His true humanity enables us to become truly human as the fulfillment of our creation in His image and likeness.  That is why we speak so much of theosis in the Orthodox Church as the process of being united with God in holiness.

If we have made any progress at all in this journey of the healing of our souls, we will immediately be aware of how poorly we have answered this call.  The greater spiritual clarity we acquire, the more open our eyes will be to how far we are from shining brilliantly with the light of holiness.  So if our reaction to this high vision is along the lines of “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” we are in the perfect place to embrace more fully our identity as the light of the world.  That is the case because humility is absolutely essential to opening ourselves to the gracious divine energies of our Lord.  Consider again His interpretation of the laws against murder and adultery.  If they referred only to the physical actions of taking life or being unfaithful to a spouse, many could congratulate themselves for not breaking them.  But when they extend to condemn anger, insult, and lust, our illusions of self-righteousness immediately fall away.  The same is true about loving our enemies, for Christ calls us to go beyond limiting our vengeance to turning the other cheek, going the extra mile, and loving as our Father loves the just and unjust. We probably do not have to have much spiritual clarity to see that we are not there yet.

Were Jesus Christ simply another religious or moral teacher, these high requirements would probably lead us to despair and give up.  Rules tell us what to do, but do not give us the strength to obey them.  But because Christ is both divine and human, He provides more than a set of instructions.  For precisely through our awareness of how far short we have fallen from meeting these standards, He heals and strengthens us to serve Him more faithfully. The calling to holiness is not about meeting abstract rules by our own power, but about being united with a Person by grace.  Even as He has made great saints out of so many sinners who kneeled in humility before Him, His transforming mercy extends also to us.  That is a sign of hope for us all.  Who would have thought that Zacchaeus, a notorious tax collector, or Photini, a Samaritan woman of questionable reputation, would become shining lights of the world?   They did not do so because of perfect obedience to the law.  Far from it, they came to see their own brokenness through personal encounters with Jesus Christ.  Their humble acceptance of the distance between themselves and the Lord enabled them to grow closer to Him, to open their lives to a divine healing that they could never have given themselves.  

They show that, as we fall before Christ in humility, He will raise us up to participate personally in His holiness in ways that simply cannot be known except through repentance.  If we truly believe that Jesus Christ is the God-Man Who has come to make us participants in His healing of every dimension of our humanity, then we must follow the example of all the sinners who have become saints by opening themselves to participate in our Lord’s holiness. Instead of worrying about whether we will get our lives in perfect order according to our own standards, we must simply do what we have the sight and strength to do today in serving Him as we know we should.  St. Paul reminded St. Titus to tell the people to avoid foolish arguments, do good deeds, and meet urgent needs.  If we fill our lives with the things we know we should be doing and ignore the temptation to become distracted by nonsense, He will enable us to become light to the world.  Since He Himself is the Light, the more closely united we are to Christ, the more brilliantly our lives will become signs of the fulfillment of His purposes for the entire creation.    

Perhaps one of the reasons many people do not take the faith seriously today is that the lives of so many Christians do not manifest Christ’s healing and blessing of our humanity.  If we are not living icons of His fulfillment of the law and the prophets, then we are very poor witnesses to our Lord.  As Orthodox Christians who have received the fullness of the Church’s teaching about Jesus Christ as God and man, we have no excuse to accept distorted views of what faithfulness to Him means such that we excuse ourselves from the vocation to holiness.  Even as He did with His first disciples, He calls us to adjust our lives to be in line with His gracious purposes for those created in His image and likeness. As we turn away from all distractions, let us keep focused on shining the light of Christ so that others will give thanks to God and be drawn to the new day of His Kingdom. There is no other way to bear true witness to the Savior Who is both fully human and divine, for He came to enable us to shine with His holy light in our darkened world.  

Cultivating Humility: Homily for the Sunday of the Pharisee and the Publican in the Orthodox Church

Luke 18: 10-14

There are some problems that have to be identified clearly and addressed plainly because they are so important, so fundamental to our life in Christ.  There are some temptations so subtle, persistent, and dangerous that we must always be on full alert against them because they have the power to destroy our souls.  Today we call ourselves to that kind of vigilance against pride, which often leads us to wander far from the path of the Kingdom without even knowing it.   

            In the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, we encounter a man whom we would probably admire based on how he lived his life.  He was just in his dealings with others, did not commit adultery, fasted, and gave alms.  He appeared to be the model of righteousness.  But he had one fatal flaw that destroyed him spiritually.  That, of course, was pride as shown in his self-righteous judgment of other people, especially the publican or tax collector who was also in the Temple that day.

            Like Zacchaeus, this tax collector was a traitor to his own people by collecting taxes from his fellow Jews to pay for the Roman army of occupation.  He made his living by collecting more than was required and then living off the difference.  He was crooked and a collaborator with his nation’s enemies.  There was nothing admirable about the outward appearance of his life.  Who would not be tempted to look down upon such a person?  But this fellow had one tremendous virtue that healed him spiritually.  That, of course, was his humility as shown when he would not even lift his eyes up to heaven, but simply prayed from his heart as he beat his breast, saying “God, be merciful to me a sinner.”  The Lord explained the key difference between these two men in this way: “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”  The Pharisee sent himself down by the weight of his own pride, while the miserable tax collector was raised up by the Lord due to his humility.  

            Today we begin the three-week period of preparation for Great Lent, which begins this year on February 27.  Lent prepares us to follow our Lord to His cross and empty tomb.  It is a penitential season that provides tremendous opportunities for the healing of our souls.  But if we retain the spirit of the Pharisee, the disciplines of Lent will not bring us any closer to Christ; indeed, they will have the opposite effect.  For it is possible to attend services and pray at home in a self-congratulatory way such that, like the Pharisee, we are really worshiping ourselves and not God.  That is called idolatry.  It is possible to corrupt prayer and church attendance as ways to build ourselves up and put others down when we fall into the self-righteous judgment of others. It is possible to destroy the spiritual benefit of fasting, giving to the poor, and every other spiritual discipline through pride.  We will do ourselves more harm than good by approaching them in that way.  Spiritual disciplines are not ways of showing God how good we are or making us feel better about ourselves; instead, they help to open the eyes of our souls to the truth that each of us is personally the chief of sinners and totally dependent upon our Lord’s mercy and grace.

            This is an important lesson not only as we prepare for Lent, but for every day of our lives.  We face temptations all the time to put ourselves in the place of the angels and to view others as demons.  We may do that in relation to particular people who have harmed us or whom we do not particularly like, perhaps for good reason.  It may have to do with people or groups we do not know personally, but who inspire hatred and fear in us for whatever reason.  Without denying that harms have been done or that there are risks in the world as we know it, we must never allow our hearts and souls to be consumed by self-righteous judgment as though it were perfectly fine for us to celebrate how great we are in contrast to how rotten others are.  If we have ever fantasized about how some deserve condemnation and we deserve an award for good behavior, we have become the Pharisee.   

            Thank God, then, that we have seasons of intensified spiritual struggle, such as Great Lent.  For there is nothing like them to help us see the true state of our souls a bit more clearly.   Periods of intensified prayer make us aware of how far we are from being fully present to God in the services of the Church or in our daily lives.  Try to focus on prayer and you will likely be distracted by thoughts that seem almost impossible to control.   Something similar happens when we try to fast.  The call to abstain from the richest and most satisfying foods often reveals a fixation on how we simply cannot live without meat, cheese, and other rich food. And even when we change what we eat to lighter fare, the temptation to stuff ourselves remains.  The reminder to give generously to the poor makes us fear that we will become impoverished if we help, even in small ways, those who are truly in need.   We so easily justify extravagances for ourselves while others starve or lack basic necessities.   In other words, the spiritual disciplines of Lent call us to humility precisely because they reveal our spiritual weakness and brokenness.   They show us our pride because we are obsessed with putting our desires before God’s will, and we can always find someone to look down upon in order to feel better about ourselves.  When we struggle with these and other spiritual disciplines, they help us to gain just a bit of the spiritual clarity of that blessed tax collector who knew his own corruption so well that the prayer of his heart was simply “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”

            The hard truth is that we will never grow in Christ unless we intentionally take steps that help us grow in humility, that help us embrace the truth about where we stand before the Lord.  To see that truth does not mean having ideas about ourselves or about God.  Instead, it means gaining the spiritual health to become more fully the unique persons He created us to be in His image and likeness.  Of course, we are called to holiness, but true holiness is incompatible with thinking that we are holy.  True holiness means becoming like Christ, Whose humility knows no bounds, not even the Cross and the tomb.  And since He calls us to become perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, we are always in need of His mercy and grace as we press on toward an infinite goal that we may never say that we have fully met or mastered.  

            The key difference between the two men in today’s gospel reading is that the Pharisee was so spiritually blind that he thought he actually had done all that God required.  He even prayed to himself.  He apparently thought that he needed no forgiveness and was justified in worshiping himself and condemning others.  His was a very watered-down religion, ultimately a form of idolatry that was focused on the glories of his own life.  The tax collector was the complete opposite, focused only on his own need for God’s mercy as the chief of sinners. As we begin to make our plans for intensified prayer, spiritual reading, fasting, almsgiving, forgiveness, and repentance this Lent, we should focus on turning away from every form of self-justification and every form of condemnation of others.  We should embrace the spirituality of the Jesus Prayer as much as possible: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  We should look for opportunities in our daily lives to put the needs of others before our own, to live for others and not simply for ourselves.  And when we struggle and fail to accomplish what we set out to do, we should kneel in humility like the publican with no excuses, no passing of the blame, and no judgment of anyone else for any reason.  We should learn to see ourselves as the chief of sinners with nothing to present to the Lord except a plea for mercy and a humble resolve turn away from our sins and to turn toward Him in how we live our lives each day.   

            Our inflamed passions will tempt us to give up quickly when prayer, fasting, almsgiving and other disciplines are difficult.  If we make progress in any discipline, we will likely be tempted to focus on that and fall into pride.  We should be prepared for strange thoughts and odd desires to attempt to distract us.  We should be ready for a struggle, but it is precisely through the battle that we may acquire the humility that will open our souls to the healing power of the Lord Who lowered Himself to the cross, the tomb, and Hades in order to rise in glory and conquer all forms of corruption.  And if we want to share in the glory of His resurrection, then we must also lower ourselves by crucifying our passions, by dying to sin, and doing all that we can to destroy the corruptions of pride in our souls.  In other words, we must kill the Pharisee within us even as we cultivate the spiritual clarity of the tax collector if we want to follow Christ to His crucifixion and behold the brilliant light of the empty tomb.  The only way to do that is by being in the place of that humble publican who knew that he was the chief of sinners.  May we all follow his blessed example during our Lenten journey this year.      

                             

Two Paths to the Kingdom: Homily on Zacchaeus and the Apostle Timothy in the Orthodox Church

1 Timothy 4:9-15; Luke 19:1-10

One of the worst mistakes that we can make in life is to insist that everyone be just the same.  Part of the beauty of the human being is the distinctiveness of our personalities, our interests, and our abilities.  We see that in our families, in our friendships, in our work, and in the Church, where the different members of the Body of Christ have different functions in working together for the strength and blessing of all.  We should also learn to see that in the spiritual paths that we pursue, in the journeys that we take to share more fully in the life of our Lord.

            Zacchaeus’ path to salvation was shocking, decisive, and scandalous.  As a chief tax collector, he was a high ranking traitor to the Jews because he worked collecting taxes for the pagan Roman Empire, which occupied Israel.  He became rich basically by stealing from his fellow Jews when he took even more of their money than the Romans required and lived off the difference.  He was the last person whom anyone would have expected to entertain the Messiah in his home, but that is precisely what he did at the instruction of Jesus Christ.  And when people complained how disreputable it was for the Lord to enter his home, Zacchaeus made a bold change in an instant.  This man who had apparently loved money and comfort more than his own people or righteousness, repented of his own accord.  There is no record that Christ told him to take any particular action, but he immediately committed himself publicly to giving half of his possessions to the poor and to giving back four times the amount that he had stolen.  Since he was a chief tax collector and wealthy, these acts of restitution surely involved large sums of money.  No one would have ever expected someone like him to do that, and it was such a grand gesture that many probably found it hard to believe.

Jesus Christ knew, however, that he was sincere and would follow through with these outrageous acts of repentance.  That is why He said what no Jew ever expected the Messiah to say about someone like Zacchaeus: “Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham; for the Son of man came to seek and to save the lost.”  Unlike those who wanted a Messiah to reward the righteous, destroy the sinners, and defeat the Romans, our Savior came to bring the lost sheep back into the fold, even those who were so lost that they had gone over to the side of the wolves.

There have been many people whose journey to the Kingdom has much in common with Zacchaeus.  Like him, they had turned away from God and many people probably thought that they would be the very last people to find healing for their souls.  Remember that St. Paul actually persecuted Christians before the risen Lord appeared to him on the road to Damascus.  St. Peter denied the Lord three times during His Passion. In the Old Testament, King David committed murder and adultery.  St. Mary of Egypt was a grossly immoral person before repenting so profoundly that she rose up off the ground in prayer. St. Moses the Black was a feared criminal before becoming a model of holiness in the monastic life.  The list goes on and on of outrageous sinners who shockingly redirected their lives to the Lord through humble repentance.  In contrast with all the darkness of their past lives, His glory shines especially brightly in them. 

Not everyone follows that particular path to the Kingdom, however.  Today we commemorate St. Timothy the Apostle, who was converted to the Christian faith by St. Paul together with his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice.  He became the bishop of Ephesus and was martyred there for opposing the worship of false gods. St. Paul thought highly of him as his spiritual son, and exhorted him to embrace his calling fully and to be a good steward of his gifts.  As. St. Paul wrote, “Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.  Until I come, attend to the public reading of scripture, to preaching, to teaching.  Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophetic utterance when the council of elders laid their hands upon you. Practice these duties; devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress.”

St. Timothy came to the faith early in life and the reference to his youth shows that he had responsibilities in ministry as relatively young adult.  St. Paul instructed him to be responsible to the great dignity of his calling, to devote himself to cultivating all the spiritual strength that he possibly could, and to be fully aware of the gravity of the grace given him to serve as a shepherd of the flock. 

Unlike with Zacchaeus, Timothy apparently did not need astounding repentance.  He had the benefit of coming to Christ early in life and needed primarily to be faithful with all the blessings that he had received.  That may seem easier than turning away from a life of grave sin, but it is a path with its own temptations, which can be subtle and deadly.  It is easy to take for granted what we have known for so long, perhaps for our whole lives.  It is appealing to denigrate “the same old thing” that we and our families have done for so long.  It is a temptation to become comfortable with our level of spiritual growth or with the place that we have allowed God in our lives.  St. Paul surely knew that, so he instructed Timothy straightforwardly to remain focused, take nothing for granted, and give his all to the Lord each day.

At different points in our lives, we will identify more with Zacchaeus and at other times more with Timothy.  Some have given their lives to the Savior after falling into the worst forms of corruption that the world has to offer.  They have found the way of Christ as a relief and a blessing that stands in stark contrast to the darkness they had previously known. 

Some have grown up with the faith and always had some sense of living a Christian life.  Nonetheless, we are all Zacchaeus when we turn away from the Lord by embracing darkness in our thoughts, words, and deeds.  We may not be traitors and corrupt tax collectors, but we murder people in our hearts when we hate and refuse to forgive them.  We fall into adultery whenever we allow lust to take root in our hearts. Married or single, we sin whenever we fuel our passions with images, thoughts, or actions that make us slaves to self-centered desire, that lead us to reject the calling to direct our deepest desires to union with God.  When we are stingy with our resources, time, and attention in relation to the needs of our family members and neighbors, we steal from them.  But when we reorient ourselves according to the Lord’s purposes for us like Zacchaeus did, salvation will come to our house.

And even if we came to faith from a broken and dark past, we are all Timothy in having gifts of which we must be good stewards.  We must devote ourselves to remaining on the path by which we have begun the journey to the Kingdom, refusing to be distracted from our high calling.  We must remember the struggles of the past and never take our deliverance for granted, for we are all only one grave sin away from weakening our relationship with the Lord.  And if we want to continue on the path to healing and strength that we have begun, we must actually continue on it.  St. Paul’s words apply to us also: “Practice these duties; devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress.”   Yes, we all owe it to one another to set the best example possible in striving to grow in holiness.  This is not a journey that any of us can take entirely by yourselves.

The personal histories of Zacchaeus and Timothy were profoundly different, but they both became shining examples of our Lord’s salvation.  The same will be true of us when we turn from sin like that tax collector and mindfully stay focused on serving Christ like that young apostle. No matter where we are on the journey to the Kingdom, we can all learn from these two faithful men.  The beauty of our unique personalities will shine all the more brightly when, through humble repentance, salvation comes to our house and when, through steadfast commitment, we refuse to be distracted from offering our lives faithfully to the Savior each day. That is surely His calling to each and every one of us.

A Call to Humility: Homily for the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee in the Orthodox Church

When we hear the gospel passage about the Pharisee and the Publican, we know that Great Lent is not far away.  We are now in the first Sunday of the Lenten Triodion, the pre-Lent period when we begin to prepare for the spiritual journey of repentance and renewal that will soon begin.  This year Lent begins on March 14; so it’s time to get ready.

The first thing that the Church reminds us of in the pre-Lent period is the danger of pride, of raising ourselves up too high.  That’s what the Pharisee did.  He followed all the laws of his religion.  He prayed, fasted, and gave alms.  But he fell into the self-righteous judgment of others.  Standing prominently in the Temple, he actually thanked God that he was better than other people:  extortioners, the unjust, adulterers, and even the tax-collector who happened to be in the Temple that day also. He exalted himself, but God humbled him, for the Lord did not accept his prayer and he went home unjustified.

But the complete opposite was true of the tax-collector also known as the publican.  Like Zacchaeus, this man was a traitor to his own people and a thief who made his living by charging more than was required in taxes and keeping the difference for himself.  Unlike the Pharisee, he was not proud of himself; instead, he was ashamed.  So much so that he would not even raise his eyes up to heaven, but beat his breast in mourning for his sins, saying only “God, be merciful to me a sinner.”  He humbled himself, but God exalted him, for the Lord accepted his prayer and he went home justified.

As we begin to prepare for the year’s most intense time of spiritual discipline, we must keep this gospel text squarely in mind.  For it is possible to pray, fast, and give alms in ways that do us more harm than good.  It is possible to view these and other good deeds as our own accomplishments that somehow raise us high in our own eyes and become a justification for looking down on others.  It is possible to think that God is some kind of score keeper who gives us points for good behavior such that we save ourselves by obeying the rules.

Well, the Pharisee followed all the rules, but completely missed the point.  The publican broke all the rules, but still opened his heart and soul to the mercy of God.  That’s because he got the key point:  namely, that God’s mercy is never earned or deserved; that we never impress God or earn His blessings by anything that we do; that we share in the life of our Lord by His mercy, which we receive through the true humility of repentance.

For that is the one saving virtue of this tax-collector:  he humbly confessed the truth about where he stood before God.  “Be merciful to me a sinner,” the man said with a bowed head and beating his breast in sorrow for the mess that he had made of his life.  He humbled himself; he made no defense or excuse for anything; he hid nothing and threw Himself completely upon the mercy of the Lord.

Our spiritual journey in Lent should be focused on becoming like this humble, repentant publican.  But in order to do that, we have to have to stop being Pharisees, which is hard for many of us.  After all, we are respectable people who go to church and lead what appear to be upright lives.  We also pray, fast, give alms, and do other good deeds.  And we have to admit that, at least from time to time, we look down upon others.  We criticize and judge them, magnifying their weaknesses and ignoring our own.  Though we may not pray with the self-righteous boldness of the Pharisee, we sometimes come close in our thoughts, words, and deeds concerning other people.

If we allow that spirit of pride into our Lenten observances, we will do more harm than good to ourselves.  It would be better not to fast, pray, and give alms than to do so in ways that lead us to worship ourselves and condemn other people.  The worst criminals have more hope for receiving God’s mercy than those who convince themselves that they are perfect, that they are so exalted that they are justified in pronouncing judgment on others.  That’s why the publican went home justified, but the Pharisee did not.

As we begin to discern how we will pray, fast, give alms, and undertake other spiritual disciplines this Lent, I hope that we will all remember that these blessed practices are wonderful teachers of humility.  It’s all too familiar for most of us.  We set out to pray and our mind wanders.  We try to fast and we immediately want to stuff ourselves with rich and delicious food.  We set out to give even a small amount to the needy or the church and are overwhelmed with our financial worries or desire to buy things we don’t really need.  We do our best to forgive, but some painful memories still come on strong.  We intend to read the Bible or help a neighbor, but end up falling prey to our old habits.

When we struggle in these ways this Lent, we should take heart, for we are in the perfect place to open ourselves to the mercy of Jesus Christ.  When we acknowledge that we are weak and self-centered, we gain at least some of the spiritual clarity of the publican who knew that he had nothing to brag about, who knew that he had failed spiritually and morally in life, who knew that his only hope was in the mercy of God who stopped at nothing to bring healing and forgiveness to sinners.   He said, “God, be merciful to me a sinner.”  This must be our constant prayer when the disciplines of Lent reveal truths about us that we don’t like, that are uncomfortable and depressing, and we are tempted simply to give up.

Even worse, we may be tempted to the fantasy world of the Pharisee, who was blind to his own weakness, his imperfection, his sinfulness.  The sad reality is that it’s really not very hard to lie to ourselves and even to God.  It may seem easier and less painful than admitting the truth.  But the more self-righteous dishonesty we allow into our souls, the weaker and more confused we become; and the harder it is for us ever to escape from self-imposed slavery to our own lies and delusions.

The fourth-century saint Macarius was a monk in the Egyptian desert.  Satan once complained to him, “Macarius, I suffer a lot of violence from you, for I cannot overcome you.  Whatever you do, I do also.  If you fast, I eat nothing; if you keep watch, I never sleep.  There is only one way in which you surpass me:  your humility.  That is why I cannot prevail against you.”

Let us all use this Lent to grow in the one characteristic that will enable us to overcome all the temptations of evil:  humility.  Fasting, almsgiving, prayer, forgiveness, and all the other spiritual disciplines are of no use at all without it.  But with true humility, they shine brightly with the light and holiness of the Kingdom of Heaven.  Even if we are lousy at fasting, inattentive in prayer, and inept at forgiving others, there will still be hope for us in the Lord who justified a rotten, crooked tax-collector,  a man who acknowledged the sad truth about himself and called from the depths of his being for mercy.  Like him, we must humble ourselves.  Like him, we must make no excuses.  Like him, we must judge no one but ourselves.  If we do so, we—also like him—will return to our own homes justified, not by our good deeds, but by the unfathomable mercy of our Lord, God, and Savior Jesus.   May this be the outcome of our Lenten journey this year.