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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               

 

   

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

The Greatest Test of our Souls is Whether We Love our Enemies: Homily for the Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost and the Second Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 

2 Cor. 6:16-7:1; Luke 6:31-36

    One of the great challenges that many of us face in embracing Orthodox Christianity is getting over some form of religious legalism, which is the belief that how we relate to God is primarily a matter of obeying rules that govern how we behave. Of course, how we treat people every day is a vital dimension of faithfulness to Christ, Who intensified the requirements of the Old Testament commandments, for example, against murder and adultery in the Sermon on the Mount. He did so, however, not by lengthening the list of bad things that good people should not do. Instead, He went to the very heart of the matter: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matt. 5:8)

    The laws of the Old Testament were necessary to make clear to the Hebrew people the basics of how they were to act as those in a covenantal relation with God. Jesus Christ is not simply a religious teacher, but truly the God-Man in Whom the ancient promises, laws, and prophecies are fulfilled. He is a Person in Whose life we share as those who are in communion with Him as living members of His Body, the Church. The Church is the bride of Christ and we must live as those in a “one flesh” union with Him in which we become “partakers of the divine nature” by grace.

    It is only in this context that we can understand our Lord’s teaching in today’s gospel teaching: “But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” In this passage from the gospel according to Luke, Christ does not rest content with calling His followers to limit their vengeance to “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” even though that Old Testament principle had placed needed restraint on vengeance. (Matt. 5:38) He did not affirm the common attitude of the time, “Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,” an attitude that unfortunately remains with us today in so many ways. (Matt. 5:43) Instead, the Savior called His followers to be united with Him from the depths of their hearts to the point that they embodied the divine mercy, loving their enemies like God, Who cares for “the ungrateful and the selfish.”

    To become a person so radiant with the love of Christ that we convey His love even to people we do not like and who do not like us is obviously not a matter of meeting a basic legal standard of outward behavior. To love our enemies as He loves us requires our deep spiritual transformation and healing as living icons of God. It is not enough to be kind to our friends, to those we think will return our good will, or to those with whom we have something in common according to conventional social standards. It is not enough simply to restrain ourselves from abusing our enemies or even to go through the motions of being decent toward them. No, we must become brilliant with the gracious divine energies to the point that we convey the merciful love of Christ to everyone.

    If we approach this sublime calling merely as a matter of obeying a religious law, we will either fall into despair or delusion about our ability to fulfill it. The vocation to become like God in mercy and holiness is obviously something we cannot accomplish by willpower or behavior modification alone. And if we think we have already done so, then we have become blinded by spiritual pride to the point that we do not see ourselves clearly at all. The fact that we seem inevitably to fall short of loving our neighbors, and especially our enemies, as ourselves indicates that we have a truly eternal vocation that we should never think that we have completed. The struggle that we all have in treating other people, especially our enemies, as we would like to be treated, reveals that we have not yet embraced fully the Lord’s gracious healing of our souls. St. Silouan the Athonite saw the love of enemies as a clear sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives. He taught that when the soul “grows humble, the Lord gives her His grace, and then she prays for her enemies as for herself, and sheds scalding tears for the whole world.” These words reveal our need for ongoing repentance as we turn away from fueling the passions that make it so appealing to condemn others and turn humbly toward cooperating with the Lord’s gracious healing of our souls. That is the only way for us to share so fully in the life of Christ that we embody His boundless mercy.

    Today’s epistle reading reinforces the profundity of this spiritual calling, for St. Paul addresses the terribly confused and compromised Gentile Christian of Corinth as “the temple of the living God.” The Corinthians were largely converts from paganism who had to be corrected at every turn from their tendency to fall back into their pagan ways of worshiping false gods and engaging in gross sexual immorality. St. Paul quotes Hebrew prophets who admonished the Jews to be entirely separate from the corrupt ways of other peoples. What is so shocking is that he applied that instruction to the Gentile Christians of Corinth. Those who had been hated enemies for their immorality and paganism are now themselves “the temple of the living God” in Jesus Christ. They are His people, His sons and daughters, to whom the promises of Abraham have been extended through faith. Because of this great dignity, St. Paul tells them to be clean “from every defilement of body and spirit, and make holiness perfect in the fear of God.”

    While the apostle did provide them with clear instructions on how to live as Christians, Paul was anything but a legalist who thought that the following a code of behavior had the power to heal the soul. As he wrote to the Ephesians, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Eph. 2:8-10) Neither Jew nor Gentile could earn salvation by their own merit, but by embracing the gracious healing of the soul through faith in Christ. Such gracious healing is not passive or abstract but participatory and transformative, for we are all fellow workers with God who must “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.” (Philipp. 2:12-13)

    If we are to find the healing of our souls, we must struggle to do what we can each day to treat those we are most inclined to disregard and condemn as we would like them to treat us. We must take every opportunity to convey the mercy we have received from Christ to our neighbors, especially those we consider our enemies. When we fail to do so, we must use our weakness to fuel our humility before the Lord and our sense of unworthiness to judge anyone else. We must pray, fast, give to the needy, and mindfully reject the nonsense in our own minds, and in all factions of our culture today, that would encourage us to treat anyone as anything less than a living icon of God. As hard as it is to accept, whether we are sharing in the life of Christ is most clearly revealed in how we treat those we find it hardest to love. This is not a matter of legalism, but of whether we are acquiring the purity of heart necessary to see God, especially as He is present to us each day of our lives in those we are least inclined to see as beloved neighbors. That is the ultimate test of whether we are making “holiness perfect in the fear of God.”

The Patient Obedience of Letting Down our Nets: Homily for the First Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

 

Luke 5:1-11

           

Many people today scroll quickly through the many options they have in choosing how to identify themselves and live their lives.  It easier than ever before to try out all kinds of choices and to disregard those that we do not find immediately appealing or fulfilling.  Not only has our society formed us as consumers who want our immediate preferences satisfied, the digital age has made it even easier to flit from this to that whenever we experience just a hint of boredom, frustration, or disappointment. In such a culture, we are all at risk of forming habits that compromise our faithfulness to the way of Christ, which requires steadfast commitment and ongoing struggle as we persist in taking up our crosses each day of our lives. 

 The Church directs our attention today to two saints who provide powerful examples of what patient, selfless commitment to the Lord looks like.  St. Thekla is remembered as a Great Martyr and has the title of “Equal to the Apostles” because she accompanied St. Paul in founding churches and brought many to Christ through her teaching and example.  Converted at the age of eighteen by St. Paul’s preaching, she is remembered as the first female martyr because of her faithfulness throughout many extraordinary sufferings, ranging from rejection by her family to trials of fire, wild beasts, and physical assault.  The Lord delivered her from them all, and she lived her last years in prayer and solitude, peacefully completing her earthly journey at the age of 90.      

 We also remember today St. Silouan, a monk on Mt. Athos.   He had received the gift of unceasing prayer and knew great spiritual peace, but then endured fifteen years of deep spiritual struggle which prepared him to receive the Lord’s teaching: “Keep your mind in hell and do not despair.”  For the next fifteen years, he did precisely that, confronting and experiencing the brokenness and sickness of his soul that separated him from sharing fully in the life of Christ. Only then did he find healing for his passions.   

 Both of these saints are shining examples of humble persistence in faithfulness to the Lord, regardless of the personal challenges and sufferings involved.  Both could have easily abandoned their callings when the going got rough and did not gratify their passions or preferences.  No one forced St. Thekla to refuse to renounce Christ in the face of lethal persecution.  No one forced St. Silouan to undergo such bitter spiritual struggles.  But when such trials came, both saints kept taking up their crosses for decades and trusting that the Savior would not abandon them. They both endured so much in order to place loyalty to Christ above all else. 

 In this regard, they have something in common with Sts. Peter, James, and John in today’s gospel reading.  They were professional fishermen who had worked all night and caught nothing.  They knew from experience that it made sense to wash their nets, go home, and try again tomorrow.  But the Lord said, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”  Peter’s answer showed his frustration: “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!  But at Your word I will let down the nets.”  When they did so, they caught so many fish that their nets broke and their boats began to sink.  This unlikely and amazing scene helped Peter catch a glimpse of the state of his soul, for he said to Christ, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”  The Savior responded, “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men.” Then Peter, James, and John left their boats and nets behind as they became His disciples.

             Peter was the head disciple, but he struggled mightily in faith.  He denied the Lord three times before His crucifixion and then ran away in fear.  He had earlier heard the stinging rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan!,” when he had rejected the message that Christ would be killed and rise from the dead. After His resurrection, the Lord restored Peter by asking him three times if he loved Him and commanding him to “feed My sheep” in fulfilling his ministry. (Jn. 21: 15-17) Peter became the first bishop of the Church in Antioch and in Rome, where he made the ultimate witness for the Savior as a martyr.  At many points in his discipleship, he must have been as frustrated as a fisherman who had worked all night and caught nothing.  He was obviously tempted to do something other than following a Lord Who was lifted up upon the Cross.  But despite his many struggles, Peter kept letting down his nets and finding that the Lord continued to call and work through him, despite his imperfections and failings.  That is how he also became a great saint.    

             If want to pursue the Christian life with integrity, then we must follow the example of Sts. Peter, Thekla, and Silouan in persistently obeying our Lord’s command.  We must “let down our nets” in obedience by doing that which will open our souls to receive His healing mercy. That is not something to be tried once and then abandoned if we do not get the results that we want.  That is not something to refuse to do because it would be easier in the moment to do whatever we would prefer instead.  It is, however, something which must become a settled habit in our lives, a stable dimension of our character, as those who dare to identify ourselves as followers of Christ.

           We must be prepared, however, for our faltering steps of obedience to open the eyes of our souls to the truth about where we stand before Him.  After letting down his nets and catching that great haul of fish, Peter gained the spiritual clarity to know his unworthiness: “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”  His reaction bears some similarity to St. Silouan’s teaching: “Keep your mind in hell and do not despair.”  When we attempt even the smallest act of obedience, we open our darkened souls to behold the brilliant light of Christ.  The darkness in our hearts will then become all the more evident to us. Instead of being discouraged that we are more aware of our spiritual weakness, we must then call all the more for the Lord’s mercy as we struggle to remain on the path to the Kingdom. 

 We all have the experience of falling into our familiar sins again and again.  Instead of being disheartened to the point that we no longer struggle against them or despair of ever finding healing, or even give up completely on the Christian life, we must keep letting down our nets in obedience as we mindfully seek to redirect the desires of our hearts toward God.  Instead of despairing that there is no hope, we must humbly accept the truth about our spiritual state that is revealed by our weakness before our besetting sins.  While making no excuses for ourselves, we must trust that our ongoing battles are necessary for us to receive Christ’s healing.  We may not be in an arena with wild animals like St. Thekla, but we all face the arena of our passions, which are every bit as fierce.  St. Silouan wrestled spiritually for decades and never gave up.  We must do the same as we experience in our hearts the tension between our current brokenness and the holiness to which the Savior calls us.

 Looking to the example of the great saints we commemorate today, as well as to the model of those holy fishermen, let us repudiate the superficial, self-centered tendencies celebrated by our culture and undertake the daily struggle of obedience to Christ.  That means letting down our nets in obedience at every opportunity as we cry out for His merciful healing of our souls.  That is the holy habit that we must all cultivate if we want to become worthy disciples of the Savior.

 

 

   

 

           

THE ORTHODOX CHURCH, JUST-WAR THEORY, AND THE INVASION OF UKRAINE

 The centrality of peace to the worship and spiritual vision of Eastern Orthodox Christianity magnifies the tragedy of the invasion of Ukraine.  Petitions for peace abound in Orthodox services, including for deliverance from “the sword, foreign invasion, and civil war.” The Church prays regularly for “the peace of the whole world,” as well as for the liberation of captives and for people “in exile, in harsh labor, and…in every kind of affliction, necessity, or distress.”  Every Sunday service includes a petition for God to grant peace “to all civil authorities, to our armed forces, and to all Your people.” 

Going to war may be tragically necessary at times to defend one’s neighbors and society against invasion or other forms of unwarranted assault, and the church does not prohibit laypeople from taking up arms in obedience to lawful authorities. Some Orthodox saints were soldiers, but their military prowess did not make them examples of holiness.  Many served in the pagan Roman Empire and accepted torture and execution rather than worship other gods.  A fourth-century church rule recommends that soldiers who kill in war abstain from receiving communion for three years.  It serves as a reminder that taking life under any circumstances falls short of the peaceable way of Jesus Christ. 

The Byzantine Empire and Czarist Russia went to war many times with the blessing of the Church’s leaders.  Nonetheless, Orthodoxy does not have a crusade or holy war ethic and cautions that shedding blood always risks grave spiritual and moral harm to those involved. The absence of an explicit just-war theory in Eastern Christianity is a sign that waging war inevitably results in killing persons who bear God’s image and is never unambiguously good. Even high levels of moral and legal restraint fail to prevent the barbarity of organized mass slaughter.  

The Assembly of Bishops of the Orthodox jurisdictions of the United States issued a statement on the invasion of Ukraine which, while not invoking the categories of just-war theory, resonates with them. The bishops pray that “peace and justice may be restored” in Ukraine and urge “all parties and all people to refrain from further aggression, withdraw…all weapons and troops from sovereign lands, and…to pursue de-escalation and the restoration of peace through dialogue and mutual respect.” Dialogue between law-abiding nations, not ongoing aggression, is the way to peace. The bishops urge authorities to take practical steps to end the conflict.  They avoid pious platitudes even as they call for an end to the war as a sign of the peace for which the church prays.

While warring nations have often distorted just-war theory in order to obscure their violations of human rights and moral standards, its categories provide a needed language for criticizing wars of aggression fought for illusory reasons. They help to describe the illegality of morally depraved acts, such as the indiscriminate destruction of population centers or the use of rape as a means of terror. The categories of just-war theory clarify how rulers, armies, and particular soldiers fall short of basic levels of ethical restraint in the conduct of warfare. They provide resources for calling nations to avoid the worst abuses of the use of force. Even the best observance of such standards will not come close to enacting the perfect peace for which Orthodox Christians pray or heal persons broken by tragic wounds of violence. Nonetheless, those concerned with the wellbeing of their neighbors should appreciate them as tools for urging worldly powers not to wage war in a fashion contrary to the accepted standards of the international community. 

While it would be naïve to think that arguments from religious leaders will stop unnecessary and barbaric wars from occurring, those who pray for peace have an obligation to state clearly the ways in which such wars are morally unacceptable. The standards for a just war provide imperfect points of contact between Orthodoxy’s vision of peace and the broken realities of the world as we know it. Until the perfect peace of God’s kingdom comes, they will remain tragically necessary for calling nations to avoid the most depraved forms of organized mass slaughter, which is what war remains.  

This article was supported by Fr. Philip's participation as Senior Fellow in the “Orthodoxy and Human Rights” project, sponsored by Fordham University’s Orthodox Christian Studies Center, and generously funded by the Henry Luce Foundation and Leadership 100.  It was originally published here:  The Orthodox Church, Just-War Theory, and the Invasion of Ukraine | Spirit Of Abilene

CHRISTIAN POLITICAL ACTIVISM AND DISCIPLESHIP TO JESUS ARE VERY DIFFERENT UNDERTAKINGS

          Those who promote Christian political agendas must take care in order to avoid damaging their souls and distorting their witness to Jesus Christ. The practices and virtues associated with the quest for earthly power, even for the best of ends, are hardly those of the Beatitudes.  Christ called his followers to acquire purity of heart and love their enemies.  He instructed them not to rest content with a code of moral behavior, but to find healing from the disordered desires at the root of evils as grave as murder and adultery. 

          People find strength to pursue the life of discipleship through their participation in churches, families, and other groupings that form them to fulfill callings inevitably at odds with dominant social trends in one way or another. Doing so requires the deep personal struggle of taking up the cross in relation to our own weaknesses and temptations.  

          To focus on gaining political power in order to enact legal codes that regulate the behavior of fellow citizens is a very different undertaking.  It is a project that the Lord and the twelve disciples did not pursue.  To identify the way of Christ as mere obedience to legally imposed norms is to take discipleship out of its necessary context, watering it down to the type of outward observance advocated by the Pharisees whom he so strongly criticized.  When purity of heart, love for enemies, and freedom from anger are displaced by the need to do whatever it takes to coerce others through political force, the way of the hypocritical Pharisee threatens to supplant the way of the Savior who called for turning the other cheek.  While governments can and must impose regulations on the behavior of people by force, they cannot heal the soul.    

          Christ taught that his followers are to be a city on a hill, brilliantly lit and drawing others to the blessedness of God’s reign.  The genuine political witness of Christians requires that their communities, personal lives, and public statements convey the teaching and character of their Lord, especially in relation to those they consider their enemies and to “the least of these,” such as prisoners, the homeless, and immigrants.  Actions and words which give the impression that Christianity is chiefly about conventional political support of or opposition to this or that agenda risk distorting the proclamation of the gospel into just another slogan for “our side” to win its battle against rivals for earthly power. 

          Before making pronouncements condemning others, Christians should remember what Christ said about taking the plank out of one’s own eye before attempting to take the speck out of someone else’s.  Those whose horizons extend no further than the next election or battle in a culture war will never think in such terms, but those who claim to follow a Lord whose kingdom is not of this world must do so in order to have even a mustard seed’s worth of spiritual integrity.  

          Christians may certainly enter into the political fray toward the end of promoting public policies that do better rather than worse in serving the common good of their neighbors and promoting the peace of the world, but they must do so self-critically and with a chastened sense of realism. The points of tension between the purity of heart, love for enemies, and repudiation of anger that the Lord taught and the inevitable corruptions of politics are glaring.  It is hard to see how there can be any unambiguously Christian political agenda, for even the best arrangements of competing interests in the world as we know it fall short of the blessed reign proclaimed by Christ and are sustained by practices that contradict his teachings in one way or another.  

          Strong doses of realism and repentance are necessary to help activists, and even average voters, keep their eyes on the prize of their ultimate allegiance to a Lord with a very different agenda. At the very least, those who devote their time and energy to electoral politics must guard their hearts from passions that threaten to compromise both their personal spiritual integrity and their public witness to the Savior who rejected the temptation to become an earthly ruler.  Otherwise, they risk becoming the kind of people Christ so strongly criticized:  self-righteous hypocrites for whom religion is primarily a tool to gain power over others.  Regardless of how noble any political goal may be, it is not worth damaging one’s spiritual health and distorting the public witness of the Christian faith.  

Originally posted on the Spirit of Abilene blog:  https://spiritofabilene.com/2023/07/29/christian-political-activism-and-discipleship-to-jesus-are-very-different-undertakings.

Taking Up the Cross is Very Different from Trying to Use the Cross to Get What We Want: Homily for the Sunday after the Elevation of the Holy Cross in the Orthodox Church

 

Galatians 2:16-20; Mark 8:34-9:1

 

            As we continue to celebrate the Elevation of the Holy Cross, we must remain on guard against the temptation of viewing our Lord’s Cross as merely a religious artifact that reminds us of what happened long ago. Through His Self-Offering on the Cross, Christ has conquered death and brought salvation to the world.  But in order for us to share personally in His fulfillment of the human person as a living icon of God, we must take up our own crosses, deny ourselves, and follow Him.  If we refuse to do that, then we show that we are ashamed of our Lord and want no part in Him or His Kingdom.

            Peter was in precisely such a state of refusal when he tried to explain to Christ that dying on the Cross had nothing to do with being the Messiah.  That is when the Lord famously said to Peter, “Get behind Me, Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men.”  That is the context for today’s gospel passage as Christ teaches that following Him is not a way to gain anything at all according to the standards of this world, but a calling to offer ourselves without reservation.  We must lose our lives for Christ and His Gospel in order to share in His victory over death.   

            The calling to take up our crosses stands in stark contrast to the persistent temptation to exalt ourselves in the Name of the Lord.  Across the centuries to the present day, some have tried to use the Cross to gain earthly power by identifying some version of an earthly kingdom with our Lord’s heavenly reign.  Others have tried to use the Cross as a way to justify their religious or moral superiority over their neighbors.  The problem is not so much in the particulars of how anyone has used the Cross so much as in the very idea of using it, of making it an instrument for achieving anything at all in this world.  Our Lord’s Cross calls us to lose our lives as we offer ourselves in union with His great Self-Offering, not to serve or glorify ourselves in any way.     

In our epistle reading from Galatians, Saint Paul opposes fellow Jewish Christians who relied too much on their own ability to obey the Old Testament law and who would have required the same of Gentile converts.  Over against trust in religious legalism, he writes that, “I have been crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself up for me.”  Paul did not simply have good thoughts or warm feelings about the Cross, but endured many struggles and difficulties out of faithfulness to the Lord.  He wrote to the Colossians that “I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ, for the sake of His body, which is the church.” (Col. 1:24)

There is obviously nothing deficient in our Lord’s great Self-Offering.  Paul meant that all that is lacking is our taking up our own crosses in obedience to the Lord’s calling to deny ourselves and follow Him. Because of our own passions and the brokenness of our world of corruption, the struggle for faithfulness inevitably requires suffering, but not as though pain were somehow pleasing to God in and of itself.  Such suffering results from the inevitable tension we experience in the struggle to offer ourselves fully to Christ. Truly taking up our crosses means embracing the difficult battle each day as we reject all that would keep us from doing precisely that, including especially the inclinations of our own hearts.

  Christ prayed the night before His crucifixion, “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) He ascended the Cross in free obedience, and no one forces us to take up our crosses either.  Many problems and pains come upon us without our asking for them in this life, even to the point of death, and it is so easy to refuse to suffer in a spiritually health way. As Job’s wife suggested, we can “Curse God and die!” (Job 2:9) in response to losses, obstacles, and disappointments.  We can refuse to offer our struggles to Christ and instead allow them to fuel our passions, destroy our faith, and corrupt our relationships with others.   No one can keep us from doing so, for freedom is an intrinsic dimension of being in God’s image as human persons. 

Only we can unite ourselves to Christ in His Great Self-Offering for the salvation of the world. Regardless of the circumstances, we may always use our freedom to take up our crosses and refuse to fall into despair, for any instance of struggle, pain, disappointment, or suffering provides an opportunity to deny ourselves and follow our Lord.  Difficulties by their nature present challenges to which we may respond in a Christlike way or according to our passions.  He offered up Himself fully upon the Cross and refused to respond in kind to those who hated and rejected Him.  Likewise, we may unite ourselves to Him in every dimension and circumstance of our lives, including those in which we are sorely tempted not to respond as He did. Illness, broken relationships with others, worries about the future, regrets about the past, crushed hopes, and even the worst losses imaginable present opportunities to grow in “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”  Saint Paul wrote that “those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”  (Gal. 5:22-24)

Our self-centered and distorted desires usually rear their ugly heads quickly when we face trying circumstances.  It often does not take much at all to set us off like Jonah when the vine that gave him shade was eaten by a worm.  That was a very small thing, but Jonah became so angry that he wished he would die. (Jonah 4:5-11)   Other times we face circumstances so grave that they call us into question from the depths of our souls and strongly tempt us to fall into despair about the meaning and purpose of our lives.  Whether in matters small or great, there is no lack of opportunity to take up our crosses as we struggle to find healing for our inflamed passions. 

Doing so usually does not require anything particularly dramatic or extraordinary.  It is normally a matter of focusing on the basic practices of the Christian life, such as refusing to accept sinful thoughts into our hearts, forgiving those who have wronged us, and trusting that nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 8:39) The more that we open our souls to the Lord’s healing strength through prayer, repentance, and serving our neighbors, the less time and energy we will have for stirring up and embracing the impassioned thoughts that lead to sinful actions.  The constant struggle to undertake this way of life is at the very heart of taking up our crosses, denying ourselves, and following Christ. 

We must also remain on guard against all the forms of idolatry that tempt us to gain the world at the expense of our souls.  The Lord rejected the temptation to repudiate the Cross for the sake of gaining earthly power and establishing a political kingdom.  We must likewise refuse to allow loyalty to any worldly agenda or group to obscure the demands of faithfulness to the way of Christ. That is true in matters seemingly large and small, ranging from our opinions about world affairs to how we treat our friends, neighbors, and family members.  We cannot serve two masters in any dimension of our lives.  Those who try to do so will risk losing their own souls in a vain effort to gain the world. The message of the Cross remains foolishness to those who make any scheme for success in this world their false god, no matter what it may be.  If we become so enamored with anything that we refuse to place faithfulness to Christ first in our lives, we will show by our actions that we are ashamed of our Lord and His Cross.  

In order to take up our crosses, we must choose to embrace the struggle of dying to our vain illusions about ourselves and our world.  Our hope is not in spiritual or moral perfection acquired merely by our own willpower, but in the gracious mercy of the One Who offered up Himself for our salvation purely out of love.  Through the Cross, He has brought life in the midst of death, light in the midst of darkness, and joy in the midst of despair.  We will receive His healing as we persistently offer ourselves to Him in humble faith, no matter what challenges and pains life brings us.  That is how we will die to the corrupting power of sin and enter into the blessedness of His Kingdom, which remains not of this world.  The only way to truly elevate the Holy Cross is by denying ourselves and taking up our own crosses to follow the Savior each day of our lives.  

 

 

 

The Martyrdom of Not Defining Ourselves by Our Passions and Sins: Homily for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost and the Sixth Sunday of Luke in the Orthodox Church

2 Corinthians 9:6-11; Luke 8:26-39

             A great deal is at stake in how we understand ourselves.  How others see us is up to them, but the self-definitions that we accept will shape us all profoundly.  If we identify ourselves in ways that obscure what it means to be a human person in God’s image and likeness, our spiritual vision will be out of focus.  But if our eyes are opened to the truth, we will be able to see clearly as we pursue the healing of our souls.

The wretched man in today’s gospel lesson identified himself to Christ as “Legion” because so many demons tormented him that he had lost any sense of his true self.  He did not even live a recognizably human life, as he had dwelt alone and naked in a cemetery for a long time.  The Savior’s mercy for this fellow was so profound that He took the initiative in giving him his life back.  The transformation was so shocking that the people of the region asked Christ to leave, for they were profoundly disturbed to see the man “clothed and in his right mind.”  He understandably wanted to go away with the Lord, for it would have been quite difficult for people to learn to relate to him as a neighbor and not as a dreaded monster.  He must also have been embarrassed by his former state.  Christ refused, however, and told him to “Return to your home, and declare all that God has done for you.”  Surely, there could be no greater sign of the Lord’s saving power than the witness of someone so visibly restored to the dignity of a child of God.

We must resist the temptation to think that such an extraordinary account has little to do with us.  The Lord’s deliverance of the demon-possessed man is a sign of His healing mercy for all humanity.  The Son of God became a human person in our world of corruption in order to liberate us all from living naked among the tombs.  Our first parents stripped themselves of the divine glory through prideful disobedience; that is when we became enslaved to the fear of death, which is the wages of sin.  Instead of fulfilling their basic calling to become more like God in holiness, they looked for fulfillment in gratifying their self-centered desires.  Such passions easily distort our sense of what it means to be ourselves, for we tend to accept as our standard whatever seems to come naturally in our world of corruption.  We may not call ourselves “Legion,” but all too often we are not even aware of how our thoughts, desires, words, and deeds hinder us from embracing more fully our true identity as those called to become “partakers of the divine nature” by grace.  We will find our true selves only by uniting ourselves in holiness to Christ from the depths of our hearts, for He is the New Adam Who embodies what it means to be truly human in the divine image and likeness.

Doing so means that we must deliberately reject the temptation to define ourselves in terms of our passions, temptations, and sins.  It means that we must turn away from the idolatry of making a false god in our own image in order to justify ourselves in believing and living however we want.  What is functional in fulfilling our self-centered desires in this world of corruption has nothing in   common with what is necessary for gaining the spiritual clarity to embrace the restoration and fulfillment of our humanity in Christ.  As St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, the one “who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly” and the one “who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.”  The more we unite ourselves to Christ in His great Self-Offering, the more fully open we will be to His healing of our souls.  Doing so requires the sacrifice of taking up our crosses as we die to the distortions of self that have become second nature to us.  Doing so requires a form of martyrdom in which we struggle to bear witness to the Savior’s victory over the power of sin and death in His glorious resurrection.  That is precisely what the formerly demon-possessed man did when, after his deliverance, he obeyed the Lord’s difficult instruction to “Return to your home, and declare all that God has done for you.”

Today we commemorate the Great Martyr Artemius, a Christian and a high-ranking military official serving under the Roman emperor Julian the Apostate.  When Artemius saw the torture of two Christian priests at the order of the pagan emperor, he boldly denounced Julian and told him, “Your death is near.” Julian then stripped Artemius of his military rank and had him brutally tortured.  The Lord appeared to Artemius in prison, healing him and strengthening him to endure further abuse before he was beheaded.  The wicked emperor Julian soon died while fighting the Persians, as the saint had foretold.

The Great Martyr Artemius knew that his identity was not as a servant of any empire or human ruler, but of the Lord.  He refused to allow attachment to power, success, or even life in this world to turn him away from fulfilling his vocation.  Like other martyrs, Saint Artemius was not simply a person of strong willpower, but someone so deeply united to Christ that he received divine strength to make the ultimate witness to the Savior’s victory over the very worst that the forces of evil can do.

Our paths to the Kingdom will probably be different from those of the martyrs, but the Savior empowers each of us to find the healing of our souls as we bear witness to His fulfillment of the human person in the divine image and likeness.  Christ does not call us to some vague spirituality that merely blesses people in fulfilling whatever desires they happen to have.  His Kingdom remains not of this world, even when we do our worst to distort religion into a tool for advancing the self-serving agenda of any group or individual, no matter how allegedly noble.  Until the coming fullness of the heavenly reign, there will be profound tension between the way of Christ and the way of the world.  He calls those who share in His life to find healing from corruption in all its forms, regardless of how strong our temptations may be to refuse to offer ourselves to Him fully. The journey to growth in holiness is never ending and goes to the very heart of us all.  Instead of trying to make it less demanding as we stumble along the way, we must continue pressing on as best we can, calling out humbly for the Lord’s mercy and strength as we become better living icons of His salvation.

The Christian life requires following the difficult path of taking up our crosses as we die to the stranglehold of the passions on our souls.  That is how we may all find liberation from the misery of being naked, alone, enslaved to the fear of death, and profoundly confused about our identity before God.  It is how we may stop diminishing ourselves according to the legion of our temptations and sins as we do the hard work of becoming more truly ourselves in Christ.  The martyrs refused to worship false gods and we must also, especially those that masquerade as being virtuous in the eyes of our culture.  They refused to let any attachments or inclinations keep them from making the ultimate witness to the Lord’s victory over the grave.  Their sufferings became their entryway into the blessedness of the heavenly kingdom. In the circumstances of our lives, we must do the same as we open even the darkest and more painful dimensions of our souls to the brilliant and healing light of Christ.  That is how we, like the man formerly called Legion, will find ourselves “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in [our] right mind[s].”  That is how we will become our true selves in Him.