Voting continues on various categories of “best” in Eastern Christian blogs. There are some very good blogs in the nominations. If you enjoy voting for things you will find the page here. I’ll keep a post up for your convenience until the voting ends in 19 days or so.
The following quote (of St. Seraphim of Sarov) is framed and mounted in the narthex of my parish. I first obtained the quote from my Archbishop:
You cannot be too gentle, too kind.
Shun even to appear harsh in your treatment of each other.
Joy, radiant joy, streams from the face of him who gives and kindles joy in the heart of him who receives.
All condemnation is from the devil. Never condemn each other…
Instead of condemning others, strive to reach inner peace.
Keep silent, refrain from judgment. This will raise you above the deadly arrows of slander, insult, and outrage and will shield your glowing hearts against all evil.
I am continuously puzzled by the fact that people are frequently unkind and just as frequently not gentle. I cannot point to myself as a model in this - I know my transgressions and my sin is ever before me. But it nevertheless remains a puzzle.
As I ponder the human heart I can see that judgment comes easily to many of us. And most people who are harsh in their judgments of others are just as harsh in their judgment of themselves. It’s as if we had a Freudian Super-Ego living inside our heads judging everything in sight. Of course, this gives us no peace and robs us of compassion.
It is particularly difficult for religious people - for the expectations we allow ourselves to entertain may be nothing less than perfection. If you are Orthodox and you’ve dabbled in the canons or rubrics there are entirely new areas in which to expect perfection.
Of course, the answer to this is not “lowering expectations.” Some fear that anything less than the strictest approach will lead to wanton libertinism. The answer is have the right expectations. St. Seraphim did not say, “You cannot be too kind, too gentle,” because he was a famous libertine or had low expectations of the human capacity for a spiritual life. He spoke as he did, primarily, because he knew God. His admonitions do not differ from those of Christ - unless the reader of Scripture is reading with a bitter heart.
The question of right expectations is a matter of reading the gospels correctly and flows from truly knowing God. Religious knowledge can easily be substituted for knowledge of God - they are not at all the same thing. The conflict between Christ and the Pharisees has been there for us from the beginning to tell us that religious knowledge is the wrong expectation. Perfect conformity to religious regulation may indeed be demonic. It is the Publican who returns home justified rather than the Pharisee (Luke 18:14).
“You cannot be too kind, too gentle,” is itself a proper statement of right expectation. We cannot be too kind, because God Himself is kind, “to the unthankful and the evil” (Luke 6:35). For various reasons, the religious culture which most of us have internalized maximizes the importance of avoiding sexual temptation, performing certain religious actions (particularly outward ones), maintaining correct belief (this is particularly important for many Orthodox - and is not incorrect - when rightly practiced), and violations of certain moral matters.
These things are not wrong in and of themselves - but they can also be performed (to some degree) with no reference to God. There is the danger of simply becoming conformed to the general and accepted standards of middle-class behavior. This is a far cry from the Sermon on the Mount, and may completely ignore the matter of the heart - where grace alone can make a difference.
Thus St. Seraphim offers an admonition: “You cannot be too kind, too gentle.” Both are actions of the heart (unless we are simply being unctious like Dicken’s Uriah Heap). Compassion for others and sympathy for their failings will bring the heart closer to the heart of God than any form of judging.
As St. Seraphim boldly stated: “All condemnation is of the devil. Never condemn each other.”
Somewhile back someone (not Orthodox) wrote to me about a recurring problem of anger in dealing with their children. My suggestion (very Orthodox) was to fall down at the feet of the child whenever this happened and to ask for their forgiveness (like the Orthodox do at Forgiveness Vespers). Such an act of humility not only teaches a valuable lesson to a child but also applied frequently enough to the heart will curb anger (by God’s grace). How do we see a heart change? By repentance and the sooner the better.
I think the same action, used in a marriage, would often have a beneficial effect.
In Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, the Prostitute Sonja (who is truly a saint), tells the murderer Raskolnikov, “Go to the crossroads, bow down to people, kiss the earth because you have sinned before it as well, and say aloud to the whole world: ‘I am a murderer.’”
Her concern is far more for the redemption of his heart, and not for any outward shame or embarassment. Embarrassment be damned! A man’s soul is at stake!
The same is true for us when we turn to questions of kindness or gentleness. Kindness and gentleness require patience, require restraint, require a compassion that sees the truth of another human being rather than the abstract form of an imagined perfection. Kiss the earth and do not fear to confess before all men - not if your heart is at stake.
May St. Seraphim pray for us and ask the good God to teach us the true meaning of kindness and gentleness and give our poor hearts the grace to do what seems so hard.
Voting continues on various categories of “best” in Eastern Christian blogs. There are some very good blogs in the nominations. If you enjoy voting for things you will find the page here.
Some years ago I stood by the bed of an elderly Pentecostal woman in mountains of East Tennessee. She was dying from respiratory complications - I was visiting her as a Hospice chaplain. We chatted about many things - mostly the things of God. She showed me a well-worn Bible she had owned for most of her life. In the front she had marked down the date for each occasion when she had finished reading the Bible from cover to cover. There were over 95 such dates - more than the years of her life.
As we were finishing the visit I offered prayers for her. I prayed for 5 or 10 minutes - a respectable length of prayer in the mountains. When I finished she looked up at me and said, “May I pray?” I told her, “Of course.”
She then began to pray, quietly, her breaths labored. Her prayer rose in fervor as did the shortness of her breath. Her prayer had to have lasted at least 20 minutes - it was mostly a prayer of praise and thanksgiving.
At last, her breath gave out and she whispered an Amen. I could not move from the spot. I said to her, “Sister, that was a fine prayer.”
She looked up at me with a wry smile and whispered, “You can’t pray too much!”
I have carried that scene around in my heart for about 10 years. I have hoped that my last breaths would be shaped into such words of praise.
There is a failure in much of modern Christianity - a failure that is marked by a passivity in our approach to God. Some would justify such passivity by deriding certain actions as an example of “works righteousness,” mistakenly thinking that being saved by grace and not by works means that all we should do as Christians is believe. This is not even good Protestantism.
It is interesting to take a short look at what St. Paul actually wrote about being saved by “grace through faith.” One of the most oft-quoted passages on the topic is found in Ephesians 2.
For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God - not because of works, lest any man should boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them (Ephesians 2:8-10).
Many will cite by memory the first part of this statement, but forget (or never knew) the second part. To be in Christ is to be a “new creation” (2 Cor. 5:17). But the nature of that “new creation” is clearly described here by St. Paul. To be a new creation is to be ourselves the “workmanship” of God, that is, creations of grace. But he clearly states that we are “created in Christ Jesus for good works.”
Thus it is that as Christians we are enjoined to:
Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you (1 Thes. 5:16-18).
To this could be added admonitions to “walk in love,” to “forgive our enemies,” to “give without expecting in return.” The list of New Testament commandments, clearly intended for us as we walk the path of grace, is quite extensive - together pointing towards the call of God in our lives to be conformed to the image of Christ.
A friend recently told me of a conversation with a non-Orthodox Christian who could not understand the many hours of prayer and thanksgiving that mark the Orthodox services of Holy Week. To this Christian, such activities seemed like “works righteousness.”
The Orthodox do not pray because we think we will gain any merit by such action, but because we were “created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in.” The goodness of God transcends our ability to give thanks.
In the simple words of a dying Pentecostal in the mountains of East Tennessee, “You can’t pray to much.”
I am reminded of a saying in the Desert Fathers: Prayer is a struggle to a man’s dying breath.
I’ve not only read this statement - I’ve actually seen it. May God grant me the grace to struggle so until my last breath.
I have wrtten before of my Father-in-law. Regular readers of this blog will know that he was a man of great faith whom I never knew to be less than thankful to God. The goodness of God was doubtless his greatest joy and favorite topic of conversation. He was also a man of great prayer.
I found out early in my married life just how great his prayers were. In the course of a conversation when I questioned how easily he accepted me into the family (I would have been far more hesitant had I been him), he stated very matter-of-factly, “Well, when Beth (my wife) was first born, we began praying for her future spouse. When she brought you home, we trusted God that He knew what He was doing.”
That was that. My presence was accepted as a matter of faith. It also meant, I have come to realize, that my marriage carried a treasure that was beyond comprehension: twenty years of the prayers of a righteous couple for a man (and a boy) whom they would only someday meet. It was a dowry (if you will) much finer than much gold (to use a Biblical expression).
I have come to understand enough about prayer to know that my life had a hand upon it that I would never know until I was blessed enough to marry a young woman whom I met in a prayer group.
I have learned over the years that the dowry was more than 20 years of prayers: it was an on-going gift of prayer and compassion that was my wife’s own gift to our family. Thus it is that 32 years into this life has given us four children that are not only the joy of our life, but who themselves are clearly the beneficiaries of much prayer.
I cannot, on this Mother’s Day, do more than say, “Glory to God for All Things! Glory to God Who blesses beyond our capacity to understand or to comprehend! Glory to God for His goodness!”
Happy Mother’s Day, my dearest.
The second Sunday after our Lord’s Pascha is always remembered as the “Sunday of the Myrrhbearers,” when the Church remembers the women and men who cared for our Lord’s body after His death on the Cross. Joseph and Nicodemus are the two men remembered. Mary and Martha of Bethany, Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Cleophas, Salome, Susanna and Joanna (and in some accounts Mary, the Mother of God) are those numbered as Myrrhbearers.
Some of them are among the first witnesses to the Resurrection of Christ. They are certainly the most fearless in their love and devotion to Christ when everyone else was hiding. Theirs is also an excellent example of how the Church “reads” Holy Scripture. There are the bare facts listed in Scripture, from which we may glean names and deeds attempted or accomplished. What we do not find there is theological commentary (at least not on this particular action) or more than the bare facts.
But the Church does not gather to rehearse bare facts: it gathers to worship. In its worship it affirms as much of the fullness of the faith as has been given to us - in Scripture - in doctrine - in the whole of Tradition. The Church does not stop with the facts for the facts point beyond themselves to eternal truth - and it is this eternal Truth that the Church proclaims.
Thus in Orthodox worship, Christ is almost always mentioned together with His Father and the Holy Spirit, for now the Church proclaims the fullness of the Trinitarian faith. We can do no less. We cannot speak of the Cross without at the same time saying all that the Cross has accomplished.
And thus it is, when hymns honoring the Myrrhbearers are sung, they reach into the depths of theology and sing what was True that day, though the Myrrhbearers would not yet have known it. It is the Church singing the fullness. For as the “Fullness of Him that filleth all in all,” how can the Church sing less?
Hymn to Joseph and Nicodemus from the Vespers of the Sunday of the Myrrhbearers:
Joseph, together with Nicodemus,
took Thee down from the Tree,
Who clothe Thyself with light as with a garment.
He gazed on Thy body - dead, naked, and unburied,
and, in grief and tender compassion, he lamented:
“Woe is me, my sweetest Jesus!
A short while ago, the sun beheld Thee hanging on the Cross,
And it hid itself in darkness.
The earth qualked in fear at the sight.
The veil of the Temple was torn in two.
Lo, now I see Thee willingly submit to death for our sake.
How shall I bury Thee, O my God?
How can I wrap Thee in a shroud?
How can I touch Thy most pure body with my hands?
What songs can I sing for Thy exodus, O compassionate One?
I magnify Thy Passion.
I glorify Thy burial.
and Thy holy Resurrection,
crying, ‘O Lord, glory to Thee.’”
It was noted in a comment earlier that this Blog was not nominated (for the Eastern Christian Blog Awards) in the category of theology. I should say quickly that I’m honored to be suggested as a blog worthy of consideration in any category and that there are some excellent theological blogs out there that I read regularly. I was not disappointed to be in a category other than theology (I do not have a category for what I write), but mostly because I would not be worthy of being classified as a theologian nor do I claim the title.
In Orthodoxy, “a theologian is one who prays and one who prays is a theologian,” and I am certain that my prayer life does not qualify me as a theologian. It is too fitful, and fraught with weakness to rise to the level of “prayer” many days. My own flesh constantly pulls me away from the altar and from my icon corner.
I seek to write as simply as I can because I know (truly know) so little. My hope is that the little I know is of some use to someone. I ask and pray for nothing more (including awards). I’ve received a couple awards along the way but didn’t know enough about how to operate a blog site to post them.
Like the honors given to clergy (especially those of us in the Russian tradition), they can serve most dangerously as things for which you have to give an account on the day of judgment. When my Archbishop awarded me the purple skoufia, he did so with the words, “Here, this is good for nothing.” He meant it in jest, but it was also the truth. His own humility speaks volumes that no awards could ever say.
I reprint (for at least the third time) my writing entitled “I Am An Ignorant Man.” I don’t do so to pretend to a humility I do not possess - but because it is the truth. I am grateful for comments from people who have been helped in their reading, but I do not look for them here - thus I have turned the comments off on this particular post. Be blessed.
An Ignorant Man
I am an ignorant man, despite posting writings on all kinds of things. But make no mistake - I am an ignorant man. Thus, I would always counsel any reader to remember, these are the writings of an ignorant man.
Why would I say this? Because it is true. How am I ignorant? I am as most of us are - I do not see the world clearly for what it is. I do not see other people clearly for what they are. I do not see myself clearly for what I am. And most importantly, I do not see God for Who He Is.
Ignorance cannot be an excuse. It should be an impetus to seek, to ask, to knock. If we do not know God we will perish - this is absolutely true. And ignorance in other matters brings its own perishing as well.
I don’t think I have always thought I was ignorant - indeed, I know I did not always think this. But as years have gone on, either I’ve become more ignorant, or I’ve become more aware of how ignorant I truly am. What do any of us actually know of another human being? The Scriptures tell us that our true life is hid with Christ in God (Colossians), thus the truth of any person is a mystery. And I know almost nothing of this mystery - not only towards myself but also and especially towards those around me. How do I know what another man needs? I do not know. God knows.
What do any of us actually know of God? I believe we only know of God what has been revealed to us in Christ. And just reading the revelation is a world away from actually knowing and “having” the revelation. That comes very slowly indeed.
The Elder Sophrony wrote that such revelations come in something like a “flash of lightning, when the heart is burning with love.” These relatively rare experiences accumulate over a lifetime:
The accumulation in the experience of the Church of such ‘moments’ of enlightenment has led organically to their reduction into one whole. This is how the first attempt at the systemization of a live theology came about, the work of St. John of Damascus, a man rich, too, in personal experience. The disruption of this wondrous ascent to God in the unfathomable wealth of higher intellection is brought about, where there is a decline of personal experience, by a tendency to submit the gifts of Revelation to the critical faculty of our reason - by a leaning towards ‘philosophy of religion.’ The consequences are scholastic accounts of theology in which, again, there is more philosophy than Spirit of life. (From his work On Prayer).
I ask those of you who read this blog to remember that I am an ignorant man and to pray for me, if you remember to. I pray for you all.
A Romanian version of this article can be found here.
A French translation can be found here.
Voting has begun on various categories of “best” in Eastern Christian blogs. There are some very good blogs in the nominations. If you enjoy voting for things you will find the page here.
How may we preserve peace of soul among the temptations of our times?
Judging by the Scriptures and the temper of folk today, we are living through the final period. Yet must we still preserve our souls’ peace, without which - as St. Seraphim said, who upheld Russia by his prayer - we cannot be saved. During his lifetime the Lord preserved Russia because of his prayer; and after St. Seraphim another pillar reached up from earth to heaven - Father John of Kronstadt. Let us pause and consider Father John of Krondstadt, for he was of our day, we witnessed his prayers, whereas the others we did not know.
We remember how when his carriage was brought round after the Liturgy, and he stepped into it to take his seat, people surged about him, seeking his blessing; and in all the hurly-burly his soul remained wrapt in God. His attention was not distracted in the midst of the crowd and he did not lose his peace of soul. How did he manage this? That is our question.
He achieved this and was not distracted because he loved the people and never ceased praying to the Lord for them….
Just as Father John of Kronstadt preserved his peace of soul by praying for the people without ceasing, so we lose our peace because we do not love the people of God. The Holy Apostles and Saints desired the salvation of the world, and dwelling among men they prayed ardently for them. The Holy Spirit gave them the strength to love mankind. As for us, if we love not our brother we cannot have peace.
Let every man think on this.
From the teachings of St. Silouan:
The man who likes to have his own way will never know peace.
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