An Orthodox Christian Church located in Portland, OR
Address: [Click for Directions]
2210 S.W. Dolph Court
Portland, OR  97219

Phone: (503) 245-2403
Regular Weekly Services: [Check the Calendar]
Sunday: 8:30AM - Matins, 9:30AM - Liturgy
Tuesday: 6:00PM - Vespers
Thursday: 6:00PM - Vespers
Saturday: 6:00PM - Vespers
Home Calendar About Us Articles Links

Archive for December, 2007

An excerpt from The Life of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

(More on the life of St. Nicholas will be forthcoming on this website. We thank Petr Chudoba for his research and graciousness in sharing his love and devotion to the Wonderworker of Myra and Lycea. For the complete text, write to: pchudoba@rochester.rr.com.)


…Since the ninth century in the East and the eleventh century in the West, St. Nicholas has been one of the most popular Saints of Christendom: a patron of countries, provinces, dioceses and cities; the Saint of sailors, children, merchants, pawnbrokers and others; a man celebrated in pious custom and folklore; and one represented countless times in icons, paintings and carvings.

An anonymous Greek wrote in the tenth century that,

“…the West as well as the East acclaims and glorifies him. Wherever there are people, in the country and the town, in the villages, in the isles, in the furthest parts of the Earth, his name is revered and churches are built in his honor. Images of him are set up, panegyrics preached and festivals celebrated. All Christians, young and old, men and women, boys and girls, reverence his memory and call upon his protection. And his favors, which know no limit of time and continue from age to age, are poured out over all the Earth; the Scythians know them, as do the Indians and the barbarians, the Africans as well as the Italians.”

St. Nicholas grew to such great popularity in the Orthodox Church that his icon eventually became the fourth most important icon in the hierarchy of the iconostasis, the wooden lacework that separates the altar from the congregation.

To disregard the legends (of St. Nicholas) would be to condemn ourselves to lose so much of the past. Let us give the word back its real meaning: legends are “legenda,” things we must read. There are icons, statues, paintings and stained-glass windows depicting St. Nicholas everywhere in Christendom. In memory of the devoted hands that made them, and of the innumerable people who have prayed beside them, let us quite simply read these legends, with, if possible, the eyes of the past in search of God’s true witness, St. Nicholas.

The Early Years of St. Nicholas

Nicholas was exceedingly well brought up by his parents and walked piously in their footsteps. He then strove to live according to the Christian principles he’d learned from them and from his parents.

His mother and father taught him to be generous to others, especially to those in need.

Nicholas learned that helping others makes one richer in life than anything else.

St. Simeon Metaphrastes wrote that young Nicholas showed from the beginning that he wanted to please God.

Nicholas was nine years old when a plague swept through his village. Both his father and mother died. Although Nicholas moved in with friends of his parents, he felt lost without the two people he’d loved so dearly. The seed that they had planted in him, however, continued to grow.

Young Nicholas often visited his uncle Nicholas, who was bishop over Patara, and helped him with the Divine Liturgy there. Nicholas assisted the older men at the church so that he’d benefit from their example and guidance.

Under Uncle Nicholas’ guardianship, the young boy learned the texts of prayers, details of rituals, and showed a remarkably quick mind and sincere devotion.

Nicholas passed entire days and nights in church lifting up his heart to God in prayer and reading the Holy Scriptures and other Christian books. He meditated on spiritual knowledge, enriching himself in the divine grace of the Holy Spirit and creating within himself a worthy dwelling for Him.

His uncle rejoiced at the spiritual success and deep piety of his nephew. He ordained Nicholas a reader in the church, and then elevated him to the dignity of presbyter, making him his assistant and entrusting him to speak, instructing the flock. In serving the Lord, young Nicholas was fervent of spirit, and in his proficiency with questions of faith, he was like an elder, which aroused the wonder and deep respect of believers.

Constantly at work and in prayer, presbyter Nicholas displayed great kind-heartedness towards the flock, and towards the afflicted who came to him for help.

St Nicholas added labors to labors; keeping vigil and remaining in unceasing prayer and fasting, he, being mortal, strove to imitate the bodiless ones. Merciful, trustworthy and loving what is right, he walked among the people like an angel of God.

Having obtained his parents’ inheritance, St Nicholas distributed it to the needy. For he paid no attention to temporal riches. His hand was outstretched to the poor, on whom it poured alms richly, as a water-filled river abounds in streams.

His parents had left him an inheritance, which enabled him to buy food for the hungry, to dress the naked and care for orphans and widows. One story claims that he would dress up in a disguise and go out into the streets and give gifts to poor children.

Nicholas was careful to remain anonymous with his charities. Usually he preferred to receive no credit for his gifts, desiring rather to make his visits to the homes of the poor and unfortunate under the cloak of darkness so that no one would know who he was. Nicholas felt that if anyone should receive the praise and glory, it should be God, and not himself.

“’But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly.’” (Matthew 6:3-4)

People considered him a Saint even during his lifetime, and invoked his aid when in torment or distress.

Sources on St. Nicholas Through the Ages

Actual biographic data on Nicholas is severely limited. Although he lived in the fourth century, the records of his life and miracles – at least those records that have remained intact – only began to accumulate from the sixth century onward. To what degree these are based on earlier writings or oral traditions is hardly ever clear. The various Vitae (life stories) of St. Nicholas borrow heavily from each other.

Historians readily admit that the seventh and eighth centuries in the East were “dark ages,” so little have they left us in the way of writings; we have nothing from them about St. Nicholas. But, on the other hand, the ninth and tenth centuries give us an abundance of documents about him. He was venerated throughout the Christian Church at that time. Calendars put his name to the sixth of December.

Many people wrote about the life of St. Nicholas throughout the ages. This appears to be the order of the main writings:

Archimandrite Michael (ninth century): His Vita Per Michaëlem is said to be the earliest of all the biographies of St. Nicholas. The author says that others have written about St. Nicholas before him, but it’s clear from his text that no complete biography existed before his time; still, at least partial accounts must, in fact, have been written. Michael also refers to an oral tradition he received from a monk. His work is punctuated by moral and theological considerations.

Methodius (ninth century): The oldest known account of the life of St. Nicholas is by Methodius, Bishop of Constantinople, 842 to 846 AD.

Simeon Logotheta Metaphrastes (tenth century): Simeon collected the lives of the Saints from oral tradition and written collections. He copied some lives as written and rewrote others. He arranged the lives in the order of the Saints’ feast days, and his work became so popular that many earlier hagiography has been lost. His Vita Per Metaphrasten was the last classical Greek text on the life of St. Nicholas. It drew upon the Vita Per Michaëlem and the Laudatioi Sancti Nicolai by Methodius. This biography was the most widely read and, in fact, became the generally accepted and, so to speak, canonical text on St. Nicholas. It was one of the chief sources for all later Western biographies.

(There are many hagiographers in the Western Christian world, but space here doesn’t allow us to list them all.)

Any given detail we are told about St. Nicholas may or may not correspond with historical reality. While we do not deny the possibility of miracles, it is up to us which of these particular miracles we accept. There is no incontestable evidence for the truth of the details of his life and miracles.

The Icon: Theology written in light and color.

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

The Lord is God and has revealed Himself to us

Because “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1:14), Christ is truly a human person. As a human, He is truly the “image (literally, “icon”) of the invisible God,” and who has seen Him has seen the Father (Jn 12:45, 14:9; Col 1:15; 1 Cor 11:7; 2 Cor 4:4). Thus, an icon of Christ affirms the reality of the incarnation.

The Holy Spirit speaks through line and color

When one paints an icon, one opens a gateway for God. One opens a window to heaven for us. The Spirit of God speaks behind the lines and colors of an icon, telling the worshipper things the art critic cannot see. In viewing an icon, we should not look at it analytically. We should allow ourselves to be looked at by God.

The icon reveals a borderland

Not unlike the wardrobe and lamp-post as markers of the frontier between us and Narnia, the icon is a borderland of holiness where the completely foreign is brought together with the familiar. Through the icon we come face to face with Christ, with his Mother, with the saints

The icon reveals the great cloud of witnesses

It is the task of the iconographer to open our eyes to the actual presence of the Kingdom of God in the world and to remind us that fellow-citizens of the saints, members of the household of God, the Body of Christ. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Heb. 12:1). We are part of the whole Church. This includes the living and the departed at all times and in all places. Icons of the saints are our Christian family picture gallery, but also much more.

The icon reveals a world of mystery

The icon introduces us to a world of mystery — the kingdom of God. Yet at the same time we discover that this mystery is not only “far away” and transcendent. It is also hidden within each of us — closer to us than our own heart; it is immanent. “The kingdom of God is within you.” (Lk. 17:21) An icon can be a sacramental medium that reveals not only the presence of the Kingdom come into our midst, but also the Kingdom that is within us.

The icon reveals a the Faith

“Icons in our churches and homes are opened books to remind us of God. If one lacks learning or the leisure to study theology, he or she has only to enter a church to see unfolded on the walls all the mysteries of the Christian religion. “If a pagan asks you to show him your faith, take him into church and place him before the icons.” ( St. John of Damascus)

The icon reveals transfiguration

An Orthodox icon is not simply religious art that depicts the subject realistically (as in a snapshot or portrait). The things of this world are transitory and will eventually rot and disappear. The Orthodox icon depicts the subject in a manner that looks beyond this world to the world to come. The icon shows a transfigured humanity — a transfigured world: a world that is “good,” (Gen. 1) spirit-bearing, and even deified (1 Cor. 15:28). This is why icons are sometimes called “windows” to the Kingdom of Heaven. The Father and the Holy Spirit cannot and must not be depicted (“No one has seen God” — Jn. 1:18). However, Jesus Christ, His mother, St. John the Baptist, the Apostles and the saints can be depicted in iconographic form because they themselves were visible in the body.

The icon is liturgical, anamnetic art

The icon exists in a specific context. If divorced from that context, it ceases to be truly itself. The icon is part of an act of worship; its context is invocation and doxology; it is liturgical art. It is not religious or decorative art. It is anamnetic art. By means of the icon, we can be present to God; God can be present to us — the icon is a meeting point encounter / anamnesis; the icon enfolds us; the icon invites us to follow a journey, to engage in a pilgrimage; the icon helps us enter into a new and transfigured world; vision and contemplation becomes participation and communion.

The language of the icon:

  • Color; style; line; movement; impassivity; gesture all have significance — laid down very specifically over the centuries.
  • Reverse perspective vs. vanishing point — we are the focal point of the icon; we are the reason it has been painted.

Thomas Merton:

An icon is not a painting merely of “our dear friend Jesus” but at once portrays his divinity as well as his humanity; his absolute demands on us as well as his infinite mercy. An icon bears witness to the incarnation. It is a sacrament of his presence. The great theologian affirming the place of icons in Christian life was St. John of Damascus, writing from Mar Saba Monastery in the desert southeast of Jerusalem. In his essay On the Divine Images , he argues:

If we made an image of the invisible God, we would certainly be in error … but we make the image of God incarnate who appeared on earth in the flesh, who in his ineffable goodness, lived with us and assumed our nature; the volume, the form, and the color of the flesh…. Since the invisible One became visible by taking on flesh, you can fashion the image of him who you saw. He who has neither body nor form nor quantity nor quality — being of divine nature — took on the condition of a slave and reduced himself to quantity and quality by clothing himself in human features. Therefore, paint on wood — and present for contemplation — Him who desired to become visible.

Rowan Williams:

The divinity of Jesus is inseparable from his humanity. Nonetheless, his divine life reveals itself through his human nature. It transfigures it. It deifies it. An icon of the Savior does not show a humanity apart from divine life. An icon of the savior depicts a humanity soaked through with divine life. “We don’t depict just a slice of history when we depict Jesus. We show a life-force radiating with the light and force of God. And if we approach the whole matter in prayer and adoration, the image that is made becomes in turn something that in its own way radiates this light and force.” In the icon of the Lord we can see the transfigured and transfiguring reality of Jesus.

Yet, paradoxically at the same time, Thomas Merton:

What one ‘sees’ in prayer before an icon is not an external representation of a historical person, but an interior presence in light, which is the glory of the transfigured Christ, the experience of which is transmitted in faith from generation to generation by those who have ‘seen,’ from the Apostles on down. So when I say that my Christ is the Christ of the icons, I mean that he is reached not through any scientific study but through direct faith and the mediation of the liturgy, art, worship, prayer, theology of light, etc., that is all bound up with the Russian and Greek tradition.


“I do not worship matter, I worship the Creator of all matter Who became matter for my sake, Who deigned to inhabit matter, and Who through matter accomplished my salvation.” (On the Divine Images, 1:16; PG 94:1245C)

Icons are central to Holy Tradition and are necessary to help protect the Christian dogma of the Incarnation and Salvation, the very essence of our Christian Faith.

When we consider the Incarnation of the Savior, we can see that there is a primary reason for iconography. It is precisely by means of the Incarnation that God enters the material realm to which He gives new birth and life by means of assuming our flesh, so that we, too, become temples and bearers of God (Gen 1:26-27; 1 Cor. 3:16-17; 6:19; 15:49; 2 Cor. 6:6).

The Theophany in the Jordan and the Transfiguration on Mt. Tabor prefigured the Resurrection of the Savior. In these cosmic events, the Lord sanctifies all matter, which can now serve to represent Him as well as represent the mysteries of salvation and the restoration of the material realm to its originally created intent: theophany and communion.

“God became a human person by nature so that human persons could become divine by grace.” — i.e., the en-fleshment of the Word of God for the en-Wordment of the flesh of humanity — that is, transfiguration and “theosis” of the human person, and by extension, of the whole cosmos. We do not become God but we participate in the very inner life of God.


Alexander Schmemann, The Historical Road of Eastern Orthodoxy :

The icon is inextricably connected with the unveiling in the Church’s consciousness of the meaning of the incarnation: the fullness of the Divinity that dwells bodily in Christ. No one has ever seen God, but the man Christ reveals Him in full. An image of the man Jesus is therefore an image of God, for Christ is the Divine-Human. If the material universe and its matter can be sanctified by the grace of the Holy Spirit…if [through] the water of Baptism [we are granted] forgiveness of sins; if the bread and wine of the Eucharist make present to us the Body and Blood of Christ, then a portrayal of Christ, the product of human art, may also be filled with the grace of His presence and power — may become not only an image but also a spiritual reality. In the icon there is…the gift of a new dimension in human art, because Christ has given a new dimension to humanity itself. Everything in the world and the world itself has taken on a new meaning in the Incarnation of God. Everything has become open to sanctification; matter itself has become a channel of the grace of the Holy Spirit.

Bishop Kallistos Ware, from “Eastern Christendom” in Oxford History of Christianity

“To refuses to depict Christ is somehow to doubt the fullness of his human nature. Icons are therefore a guarantee that the incarnation of the Word is genuine and not illusory. By virtue of the icon, we pass within the dimensions of sacred space and sacred time, entering into a living, effectual contact with the person or mystery depicted. The icon is a way in, a point of meeting, a place of encounter.”

No one could describe the Word of the Father,
But when He took flesh from you, O Theotokos,
He consented to be described
And restored the fallen image to its former state
by uniting it to divine beauty.
We confess and proclaim our salvation in word and images.

(Hymn for the First Sunday of Great Lent)

St. John of Damascus:

“If you have understood that the Incorporeal One became man for you, then it is evident that you can portray His human image. Since the Invisible One became visible by assuming a human body, you can make a picture of Him Who was seen. Since He Who has neither body, nor form, nor quantity, nor quality, Who transcends all grandeur by the very excellence of His nature; who, being of divine nature, assumed the condition of a servant, He thus reduced himself to quantity and quality by clothing Himself with human features; therefore, paint on wood and present Him for contemplation, Who desired to become visible.” (On the Divine Images, 1:8; PG 94:1239)

St. Theodore the Studite:

“Nowhere did Christ order that even the briefest word be written about Him. Nonetheless, His image was sketched in writing by the apostles, and preserved for us to the present day. So, what is represented on the one hand with paper and ink, is likewise represented on the icon with various colors and different materials.” (Refutation, 1:10; PG 99:340D)

“From the moment Christ is born of a mother who can be depicted, He naturally has an image which corresponds to that of His mother. If He could not be represented by art, this would mean that He was not born of a mother who can be depicted, but was born only of the Father, and that He was not Incarnate. But this contradicts the whole divine plan of our salvation.” (Refutation 3:2; PG 99:417C)

St. Maximus of Tyre (2nd cent),

On the Dispute about Images:

God Himself, the Father and fashioner of all that is, older than the sun or the sky, greater than time and eternity and all the flow of being, is un-nameable by any lawgiver, un-utterable by any voice, not to be seen by any eye. And we, being unable to apprehend His essence, use the help of sounds and names and icons of beaten gold and ivory and silver. We use the help of plants, rivers, mountain peaks and torrents, yearning for knowledge of Him. In our weakness, we name all that is beautiful in this world after His nature, just as happens to earthly lovers. To them the most beautiful sight will be the actual outline of the beloved, but for remembrance’ sake, they will be happy in the sight of a lyre, a little spear, a chair, or perhaps even the running ground, or anything in the world that wakens the memory of the beloved. Why should I further examine and pass judgment about images? Let men know what is divine, let them know. That is all. If a Greek is stirred to the remembrance of God by the art of Pheidias, another man by a river, another by fire, I have no anger for their divergences. Only let them know, let them love, let them remember.

St Basil the Great (+379):

Arise now before me, you iconographers of the saint’s (i.e., St. Barlaam of Antioch’s) merits…let me behold this fighter most vividly depicted in your icon. Let Christ also, the Instigator of the battle, be depicted therein…

Debunking The Da Vinci Code

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

The Da Vinci Code is a murder mystery shrouded in a conspiracy theory, a novelistic thriller, an airplane book, the kind of book you read when you want to waste time, an easy read that combines a fast narrative pace with short chapters.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE DA VINCI CODE?

Many people are reading author Dan Brown’s latest novel, a work of fiction, as if it accurately portrayed the facts about Christ, the New Testament, the Church and Christian history. But sadly, like one of my son’s roommates at Boston College, many people reading The Da Vinci Code come away from the book with their faith in Christ and the Church shaken. The definition of fiction according to the American Heritage Dictionary:

1. An imaginative pretense.
2. A lie.
3. A literary work, such as a novel, whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.

The confusion about this book begins on the opening page where the author, prior to actually beginning his story, states that: “All descriptions of artwork, architecture, documents and secret rituals in this novel are accurate.” Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, there is so much that is historically false in this book that it’s hard to know where to begin. One of the main characters in the book is an Englishman named Sir Leigh Teabing who is actually the bad guy, the mysterious “Teacher” responsible for ordering the murder of the curator of the Louvre with which the book opens. But Mr. Brown never lets the fast paced action of the book stand in the way of a good lecture and beginning with chapter 55, that’s exactly what the Teabing character delivers. Let’s begin by looking at some of the things that are said there about the Bible and the 1st Ecumenical Council.

THE LORD JESUS, THE BIBLE & THE 1ST ECUMENICAL COUNCIL

FICTION: “The Bible did not arrive by fax from heaven” declares Teabing. “The Bible is a product of man, my dear. Not of God. The Bible did not magically fall from the clouds. The Bible, as we know it today, was collated by the pagan Roman emperor Constantine the Great. In 325 AD, he decided to unify Rome under a single religion: Christianity. Constantine needed to strengthen the new Christian tradition and held a famous gathering known as the Council of Nicea. Until that moment in history, Jesus was viewed by his followers as a mortal prophet….a great and powerful man, but a man nonetheless. A mortal. Jesus’ establishment as the Son of God was officially proposed and voted on by the Council of Nicea. A relatively close vote at that. Nonetheless, establishing Christ’s divinity was critical to the further unification of the Roman Empire and to the new Vatican power base.

Constantine commissioned and financed a new Bible, which omitted those gospels that spoke of Christ’s human traits and embellished those gospels that made him godlike. The earlier gospels were outlawed, gathered up and burned.”

FACT: Although there was a great deal of consensus among the Churches as to what constituted the New Testament well before the Council of Nicea, the first person to list the 27 books that all Christians today accept as the New Testament was not Constantine the Great but Athanasius the Great, the bishop and patriarch of Alexandria in Egypt, in a circular letter to all the Churches in Egypt written in 367AD, 42 years after the 1st Ecumenical Council. It was not Constantine who determined the canon of the New Testament as part of a political power play, but the Church, in the persons of its bishops and teachers.

FACT: We would agree that the New Testament “did not arrive by fax from heaven.” The books of the New Testament were written by the apostles in order to get the story about Jesus straight. This is made clear, for example, in the opening verses of the Gospel of Luke 1: 1-4, where Luke, a friend and disciple of the apostle Paul, states that he wrote his gospel as “an orderly account” of the life, ministry, death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus after having “carefully studied” and consulting “eyewitnesses.”

Virtually all scholars agree that Luke’s gospel was written sometime between 80 and 90 AD at the latest. Some scholars theorize that his gospel was written even earlier. Mark’s gospel was certainly written earlier, no later than 65AD, probably in Rome, within only a few years of the execution of Peter and Paul during the persecution of Christians under Nero. All of the Gospels proclaim that Jesus was not “a mortal prophet” and the disciples understood that Jesus was far more than just a man. When the disciples are asked by Jesus, “Who do you say that I am?” the apostle Peter responds: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!” (Matthew 16:16). Nathaniel, another one of the 12 apostles, declares to Jesus, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (John 1:49). After Jesus calms a storm and walks on water, the Gospel of Matthew records that the disciples “exclaimed: Truly you are the Son of God!” (Matthew14:33). In fact, Jesus is called “the Son of God” more than fifty times in the books of the New Testament! It would certainly be a surprise to the apostles (including Paul) to learn that they did not proclaim Jesus to be the Son of God and that this had to wait until the 1st Ecumenical Council. It is therefore utterly false to assert that “Jesus was viewed by his followers as a mortal prophet….a great and powerful man, but a man nonetheless” prior to the Council of Nicea. Just the opposite is true: the 1st Ecumenical Council was held in Nicea to uphold the New Testament teaching that Jesus is the Word and Son of God against the false teaching of an Egyptian man named Arius, a priest who taught that Jesus was more than a man but less than God – a kind of super angel. Athanasius, the future patriarch of Alexandria, attended the 1st Ecumenical Council as a young deacon. And, by the way, the vote was not “relatively close” at all. Of the 318 bishops who attended, all but 2 sided with the New Testament and the apostles and not Arius.

FACT: In the 4th century, during the reign of Constantine, there was no such thing as “the new Vatican power base.” This is little more than an anti-Roman Catholic slur, one of many contained throughout the book. In fact, there was no such thing as the Vatican as we understand it today. For Mr. Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code, the only Church is the Roman Catholic Church and he reads back into the 4th century the medieval rise and development of the papacy in the West. This is anachronistic. The Vatican, as we understand it today, is the result of the fall of the Roman Empire in western Europe in the 5th and 6th centuries, the increasing civil responsibilities of the papacy during the early Middle Ages, the emergence of the papal states and a number of other historical processes stretching over many centuries, long after Constantine’s death. And finally, the modern Vatican state is a creation of the 19th century and the rise of Italian nationalism.

JESUS & MARY MAGDELENE

FICTION: Perhaps the most outrageous and ludicrous assertion made in this novel is the character of Sir Leigh Teabing’s statement that “the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene is part of the historical record.” Two reasons are then given for this amazing assertion. First, according to Robert Langdon, the novel’s main character, “Because Jesus was a Jew and the social decorum during that time virtually forbid a Jewish man to be unmarried. According to Jewish custom, celibacy was condemned.” Second, Teabing insists that the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene is mentioned specifically in two ancient documents, The Gospel of Philip and The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, which he calls, together with the Dead Sea Scrolls, “the earliest Christian records.”

FACT: There is not one shred of evidence accepted by any credible historian stating that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. First, while it is true that “Jewish custom” encouraged marriage, it was not at all unheard of for Jews to practice celibacy. Perhaps the two most famous cases are Jeremiah, the Old Testament prophet of the 7th century B.C. who abstained from marriage as a sign to the Jewish people that the end of the kingdom of Judah was near (Jeremiah 16:1-9); and the Qumran community, a proto-monastic sect within Judaism at the time of Jesus responsible for producing and probably preserving the Dead Sea Scrolls so often mentioned in The Da Vinci Code as part of the “earliest Christian records.” Actually, the Dead Sea Scrolls, initially discovered in 1947, contain no “Christian records” whatsoever because they are the products of an ancient Jewish community. Rather, they contain – among other things – some of the oldest known manuscripts of the Old Testament. Ironically, the Dead Sea Scrolls were produced by a community of male Jewish celibates, precisely the kind of people Langdon asserts couldn’t have existed within Judaism at the time of Jesus.

FACT: Both The Gospel of Philip and The Gospel of Mary Magdalene are commonly called “gnostic” gospels by New Testament scholars and historians today. They are pseudonymous works notoriously unreliable as historical documents and in fact contain no historical outline of events in the life of Christ whatsoever, in stark contrast to the canonical New Testament Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John that clearly speak in historical terms of the birth, baptism, ministry, crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.

FACT: Gnosticism is an umbrella term that modern scholars use to describe a number of religious movements in the ancient Roman world, many of which were not at all related to Christianity, all of which had several common themes: that members of the various gnostic sects had a secret knowledge not available to others; that there were a series of lesser mediating divinities sometimes called Archons, sometimes called Aeons; and a dualistic outlook, an antithesis between matter and spirit, body and soul and a hatred of the physical world that was often believed to have been created not by God but by a lesser, evil demigod to imprison the souls of human beings. None of these beliefs is Christian.

To take only one example from The Da Vinci Code, The Gospel of Philip cited by Teabing as proof that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married was produced at the end of the 3rd century AD, almost two hundred years after the Gospel of John, the last of the four New Testament gospels to be written. It is hardly part of “the earliest Christian records.” Scholars today agree that it was produced within circles faithful to the teaching of a man named Valentinus, an Egyptian gnostic teacher who taught in Rome between 135 and 168AD and who is one of the few gnostic teachers whose subsequent disciples – Ptolemaeus and Markus – and theological views we know anything about.

Their Christian contemporaries in the ancient world, like St. Irenaeus, the bishop of the city of Lyons in what was then the Roman province of Gaul but is today France, wrote a series of books refuting the teachings of Valentinus, his disciples and other gnostic teachers, as well. These books, like The Gospel of Philip, have survived to this day and I, as a seminarian, had to read both these Gnostic documents and the response to these documents by various bishops and teachers of the Church like Irenaeus and Clement of Alexandria.

THE DAYS OF THE WEEK

FICTION: “Even Christianity’s weekly holy day was stolen from the pagans,” the Teabing character declares. “Originally,” Langdon adds, “Christianity honored the Jewish Sabbath of Saturday, but Constantine shifted it to coincide with the pagan’s veneration of the sun. To this day, most churchgoers attend services on Sunday morning with no idea that they are there on account of the pagan sun god’s weekly tribute – Sunday.”

FACT: Nothing could be further from the truth. As a matter of pure and simple fact, the New Testament records quite clearly that Christians gathered for worship on the day of Christ’s resurrection from the dead, the day after the Sabbath (Mark 16:2) or the Lord’s Day (“Kyriake” in the original Greek) as it is described in Revelation 1:10. This ancient practice is also referred to in Acts 20:7 and 1 Corinthians 16:2. Furthermore, a number of post-New Testament writers like St. Ignatius of Antioch (executed in 115AD) and St. Justin the Martyr (executed in 155AD) to name only two, confirm the practice of Christians gathering for worship on Sunday. Constantine “shifted” nothing. All that Constantine did in the year 321AD was grant legal status as a holiday within the Empire to a centuries-old apostolic practice of the Church. But we also need to look at the question of language. It is true, as the Langdon character asserts, that Sunday is indeed the “Day of the Sun” in English. And Saturday, by the way, is “Saturn’s Day” and not the Jewish Sabbath. Thursday is “Thor’s Day.” It is true that the names for the days of the week in modern English have all been adapted from ancient mythologies. But in Greek, things are very different. Only three days have names in Greek: Paraskevi, the Day of Preparation for the Sabbath; Savvato, the Sabbath day; and Kyriake, the Lord’s Day. After the Lord’s Day, the days of the week are merely numbered: Deutera, the Second Day (Monday); Trete, the Third Day (Tuesday) and so on. In the Greek of the New Testament as well as in modern Greek to this day, there is no confusion regarding the Judeo-Christian origins of the names for the days of the week.

YHWH

FICTION:

“The Jewish tetragramaton YHWH – the sacred name of God – derived from Jehovah, an androgynous physical union between the masculine Jah and the pre-Hebraic name for Havah.”

FACT: This is completely false! As any first year seminary student can tell you, Jehovah is actually a 16th century rendering for the King James Version of the Hebrew YHWH using the vowels for the word “Adonai” or “Lord,” the word which was read by devout Jews whenever they came across God’s name in the text of the Old Testament because they felt the actual name of God was too awesome to be pronounced by human lips.

WITCH HUNTS

FICTION: “During 300 years of witch hunts the Church burned at the stake an astounding 5,000,000 women” Langdon, the Harvard professor, says to his French love interest, Sophie.

FACT: Even non-Christian historians now agree that the number of people – both men and women – executed between 1400-1800 for suspected witchcraft was somewhere between 30,000 to 50,000. Modern scholars suggest that perhaps 100,000 such trials were held between 1450 and 1750, with somewhere between 30,000 to 50,000 executions, of which 25% – 7,500 to 12,500 – were men. It is also clear that despite the involvement of Church authorities, the vast majority of those condemned as witches were in fact condemned by local secular courts. Of course, here, as throughout the book, whenever Mr. Brown uses the word “church” he is always referring to the Roman Catholic Church and this book contains a clear anti-Roman Catholic bias. But it is a simple fact that many witch-hunts took place in Protestant countries like England and her colonies (for example, one need only recall the infamous witch trials in Salem, MA). Interestingly enough, in the Orthodox Church, there never developed an Office of the Inquisition as in the Roman Catholic Church; nor were there ever any witch-hunts or trials.

A CONSPIRACY?

“Everyone loves a conspiracy,” thinks Langdon and indeed, this is perhaps one reason why The Da Vinci Code fascinates so many people and still dominates The New York Times bestseller list. Brown’s conspirators in this two millennia long cover-up include the Roman Catholic Church, the Knights Templar, Opus Dei (a Roman Catholic organization that in fact does not have monks nor do its members wear a monastic habit of any kind, much less go around murdering people) the Masons, Interpol and a secret society known as the Priory of Sion, (that is an actual organization officially registered with the French government in 1956 that most likely originated after WW II and first came to public notice in 1962). So much for being a “secret” society! With the exception of French film maker Jean Cocteau, its illustrious list of Grand Masters as presented in the novel – Leonardo, Isaac Newton and Victor Hugo – is simply not credible and no historian takes such claims seriously.

THE RELICS OF MARY MAGDALENE

But perhaps the most fantastic claim of all is that the Holy Grail of Arthurian legend and popular movies like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade is not the chalice that Christ drank from at the Last Supper but Mary Magdalene herself and a tomb that contains her remains. The main character in the novel, Robert Langdon, cracks the mysterious code left behind by Sauniere, the murdered curator of the Louvre and discovers that the bones of Mary Magdalene are buried in the Louvre. Where are the relics of Mary Magdalene today? Roman Catholic and Orthodox Christians know that they are certainly not buried in the Louvre! According to the historical tradition of the Church, Mary Magdalene died in the city of Ephesus and was buried there. Her body, an object of veneration by Christians, was transferred to Constantinople in the 9th century by the Byzantine emperor Leo the Wise, an event that is still commemorated on our liturgical calendar each year on May 4th. Following the sack of Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204, most of her relics were carried back to Rome and placed under the altar in the Lateran Palace (the papal chapel). Some of her relics are located in Vezelay, a small town near Marseilles in France, and are housed in St. Maximin’s Basilica. Her arm is kept at the Monastery of Simonos Petra on Mt. Athos.

The Da Vinci Code is a fast paced but poorly written murder mystery full of ridiculous errors of fact. It is, after all, a work of fiction. Whatever the claims concerning his research in preparation for writing this novel, the simple fact is that author Dan Brown knows little about Leonardo, little about art and virtually nothing about Jesus, the Bible and Christian history.

The Prayer of St. Ephraim – Part 1: Negatives in the prayer of St. Ephraim

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

After 15 years in the Orthodox Church, I have seen the prayer of St. Ephraim come up on the Lenten horizon and sink behind Pascha often enough to know it without looking at the cheatsheet:

O Lord and Master of my life,
Take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power, and idle talk,
But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to your servant.
Yea, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own faults and not judge my brother,
For you are blessed unto ages of ages.
Amen.

During Lent, it’s prescribed for every prayer time and — as if the Church Fathers weren’t sure we’d really get it — more than once at a lot of them. And, of course, there’s no rule against saying it the rest of the year.

The words, especially of the second and third lines, always seemed to hide some profound understanding of the spiritual life, the way those 3-D pictures a few years back purported to show a hidden picture if you held the thing up to your nose and crossed and uncrossed your eyes.

I never did see a hidden picture, but I think I’ve found a pattern in the “Take from me” line: sloth, despair, lust of power, and idle talk.

  • Sloth is the idea that nothing I do matters. It’s the sin of the parsimonious servant in the Parable of the Talents, the one who says to the Master, “What do you need me for? You can get everything you want by your own power. Here’s yours back. Take it and leave me alone” (paraphrased).

    The Master is angry, not because of the small return on investment (he apparently didn’t expect — or ask — much of the servant, if the disparity in the investment capital is any indication), but because of the servant’s lack of commitment and lack of trust.

  • Which leads to the second item — despair — the idea that, in the words of the third Psalm, “there is no help for him in God.”

    The servant not only believed he dare not do anything to increase the holdings; he also feared the master’s hardness, expecting brutal treatment from him, and certainly not help, so he was left on his own, to handle his own problems.

  • Which leads to lust of power. One response to the frustration of having no meaningful role to play in life (the illusion that is sloth) and expecting no help from God (the illusion that is despair) is to try to take over the world oneself. It would be as if the faithless servant buried his own treasure in the ground and then tried to tell the other two what to do with theirs.
  • And if that doesn’t work, there’s always idle talk — both outward and inward. It’s the senseless chatter — fruitless plans and imaginary arguments and self-justifications on the inside, meaningless bilge on the outside. (Some trivial conversation is part of the process of building relationship, so I’m not talking about that, but it’s important, but not always easy, to discern the difference.) We use idle talk to shut out true thought, true understanding, which can be painfully revealing. In some ways idle talk is the opposite of lust of power; in other ways, it simply alternates with it, passive and aggressive reactions to sloth and despair.

Sloth is a sin we don’t talk about much these days, because it’s so often translated “laziness,” giving us a picture of a man sitting in a hammock chewing a grass stalk and watching a creek flow. But we’re too busy running around, making money, and controlling the world to be lazy in that way, and we’re too full of inward chatter to be able to do nothing in that way.

So spiritual laziness is not rest — the Psalmist also writes, in the same Psalm, “I lay down and slept. I awoke for the Lord sustained me.” In other words, he gave himself over to the vulnerability of sleep, even in the midst of being under attack, and trusted in God to protect him. And God blessed his trust.

But if sloth is not rest but a belief that nothing we do matters, then it can lead to laziness — being a couch potato, for example, is both sloth and idle talk — or to horrible crimes — armed robbery can be a combination of sloth and lust for power. It can cause someone to say, “I can’t provide a million dollars to fund that school, so the $20 I have to give is worthless.”

Or, “I can’t be a great evangelist, so being a good cook is meaningless,” or alternatively, “I can’t cook worth beans (heh), so my gift for opening spiritual discussions with strangers is of no use to anyone.” In other words, it can cause us to deny the value of our own talents (what is with that pun anyway? does it work in any languages beside English?) instead of seeing them as a unique and infinitely valuable contribution to the whole.

The Psalmist again (same Psalm) answers the whole line of the prayer: “But You, O Lord, are a shield for me, my glory and the one who lifts up my head.”

  • “You, O Lord, are a shield for me . . . .” The shield, naturally, is protection, specifically from the many enemies in the Psalm (“Many are they who rise up against me; many are they who say of me, ‘There is no help for him in God’”). But the “shield of faith” comes up again in Ephesians: “above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.” The fiery darts of the wicked one include both inner and outer dangers, just as broadening the interpretation of the Psalm includes both inner and outer voices saying, “There is no help for him in God.”

    With the shield of faith, the slothful servant would have overcome his fear of the Master’s wrath, just as the Psalmist, tempted to despair, overcomes his fear that God might abandon him.

  • “You, O Lord, are . . . my glory . . . .” Glory is fame, respect, good reputation. It’s exactly what the lazy servant refused the master in calling him a “hard man,” reaping where he doesn’t sow, and exactly what we promise — and, at our best, give — to God every time we sing,”Glory to you, O Lord, glory to you.”

    So if God is our glory, it’s a reminder that if our task seems small — or our investment capital insignificant — it’s God who glorifies us. Or that our reputation doesn’t depend on people, many of whom say, “There is no help for him in God,” but on God’s declaration that we are “good and faithful servants.”

  • “You, O Lord, are . . . the one who lifts up my head.” I try to be careful with drawing too much of a conclusion from biblical gestures, because they can be so dependent on languages and translations, and something that has a perfectly obvious meaning in one cultural context can mean nothing or exactly the opposite in another. Nevertheless, I’ll go out on a limb here and guess that throughout human society and history, a drooping head comes with sadness or depression. When someone is “downcast,” we might say, “Chin up,” or “Things are looking up”; we gently lift a child’s chin and tell her to cheer up.

    But the Psalmist says it’s God himself who does this for his despondent children. This is not a master who is a “hard man,” as the mistrustful servant says, but a God of lavish compassion.

The reality is that we do tumble through the sins of this line from St. Ephraim — sloth, despair, lust of power and idle talk — which is why I prefer the translation “take from me” rather than “give me not,” even though I’ve heard from people whose Greek is much better than mine that “give me not” is more accurate.

The answer, again, comes from the third Psalm — a simple prayer: “Arise, O Lord. Save me, O my God.” If it can save the Psalmist from “ten thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around,” it can save me from my lone worst enemy — myself.

God’s answer to the Psalmist and to everyone who calls on him ends the Psalm: “For you have struck all my enemies on the cheekbone; you have broken the teeth of the ungodly. Salvation belongs to the Lord; your blessing be upon your people.”

The next line contains what I’m calling the positives: “Give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience and love to your servant.” I had expected to find that the positives filled slots left by departing negatives or that there would be some kind of neat parallel between the lines. Instead the reality is much richer and more complicated.

The word “chastity,” in the way most people understand it, has come to be entirely sexual, and in the licentious general culture of our time, “chastity” even has a connotation of being unhealthy or ridiculous. But the Greek word is sofrosini, “wholeness.”

To be whole is to “have it together,” to be complete, integrated — drawing on the related Latin root, to have integrity. St. Paul told the Corinthians that sexual promiscuity joins a person to various sexual partners, leaving him scattered, and we have a bit of understanding what that means when we say out our attention is scattered — we’re here and there, but not present where we are.

In this moment is the only place my life is happening, and I lose too much of my life by being elsewhere while appearing to be here. In Charles Williams’ novel War in Heaven, there’s a stone that gives its holder whatever he wishes for. One character thinks he can go into the future and make a killing at the stock market or something, and as a test, he wishes himself a half hour into the future. What really happens is that he moves his decision-making capacity out of the present time and spends the rest of his life reacting to what he’s already done — in this instance having killed a man. Williams’ description of the character’s vague memories of having done the murder exactly fits my vague memories when I’ve interacted inattentively.

My mind travels here and there — off into fears and expectations about the future, regrets about the past, what I might have done, should have done differently, where I might be if I weren’t here right now — and then I come to myself and realize that I haven’t been in the only place I have any influence over — this moment. One of the Desert Fathers, I believe, talked about the mind being like a wheelbarrow full of monkeys, and that’s a good description. He instructs us to keep collecting the monkeys and putting them back into the wheelbarrow, in essence returning our attention, our sofrosini, to the present moment, the now.

Or we could say sofrosini is like being a grownup driving a school bus. In the back, feelings and passions, fears and wishes and expectations, nostalgia and regrets vie for the bus driver’s attention. They want to stop here or go faster or change direction. There may be a reason to stop, speed up or change direction, but I need to keep my adult decision-making capacity, in harmony with the Holy Spirit, as the driver.

Once chastity, sofrosini is in place, the rest of the positives follow.

Humility makes its natural and sometimes painful appearance when I realize how often I’ve let the kids drive the bus. But beyond that, thinking through this line of the prayer, I made a list of the things that tempt me away from sofrosini. It was a short, unscientific survey, but I learned how often the voices in the back of the bus were saying, “I don’t want to be [there],” or “I don’t want to do [that],” or “I don’t have time for [that].” Humility doesn’t say, “I deserve better.” Humility doesn’t say a lot, in fact, except maybe to repeat St. Paul’s description of love, “Love suffers long and is kind . . .” (1 Cor. 13:4-8). Humility doesn’t keep us from working to improve our situation, but it begins here, in this moment, with the reality at hand.

Patience also follows sofrosini, and, oddly, not so painfully. Without sofrosini, the effort to be patient is a battle of will against hurry, a sort of teeth-gritting, watch-watching, “Will you hurry up?” on the inside and a tight smile on the outside. But when I do have the adult driving the bus, each moment has its own purpose, and having to slow down is a gift to at least one of the kids in the back of the bus — so I can enjoy that short sense of leisure.

St. Paul’s description of love is worth repeating here, because it captures the interplay of the positives in this line: “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” To be centered in the moment and to give my attention to the person before me is the place where love can happen, because if my mind is elsewhere, I’m not even seeing this person, but a concoction of my own mind.

Finally, a few words on the next line of St. Ephrem’s prayer: “Grant me to see my own faults and not judge my brother.” Seeing one’s own faults is an aid to humility, but I’ve learned something new about judging.

I’ve always thought that warnings against judging one’s neighbor have to do with negative judgments — and misunderstanding the meaning and effect of “judgment,” tended to narrow it to judging someone’s eternal disposition. But my search for sofrosini has taught me that even positive or neutral judgments can damage a relationship. I heard a fairly famous author say, “You don’t meet people at zero anymore. They think they know things about you, and they project things on you.” This is not about the poor, misfortunate author — she wasn’t even complaining, just saying — but an illustration of how even positive expectations can interfere with truly seeing a person.

In another example, I had classified a woman I know as “not very adept with mechanical things.” I had put her in that box in order to overcome a tendency toward impatience with her mistakes with mechanical things, so it was well meant — and possibly true — but I was glad I happened to be working on sofrosini when she asked me a computer question one evening, because it reminded me to be still and listen to her question — in other words, to open the box and see if she really fit in it. She didn’t, actually, and the conversation was more interesting and profitable to both of us than it would have been if I hadn’t bothered to open the box.

I suppose it’s necessary to say that I’m confident that St. Paul and St. Ephrem are not asking us to deny history, to disregard proven dangers or to ignore the intuition that is one of the voices sofrosini should pay attention to in the back of the bus. But most of the time, what I’m afraid of is not actual danger, but rather discomfort or embarrassment or something that won’t do me any lasting harm at all.

What I’ve learned from short forays into sofrosini is that it’s not just a moral good — “good for you,” like some nasty medicine — but an existential good — adventurous, exciting, sometimes scary, and dotted with delightful surprises — “life and more abundantly,” as Christ said. Another thing is that it doesn’t take years of disciplined practice; it takes only this moment and my undivided attention. I’ve been surprised to find that St. Ephrem’s prayer — rather than being something dour and self-flagellating — can be a door into the richness and potential of the moment.

So here it is, a discovery that most people probably figured out the first time they read St. Ephraim’s prayer. Apologies for the length of this post. I’m like a driver who learned how to get to a destination by a circuitous route and, when trying to give directions to the place, gives all the twists and turnings of that route because it’s the only one I know.

What Shall we Offer You

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

What shall we offer You, O Christ,
Who, for the sake of the cosmos
entered Your creation as a human?
Every creature made by You offers thanksgiving:
The angels offer a hymn;
The heavens offer a star;
The magi offer gifts;
The shepherds offer their wonder;
The earth offers a cave in which to be born;
The wilderness offers a manger;
And we offer you a Virgin Mother!
O pre-eternal God, grant us love and mercy!

- from the Vespers of the Nativity


Dear Brothers and Sisters in the Incarnate Lord,

From the very first time Christians celebrated the Feast of Christ’s en-fleshment, this season has been marked with the theme of giving. God initiates with a Gift by offering Himself to us and to the whole of creation. We are called to respond to His Gift in thanksgiving, as the words of the hymn affirm.

Though she is the very best that we humans can give, our gift to God is not limited to offering Him a Virgin Mother “whose womb was more spacious than the heavens.” Our gift to God must go further.

In the sacred narratives of the Old and New Testaments we see that ever since He spoke to His servants, our forebears in the faith, God made it crystal clear what the nature of our gift giving was to be.

Of course, the Hebrews understood from God Himself that they were to offer young bulls, sheep, turtle-doves, pigeons, grain, wine and incense in their daily sacrifices. This was the basic list of liturgical oblation, but it was not an exhaustive list. The list was not meant to stop there. The items on this list were representative. They were meant to be symbolic of so much more. How easy it was to do nothing more than to offer animals, vegetables and minerals to God.

How easy it is today to offer God little more than a portion of our livelihood. Many of us even offer our time and talents to the Church. And even if our treasure, time and talents are given to God to a truly sacrificial degree — lots of money for the parish; lots of time spent at church doing lots of tasks and chores for the edification of our worshipping community — even if all we give in these areas is truly a tithe of our lives, we must not forget the message of God to His people of old who also gave similarly:

“I desire tender mercy and loving-kindness, not sacrifice.” (Hosea 6:6 and Matthew 9:13; 12:7) Another translation reads: “Faithful love is what pleases me, not burnt offerings.”

But what is meant by tender mercy, loving-kindness and faithful love? Simply this: God prefers the inward quality of genuine compassion rather than the outward gifts specified in the performance of the Law. (Remember that the complex and detailed sacrificial system was part of the Law given at Sinai.) God prefers that His people give Him so much more than burnt offerings. Or time. Or talent. Or treasure.

“Let justice flow like water, let uprightness be a never-failing stream.” (Amos 5:24) “Learn to do good, search for justice, be just to the orphan, plead for the widow…” (Isaiah 1:17)

The context of God’s greater desire for loving-kindness rather than sacrifices (which , again, were exactly according the Law He gave) is that His people had continually engaged in a litany of wrongdoings which are listed by Hosea: unfaithfulness to God, perjury, lying, murder, theft, adultery, violence and bloodshed. (4:1-2) Because of this, God felt that their liturgical offerings were not only empty and tainted with hypocrisy. but to Him, their gifts were hateful, stinking abominations. (Isaiah 1:7 and Amos 5:21-22)

This is by no means to say that the time and talents and treasures we give to God in the church are of the same nature as those criticized in Isaiah and Hosea. I know of very few individuals who would fit the description of the people who were condemned in the words of the prophets.

But the question remains: “What can we offer You, O Christ…?”

God Himself tells us very plainly that our offering, our gift, our oblation, our sacrifice is this: we are to care for the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger and sojourner, the poorly-clothed, the sick and the captive. (Matthew 25:31-46) Add to this care for the orphan, the widow, the poor and the weak (Amos 4:1) and you have a detailed gift list which God lays before us. We would do well to be checking this list daily and checking it twice.

This Advent and Nativity season has provided us with two opportunities to give back to God something in response to all His wonderful and inexpressible gifts of tender mercy, loving-kindness and faithful love to us.

Fr. Victor Sokolov is dying of cancer — his remaining days are very few — and his family will be in need of support when he dies. Parishes and individual parishioners from throughout our diocese have given to the Sokolov Family Fund which was set up by the Parish Council of Holy Trinity Cathedral — set up with the encouragement and blessing of the Church’s hierarchy. (See www.holy-trinity.org/about/frvictor/2005.09.22-parishcouncil.html)

Our own Nikolette Harris is also fighting for her life. This is the third time she has battled with leukemia during the space of her brief 12 years. Her family and friends have set up a special fund for her. We collected $1,250 for her from among the faithful of the Pan-Orthodox Community of Portland on the Feast of St. Nicholas. (See www.curenikolette.org) Undoubtedly more can be done.

There are many other very important opportunities for each of us to take advantage of at this season — and to take advantage of throughout our lives. All are worthy of our attention and action.

I would encourage you to join Daria, Kyrion and me in offering to Christ the gift of our own tender mercy, loving-kindness and faithful love to those “least of the brethren” whom God has placed before us and with whom He identifies and who he says are actually Himself. “You do it to Me.”

Christ is Born!

Glorify Him!

- Fr. George

The Transfiguration of Christ and the Deification of Mankind

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

Read:

  • Mt. 16:13-20 (Peter’s confession: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”)
  • Mt. 16:21-23 (First prediction of the passion: The Son of Man will suffer and be put to death and will be raised up on the third day.)
  • Mt. 17:1-9 (The Transfiguration: “This is my beloved Son, listen to Him.”)
  • Mt. 17:22-23 (Second prediction of the passion: “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the power of men…”)

The opening chapter of Genesis affirms that human persons were originally created in the image and after the likeness of the Trinitarian God (Gen. 1:1-3 & 26-27). We were given a vocation — to grow from one degree of glory to the next into the inner life of God (2 Cor. 3:18) in a mystical union with the Holy Trinity.

The story of Genesis 3 indicates that humans have fallen short of their original vocation. Salvation history is full of attempts on the part of God to bring His people back into a right relation with Him. In the Anaphora of the Divine Liturgy, we proclaim week in and week out that God did not cease to do all things until He had brought us up to heaven and endowed us with His Kingdom which is to come. In the Anaphora of St. Basil, we go a step further and affirm that God sent the prophets, performed mighty works by His saints, gave us the law as a help, appointed angels as guardians, and in the fullness of time God spoke to us through His only Son by Whom and through Whom he created the world.

Just this morning at Matins we sang the following hymn to the Theotokos: “It is not possible for man to see God, upon whom the ranks of angels dare not gaze, but through you, O all-Pure One, the incarnate Word revealed Himself…”

This is the God-man, Jesus Christ, in whom the fullness of divinity dwelt bodily (Col. 2:9) and whose divinity St. Peter affirms when (about 35 years after the Transfiguration) he writes “we were eye-witnesses of His majesty.” (2 Pet. 1:16) Another witness of the Transfiguration, St. John, wrote perhaps 70 years after the Transfiguration that Jesus was the “light of mankind” and that “we have beheld His glory, the glory of the Only-Begotten, full of grace and truth.” (Jn. 1:4 & 14)

(The word “glory” is the English for the Hebrew Biblical code word “shekinah.” The term “shekinah” is an important word that reveals a paradox. It means the un-created (i.e., divine) yet visible and brilliant presence of God — that aspect of Himself by which He reveals Himself to his creation — the immanent aspect of the absolutely transcendent God that we are able to apprehend, experience, encounter and commune with.)

St. Paul writes to us that human persons are called to grow into the full measure of the stature of Christ (Eph. 4:3). An ancient patristic statement (first coined by St. Athanasius of Alexandria) words it this way: “God became a human person by nature so that human persons could become divine by grace.” This is what the Church calls theosis / divinization / deification: i.e., mystical union; the partaking of and sharing in divine nature as St. Peter once wrote (2 Pet. 1:4) by invitation, by adoption, by gift. Human persons are called to be transformed and transfigured (meta-morphed) from a fallen nature to their original nature to pursue our original God-given vocation.

In St. Matthew’s account, Jesus’ metamorphosis shows us that his divinity was brilliantly revealed through his humanity. The Transfiguration was an epiphany of the essential deity of Christ — i.e,, a manifestation or a revelation or a showing of the shekinah — but even more. It is a revelation of what the Church has called divine energies — his divine nature as far as we can bear it. This is a Theophany. The uncreated light of God that showed forth to Moses from the burning bush (Ex. 3:1-15) and atop Mt. Sinai (Ex. 33;21-23) is seen again in the person of Jesus on Mt. Tabor — the very same Jesus who declared that He was the light of the world (Jn. 8:12). Although it is not possible for humans to see God and live (Ex. 33;20), Jesus reveals his divinity to his disciples, “as far as they could bear it” and they were overshadowed by the mysterious luminous cloud and in the presence of Moses (of Mt. Sinai fame) and Elija (of Mt. Carmel fame).

At the fourth century Council of Chalcedon, the Church affirmed the mystery of the incarnation: Jesus Christ was fully, perfectly and truly human with nothing lacking in his humanity at the same time that he was fully, perfectly and truly God with nothing lacking in His divinity. In other words, in him were two distinct natures — divine and human — two natures in one Person. His humanity was a deified humanity. His divinity was an incarnate, human divinity. Jesus’ deified humanity is (though in this case by nature and essence) what human persons are called to be (by adoption, by participation, by communion, by grace and gift).

But if we keep up this sort of discussion we could wander into the pantheism of the New Agers. We should recall another patristic statement (attributed to St. Gregory of Nyssa) which runs thus: Peter is Peter, Paul is Paul and God is God — in divinization we always retain our creature-hood and never lose our own personhood and individuality, but we do become “oned” with God by grace. In other words, we never lose our own personality

St. John Chrysostom, in preaching a homily about the Transfiguration, says that if (with God’s grace) we transform ourselves and put on the armor of light, the glory of God will enfold us. The Transfiguration of Christ is a model for the transfiguration (i.e., metamorphosis) of Christians. If Christ’s Transfiguration is a manifestation of His natural divinity, our transfiguration is one that — by grace and cooperation with God: by becoming fellow-workers with God — can manifest our gift of theosis.

At Vespers on the eve of Transfiguration, we sing this hymn: “ Come, let us rejoice, mounting up from the earth to the highest contemplation of the virtues:  Let us be transformed this day into a better condition and direct our minds to heavenly things, having been shaped anew in piety according to the form of Christ; for in His mercy, the Savior of our souls has transfigured disfigured humanity and let it shine with Light on Mount Tabor.”

The Feast of the Transfiguration of Christ has a simple message for us today. Simple message, but difficult to put into practice. We are called to cooperate with the grace of God in order to restore or original likeness. We are called to change from our darkened world of dead ends and self-centeredness in order to live a life that reflects the brilliant and radiant presence of God in Whose image we have been created. We are invited to enter into the bright cloud — that mystical luminous darkness — that overshadowed Moses, Elijah, Peter, James, John and Jesus himself. This transfiguration of our fallen nature — even the transfiguration of the world — makes up our Christian journey to the Kingdom: our life in Christ.

Frederica Mathewes-Green concludes an article for the Feast of the Transfiguration with these words:

“On the far side of everything–the Last Supper, the campfire denial, the Resurrection, and the Pentecost outpouring–Peter tries in a letter to make sense of what happened on Mt. Tabor that day. Peter saw God’s glory, and he knows it is for us. He says that God’s divine power calls us “to his own glory.” Through his promises we may “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:3-4).

“Partakers of the divine nature.” The life that is in Christ will be in us. We will have a true oneness with Christ and thus we will have a personal transfiguration. We partake of, consume, the light and the life of Christ. We receive, not mere intellectual knowledge of God, but illumination. This participation in “the divine nature” is not a treat squirreled away for the select few, for mystics or hobbyists of “spiritual formation,” but God’s plan for every single human life. “The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world” (John 1:9). Participation in this light is not a lofty or esoteric path, but one of simplicity and childlike humility. It’s not won by sudden, swooping supernatural experiences, but by daily, diligent self-control. Through prayer, fasting, and honoring others above self, we gradually clear away everything in us that will not catch fire.

We are made to catch fire. We are like lumps of coal, dusty and inert, and possess little to be proud of. But we have one talent: we can burn. You could say that it is our destiny to burn. He made us that way, because he intended for his blazing light to fill us. When this happens, “your whole body will be full of light” (Matthew 6:22).

Where have we been? We’ve been up Mt. Tabor. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18).”

Bishop Kallistos Ware often tells stories in his articles, lectures and books. Here is one story of his stories taken from the Desert Fathers: When St Arsenios the Great was praying in his cell, a disciple looked through the window and saw the old man “entirely as fire.” A similar story is told of Abba Joseph of Panepho: “The old man stood up and stretched his hands towards heaven. His fingers became like ten torches, and he said, ‘If you wish, you can become entirely as fire.” Just as Moses was aglow with the radiance of the Father’s uncreated light when he descended form Sinai, so too, us all. And finally, we recall the story about St. Seraphim of Sarov and the storyteller, Motovilov himself, who on a snowy day in deep the Russian forest both became transfigured with the shekinah of God. Not just for monks and saints, but for all mankind.

Before the Transfiguration, Jesus predicts His Passion and adds that the condition for being a follower of Jesus, one must renounce himself and take up his cross. This renunciation is exactly the method (on our part) of transfiguration. Change. Metamorphosis. The daily, diligent self-control. The prayer, fasting, and honoring others above self, by which we gradually clear away everything in us that will not catch fire — about which Frederica writes is the necessary detachment from the self; the needful ascetical preparation of our garden that makes us able to become pure fire and light.

Sermon on Galations 5:22 – 6:2 from August 28 , 2005

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…and on the sixth day, God created humankind and all was pronounced good. God’s creation was called good because it was the work of God’s hands and thus is demonstrative of his character and of his essence. Man and woman were created in God’s image – good and pure. But we know the story, the paradise and the purity didn’t last long. The serpent came and deceived Adam and Eve offering them the forbidden fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Thus mankind fell away from God, the mind of man became corrupt and a wedge was driven between humanity and God. The image of the divine within us, God’s good creation, was corrupted and tainted. We became a shadow of what we were meant to be as our minds and hearts fell into a downward spiral. Death, corruption and sin entered God’s good creation.

Adam and Eve’s sin opened the doors to sin, death, and corruption. The Apostle Paul describes this further in his letter to the Romans. He writes that “God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged he truth about God for a lie and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator… For this reason, God gave them up to dishonorable passions” and “gave them up to a base mind and improper conduct. They were filled with all manner of wickedness, evil, covetousness, malice. Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malignity….” And the list goes on.

After the Fall, human nature was changed such that we were inclined towards sin. As Orthodox Christians, we do not believe in Original Sin in the Augustinian understanding, that is, that we are born under the weight and guilt of sin. Rather we believe that human nature was changed with the Fall such that we inevitably will sin because we are inclined to do so. Thus while we are not born under shall we say, original guilt, we are born such that we inevitably will sin and thus fall under judgment. This is the path all of humanity is on, our frail human nature and weak will lead us down a dark road that ends in destruction. On our own, we are hopeless. Left to our own devices, we fall and continue to fall. We, in the terms of Paul, “gratify the desires of the flesh.”

Now all of humanity by way of our fallen nature is inclined to gratify the flesh. On our own, we are without hope, we have sinned are will come under judgment. But the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ offers hope for our salvation. Through faith in Christ, our baptism and Chrismation, we are given the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is given to aid us on the path of salvation, so that we can, by God’s grace, overcome the fallen spirit within us. This is the gospel message: Christ has died for our sins and offers us life eternal. He offers us the opportunity to overcome our fallen nature by submitting to and cooperating with the Spirit he sends to dwell within us. So that rather than sinking deeper and deeper into judgment by the weight of our sin, we can be placed on the path to life.

And so we finally come to the passage that was read this morning—found in Paul’s letter to the Galatians in chapter 5. Here we are given sign posts for how well we are cooperating with the Spirit and how well we are serving our Master, Jesus Christ. In chapter 5 of Galatians, Paul is not so much commenting on or comparing Christians to non-Christians, he is comparing the responses of Christians to the Spirit within them. Paul contrasts the following the desires of the flesh with what he calls the fruit of the Spirit. The fruit of the Spirit and the desires of the flesh are representative of the two combating natures within us: that of our fallen flesh and that of our new life in Christ. Paul contrasts the fruit of each of these natures and offers us an indicator of our own faithfulness to Christ.

The use of the term fruit by Paul is an interesting word choice. Fruit implies something that grows or springs forth from a plant. In other words it is something that is the product of that plant. In the case of the fruit of the Spirit, the plant or root cause is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the Christian and the byproduct of this indwelling is what is commonly called the fruit of the Spirit. One’s fruit is a sign of what is going on within us—our relative health. A healthy tree produces good fruit, an unhealthy tree bad fruit. Thus one’s fruit serves as a sort of internal barometer of the individual. It demarks a temperament, one’s character and thus serves an internal moral compass. Ultimately, our fruit displays for all to see what master we serve or how faithfully we are serving our master.

To express this idea, the apostle compares the good fruit and bad fruit. As we said, the terminology Paul uses for the bad fruit is the “desires of the flesh.” “Flesh,” for Paul—at least in the context of our reading this morning, does not mean our physical bodies; rather it means the mindset and inclinations of fallen humanity. So the flesh is the fallen man—the thoughts and actions that drive us away from God as surely as the forbidden fruit drove a wedge between Adam & Eve’s relationship with God.

In order to compare the two types of fruit, Paul offers us two lists. The products of the worldly life are fornication, impurity, selfishness, anger, jealousy, dissension, envy, strife, drunkenness and the list goes on. Quite simply, the list is a list of sins.

In stark contrast, the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control. These are the signs of the Spirit-filled life, a life that is on track and firmly on the road to salvation. They are demonstrative of a transformed life—a life in harmony with the Spirit and in joyful acceptance of the sacrificial gift of Christ Jesus.

According to Paul, the faithful and healthy Christian crucifies the passions and desires of the flesh. This takes hard work. We do not simply sit back waiting to be changed, but we are in a spiritual battle to listen to the Spirit and obey. The two natures within us are competing to be heard and obeyed. We all know that just because we have chosen to follow Christ does not mean that the little voice in our heads tempting us stops working on us—if anything, it gets louder rather than softer. Thus it is hard work to listen and obey the Spirit.

Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “I do not understand my actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very things I hate.” Christ died to free us from our bondage to sin, but we are now at liberty to choose which voice we listen to. Before we were slaves to sin, now we can choose and that choice is between the battling natures within us. The cross offers freedom and life, but notice God’s calling to us is to put to death the passions and desires of the flesh. It is our job to work towards this.

In our Divine Liturgy book, there are prayers in preparation for communion. In one of the prayers, we say the following: “O Christ Jesus, Wisdom of God and Peace and Power, through the human nature which Thou didst take to Thyself, Thou didst suffer the life-creating and saving passion: the cross, the nails, the spear and death itself. Put to death in me the soul-destroying passions of the body…” and later “Bury in me the evil devices of the devil with good thoughts, and destroy the spirits of evil” and again, “Raise me up who am sunk down in sin and give me the image of repentance.” According to these prayers, God subdues the sinful desires of our flesh, God does the work. Yet in our passage from Galatians, God calls us to this task—thus there is cooperation between us and the Holy Spirit to subdue our passions.

To do this, we work to build good habits— saying no to our sinful desires and saying yes to loving and serving others. We attempt to foster the right temperament by agreeing with the Spirit and this brings forth the good fruit. The longer we obey and cooperate, the more love, peace, patience, joy gentleness and self-control we will have. As Paul says, “if we live by the Spirit, let us walk by the Spirit.”

Walking by the Spirit is not simply waging battles within ourselves, however. It also implies not causing unnecessary battles within our brethren. Paul writes, “Let us have no self-conceit, no provoking of one another, no envy of one another. If a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Look to yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” The fruit of the Spirit, while representative of an inward transformation, also implies action within our life together as the body of Christ.

The fruit of the Spirit is love, but love towards whom? The fruit of the Spirit is gentleness but towards whom? The fruit of the Spirit is kindness, but towards whom? The answer, of course, is towards the brethren and indeed all of humanity. The fruit is demonstrated in our day to day encounters with other people, but especially among the brethren. Indeed the world will know we are Christians by our love.

Our love is demonstrated not only by helping and serving one another, not only by not provoking one another but by not standing in judgment over one another ignoring our own sin while we point out another’s. As Paul writes, we are to help carry one another’s burdens and when a brother or sister falls, we are to be there to offer healing and forgiveness. This fulfills the law of Christ which is the law of love.

Today we commemorate St. Moses of Ethiopia. St. Moses is a perfect example of what we have looked at this morning. Allow me to read his biography.

St. Moses the Black was a former gang leader, murderer, and thief in ancient Africa. However, he became a model of transformation. His is one of the most inspiring stories among the African saints.

Moses, an escaped slave, was the leader of a group of 75 robbers. He was a large and powerful man, who with his gang terrorized the entire region. Moses was transformed after he and his group attacked a monastery, intending to rob it. He was met by the abbot, whose peaceful and warm manner overwhelmed him. He immediately felt remorse for all his past sins, sincerely repented, and begged to remain at the monastery.

Moses was tortured by his past and for years was tempted to return to his old ways. One day, as he was confessing his sins to St. Macarius, an angel appeared with a tablet full of his sins. As he confessed, the angel began wiping the tablet clean. The more he confessed, the more the angel wiped, until by the end it was completely clean. After meeting St. Macarius and St. Isidore, he completely left his old ways behind him and became a monk.

Later, St. Moses was ordained to the priesthood — a rare honor among the Desert Fathers — and founded a monastery of 75 monks, the same number as his former group of thieves. He was known for his wisdom, humility, love, and non-judgment of others. Once a brother had been caught in a particular sin, and the abbot asked St. Moses to come to the church and render judgment. He came reluctantly, carrying on his back a leaking bag of sand. When he arrived, the brothers asked him why he was carrying such a thing. He simply said, “This sand is my sins which are trailing out behind me, while I go to judge the sins of another.” At that reply, the brothers forgave the offender and returned to focusing on their own salvation rather than the sins of their brother.

Prior to his conversion, St. Moses was certainly on the road to destruction. He was a thief, a murderer, and a gang leader. The biography I read does not offer details of what this man did, but he was a truly an evil character. But he encountered the living gospel in the person of a simple abbot. He repented of his sins and embraced the faith. Guided by the Spirit, the man battled against the temptation to return to a life of sin—and won! He was ordained a priest and provides us with ample example of the fruit of the Spirit in action. When called upon to judge a brother, he carried a leaking bag of sand symbolic of the burden of his sins, a reminder of his own sinfulness as he was called to judge a fallen brother. The result of his actions was that those who had called him to stand in judgment were reminded of their own frailness and sin, and they lovingly restored their brother. The fruit of St. Moses’ conversion was that he was known for wisdom, humility and love. And the fruit of his cooperation with the Spirit was that his person and actions reminded his brethren of their calling to love and forgive their fallen brethren.

Just as St. Moses walked with the Spirit and exhibited the fruit of this walk, let us to seek to battle the fallen nature within us. Let us strive to listen to the Spirit rather than the voice of our fallen nature. Let us remind ourselves of our own sinfulness, repent and seek to foster a spirit of love, humility, patience and self-control within ourselves. Let us love one another, be slow to judge each other but quick to forgive and restore those who in weakness fall. Through the work of the Spirit within us, by God’s grace and the love of Christ Jesus who is our supreme example we too can be and continue to be transformed and contribute to the transformation of our brethren.

Amen.

FAQs — Orthodox Christianity 101

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

Q: “Why do we have Easter at a different time than everybody else? People think it’s weird that we celebrate Easter at a different time than everyone else, and I’m not quite sure I know the whole calendar deal well enough to really explain it to them.”

A: The date of the celebration of Easter was defined by the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea in the year 325 A.D. The regulations of the First Ecumenical Council concerning the calculation of the date of Easter were handed down to us by the Council of Antioch in 341 A.D. We can, reconstruct the elements of the decision of the first ecumenical council on Pascha in the following way:

  1. “That Easter must always be celebrated on a Sunday.”
  2. “That Easter must never be celebrated on the same day as the Jewish Passover.”
  3. “That Easter should never be celebrated on or before the vernal (spring) equinox of any year.”

It should also be noted that Cyril the Patriarch of Alexandria, in his Paschal Circular, stated: “The Ecumenical Council unanimously voted that the Church of Alexandria, because of its noted astronomers. would announce to the Church of Rome every year the date of Easter, and Rome in turn would announce it to the other Churches.”

As for the variation in Paschal dates between Eastern and Western Christians, this occurs solely upon the difference between the calendars that they use: the Julian for the Eastern Church’s Pascha (the so-called “old style”) and the Gregorian for the Western Church’s Pascha (“new style”).

It can be assumed that one century after the First Ecumenical Council (325 AD) an agreement was reached throughout the Christian world on the time for celebrating Pascha. Tables for calculating the Paschal date were prepared based on the calendar in use at that time, and Paschal dates were expressed according to the Julian calendar in conjunction with its March 21st date as the date of the vernal equinox). The Eastern Church used the so-called Paschalia compiled in approximately the Sixth century. This Paschalia remains in use in the Eastern Church even to this day.

Thus Pascha was celebrated throughout the Christian Church more or less simultaneously until 1583 AD when the calendar reform of Pope Gregory XIII took place in the West. By then, it had been observed for some time that the Julian calendar had fallen behind the solar time by approximately one day every 128 years and by the end of the Sixteenth century this lagging behind amounted to ten days since the time of the First Ecumenical Council in 325 AD. According to the calendar, the actual vernal equinox no longer took place on the 21st of March but on the 11th. As a result of this calendar reform (more precisely, its correction or adjustment) all calendar dates were moved forward by ten days (Friday October 4 was followed by Saturday the 15th).

But we in the Christian east use the Julian Calendar for the Palchalion — including the uncorrected designation of the spring equinox, whereas the Western Christian world uses the Gregorian Calendar for the Paschalion — including the corrected designation for the spring equinox.

Q: “Why do we have to stand throughout the entire service?”

A: We stand as a way of showing our respect in the presence of God, Who is very much present and the focal point of our liturgical worship. When the President enters for the State of the Union Address, everybody stands. When a judge enters the courtroom, everybody stands. In the “old days” we used to stand when a teacher entered the classroom. Standing is simply our way of honoring the One in Whose presence we find ourselves during church services. There are other times when we kneel (i.e., make full prostration) or even sit (especially for the Old Testament Lessons or even readings from the Psalms), but in prayer at Liturgy, we stand.

Q: “Why are the church services so long?”

A: Our services are not really long, when you realize just what it is that we do. We gather, we chant psalms, we pray, we proclaim / hear the Scriptures, we hear the homily, we pray some more, we offer our gifts to God, we receive the Holy Communion, we give thanks, we are dismissed. That’s a lot. To squeeze that much in in less than 90 minutes would really be pushing it. Quality activity takes time.

Q: “Why do we use incense?”

A: At Vespers, we chant “Let my prayer arise in Your sight as incense, and the lifting-up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.” (Ps. 141:2) This comes from the manner of worship that God had ordered to be made in the Tabernacle in the Wilderness and the Temple in Jerusalem (Exod. 37:25-29) In the Book of Revelation, incense is likened to the prayer of the saints rising to the Throne of God. (5:8) Smoke is also a symbol for the very presence of God. (Exod. 19:16-20) We cense the Gospel Book on the altar, we cense the altar, then the icons and frescoes in the sanctuary, we cense the icons in the church, and finally, we cense the faithful. This is a means of honoring them all.

Q: “Why doesn’t the choir sing anything modern, and why are there no instruments?”

A: Most of our hymnography comes from the Bible itself. Or at least hymns that are based on biblical language and images. Some of these hymns go back 3,000 years, others were written during the first and second centuries after the Resurrection of the Savior. We have hymnography that has been composed every century since then. We even have hymns that were composed and appointed to be sung only within the past decade — for new feasts and commemorations. But the language and style are traditional. As for the melodies, some of them go back very early, whereas others are written in our own days. The human voice is the “instrument” that God Himself created. Many Orthodox believe that this is the instrument that best suits our worship of God. There are some Orthodox churches which employ an organ, but this is not as common as the more ancient tradition of a cappella singing. Ethiopian, Eretrian and Coptic churches employ drums, rattles and little symbols in their services.

Q: “What is the meaning of the book of Revelation? Was there a reason why it was written so cryptically and metaphorically?”

A: The Book of Revelation is also called the Apocalypse — which means that which has been revealed or disclosed. It is traditionally considered to be the work of the Lord’s apostle who later wrote the fourth gospel and the letters. There was a certain hesitation on the part of the early Church to include the book of Revelation in the New Testament. The reason for this was the great difficulty of interpreting the symbols of the book. Nevertheless, since the document carried the name of the apostle John, and since it was inspired by the Holy Spirit for the instruction and edification of the Church, it came to be the included in the Bible, although it is never read liturgically in the Orthodox Church.

It is very difficult to interpret the book of Revelation, especially if one is unfamiliar with the images and symbols of the apocalyptic writings of the Old Testament. There exists, however, a traditional approach to the interpretation of the book within the Church which offers insight into its meaning for us. No matter how bleak or horrible things can get; no matter how much the devil seems to be in control of world events; no matter how much we seem to feel abandoned by God — in the end, “The kingdoms of the world have become the kingdom of our God and of His Christ, and He shall reign unto the ages of ages.” (Apoc. 11:15) Ultimately apocalyptic literature is given by God to assure His people that despite the way things look, He is Almighty.

The image of Babylon stands for every society which fights against God, every body of persons united in wickedness and fleshliness. The image of harlotry universally applies as well to all who are corrupted by their passions and lusts, unfaithful to God Who has made them and loves them. The symbolic numerology also remains constant, with the number 666 (13:18), for example, symbolizing total depravity, unlike 7 which is the symbol of fullness; and the number 144,000 (14:3) being the symbol of total completion and the full number of the saved, the result of the multiplication of 12 times 12 — the number of the tribes of Israel and the apostles of Christ. Thus, through the images of the book of Revelation, a depth of penetration into universal spiritual realities is disclosed which is greater than any particular earthly reality. The insight into the meaning of the book depends on the inspiration of God and the purity of heart of those who have eyes to see and ears to hear and minds willing and able to understand. But why the obscure symbolism? It is usually considered to be a language which many in the Church could recognize (though not fully understand), but could not be recognized (and not understood at all) by the Roman Empire and Roman authorities, who were the focal point of many of the criticisms and charges found in the text. Babylon equals Rome and this world; the Beasts equal the Roman Emperor and those with him who were in the service of Satan; etc.

Q: “What is Orthodoxy?” How do you describe it without starting a lecture? (i.e. Orthodoxy in 5 sentences or less)

A: Essentially, you could begin with this:

  • The Christian Church which grew up in the eastern parts of the Roman Empire came to be called the Eastern Orthodox Church — especially after the split between the Roman Catholic West and the Byzantine East.
  • Orthodoxy is also the term for the Christian community which, in all humility we are thankful to admit, has maintained correct worship and belief — (“ortho” means “right” or “correct” and “doxos” means “praise” as well as “doctrine”).
  • That is to say, the Christian community which has not added anything unnecessary or deleted anything necessary in its essential world view and way of life and witness.
  • The Orthodox Churches consist of 15 autocephalous (self-governing) local bodies throughout the world, all in communion and constant communication with each other, and all sharing the same dogmatic beliefs, spelled-out in the 4 th century Nicene/Constantinopolitan Creed.
  • Finally, Orthodox Christianity has defined itself as the church community which has continued to preserve the Life of the Holy Spirit within it throughout time (since 33 A.D.) and throughout the world (all over the globe) — not in a wooden or petrified manner, but in a dynamic, living and vital way that (in its life and witness, its liturgy and worship) expresses Heaven on Earth.

Q: “What does our church teach about boyfriends and girlfriends and what is appropriate behavior?”

A: Human persons are sexual beings: male and female. The sexual character of human persons has a positive role to play in human spirituality. Like all things human, the expression of one’s sexuality must be sanctioned by God and inspired with the Holy Spirit, used for the purposes God has intended.

St. Paul writes, “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? … Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” (I Cor. 6:13-20)

The teaching of St. Paul about sexuality is similar to his teaching about eating and drinking and all bodily functions. They are given by God for spiritual reasons to be used for His glory. In themselves they are holy and pure. When misused or adored as an end in themselves, they become the instruments of sin and death.

Thus, according to the revelation of God, sexual relations are holy and pure only within the community of marriage, with the ideal relationship being that between one man and one woman forever. That is why those who are not married and those who choose by the will of God not to marry must abstain from all sexual relations.

And like all things human, through its misuse and abuse, sexuality can be perverted and corrupted, becoming an instrument of sin rather than the means for glorifying God and fulfilling oneself as made in His image, and according to His likeness.

Concerning appropriate behavior, the best thing to do is to talk with your priest, talk with your boyfriend or girlfriend and then set mutually-agreed upon guidelines that you intend to follow. Peer pressure is very powerful. But God’s grace is much more powerful — in fact it can be all-powerful, if we work with God.

Q: “Why can’t we eat meat on certain days or during certain months? Why can’t we have breakfast before church on Sundays?

A: Orthodox Christians abstain and fast on Wednesday in remembrance of the betrayal of Christ and on Fridays in remembrance of His crucifixion and death. In Matthew’s Gospel, Christ says, “When you fast do not be like the hypocrites,” which indicates that the Jews fasted — it also indicates that Christ assumes that one fasts, for He says “when you fast” not “if you fast.” Fasting and abstinence is not something that only developed alongside Christianity; rather, it is a practice that had been followed by the Jews, and even Scripture mentions that Christ fasted. The purpose of fasting is not to “give up” things, nor to do something “sacrificial.” The purpose of fasting is to learn discipline, to gain control of those things that are indeed within our control but that we so often allow to control us. In our culture food dominates the lives of many people. We have eating disorders, diets galore, weight loss pills, liposuction treatments, stomach stapling — all sorts of things that proceed out of the fact that we often allow food to control us. We fast in order to discipline ourselves, to regain control of those things that we have allowed to get out of control. Giving up chocolate — unless one is controlled by chocolate — is not fasting. Further, as we sing during the first week of Great Lent, “while fasting from food, let us also fast from our passions.” By fasting we place ourselves in the Hands of God and let Him take control of our lives. We also fast and abstain before receiving Holy Communion as a means of preparing ourselves to feast at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb of God and partake of His Body and Blood. Finally, we fast on certain days or during certain seasons as a means of disciplining and preparing ourselves for the upcoming feast (Christmas, Theophany, Pascha, etc.).

Q: “You Orthodox don’t seem to know the Bible very well. Don’t you read it? Don’t you learn about it in Sunday School? I bet you can’t even tell me who the 12 patriarchs are or the 12 apostles?

A: Orthodox Christians have always known theirs to be a “biblical Church.” The Bible plays a key role in every aspect of our life, from personal meditation to the public Liturgy. Although we hear it in church all the time, it is true that we more often venerate the Bible than read it. The Bible is “inspired” by the Holy Spirit. Although it is written in human language, with human limitations, it is God’s Word in the sense that the biblical authors were guided in their writing to convey all that is necessary for us to “know” God and to enter into eternal communion with Him. Taking up the Word of God, we truly read by the power and grace of God Himself, who desires all of us to hear His voice and respond to it with faith and with love. The Bible is God’s living Word addressed personally to each of us. To be nourished by it as we can be, we need to take it off the shelf or coffee table, dust it off, open it up, and read. Every time we do, we can experience God Himself speaking to us: in our own language but with His power, wisdom and healing grace. As for the 12 patriarchs or the 12 apostles, well, lists that give those are easy to look up if you have a concordance.

Q: “Do you believe that God created the world in 6 days? Do you believe in evolution?

A: We believe that God did in fact create the world in 6 days — the Creation account in Genesis affirms this. However, we would also affirm that the word “day” in Genesis, Chapter One indicates much more than a 24-hour day. The word “day” in the Bible can mean a thousand years; a long (and indefinite) period of time; an aeon; an age. So, we do not state that God created the world in the space of just under a week as we know a week. He might have. He might not have. It doesn’t really matter anyway. The main point of the creation story is that God created everything that exists out of nothing — not the exact amount of time that it took.

If by evolution you refer to the theories and teachings of Charles Darwin, the Orthodox Church surely does not subscribe to evolution in any manner. Orthodoxy firmly believes that God is the Creator of all things and that human beings, created in the image and likeness of God, are unique among all created beings. At the same time Orthodoxy is not literalist in its understanding of the accounts of creation in Genesis. There are writings by Orthodox Christians which attempt to balance the creation accounts of Genesis with a certain ongoing — evolutionary, if you will — process which, on the one hand, affirms that while humans may have evolved physically under the direction and guidance and plan of the Creator, their souls could not have evolved any more than the powers of reasoning, speaking, or the ability to act creatively could have simply evolved. In such a scenario the Creator intervened by breathing His Spirit into man and giving him life, as stated in Genesis. Such thinking, however, while admitting the possibility that the Creator guided a process of physical evolution, is not identical with the theories of Charles Darwin, which implies that man’s soul also evolved and denies the active participation on the part of the Creator. In short, then, Orthodoxy absolutely affirms that God is the Creator and Author of all things, that He is actively engaged with His creation, and that He desires to restore His creation to full communion with Himself through the saving death and resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ. This, unlike Darwinism, is not a matter of ideology but, rather, a matter of theology. Orthodoxy has no problem with evolution as a scientific theory, only with evolution — as some people may view it — eliminating the need for God as Creator of All.

Q: “Why do we call our ministers “priests”? Catholic priests can’t get married. Our clergy can. And aren’t priests the pagan guys who worship Apollo or Hindu gods and goddesses?

A: The word that is used in the New Testament for the council of elders in a Christian community is “presbyter. (1 Tim. 5:17; James 5:14; Rev. 4:4)” This is one of the three-fold orders of the ministry as we know it today. Middle English for “presbyter” is “prester” and we get the word “priest” as a modern version of that. The term “priest” as applied to Greek, Roman and Hindu religion is different than the concept of “presbyter” / elder.

Q: “Why do you worship the Virgin Mary? You have a big picture of her right up front in your church. You pray to her and sing hymns to her a lot. Christians are supposed to worship only God.

A: We worship only God — the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The Bible makes that commandment very clear. (Exod. 20:2-6) We do affirm that the Mother of God the Word is “more honorable than the cherubim and beyond compare more glorious that the seraphim” — whose womb is more spacious than the heavens because it contained Him Whom nothing could contain. Because the Virgin Mary was called “full of grace” by the Archangel Gabriel (Luke 1:28) and “most blessed among all women” by her kinswoman Elizabeth (Lk. 1:42), we also consider her in this light. Her will was in synch with God’s and for this she is honored by the faithful for her vital role in the Incarnation of the Savior. The fresco in the apse of the church depicts the Christ Child on His mother’s lap — affirming the Incarnation. But if one were to look directly above, if standing in the nave of the church, one would see the great fresco of Christ All-sovereign, Pantokrator — the image of the invisible God. There we depict the One Who receives our worship. Worship is not the same thing as veneration, honor or respect.

Q: “Why do we have icons, and why do we kiss them and bow before them? Isn’t that what the Bible calls idolatry?

A: It has been said that icons are like windows into the Kingdom of Heaven. Now, even though they are made of wood, pigment, and perhaps gold leaf — and thus solid, not being able to be seen through — they do depict something of the Kingdom. They depict the transcendent realm; the decisive moments when God entered into cosmic history; the holy men, women and children who were themselves transparent to the Kingdom. Far from being realistic “snapshots,” icons are supposed to present a spiritual, transcendent and therefore (ever)lasting reality. Icons are our family picture gallery: they depict that great “cloud of witnesses” that surround us (Hebrews 12:1) As with any family, a picture or an article of clothing or something used by a love one is considered to be very dear. Our veneration of the icon is essentially an act of thanksgiving or devotion that passes through the icon and goes to the prototype (say, for example St. Nicholas or the Virgin Mary) but even through them to the Ultimate Prototype, God Himself. We bow ourselves down in humility before many different “things:” Before the icons; before the Mysteries of Holy Communion; before the Holy Cross; before the Book of the Gospels; even before each other — as bearing the image and likeness of God. St. John of Damascus once wrote that he bows down not before material things, but rather, he bows down in worship of the One Who created matter and Who even became a physical being for our salvation.

Q: “Why is it that when we are in church we stand all the time without saying or singing anything? My friends say that at their church they sing and stand and sit and kneel in church. They way that it looks like we aren’t really worshipping, but just standing there, bored and not really getting in to the service.

A: Our worship is quite active. Not simply passive at all. We stand. We prostrate or kneel. We move in procession. We should be attentively listening to the words that are being chanted by the choir, the clergy, or the readers. There are many times when we are also encouraged to voice our prayers and praises along with those who are leading the chanting. We can chant the responses to the Litanies; the liturgical dialogues between clergy and faithful; the Creed (Symbol of the Faith); the refrains and psalm verses; the Lord’s Prayer; the “Amens;” etc. If you choose to remain silent, that is up to you, but an active participation in our worship is anything but “just standing there.”

Q: “My Protestant friends pray together a lot. They get in a circle and sometimes hold hands and take turns praying for each other, themselves, etc. I feel kind of uncomfortable when they ask me to join them because I’m not used to praying in the first place, and when I do pray, I don’t pray like that. Why don’t we pray like them? They don’t’ seem to pray like us — I mean, like The Our Father and other prayers we use.

A: There is nothing to prevent us from praying with other Orthodox Christians in an informal manner (i.e., by extemporizing and bringing before God various needs and concerns). But this is only one of many types of prayer. There is the formal kind, where a Prayerbook or the Psalms can be used — individually or wherever two or three are gathered in Christ’s Name. There is the more formal liturgical (i.e., during worship in church) form of prayer. There is individual, contemplative or meditative prayer where we use no words but rather simply remain still and at peace in the Presence of God. Prayer can be thanksgiving, intercession on behalf of others, petition for ourselves, etc. Most of the time, however, many Orthodox rely on the set texts of prayers (such as the Our Father, “O Lord and Master of my life…,” “O Heavenly King,” and the Jesus Prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”) as the primary means of praying. But simply to sit quietly, reflecting on a passage from the Bible or an event in your life is also prayer.

Q: “Why do we have to confess to a priest?

A: In the early Church, one confessed one’s sins in the presence of the entire faith community. When this became impractical, it was the priest who “stood in” for the community, as its presiding officer and as its witness to the penitent’s repentance.

Of course we can confess directly to God — even a casual reading of the daily prayers reveals that we should do this – but we often find that we need help and advice in overcoming the very things we have confessed.

We do not confess “to” the priest; rather, we confess to God “in the presence of” the priest who, as the prayer before Confession clearly states, is God’s “witness” and who, having witnessed our confession of sins offers pastoral advice on how we can better our lives and overcome the very things we confess. Just as one would not attempt to diagnose, much less cure, one’s own physical ailments, so too one should not attempt to diagnose, much less cure, one’s own spiritual ailments.

We confess in the presence of the priest to acknowledge that our sins, whether we wish to accept it or not, affect the entire faith community on the one hand, and that we cannot “heal ourselves” on the other. The priest is there to help us overcome those things for which we seek forgiveness, to give advice that a friend or neighbor might not be in a position to give, and to bear witness on behalf of the faith community, of which he is the spiritual father, that we have indeed repented and been forgiven by God.

When we refuse to confess what we have done, we commit a second sin — a sin of pride, by which we are unwilling to acknowledge what we have done to another person, often justifying this by thinking, “Well, I didn’t really hurt anyone.” We also sin by thinking that we are “pulling the wool over” God’s eyes, which we cannot do. He knows our hearts and He alone judges the sincerity of our repentance — and a key element in genuine repentance is acknowledging to God and to others that we are indeed sinners.

So continue to ask God daily for forgiveness, but please do not overlook the need everyone has — including priests! — to seek guidance and direction in overcoming sin. And never forget that, if it true that God often heals the physically ill by guiding the hands of a surgeon, He also heals the spiritually ill by guiding the words and advice of a priest.

Q: “Why do we say “One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church” in the Nicene Creed?

A: The Church is one because God the Father, God the Son and the Holy Spirit are one — though three separate Persons, they are one God; one divinity. There can only be one Church and not many. And this one Church, because its unity depends on the Holy Trinity, may never be broken. Thus, according to Orthodox doctrine, the Church is indivisible. The Savior prayed to His Father, “May they be one, as You, Father, are in me and I in you…” (John 17:11)

The Church is holy because God is holy, and because Christ and the Holy Spirit are holy. The holiness of the Church comes from God. The members of the Church are holy to the extent that they live in communion with God. In the Church, people participate in God’s holiness. Sin and error separate them from this divine holiness as it does from the divine unity. Thus, the earthly members and institutions of the Church cannot be identified as such with the Church as holy. The faith and life of the Church can be affirmed as “holy” only because of God’s presence and action in them.

The Church is also catholic because of its relation to God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit. The word catholic means full, complete, whole, all-embracing, with nothing lacking. (The Latin word “catholicos” means “universal” but the Greek word “Katholon” means “according to the whole” — a different emphasis: one of quality rather than quantity.) God alone is full and total reality; in God alone is there nothing lacking.

The word apostolic describes that which has a mission, that which has “been sent” to accomplish a task. Christ Himself chose and sent His apostles. “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you … receive the Holy Spirit,” the risen Christ says to His disciples. Thus, the apostles go out to the world, becoming the first foundation of the Christian Church. The Church in its earthly members is itself sent by God to bear witness to His Kingdom, to keep His word and to do His will and His works in this world.

The Season of Paschaltide

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

Pascha II — The Sunday of St. Thomas

(Acts 5:12-20 & John 20:19-31)

The Gospel of John is centered around seven wondrous “signs” which the Lord Jesus performed. A sign is a technical term that means a miracle or wonder-work. Although the appearance of the Savior on the Sunday following His Resurrection is not one of the technical seven “signs” it is given in the context of the many signs that Jesus performed “so that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through this belief, you may have life in His Name.” (Jn. 20:31) Jesus declares to Thomas, “You have come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” (vs. 29). The seven signs that St. John has chosen to focus on in his Gospel are chosen to represent all the miracles that Jesus performed. The seven demonstrate that Jesus has fulfilled the messianic prophecies in the Hebrew Scriptures. When he comes, the messiah can be recognized because he will reenact certain miracles done by the prophets (Jn. 2:1-12 & 2 Kgs. 4:1-7, 42-44). He will heal the sick (Jn. 4:46-54; 5:1-15; 9:1-41 & Isa. 35:5-6; 61:1-2; Joel 2:28-31). He will feed the hungry (Jn. 6:1-15 & Isa. 51:3; Exod. 16:15-21). He will have power over the cosmos (Jn. 6:14-27 & Exod. 15; Job 38:8-11; Ps. 65:5-8). He will raise the dead (Jn. 11:1-54 & 1 Kgs. 17:17-24; 2 Kgs. 4:18-37). St. Thomas the doubting Apostle had to see for himself; he would not believe the account of another. The Lord Jesus affirms Thomas’ faith, but He goes a step further and blesses the faith of those who have not seen and yet still believe. That is us. That is all the faithful throughout the ages who have not been fortunate enough to be eye-witnesses of the Lord’s earthly ministry. So in a very significant way, the Sunday of St. Thomas is our day, too.

Pascha III — The Sunday of the Myrrhbearing Women

(Acts 6:1-7 & Mark 15:43-16:8)

(Also commemorated this day are Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.) The Holy Myrrhbearers are: Mary Magdalene, the Equal-to-the-Apostles and first eye-witness of the Resurrection; the “other Mary;” Salom; Joanna; Susanna “and others with them…” (In iconography, Martha and Mary of Bethany are often added, and joined with the Theotokos.) Rather than presenting a theological or spiritual discussion of the theme of this Sunday, we’ll look into just who these individuals are.

Mary Magdalene is named by all four Evangelists and is often identified as the notorious sinful woman who listened to Jesus’ teachings at the house of Simon the Pharisee, decided to forsake her life of sin, anointed the feet of the Lord and from then on followed Him (Lk. 7). This sinful woman is the subject of the beloved and very beautiful Hymn of St. Kassiani that we sing on Holy Wednesday. Mary Magdalene is the woman out of whom the Lord cast seven demons (Lk 8:2-3 & Mk. 16:9). Sometimes Mary Magdalene is identified with Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus and Martha (Mt. 26, Mk. 14, Jn. 11 & 12). Mary Magdalene stood at the Cross of the Savior, witnessed His burial, visited the tomb very early on Easter Sunday, saw the Risen Lord, went to tell the disciples that the Lord had risen (and was the very first human being in the world to proclaim “M’shee ho dkom” (Aramaic for “Christ is Risen”) and returned to the tomb. Various traditions disagree about many of the elements and identifications as to just who Mary Magdalene is. She is somewhat cloaked in mystery, but she is a greatly loved saint of the Church.

The “other Mary” may be the wife of Clopas (Cleopas / Alphaeus) and the mother of the Apostles James the Younger and Joseph / Joses (Mt. 27:56; Mk. 15:40-41, 47 16:1-8; Lk. 24:9-11; Jn. 19:25). Clopas (according to the 1st century Jewish historian Josephus) was the brother of Joseph the Carpenter. Clopas was one of the first men (i.e., with Luke) to see the Risen Lord (Lk. 24:13-35). Thus, this other Mary is likely one of the inner circle of the relatives and friends of the Savior.

Salome is perhaps Jesus’ aunt and sister of the Theotokos. She appears to be the wife of Zebedee, and thus the mother of the Apostles James and John. Or perhaps Salome was the daughter of Joseph, the foster-father of the Savior and guardian of the Theotokos. The Fathers and Mothers of the Church differ as to which of these two theories is accepted. Salome was among the women who followed Jesus and looked after Him and His disciples. Salome and the other Mary, as mothers of the disciples were early-on involved in the Savior’s Galilean lakeside ministry and comprise the inner-circle of relatives and friends of the Lord. (Mt. 20:20-23; 27:55-56; Mk. 15:40-41; 16:1)

Joanna is the wife of Chuza, King Herod’s steward (Lk. 8). He is the financial minister and manager of the royal estates. Joanna resides in Jerusalem at the Hasmonean Palace. It is likely that Joanna was well acquainted with the Pharisees Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. All three of these individuals were secretly disciples of the Lord. Joanna, together with the other women from Galilee took note of where Jesus had been buried, prepared spices and ointments with which to anoint His body, went to the tomb an found it empty, returned to tell the Eleven and the others of the angel’s message (Lk. 23:55-24:11).

Susanna is a friend of Joanna, “one of the other women” who provided for the Lord and His disciples “out of their own resources” during their Galilean ministry (Lk. 8:3).

Joseph of Arimathea was a Pharisee and a respected member of the Sanhedrin — the supreme Jewish council which had legislative, judiciary and executive authority in Israel. Joseph was wealthy, he was righteous, he was awaiting the Kingdom of God, he was a secret follower of the Lord and had not consented to that the Pharisees had planned and carried out regarding the arrest and trial of the Savior. It was Joseph who owned the tomb in which the Lord was laid. He also had purchased the linen shroud in which the Lord’s body was wrapped. Joseph organized the taking-down of Jesus’ body from the cross and he it was who rolled the stone across the entrance of the tomb. (Mt. 27:57-59; Mk. 15:43-46; Lk. 23:50; Jn. 19:38-42; Acts 13:29)

Nicodemus was also a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin. He was the secret disciple who came in the middle of the night to the Lord Jesus and conversed with Him about being born anew (Jn. 3:1-9). He also insisted to his fellow Pharisees that (according to the Law of Moses) Jesus be given a fair hearing (Jn. 7:46-9). Finally it is Nicodemus, together with Joseph, who administered the rites of burial to the Savior (19:39).

There are many legends about most of these individuals (i.e., red Easter eggs; hawthorn bushes and holy grails). What is given here is simply based on the words of the New Testament.

Pascha IV — The Sunday of the Paralytic

(Acts 9:32-42 & John 5:1-15)

During the season between Passover and Pentecost one year, the Lord Jesus entered the Jerusalem Temple precincts and headed over to the Sheep Pool near the Temple stock yards. It was at this pool that the sacrificial lambs were washed and given one last drink of water before being taken into the Court of Priests and slaughtered for the daily morning and evening sacrifice. There was an underground spring that fed the pool with water. Every now and then the spring would percolate and the surface of the pool would ripple. The idea came to be held that at the time of the rippling, the Archangel Raphael (the patron of healing — see Tobit 3:17) had actually descended and stirred the water with his wings as a signal for all the sick to enter into the pool — and that the very first person to touch the water would be healed of whatever disease he or she possessed. Around the pool lay or sat many miserably sick people waiting for a cure. Imagine the scene as soon as the water rippled: the people who were lying and sitting on the stairs leading down into the water would crawl in, pushing, swearing and shoving each other out of the way so as to be the first to get in and benefit from the healing power of the pool. It was a terrible place full of foul, rotten smells, moaning and groaning, envy, hatred and quarrels. Most “decent folk” tried to avoid the Sheep Pool. But it is exactly there where the Savior headed on that day. On the deck of this pool that Christ found a man who had been unable to move his limbs for 38 years. (It is significant that the Israelites had wandered and waited in the desert wilderness for 38 years before crossing through the waters of the Jordan and enter the Holy and Promised Land — see Deut. 2:14-15). “Do you want to be healed?” “I have nobody to place me in the water…” And Jesus tells him to pick up his mat and walk — which he does. The Lord Jesus came to this place of envy. He sought the place that most would avoid. He looked around and His eye fell on the one who had been abandoned by everybody — one who was sick, lonely, hopeless. And in many ways, that man is you and me. At Vespers on the eve of this day we sing, “It was for your sake that I became a man; it was for you that I took on flesh. You say you have no one, but I say ‘Take up your bed and walk.’” Baptism heals the infirmities of our body and soul and frees us from paralyzing sin and self-absorption.

The Feast of Mid-Pentecost

(Micah 4:2-5, 5:4-5, 6:2-8; Isaiah 12:3-4; Isaiah 55:1-13; Proverbs 9:1-11; Acts 14:6-18 & John 7:14-30)

The Lord Jesus was in the Jerusalem Temple on the mid-feast of the harvest time Festival of Tabernacles one year, teaching about His own divine ministry and about the mystery of water. The Feast of Tabernacles commemorated the 40-year wanderings of the Jews in the desert. Part of the ritual of this feast was when (to the singing of the Great Hallel — Psalms 113 through 118), the High Priest left the Temple and walked to the spring of Siloam at the foot of Mt. Zion. With a golden chalice he scooped up clean water from the pool. At the sound of the trumpet he and the congregations returned to the temple. The High Priest then mixed the water with wine and poured it over the altar of oblation. This action commemorated the gift of drinking of water for the Jews in the desert when Moses struck the rock (Num. 20:11). So, at the harvest-time Feast of Tabernacles, the Lord runs with the theme of water and also proclaims Himself Himself as the Source of the True Living Water. The Church has taken the theme of the middle of the Feast of Tabernacles (Jn. 14) and applies it to the mid-point between Pascha and Pentecost. St. Paul identifies the wilderness rock from which the Hebrew people drank (Num. 20) with Christ Himself (1 Cor. 10:4). “Come, let us drink, not miraculous water drawn forth from a barren stone, but a new vintage springing from the tomb of Christ.” Again, a baptismal theme (water) is coupled with the theme of water changed into wine at a wedding banquet (John 2:1-11), coupled with the Wedding Banquet of the Lamb of God to which we are called (Apoc. 19:9) all find a place here.

Pascha V — The Sunday of the Samaritan Woman

(Acts 11:19-30 & John 4:5-42)

The Jews despised the Samaritans for a number of reasons. The Samaritans only adhered to the Five Books of Moses (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy) — not to the whole of the Hebrew Scriptures (and thus, not the whole of the Hebrew religion). The Jews considered that this list was a human selection, not the full canon given by God. The Samaritans had their own center of worship and sacrifice on Mount Gerazim. This was a rival to the Temple on Mount Zion in Jerusalem. The Jews considered Samaritan worship to be fraudulent — anything but true and spiritual — again, of human origin, not decreed by God. The Samaritans and the Jews considered each other as rivals if not enemies. Jews considered Samaritans to be ritually unclean. No good Jew would associate with such a Gentile. Luke 10 records the story of the Good Samaritan who was more compassionate and therefore more righteous in dealing with the victim of robbery and beating than “righteous” Jews. Luke 17 tells of the Samaritan leper who came back to give thanks to the Savior after being healed — whereby the nine Jewish lepers felt no sense of gratitude. Finally, the Samaritan Woman at Jacob’s Well evangelized her whole village. The Savior broke with rabbinical tradition and not only publicly spoke with a woman, but He conversed with (and drank from the hands of) this Gentile. Why? Immediately He saw into her very heart. She was not a happy person. She had lived in a sinful relationship with a succession of domestic partners. Jesus simply questions her about her husband. And in the splendid radiance of the Light Unapproachable — in the Presence of the Lord which is a consuming fire (the uncreated Fire of Love and Fire of Judgment) it finally dawns on her that she is living a lie. She can’t contain this new insight. She has to tell somebody. She runs to the village to tell her people. She takes the Good News to them. And after two days with the Savior they know for themselves that He is the Savior of the World. Whether or not this woman’s real name was Photini / Fatima / Svetlana as an allusion to light doesn’t matter. The fact that the inner tradition of the Church has given her such a name indicates that her role in the Kingdom is a vital one that we all would do well to emulate. How have you brought the Good News to your people? Living Water — the illuminating Water of Life is another baptismal theme we encounter at this season. For this reason the newly-baptized are called the “illuminati” or newly-illumined, the photizomenoi.

Pascha VI — The Sunday of the Blind Man

(Acts 16:16-34 & John 9:1-38)

Taking up the baptismal theme once again, we close the Paschal season with the story of the man who was born blind. This selection stresses two major themes of the whole of John’s Gospel: Darkness and Light (or illumination / enlightenment) AND the divinity of Christ. (Just read the Paschal Gospel passage — John 1:1-17 — which sets the scene for this overall message.) There are at least sixteen instances in the Gospel of John where the Savior is referred to or refers to Himself as light. Darkness can be physical (outward) or spiritual (inner) darkness. Blindness can be a visual disability. It can also be a spiritual disability. In the passage for this Sunday both types of sightedness are granted to the man born blind. Not only does he receive his vision but he comes to a growing awareness (and enlightenment) as to Who Jesus Is. First he is given sight. He responds by telling his neighbors by calling Jesus simply a man. Next, when questioned, he tells the Pharisees that Jesus is a prophet. After further questioning by the Pharisees that he asserts that Jesus is from God. Finally he proclaims that Jesus not only is the Son of Man (i.e., the Messiah), but He is Lord and God as well. (Note the same declaration by the Apostle Thomas on the Sunday after the Resurrection: Jn. 20:28.) Contrast this with the statement of the Savior to the Pharisees (9:39) affirming that some people — though the think that they see are really blind. The Pharisees of all people should know Who the Messiah is (see 3:10), but they refuse to believe. Their hearts are so hardened against the obvious that it becomes crystal clear that they have brought about their own judgment. The Incarnation of the Word enlightens the world SO THAT when confronted with the truth it becomes only too evident that those who “see” are in fact judged to be blind, preferring the darkness to the light (Jn. 3:19).

Palm Sunday Sermon from April 24, 2005

Saturday, December 1st, 2007

In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Today we commemorate our Lord’s entry into Jerusalem; an entrance that looks to be a triumphant entry, like an entry of a King into a conquered city. “Hosanna!” chants the crowds excitedly, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel.” The crowds are out in force, proclaiming Jesus to be the Messiah, celebrating his entrance into the Holy City. They are throwing their palm branches before him. There is great celebration.

But we know that a week later, the same crowd will call for his crucifixion, a dramatic turn around as the one who was proclaimed king and savior, is traded for a thief named Barabas and sentenced to death by crucifixion as a criminal. What happened in this span of less than a week? Why did the crowds who so recently declared him king turn on him and cry out for his death? I believe that the answer to these questions resides in the fact that the crowd did not really understand Jesus; they did not really know who he is.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus asked the question, “Who do you say that I am?” This is perhaps the most important question asked at any time in history. It is the question that Jesus poses not just to those who he met while he lived physically on earth, but it is the question that he poses to us this morning and every day of our lives. Who do you say that I am? Who do you say that I am?

It is an intimate question, one that is goes to the core of being. The question is not a casual, shallow question. In so many social situations, we are introduced to another person and inevitably the question is asked “What do you do?” And we answer the question with a quick, short response—“I am a teacher, I am a nurse, I am a lawyer, I am a doctor, I am a businessman, I am a homemaker”… as if this explanation offers a glimpse into who we are. We define ourselves to others by what our occupation is, but the answer is not intimate or really very informative. Why? Because we are not describing who we are at the core of our being. What we do for a living does not fully describe our soul, what we are about, what we love, our personality—it does not describe who we really are. Jesus asks us an intimate question, one that delves to the very core of being. By asking the question, “Who do you day that I am,” Jesus is really asking, “Do you really know me?”

Early in his ministry, John the Baptist sent one of his disciples to Jesus asking him if he was the messiah. Jesus did not directly answer John, rather he simply pointed to what he did: the blind see, the lepers are healed, the lame walk, the dead rise and the good news is preached. Rather than offering a straightforward answer, Jesus pointed to concrete evidence to make a statement about who he is. John was to come to his own conclusion to his question, “Who is Jesus?” Jesus throws the question back to John to consider. Given what you’ve seen me do and say, what am I about, who do you think I am?

Towards the end of his ministry, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do the people say that I am?” The disciples responded: “Elijah returned, Jeremiah, a prophet.” Perhaps dissatisfied, Jesus poses the same question to his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter, ever the eager one, proclaims, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus tells Peter that this was known by the grace of the Holy Spirit. By affirming Peter’s answer as from the Spirit, Jesus is telling us the conclusion we all must reach to really begin to know him.

But now we fast-forward back to Christ’s entrance into Jerusalem. The people were expecting a Messiah or a Christ. But their understanding of the Messiah was too limited. The crowds were expecting a savior who would give them a temporal victory. They were expecting a leader who would lead them to freedom over their Roman oppressors. They were expecting a political savior.

The crowds didn’t really understand Jesus, they didn’t really know him. They were desiring a Messiah of their own making, their own creation. Once they discovered that Jesus was not going to fulfill their expectations, they quickly deserted him in the harshest of ways—they handed him over to death on the cross.

Quite often today, people believe in a Jesus of their own making. Some reduce Jesus to a good teacher, one who taught about love and morals. Others see him as a pacifist. Some cast Jesus as a spiritual guru who, like Buddha, will help us reach spiritual enlightenment. Others envision Jesus to be a social activist—one who challenged the status quo and broke social barriers. Others cast Jesus as a sort of spiritual teddy bear—a wishy-washy friend to forgives all and demands nothing.

All of these ideas of Jesus have an element of truth in them, but all fall short of portraying an accurate picture of who Jesus really is. He is a good teacher. He is a peace maker. He is the Truth and therefore is the one who leads us to real enlightenment. He is one who challenges the status quo, who offers justice to the oppressed, and challenges our conventional wisdom. He is our friend and the one who forgives all our iniquities. And yet he is so much more.

To some degree, Jesus defies our attempts to define him. He refuses to let us put him in a box. To those who see him as only a good teacher, he refutes their conception by laying claim to authority that only God himself has—thus proclaiming his divinity. To those who see him as a pacifist, he confounds by saying, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” To those who see him as another Buddha, as just another way to enlightenment, he says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” For those see him as one who grants forgiveness without demanding any change within us, he preaches judgment. He is all of these things to some degree, but he cannot be reduced to any of them. To reduce Jesus down to a creature of our own making is to deny who he really is, and it is just as if we were apart of the crowds yelling, “crucify him, crucify him!” We have no use for the real person.

Jesus, therefore, is truly an enigma; he is beyond our simple definitions. Even the great Fathers of the Church and the Great Councils of the Church struggled as to how to answer this question. They understood that Christ was divine and human, but they struggled over how to put him into words. They often chose to leave things unsaid, rather than overstating any particular element. The fathers struggled because they knew that what was said about Jesus must be fully balanced and true to his entire person, his very being. Leaning too far towards his humanity or his divinity would lead down the dark raod of heresy and misunderstanding, just as many modern notions of Christ do. Jesus defies simple definitions, simple reductions.
And yet he calls to us, challenging us, “Who do you say that I am?” He calls us into fellowship with him, he calls us to intimacy. He challenges us to allow him to alter our preconceived notions of who he is. The crowds thought they knew who Jesus was, and when they saw that he wasn’t what they wanted and expected, they turned on him and crucified him. The crowds did not want their notions challenged by the authentic Messiah. Today we must decide, will we allow our own preconceived notions to be challenged by him?

The Lord of creation, the one who walked with Adam and Eve in the Garden, the one who raised Lazarus from the dead, the one died on the cross for the sins of the world and rose again three days later calls to us. The bridegroom calls out to his church and to the world this morning, simply asking, “Who do you say that I am?”

Amen.