The Ascension of Christ

Sunday of the Paralytic

The Incarnation:

Orthodoxy and Other Confessions of Faith

Fr. Basil Zebrun

“No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known” (John 1:18).  “He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?” (John 14:9).

At this time of year we rejoice in the advent of God’s Son, Who comes into the world to make known to us the One, True God. Furthermore, being perfectly human as well as divine, Christ also reveals who “we” are, what our own lives should and can be like.  In addition, the union of God and man in the Person of Jesus renews creation and restores the Creator’s image in man, making possible our salvation, a progression “from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Pointing specifically to the Church, God’s Incarnation is the basis for many of her practices: for instance the sacramental life, all kinds of blessings including the consecration of Churches, the general physicality of our worship, even the existence of a Church calendar. With regard to the latter Christ’s disciples affirm that the eternal God has entered time, part of the created order. Time itself is redeemed by the divine plan: Christians mark it – fill it – with the prayerful celebration of God’s loving presence and the remembrance of His redeeming acts.  In turn the saving power of those acts, and of His Life, are communicated to the faithful through the Body’s liturgy by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

In addition, the Incarnation defines the Church herself.  Bishop Kallistos Ware in his book The Orthodox Church describes a fundamental experience of Orthodoxy for 2000 years: “The Church is the extension of the Incarnation, the place where the Incarnation perpetuates itself. The Church, the Greek theologian Chrestos Androutsos has written, is ‘the center and organ of Christ’s redeeming work;…it is nothing else than the continuation and extension of His prophetic, priestly, and kingly power…The Church and its Founder are inextricably bound together…The Church is Christ with us’” (p. 245).  Furthermore, it must be stressed that a genuinely “incarnate,” personal faith leads to a “blameless, unashamed and peaceful” life, following God’s commands.

The painting (writing) and veneration of Icons – often a focus for those being introduced to Orthodoxy – is also rooted in the belief that in Christ, God has become man.  What Bishop Kallistos says of this practice and the Iconoclast controversy of the eighth and ninth centuries in terms of the Incarnation, might be applied generally to those traditions mentioned above, i.e. to the physical dimensions of worship and Church life. 

“The Iconoclasts, by repudiating all representations of God, failed to take full account of the Incarnation.  They fell, as so many puritans have done, into a kind of dualism.  Regarding matter as a defilement, they wanted a religion freed from all contact with what is material; for they thought that what is spiritual must be non-material.  But this is to betray the Incarnation, by allowing no place to Christ’s humanity, to His body; it is to forget that man’s body as well as his soul must be saved and transfigured…The Iconoclast controversy…was not merely a controversy about religious art, but about the Incarnation and the salvation of man…God took a material body, thereby proving that matter can be redeemed: ‘The Word made flesh has deified the flesh,’ said John of Damascus.  God has ‘deified’ matter, making it ‘spirit-bearing’; and if flesh became a vehicle of the Spirit, then so – though in a different way – can wood and paint.  The Orthodox doctrine of icons is bound up with the Orthodox belief that the whole of God’s creation, material as well as spiritual, is to be redeemed and glorified” (The Orthodox Church, pp. 41 and 42).                      

These and other implications of the Incarnation are often lost in the popular mind.  Moreover, for many Christians, God’s “enfleshment” while important, has become little more than either an opportunity for our Creator to impart divine teachings “close up, face to face,” or a necessary prelude to the Crucifixion:  i.e. if God’s Son is to be offered up for the sins of the world then logically He must become human for such a sacrifice to be made. In this limited approach the objective power, significance, indeed challenge of the Incarnation itself – all of which the Orthodox strongly affirm – remain unrecognized. This certainly can help to explain religious practices and beliefs amongst Christians that differ greatly from Orthodoxy: why, for example, a sacramental approach to Church life is rejected by numerous Church groups; why the entire year for some Christians is marked (filled) mainly by the remembrance of national and family milestones rather than by the corporate commemoration of events in the life of Christ and His Saints; why, in part, ascetic disciplines are thought to be archaic and non-essential by many; and why with regard to morality and to any kind of “striving for perfection” there are Christian skeptics who tolerate, if not openly endorse, behavior that would have been unthinkable in the early Church, not to mention a few decades ago.  When the meaning of God’s Incarnation is minimized, reduced to a venue for religious education or a simple “introduction” for a future event, then much of the Gospel is rendered impotent, man is robbed of seeing his full potential in Christ, and salvation itself can be understood as impersonal, something that happens “outside” of man, rather than becoming his very life, here and now.

In The Orthodox Way, Bishop Ware comments on the objective power and implications of the union of God and man, in Christ.

“…sin, original and personal, has set between God and man a gulf which man by his own unaided efforts cannot bridge…Cut off from his Creator, separated from his fellow men, inwardly fragmented, fallen man lack(s) the power to heal himself…Since man (cannot) come to God, God has come to man, identifying himself with man in the most direct way.  The eternal Logos and Son of God the second person of the Trinity, has become true man, one of us; he has healed and restored our manhood by taking the whole of it into himself…Christ is the Theanthropos or “God-man,” who saves us from our sins precisely because he is God and man at once.  Man could not come to God, so God has come to man, by making himself human.  In his outgoing or “ecstatic” love, God unites himself to his creation in the closest of all possible unions, by himself becoming that which he has created.  God, as man, fulfills the mediatorial task which man rejected at the fall.  Jesus our Savior bridges the abyss between God and man because he is both at once.  As we say in one of the Orthodox hymns for Christmas Eve, “Heaven and earth are united today, for Christ is born.  Today has God come down to earth, and man gone up to heaven.”  The Incarnation, then, is God’s supreme act of deliverance, restoring us to communion with himself” (pp. 68-70).

Referencing certain theological speculations of the Saints, Bishop Kallistos further emphasizes the meaning of “God made man” by addressing the hypothetical question of the Incarnation apart from the fall of man in terms of a revelation and fulfillment of man’s true destiny; that he is created in God’s Image with the call to grow in His likeness.  Such a theoretical discussion serves to reinforce the notion that God’s intimate union with His creatures in the Person of Christ is much more than a teaching opportunity or a prelude to the Cross. Bishop Ware mentions people such as St. Maximus the Confessor and in the West, Duns Scotus.  But citing specifically St. Isaac the Syrian, he says:

“The Incarnation is the most blessed and joyful thing that could possibly have happened to the human race. Can it be right then, to assign as cause for this joyful happening something (man’s fall), which might never have occurred, and indeed ought never to have done so?  Surely, God’s taking of our humanity is to be understood not only as an act of restoration, not only as a response to man’s sin, but also and more fundamentally as an act of love, an expression of God’s own nature.  Even had there been no fall, God in his own limitless, outgoing love would still have chosen to identify himself with his creation by becoming man.”  His Grace continues, “The Incarnation of Christ…effects more than a reversal of the fall, more than a restoration of man to his original state in Paradise…The Incarnation raises man to a new level; the last state is higher than the first.  Only in Jesus Christ do we see revealed the full possibilities of our human nature; until he is born, the true implications of our personhood are still hidden from us.  Christ’s birth, as St. Basil puts it, is ‘the birthday of the whole human race;’ Christ is the first perfect man, perfect, that is to say, not just in a potential sense, as Adam was in his innocence before the fall, but in the sense of the completely realized “likeness.”  The Incarnation, then, is not simply a way of undoing the effects of original sin, but it is an essential stage upon man’s journey from the divine image to the divine likeness.  The true image and likeness of God is Christ himself; and so, from the very first moment of man’s creation in the image, the Incarnation of Christ was in some way already implied.  The true reason for the Incarnation, then, lies not in man’s sinfulness but in his unfallen nature as a being made in the divine image and capable of union with God” (pp. 70-71).

In light of these words we can point as well, to the event of Christ’s Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.  Celebrated by the Orthodox on August 6, this is a feast unknown by many Christians.  It is often interpreted primarily, and rightly, as a revelation of our Lord’s divine glory, but it also manifests the calling and destiny of each human being.  Jesus was transfigured in His humanity – our humanity which He took upon Himself – and thus showed us, as mentioned above, “the true implications of our personhood,” that we are made to be filled,  “with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:19).  

Since the Incarnation itself is “already an act of salvation” (Ware), it can be asked, “why then was the Crucifixion necessary?”  Briefly, as theologians have explained, in Paradise – i.e. had there been no fall of man – the Incarnation would have sufficed for man and his destiny. But in this corrupt world, for God’s identification with us to be complete, He had to suffer and enter death in order to transform these into “life giving experiences” when a person endures them lovingly and faithfully in Christ. Additionally the power and sting of death had to be destroyed from the inside out by Life Itself entering its realm.                                 

In the Orthodox Church Christmas is one of the greatest feasts of the year.  Usually it is ranked third amongst major holidays just behind Pascha (Easter) and Theophany. It is a time of prayer, great joy and sharing because of the gift of Christ Who comes to share God’s life with us, and to impart a vision for how our lives are to be. As such it provides a good opportunity to mention, in a general sense, certain differences between Orthodoxy and other confessions of faith. Similarities often take care of themselves and unquestionably provide excellent starting points for ecumenical dialogue. Within these dialogues, however, Orthodox Christians must first be conscious of their own possible susceptibility to outside theological and moral influences. With regard to this article, they must seek – in a profound manner – to understand for themselves and to celebrate the wonder and full implications of God’s Incarnation. Having begun to center their lives in the Incarnate Lord, this experience becomes increasingly the basis for an authentic witness to the life in Christ, and constitutes one’s ultimate joy.

Mixed Messages

Fr. Basil Zebrun

       Perhaps you have had the following experience, or one similar. This past August, I was driving to the Chancery Office in Dallas and passed a large billboard with an advertisement for a gambling casino.  Scrolled across the bottom of the sign was a warning about gambling addiction, along with a phone number to call for help with this specific problem.  At the time the overall message appeared mixed, strange at the very least.  Putting aside the moral implications of gambling what I saw was an attractive, sparkling invitation to enjoy an activity that, in fact, has adversely impacted countless lives, along with – oddly enough – an “antidote” for gambling addiction, a lifeline just in case those responding to the colorful invite find themselves overwhelmed by the seduction of the pastime:  i.e. “call this number.”  Given this illustration, if certain narcotics are ever legalized it would not be difficult to imagine drug related offers by the roadside with disclaimers directing addicts to nearby care units, “just in case…”           

     I began to dwell on the I-30 advertisement and it occurred to me that such mixed signals are not uncommon. Take, for instance, the Surgeon General’s somber warning on beautifully designed packs of cigarettes, or “help fight hunger” commercials that immediately follow promotions for all-you-can-eat specials at IHOP.  Think, as well, about unfortunate trends in society – obesity, sexual promiscuity, violence, the ever-increasing impersonal character of American culture, etc. – developments encouraged and supported by citizens’ personal behavior, incompatible with any genuine desire for change. An example: a parent is publicly outraged with teachers who attempt to discipline local students for gross misconduct, but greatly laments the lack of respect for adults shown by her own child and his friends.       

     As confusing as all this may become, and as much as one might wish to reverse specific societal tendencies, our Faith teaches that such change actually begins in the hearts of individual believers.  Cultural behavior that we generally deplore must first be eradicated in us. Our own mixed signals must give way to a consistency of words and actions, convictions and daily living. Christ spoke of removing the log in our own eye so that we will see clearly to take the speck out of our brother’s eye (Matthew 7: 3-5).  St. Seraphim is often quoted as saying, “Acquire the Spirit of peace and thousands around you will be saved.” But how is such an acquisition made?  And – relatedly – how may harmony be achieved between what we “preach” and what we actually do, so that our lives and those of others may be affected in a positive manner?

     To be sure, prayer and ascetic discipline are vital for such an effort. But in general, there is a necessity for being in communion with Truth – i.e. Christ – Whose every word and deed revealed a harmonious, perfect union of man with his ultimate desire.  In Christ there were (are) no inconsistencies, no mixed signals. That fact was undoubtedly confusing to His detractors. Our Lord’s approach to life was loving, honest and straightforward. He did not play games (as they say). With regard to His ministry, Jesus did not heal and preach for profit, nor was He concerned with His public image. In a world where such things motivate the sending of mixed signals, Christ was one-of-a-kind. His devout followers have also displayed this same approach to life, at times incomprehensible to those outside the bonds of faith.  Their emulation of Christ unquestionably led to conflicts with people for whom discrepancies and deceptions were commonplace, an art form.

     To be in touch with the saving Reality of Truth, however, means that one must be willing to conform himself (or herself) to that Truth.  On November 15, Orthodox Christians will enter the Nativity Fast, i.e. Advent.  People frequently ask what they can do to make the Fast more meaningful. One suggestion is to address our personal double standards, mixed messages and inconsistencies. We can aspire to become and remain people of integrity. The following resolution could be made: “I will start to deal with regrettable trends in society by first attacking them within myself.  I will struggle on a daily basis simply to make my “yes” be “yes,” and my “no” be “no,” to have my life conform to the standards I hold up for others.”    

     The Christmas/Theophany season draws us into the manifestation of Truth. Christ is born and comes as a light to “a people sitting in darkness…to those sitting in the region and shadow of death” (Matthew 4:16; Isaiah 9:1-2).  At His baptism the full revelation of the Trinity is experienced: One God Who is at the same time Three, Distinct, Divine Persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  This God of Truth and Love is the model for our own existence, for we are created in His image. His life is the measure for our actions and deeds.

Where Is Love?

Archpriest Vladimir Berzonsky

Parma, Ohio

     The holy Saint Maximus in the seventh century compiled from the writings of the Church Fathers four hundred “chapters,” actually paragraphs, on the subject of divine-human love: called in Greek agape, and in Latin, caritas, from which we derive the term charity.  Here is the concluding chapter which he intended as a summary and highlight to all that came before it:

     “Many have said much about charity.  Looking at it only among the disciples of Christ will you find it, for they alone hold the true Charity, the Teacher of charity, of which it is said, “If I should prophesy and know all mysteries and all knowledge…and have not love, it profits me nothing!” (1 Corinthians 13:2).  He then who possesses charity possesses God Himself, for “God is Love.” To Him be glory unto ages of ages. Amen.”(St. Maximus the Confessor, Four Centuries on Charity, IV: 100)

     Where else, indeed, should one expect to find true love but among Christians, since they alone have as Lord and Teacher the very epitome of Godly love?

     Is he (St. Maximus) correct?  In our world today, can we affirm that blessed, selfless love is manifested by the disciples of Christ? An interesting thought.  Does it appear among committed Christians more decisively than among others who go by the name Christian? Do church-goers feel an obligation to love not only one another, but everything on earth that the Father holds dear?  Put another way:  Might one expect that visitors to our churches would be made aware of love radiating out to them, embracing them within the community of the faithful?  Or is that a rather naïve presumption?

     Yet somehow love always is the measure of belief.  One summer I was invited to share a week of faith exchange at an ecumenical setting in Wisconsin.  Another guest was a renowned writer on religious themes, a specialist in the cults who took up the cause of the Unification Church led by the Rev. Moon.  It impressed me that he would champion them, and I presumed he did so because he was rewarded lavishly for his espousal of its cause, but he insisted he had been drawn to them because of their concern for him as a person.  Precisely the attribute that true Christians affirm to be theirs. (Editor’s note: Twenty eight years ago, while working at a bank in Dallas, I met a family that went from being Christians to Jehovah Witnesses exclusively because of the personal attention shown to them by Jehovah Witnesses while the father was in the hospital.)

     “Love is made complete among us,” insists St. John (1 John 4:17).  “Only among the disciples of Christ will you find it,” says St. Maximus. Is this literally true or mere wish-fulfillment?  Are these definitions of believers today, or indictments?  Do we love, or do we explain why we don’t?

     After the sixties and seventies, what hasn’t been tried in the way of religions?  Cults, fads, pseudo-sciences, even nutrition and exercise are made to substitute for religion.  But true Christianity has yet to be revealed on a wide scale. If it should come to our civilization as an alternative to hedonism and emptiness, as well it might, the extent of our love will be the test of our worth.

     The Greeks were converted to Christ by the irrefutable logic of the Christian doctrine.  The Russians were captivated by the splendor of sacred worship.  But the average American is not generally won over by a commanding, overwhelming dogmatic theology, and does not seem to be overly impressed by lavish liturgics.

     Honesty, consistency, an integrity of life that takes into account all that a person is, does, and believes – this is the mark of faith commonly accepted by most Americans today.  They will not tolerate hypocrisy, mendacity, or vacillation, even if they would not say it that way.  “Sincerity” is the basic value moderns are searching for in a religious leader and in a church.  They will take no less than an open, loving, caring, sharing spiritual community.  This is the haven for which the nation yearns.

     Does American Christianity meet those specifications, and if not now, might it do so in the near future?  Hear the plea captured in a song from the musical “Oliver”; for not only Americans but the entire world is asking, “Where, O where is love?”  If it is to be found among us we shall grow and multiply, but if not, the world will continue searching.  It’s as simple and as difficult as that. 

     (Fr. Vladimir is the priest of Holy Trinity Orthodox Church in Parma and has been a mainstay in the Orthodox Church in America for several decades.  Professor and author as well as pastor, Fr. Berzonsky is perhaps best known for his regular editorials in The Orthodox Church newspaper and articles on the OCA website.  The preceding is taken from his book, “The Gift of Love,” published by St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.)

A Vision For Christian Education

Archpriest Theodore Bobosh

Dayton, Ohio

     Saint Seraphim of Sarov says the true aim of life is to acquire the Holy Spirit.  Prayer, fasting, charity, worship, etc., are only the means to the end.  Such clarity of thinking is important.  Often in education we teach a great deal about things which are the means to the end rather than the end itself.  We lose sight of the vision, focusing instead on sporadic goals, objectives and activities without connecting them to a clearly articulated vision.

     Vision keeps us moving toward the desired end.  Orthodox Christian education cannot be guided by the philosophy which says, “We’ll know where we are going when we get there.”  The Lord Jesus Christ revealed to us the way and the truth.  We do know where we are going before we even begin the journey.  We know where we are going because we know where Jesus is.  We have learned a great deal since Thomas asked, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?” [John 14:5].

     “If you aim at nothing, you are sure to hit it.”  The wisdom of this saying speaks to the leadership of the Church.  We are not aiming at nothing, nor is just any end desirable to us.  Our aim is the Kingdom of God.  The end has been revealed to us in Christ.  Christian education exists as a ministry of His Body to help us all on the road to the Kingdom.  Christian education is a life process.  As disciples of Christ our very lives become education – a way to know God, to work out our salvation, to mature in Christ, and to understand the world.

     Broadening the understanding of Christian education could draw the criticism that if everything is education then nothing is.  If everything becomes educational, won’t we lose a focus for our discipline?  I answer with a firm No!  In broadening our understanding of education, we find a vision for Christian education; a vision worthy of its task. Orthodox Christian education is the labor of the Church in spreading the Gospel.  It is bringing all people to the knowledge of the fullness of the truth.  From this vision will flow the strategy for our discipline.  This vision for Christian education will shape our curriculum and lesson plans.

     Christian education shapes the hearts and minds of its learners in order to enable or empower them to become true Christians.   This is done by giving them an encounter with God and uniting them with the Body of Christ.  Education helps each learner understand how life itself fits together.  Education does not simply dispense disjointed facts.  “Do we want our children to be preoccupied in acquiring material goods and societal recognition, or do we want them to seek and ‘learn of the kingdom of Heaven and the great reward that awaits those who live sober lives?’” [1] This is the type of question our curriculum developers and teachers need to be asking.  If we know our vision then we can evaluate our materials to see if they accomplish our key goals for education.

     We are the ones who have to decide what we want to teach our learners and why.  We have to become aware of how our modern, American, materialistic, media dominated, and post-Christian society shapes our attitudes and perspectives.  We need to know our vision and strategy, and we need clearly articulated goals to assure that our objectives and activities are fully Orthodox. While modern educational theory and practice may have wisdom to offer us, we must constructively criticize the practices, perspectives and attitudes which are conforming us to the image of modern humanity.  Tradition – Scripture, liturgy, the Fathers – is essential to our identity and vision.  Consider the words of Professor Anthony Ugolnik, whose thinking has been formed by Orthodoxy:

     “Our models of education can be well served by a consciousness of beauty.  Sunday school programs concentrate on a body of information:  texts, dogma, doctrine.  They pay too little concrete attention to the Christian notion of ‘spiritual beauty...’  We should encourage encounters with music and film.  We should help our young people to engage and discuss rock music, books, and movies they encounter in their daily lives, and try to submit them to Christian perspective...The purpose is not so much to dictate instruction but to discern the ‘mind of Christ together.” [2]

     Professor Ugolnik raises the issue of actively applying our religious education to both seeing and understanding the world around us.  Christian education teaches us how to see and understand the world.

     We want our children to understand the world.  We are to train them to perceive critically the society in which they are living.  We want them to be able to think as Christians, to choose and act according to those beliefs.  We want our children to mature as Christians, and not to treat their childhood as some undeveloped stage of life which they must “get through.”  They are to be Christian children – children being formed into the image of God.  Like Christian adults, they are full disciples of Christ the Lord.

     Every phase of life becomes a school for divine experience.  It becomes the training ground for later life and decisions.  Saint John Chrysostom’s main theme on raising children is, “We are raising an athlete, let us concentrate our thought on that.” [3] We are training our learners to be able to “compete” in life.  Our education must provide the training that prepares them to be Christians living in the world.  We are to give them the training they need to face the world in which they live, not some ideal world, nor the world which existed in some nostalgic past.  Simply giving them interesting information that guides them through the liturgy fails to train them for life itself.  The liturgy itself must train them for living in the world.  We must help them gain wisdom from the liturgy to prepare them for the hostile arena of a world under Satan’s dominion.  As Saint John Chrysostom said,

     “Let us raise our children in such a way that they can face any trouble and not be surprised when difficulties come; let us bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord...When we teach our children to be good, to be gentle, to be forgiving (all these are attributes of God), to be generous, to love their fellow men, to regard this present age as nothing, we instill virtue in their souls, and reveal the image of God within them.  This, then, is our task:  to educate both ourselves and our children in godliness; otherwise what answer will we have before Christ’s judgment seat?” [4]

     Saint John Chrysostom shows that education must aim at godliness, which is that real inner conversion of the mind, heart, and will to the life in Christ.  Our curriculum, as well as our teachers and parents, must have in mind to inspire in the children personal love for Christ. Such a goal moves well beyond teaching facts about the liturgy, the Bible, Church history, even about God.  Our aim is to form individuals and the community to be Christ-like – imitators of God – and to reject the wisdom and seductiveness of the world fallen under Satan’s dominion.  Saint John Cassian said, “The goal of our profession is the kingdom of God.  Its immediate purpose, however, is purity of heart, for without this we cannot reach our goal.” [5]  The destination of Christian education is the Kingdom of God.  Our purpose is to show people the straight and narrow road to the kingdom and to prepare them for the task of faithfully keeping on that road.

     Saint Innocent Veniaminov wrote:  “Christianity is a need, and a comfort which appeals principally to the heart, not to the mind alone, and therefore, when instructing in the faith, the teacher should aim at acting more on the heart than on the mind.  The mind’s curiosity is insatiable;  but he who feels in his heart the craving for faith, who tastes of its comfort – he will receive it quickly and with ease, and it shall not remain within him barren of fruits.  But in order to act on other men’s hearts, a man must speak from his own heart.  ‘From out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.’  Hence his lips and wisdom only shall prove irresistible to the hearts of his hearers, whose own heart overflows with faith, and he alone shall know without fail how and when to speak, and what to say.” [6]

     It is critical that those who teach have experienced the Divine in their lives; that their hearts have a deep love for God.  If we want Christian education to change people’s lives, then our teachers must know that experience themselves. Teachers cannot give what they do not have. “Every one of these teachers [of men] must firstly see in himself the insight which he teaches; he must learn it, receive it, taste it,” writes Saint Isaac the Syrian, “and then only can he offer it to his pupils.” 

     Saint Theophan the Recluse wrote, “And this is the chief aim of a Christian upbringing, that a man as a result of this might say within himself that he is a Christian...he will say, ‘I am a Christian, obliged by my Saviour and God to live in such a way so as to be vouchsafed the blessed communion with Him and with His chosen ones in the future life...’” [7]

     Christian education trains us how to live in this world so that we can attain life in the world to come.  It cannot ignore either one, for life in the age to come depends on how we lived in this world.  Yet life in this world is not the primary goal, but rather the means to attain the Kingdom of God.

     (Taken from the The Vigil, Fr. John Matusiak, Editor.  The Vigil is a publication of The Diocese of the Midwest, Orthodox Church in America.  Fr. Theodore is the pastor of St. Paul the Apostle Orthodox Church in Dayton, Ohio.  He has degrees from Ohio State University, St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary and Fordham University.  Fr. Bobosh has authored several books and was for 12 years an adjunct professor at the University of Dayton in the Religious Studies Department.  In addition he has lectured on a number of occasions for the Department of Christian Education of the O.C.A.)   

Transfiguration

A Sermon by:

 Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

     In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  There are blessed or tragic moments when we can see a person revealed to us in a light, with a depth, with an awesome beauty which we have never suspected before.  It happens when our eyes are open, at a moment of purity of heart; because it is not only God Himself Whom the pure in heart will see; it is also the divine image, the light shining in the darkness of a human soul, of the human life that we can see at moments when our heart becomes still, becomes transparent, becomes pure.

     But there are also other moments when we can see a person whom we thought we have always known, in a light that is a revelation.  It happens when someone is aglow with joy, with love, with a sense of worship and adoration.  It happens also when a person is at the deepest point, the crucifying point of suffering, but when the suffering remains pure, when no hatred, no resentment, no bitterness, no evil is mixed to it, when pure suffering shines out, as it shone invisibly to many from the Crucified Christ.

     This can help us to understand what the Apostles saw when they were on the Mount of Transfiguration.  They saw Christ in glory at a moment when His total surrender to the will of the Father, His final and ultimate acceptance of His own human destiny, became revealed to them.  Moses and Elijah, we are told, stood by Him; the one representing the Law and the other representing the Prophets:  both had proclaimed the time when salvation would come, when the Man of suffering would take upon Himself all the burdens of the world, when the Lamb of God slain before the ages would take upon Himself all the tragedy of this world.  It was a moment when in His humanity Christ, in humble and triumphant surrender, gave Himself ultimately to the Cross.

     Last week we heard (Christ) say that “the Son of God will be delivered into the hands of men, and they will crucify Him, but on the third day He will rise.”  At that moment it became imminent, it was a decisive point, and He shone with the glory of the perfect, sacrificial, crucified love of the Holy Trinity, and the responsive love of Jesus the Man, as Saint Paul calls Him.  The Apostles saw the shining, they saw the divine light streaming through the transparent flesh of Christ, falling on all things around Him, touching rock and plant, and calling out of them a response of light.  (Peter, James and John) alone did not understand because in all the created world man alone has sinned and become blind.  And yet, (the Apostles) were shown the mystery, and yet, they entered into that cloud which is the divine glory, that filled them with awe and with fear, but at the same time with such exulting joy and wonder!

     Moses had entered that cloud and was allowed to speak to God as a friend speaks to a friend; he was allowed to see God passing by him, still without a name, still without a face.  Now, (the Apostles) saw the face of God in the Incarnation. They saw His face and they saw His glory shining out of tragedy.  What they perceived was the glory, what they perceived was the wonder of being there, in the glory of God, in the presence of Christ revealed to them in glory.  They wanted to stay there forever, as we do at moments when something fills us with adoration, with worship, with awe, with unutterable joy.  But Christ had told them that the time had come to go down into the valley, to leave the Mount of Transfiguration because this was the beginning of the Way of the Cross, and He had to be merged into all that was tragic in human life.  He brought them down into the valley to be confronted with the agony of the father whose child could not be cured, with the inability of the disciples to do anything for this child, with the expectation of the people who now could turn to no one but Him – that is where He brought them.

     And we are told that He had chosen three disciples because…in their togetherness they held the three great virtues that make us capable of sharing with God the mystery of His Incarnation, His Divinity, His Crucifixion…descent into hell and…Resurrection:  the faith of Peter, the love of John, the righteousness of James.

     There are moments when we also see something which is beyond us, and how much we wish we could stay, stay forever in this blissful condition;  and it is not only because we are incapable of it that we are not allowed to stay…but because the Lord says, “You are now on the Mount of Transfiguration, you have seen Christ ready to be crucified for the life of the world – go now together with Him, go now in His Name, go now and bring people to Him that they may live!

     This is our vocation.  May God give us faith and the purity of heart that allows us to see God in every brother and sister of ours!  Didn’t one of the desert fathers say, “He who has seen his brother has seen God”?  Serve one another with love sacrificial, with the exulting joy of giving our lives to one another as Christ gave His life for us.  Amen.

Archbishop Dmitri’s Retirement

Fr. Basil Zebrun

CHRIST IS RISEN!!

Some Thoughts Concerning Lent

Fr. Basil Zebrun

     Lent begins Sunday night, March 1, with Forgiveness Vespers.  It is traditionally an anticipated season for Orthodox Christians, a period of renewal and for rediscovering the basics of our faith.  Lent has been described as a “tithe” of the year, forty days set aside for the purpose of consciously redirecting our energies towards God and His work, praying that “lessons learned” will carry over and sanctify the remainder of the year. 

     Furthermore, the Great Fast is understood to be a time of repentance.  Fr. Alexander Schmemann, of blessed memory, wrote that Lent, “is indeed a school of repentance to which every Christian must go…in order to deepen his faith, to re-evaluate, and if possible, to change his life.  It is a wonderful pilgrimage to the very sources of the Orthodox faith, a rediscovery of the Orthodox way of life.” (From the Foreword of the book, Great Lent, published by SVS Press.)  

     There is a quiet joy as well, associated with the upcoming season, a joy that arises from recovering – as did the Prodigal – our sense of identity as children of the Heavenly Father.  This joy stems additionally from the excitement of anticipation as we look forward to “the Feast of Feasts.”  In fact, during Forgiveness Vespers (on the eve of Lent), we sing, “Let us begin the Fast with joy.  Let us prepare ourselves for spiritual efforts…faring on the virtues of the Spirit, which, if we continue to long for, we shall all be worthy to behold the most solemn Passion of Christ, and the Holy Pascha.”  In many Churches as well, at the Rite of Forgiveness, the Canon of Pascha is sung quietly by the choir:  “This is the Day of Resurrection, let us be illumined O people; Pascha the Pascha of the Lord.  For from death to life, and from earth to Heaven, has Christ our God led us,  as we sing the song of victory, “Christ is Risen from the dead.” (1^st Ode of Paschal Canon).         

     Having said that, it is probably true to say that for many people – at least in this country – Lent is experienced as more of an intrusion, rather than as something to which we look forward.  One might even be tempted, early on in the spring, to think, “My life has just returned to normal after advent and the holidays.  I just got settled into my old routine and now the Church is asking me once again to make changes for forty days.  Why?”

     The question itself and preceding train of thought point us to the answer.  Implicit in this “why” is a comfortable acceptance of “life as usual,” a quiet, unconscious denial that there is anything about the old, familiar routine, our normal existence, that absolutely has to be changed, or more to the point, redeemed.  This passive state of mind – spiritually speaking – this surrender to the way things are, is a basic reason for why we indeed have Lent, for why the Church consecrates a specific season for rediscovery and repentance. 

     Life is sometimes referred to as a “rat race,” a fast track that drives us during the day:  school, work, family, and social responsibilities, etc.  We get onto the track but cannot seem to find the exit.  Eventually we become used to being pushed along by “things that have to be done,” by life’s momentum.  Its force even affects our ideas about many issues and capacity for clear thinking, as well as our ability to give ourselves over to Christ.  It redirects and narrows our thoughts so that this world becomes all that we see and to which we relate. It is as though the Church’s teaching about God’s Kingdom revealed on earth in Christ were a myth, or just a future reality we hope to inherit.  The net result:  life controls us, rather than we having any sort of grasp on life.  We become enslaved to the very thing that we cherish most, and life is cheapened because, going with its flow, we only perceive the surface of things rather than their true depth of meaning.  

     This is precisely where Lent comes into the picture.  During the Fast we are invited to step off the track that everyone is on (however brief the detour).  We are encouraged to make changes to our usual routine, which if done in the proper spirit and for the right reasons will yield profound revelations. Over the course of Great Lent, little by little, we will begin to see that life – real life – is not oppressive, and that it consists of more than mere existence and the grind of daily responsibilities. In Christ an entirely new and abundant life shines forth from the grave; a new life which does not negate the old – people and the world around us – but which is its recreation and transformation.  “Behold, I make all things new” (Revelation 21:5): a New Covenant (Matthew 26:28, Hebrews 9:5), a New Commandment (John 13:34), a New Creation (2 Corinthians 5:17), a New Heaven and a New Earth (2 Peter 3:13), a New Jerusalem (Revelation 3:12). 

     The old is fulfilled and saved – made new – in Jesus. This newness reveals itself even in the midst of a fallen world that is ultimately dead and meaningless without its Creator.  The Church, by definition, “is” the new life with God in Christ and the Holy Spirit, dwelling on earth.  She is calling us now, through the Lenten disciplines – prayer, fasting and charity – to heighten our awareness of the fact that as members of the Body of Christ we are already part of God’s New Creation, and that we should live accordingly.  In this way others who are on the “fast track” with no end in sight, will also learn of the joy and freedom that exist in Christ, and the path necessary to attain these things.   

     Moreover, Lent opens our eyes to a new dimension of the old routine, to a depth of existence that makes life worthwhile and not merely a rat race.  We begin to see family, friends, work, school – everything – in a new light:  the light of Christ.  We come to a better understanding of the words of the Psalmist who declared that the Creator can be known and perceived in all that exists:  “The heavens are telling the glory of God and the firmament proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 18/19:1).          

     As faith and insights grow so will our ability to discern priorities.  To achieve all of this, however, the Fast is essential.  Sacrifices must be made and for the right reasons, with proper goals in mind. We have to make conscious efforts to change our pattern of behavior for the better so that at least momentarily we can break free from life’s momentum and refocus on Christ, His triumph over death and the new life He bestows on us. And the Church, through her liturgical services, provides the experience and framework for this to happen.  The rites, prayers and readings direct us towards repentance and give a taste of God’s Kingdom already in our midst, to be revealed fully at the end of time. 

     I encourage everyone to enter the Fast with faith, love and determination.  Make the necessary efforts, no matter how small.  Learn from the One Who, “ever awaits our conversion,” and “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the Truth” (1 Timothy 2:4).

“Open To Me The

Doors of Repentance”

(East & West:  Sin, Salvation & Lent)

Archpriest Paul Yerger

     (The following was written by Fr. Paul Yerger the Priest at Holy Resurrection Orthodox Church in Clinton, Mississippi.  Fr. Paul and his wife “Sissy” converted to Orthodoxy over thirty years ago and have been mainstays in the Diocese since its inception in 1978.  Prior to his conversion Fr. Paul served as an Anglican priest and afterwards attended St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary.)

     In Great Lent the Church calls us to repent of our sins and to express this repentance through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.  As we approach this season it may be helpful to distinguish the Orthodox Christian conceptions of sin, atonement and salvation from ideas that we frequently hear in Western Christianity.

The West:

     Western Christianity tends to understand sin and atonement in legal terms, using the language of the law courts. Sin is a transgression, a breaking of a commandment, and therefore deserving of a penalty or punishment.  God is identified with justice, which must be satisfied.  Following St. Augustine of Hippo (d. 430), Western Christians have traditionally thought of sin as a corruption of human nature inherited from Adam; thus all humans by definition are sinful.

     Anselm of Canterbury (d. 1109), attempted to explain how our Lord’s Death on the Cross brought about atonement or reconciliation of man to God.  Anselm saw this in terms of feudal honor:  man’s sin is a dishonor to his Creator, for which satisfaction must be made. Only a perfect offering is sufficient to satisfy this “debt,” so the Son of God becomes human and by His perfect sacrifice pays the debt to the Father on our behalf.  The Protestant Reformers developed this theory by speaking of God’s justice rather than His honor, and emphasizing the “substitutionary” character of Christ’s sacrifice:  that He paid the debt or suffered the penalty instead of us. In one form or another, this “satisfaction” theory of the atonement has dominated Western Catholic and Protestant teaching until this day.

     The Protestant Reformers also bore down on passages in St. Paul’s epistles such as “Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness”  (Romans 4:3), interpreting them to mean that it is impossible for men actually to be righteous; atonement only means that we are accounted as such.  Thus, “salvation” is a legal status.  It is not related to our behavior; that would imply merit on our part, rather than God’s free gift (“salvation by faith alone.”)  Some (Protestants) would ask for a ‘decision for Christ;’ the strictest Calvinists would not do this as man has no power to decide.  In all this the only concern is the reconciliation of man and God.  The parallel estrangement of men from each other is not engaged.  For many salvation has no relation to the Church, which a person may “join” or be baptized in after he is saved.  And for many, a person who is “saved” cannot lose this status because he cannot frustrate God’s “sovereign” will.

The East:

   Orthodox Christians have a completely different perspective on all this.  Neither Augustine nor Anselm nor the Reformers were widely known or influential in the East, where most Christians were at the time.  For Orthodox, universal mortality, not universal sin, is the consequence of Adam’s sin.  “All have sinned” (Romans 3:26) is a statement of fact about men’s choices, not a description of man’s nature. The Greek word for sin (amartia) means missing the mark.  Sin is spoken of not mainly as the breaking of laws but as a breaking of man’s relationship to God and his neighbor. It is a distortion or loss of the goodness and righteousness for which man is created, an alienation or exile from man’s true home.  In Orthodox teaching sin is not a natural or normal attribute of human life; to be truly human and to be sinful are contradictory.  No matter how depraved a man is, he retains the image of God.  In Genesis, when Adam and Eve disobey God they are also immediately separated from each other (fig leaves, blaming each other) and from the created world; “thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee…in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread” (Genesis 3:18).  Redemption must also mean healing the breech between man and man as well as between man and God.  “My brother is my life,” says St. Anthony of Egypt.  

     For Orthodox, the Cross is an awesome mystery.  Many images are used of it in Scripture and none explains it. Our Lord does speak of Himself as a sacrifice, as when He identifies His Body with the Passover sacrifice.  He also speaks of Himself as a ransom (St. Mark 10:45), but Orthodoxy do not understand this as a legal transaction.  Orthodox would understand “ransom” simply to mean that Christ’s Death secures our release from captivity.  To attempt to explain the ransom too rationally leads to distortion.  St. Gregory the Theologian (d. 389) exposes the problems of “ransom” as an explanation by asking, “to whom is the ransom paid?”  Some, such as Origen, suggested it was paid to the devil.  St. Gregory says it is blasphemous to suggest that God would “owe” anything to the devil or be obliged to pay him something to accomplish His will. On the other hand, to say (as Anselm later did) that it was paid to God the Father is also blasphemous, suggesting the Father is a despot who would be pleased by the suffering of His own Son.  St. Gregory says,

     “But if to the Father, I ask first, how?  For it was not by Him that we were being oppressed;  and next, on what principle did the Blood of His Only Begotten Son delight the Father, Who would not receive even Isaac, when he was being offered by his father, but changed the sacrifice, putting a ram in the place of the human victim?  Is it not evident that the Father accepts Him, but neither asked for Him nor demanded Him; but (accepts Him) on account of the Incarnation, and because humanity must be sanctified by the Humanity of God, that He might deliver us Himself, and overcome the tyrant, and draw us to Himself by the mediation of His Son, Who also arranged this to the honor of the Father, Whom it is manifest that He obeys in all things? (Second Paschal Oration)

     Orthodox see the atonement as effected not by the Cross alone, but by Christ’s Incarnation, His entire Human life, His Death and Resurrection.  The imagery most often used of the Cross in Orthodox liturgy and hymnody is that of a cosmic conflict and victory.  Christ has become Man and descended to death to do battle with sin, satan and death and overcome them by His obedience, humility, faith and love.  “When Thou didst descend to death O Life Immortal, Thou didst slay hell with the splendor of Thy Divinity…” (Resurrectional Troparion, Tone 2).  His words, “Father, forgive them…” from the Cross, are already a victory over all that satan could do.  And Orthodox see the atonement as intended to be a cosmic restoration of man to God, to his neighbor, and to the created world:  “the creature (creation) itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God” (Romans 8:21).  And our reconciliation takes place not individually, but in the Church; it is appropriated by Baptism and Holy Communion, and we are supported in it by the prayers of other Christians living and departed.

     Orthodox object that the characterization of Christ’s sacrifice as “substitutionary” suggests that we do not have to share in it.  We sometimes hear it preached, “He (Christ) did it all.” If our Lord teaches anything, He teaches that we must take up our own Cross and follow Him.  He gives us the privilege of sharing in the struggle and therefore in the victory.  “He that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved” (Matthew 24:13).  The privilege of sharing in the struggle occurs through the use of our freedom to do the good works He has prepared for us to walk in (Ephesians 2:10), to allow God to transform us so that we become righteous and holy, not just legally, but in actuality.

     All of this has a bearing on what we do during Lent. Repentance (“metanoia,” change of mind) must be a life-long process of being changed by dying to self so that we may be born anew in Christ’s Resurrection.  Lent came about as a time of preparation for those who were to be Baptized at Easter (Pascha), and the image of Baptism is central to the Lenten services.  On the eve of Pascha we hear, “Know ye not, that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ were baptized into His death?  Therefore we are buried with Him by baptism into death:  that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3).  This death of the self that is captive to sin is made possible by Christ’s saving work, but we must willingly choose it as our own.  “If any man will (wished to) come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (St. Matthew 16:24). 

     Taking up our Cross may mean taking up whatever life presents us with and bearing it with humility and obedience, in union with Christ, as our sharing in the one perfect offering that Christ has made.  It is not that what we do has some “merit,” that we purchase God’s favor by it.  It is that this, our Cross, is the means God may use to change us, to bring about the “change of mind” that is our salvation.

     This is illustrated again and again in the Lenten services.  On the Second Sunday before Lent, Orthodox hear the Gospel of the Prodigal Son. This is a perfect picture of sin and reconciliation.  The sins of the Prodigal do not consist primarily in breaking laws but breaking the relationship with his father.  He is in exile, and when he “comes to himself,” he realizes what he has lost and returns.  The father receives him joyfully and restores to him the “first robe,” the dignity he had forsaken.

     In the Fifth Week of Lent we hear the story of St. Mary of Egypt (5^th century) an Egyptian woman who lived a life of sexual addiction until her miraculous conversion in Jerusalem, whereupon she crossed the Jordan into the desert and lived a solitary life of great austerity for 47 years.  For much of this time she endured great temptation and struggle, but at the end of her life she was seen to work many miracles such as prophesy and walking on water.  Her conversion and healing are effected by God’s grace, but her cooperation and effort are also necessary.  Her ascetic life is not a penalty or payment for her sins, but the means by which she is healed and restored.  We invite you to “come and see” in the Lenten services, a different perspective on our sins and the awesome mystery of our redemption.

A New Day for the OCA
(A Reflection on the Election of Metropolitan Jonah)
Fr. Basil Zebrun 
  

     “A New Day…”  Orthodox Christians in North America experienced the dawning of a new day thirty-eight years ago when Autocephaly was granted by the Moscow Patriarchate.  Accompanying this start of a new territorial church was excitement and a distinct vision for Orthodoxy on this continent.
           
     Three decades ago the same feeling was present in the Southern U.S. as the Holy Synod of Bishops for the Orthodox Church in America announced the establishment of a new Diocese, and the election of a unique, energetic hierarch for the vast missionary district: His Grace, The Right Reverend Dmitri. 
 
     One can recall, as well, a similar sentiment of beginning anew expressed eight years ago at the time when construction of St. Seraphim Cathedral neared completion and plans were underway for its consecration. The community had been the See for the Diocese since 1978, but “to whom much is given, of him will much be required,” and thus there was a prevalent notion that the gift of a beautiful Cathedral was pointing to a new day; that it brought with it added parochial and diocesan responsibilities as well as high expectations for the future.
 
     How does all of this relate to the election of Metropolitan Jonah?  Loosely, but it does relate.  A few weeks ago in Pittsburgh, PA, a heartfelt speech by the newest OCA bishop, followed by his election to the office of Metropolitan, pointed to the dawning of another new day, this time – once again – for the entire Orthodox Church in America. At the 15th All-American Council one sensed something of the anticipation and optimism that characterized the first Assemblies of the DOS, and that came with Autocephaly in 1970.  In the seventies these feelings accompanied the births of specific ecclesiastical entities (if you will), but in November of 2008, a re-birth was seen. Through his thoughtful words and commitment to Christ, His Beatitude inspired the faithful to return home to their respective dioceses with renewed enthusiasm and a vision for what we can expect in years ahead. The thought may be somewhat exaggerated, but following years of confusion, mistrust and scandal, it was only after a new hierarch reminded everyone of the strength of God’s love, that AAC participants were ready to believe once more that truly “with God all things are possible,” including “forgiveness unto seventy times seven.”   
 
     Lest anyone get the wrong impression, the Church is not yet ready to canonize Metropolitan Jonah.  Nor is she prepared to place all of her hope in one recently-elected hierarch. However, during the week of November 10th, one saw evidence of what St. Seraphim meant when he said, “acquire the Spirit of peace and thousands around you will be saved.”  Into the midst of a Council where discord could have prevailed, where conflict was predicted, where current leaders were fatigued and also in need of comfort and inspiration, His Beatitude brought a fresh spirit of honesty and tranquility which not only calmed the masses but gave them something to hope for and strive toward. A planned outcome to the AAC could not have fared much better. Were all representatives pleased with the end results and workings of the Council?  No. But compared to what some expected, Metropolitan Jonah’s actions and election were just short of miraculous. As members of the Orthodox Church in America we have every reason to rejoice.  A new day has apparently dawned.
 
     Archbishop Dmitri publicly stated that he had seen something in Metropolitan Jonah early on, prior to his consecration, that led him to believe that God had other plans for the new hierarch other than Auxiliary for the South. In a recent statement, the Dean of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, Very Reverend John Behr, expressed his confidence and joy at His Beatitude’s election.  “I am thrilled with the election of our new Metropolitan, Jonah. He has a deep love of Christ and His people, a profound understanding of the Church, embodies authority through humility, and holds a forward-looking vision for Orthodoxy in this country…The sense of renewal, renewed possibilities, and genuinely new horizons, were palpable at the 15th AAC.”  Fr. John predicted that Metropolitan Jonah’s leadership would stimulate all dimensions of ecclesial and spiritual life in the OCA in the days and years to come.” (Remarks may be found on the SVS website's homepage)   
 
     In the South we were blessed to have His Beatitude as an Auxiliary for eleven days.  Excitement came from our own experience that (then) Bishop Jonah was every bit as committed to evangelism as our founding hierarch, Archbishop Dmitri.  In addition, the patience, faithfulness and love for people that His Eminence has exhibited during his tenure was discernable in His Beatitude as well. One could say that Bishop Jonah was a perfect fit for the South. He was the first to admit his inexperience, however, and desired to learn under the tutelage of the Archbishop.  He will still have the opportunity for such instruction, although not in the way he first envisioned.  His Beatitude is a quick study and will grow rapidly, without a doubt, into his new position.
 
     Not a few people apologized to me personally at the AAC for having taken our Auxiliary from us.  I was surprised, for there was no need for such apologies. Nevertheless, I thanked them for their concern, and assured them that although our feelings are mixed, in the end we in the Diocese are just as excited to have Metropolitan Jonah taking up residence in Syosset as anyone else.  In fact, our thoughts were perhaps best expressed by Archbishop Dmitri who stated, jokingly, that he was “pleasantly annoyed” with the result of the election: annoyed because we in the South have lost a very capable man. We are pleased, however, because those in the DOS accept this as God’s Will, realizing that at this point in time the entire OCA needs His Beatitude perhaps more than any one diocese.
 
     Finally, I was instructed many times in the past that whenever something happens to us which makes obvious the presence and power of God, we should commit to memory that specific experience, for it will serve us well whenever the future brings hardships that may tempt us to doubt God’s abiding love and protection.  Recently such a revelation of the Lord’s work took place in Pittsburgh, PA. While giving thanks we should commit this joyous event to memory lest we doubt in the future the possibilities that exist with God. 

It seems thousands of years removed from us, but it was not so very long ago that life was marked out by religious feasts. Although everyone went to church, not everyone, of course, knew the exact contents of each celebration. For many, perhaps even the majority, the feast was above all an opportunity to get a good sleep, eat well, drink and relax. And nevertheless, I think that each person felt, if not fully consciously, that something transcendent and radiant broke into life with each feast, bringing an encounter with a world of different realities, a reminder of something forgotten, of something drowned out by the routine, emptiness and weariness of daily life.

Consider the very names of the feasts: Entrance into the Temple, Nativity, Epiphany, Presentation, Transfiguration. These words alone, in their solemnity, their unrelatedness to daily life and their mysterious beauty awakened some forgotten memory, invited, pointed to something. The feast was a kind of longing sigh for a lost but beckoning beauty, a sigh for some other way of living.

Our modern world, however, has become monotonous and feastless. Even our secular holidays are unable to hide this settling ash of sadness and hopelessness, for the essence of celebration is this breaking in, this experience of being caught up into a different reality, into a world of spiritual beauty and light. If, however, this reality does not exist, if fundamentally there is nothing to celebrate, then no manner of artificial uplift will be capable of creating a feast.

Here we have the feast of the Entrance of the Mother of God into the Temple. Its subject is very simple: a little girl is brought by her parents to the temple in Jerusalem. There is nothing particularly remarkable about this, since at that time it was a generally accepted custom and many parents brought their children to the temple as a sign of bringing them into contact with God, of giving their lives ultimate purpose and meaning, of illumining them from within through the light of higher experience.

But on this occasion, as the service for the day recounts, they lead the child to the “Holy of Holies,” to the place where no one except the priests are allowed to go, the mystical inner sanctum of the temple. The girl’s name is Mary. She is the future mother of Jesus Christ, the one through whom, as Christians believe, God himself came into the world to join the human race, to share its life and reveal its divine content. Are these just fairy tales? Or is something given to us and disclosed here, something directly related to our life, which perhaps cannot be expressed in everyday human speech?

Here was this magnificent, massive, solemn temple, the glory of Jerusalem. And for centuries it was only there, behind those heavy walls, that a person could come into contact with God. Now, however, the priest takes Mary by the hand, leads here into the most sacred part of the Temple and we sing: “The most pure Temple of the Savior is led into the temple of the Lord.” Later in the Gospels Christ said, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up,” but as the Evangelist added, “He spoke of the temple of His Body” (John 2:19,21).

The meaning of all these events, words and recollections is simple: from now on man himself becomes the temple. No stone temple, no altar, but man – his soul, body and life – is the sacred and divine heart of the world, its “holy of holies.” One temple, Mary – living and human – is led into a temple made of stone, and from within brings to completion its significance and meaning.

With this event religion, and life even more so, undergoes a complete shift in balance. What now enters the world is a teaching that puts nothing higher than man, for God himself takes on human form to reveal man’s vocation and meaning as divine. From this moment onward man is free. Nothing stands over him, for the very world is his as a gift from God to fulfill his divine destiny.

From the moment the Virgin Mary entered “the holy of holies,” life itself became the Temple. And when we celebrate her Entrance into the Temple, we celebrate man’s divine meaning and the brightness of his high calling. These cannot be washed away or uprooted from human memory.

(Taken from Celebration of Faith, Volume 3, The Virgin Mary, A Collection of Sermons and Talks given by Fr. Alexander, published by St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.)

Do Christians Have A Political Responsibility?
Protopresbyter John Meyendorff

Money And Its Relation
To The Spiritual Life
His Eminence Archbishop DMITRI

  
     (During this coming School Year we are introducing lessons on Stewardship and Tithing to our children, in addition to discussions on other topics.  In anticipation we are printing the following article by Archbishop Dmitri which essentially outlines the approach to “giving” that we will emphasize to students.  It is hoped that parents will help reinforce at home that which is taught during Church School in all areas of the Christian Life.
     The following was originally written in 1972 for the Third All-American Council.  Since then the Church in America has taken large steps to educate clergy and laymen alike in the areas of stewardship, tithing and the theology of giving. )  
 
Giving as practiced in our Churches:
     Even a cursory glance at the system of giving in our Church, the difficulties and ill-will arising from finances...(within the framework of the Church’s life), would lead one to believe that indeed money is the root of all evils, and that insofar as the Church is concerned, it is simply an evil that has to be endured.  In fact, there is little evidence that any thought is ever given to the possibility of money’s being sanctified or to its being an integral part of worship.  Nor has there been any sustained or general interest in trying to discern the meaning of money from the theological point of view.  Almost always, when the various organs of the Church, the National Church, the Diocese, and the parish, appeal for contributions or gifts or for the fulfillment of the several assessments, it is invariably in terms of the needs of those organs.  The practical is almost the only consideration, and that every member must give, even sacrifice, of his possessions and wealth for his spiritual well-being and ultimately for his salvation, will strike most of our people not only as a daring innovation, but as a completely non-Orthodox scheme.
 
     It is also true that many of our people think in terms of giving only what they can spare, when everything else is taken care of and no sacrifice would be required.  Any suggestion that he give a regular part of his income, a certain percentage, making it a part of his personal or family budget, is looked upon as an attempt to encroach upon his freedom, to coerce him, and to destroy the element of freewill in his offering.
 
Parish Support:
     Our parishes have usually supported themselves through the payment of dues and fund-raising, this last either for the general fund or for improvements and building programs, in the form of bazaars, raffles, food-sales, dances, and even gambling.  We have been trained to think that except for the minimal amount required for membership, any other donation to the Church is to be made only after clear evidence of the need has been presented.  Further, these extra gifts have to be made in exchange for something:  food, entertainment, or even the chance for personal profit.
 
     Money, then, in this environment, is the principal temporal business of the parish, and any idea of relating it to the spiritual life is regarded as unorthodox and anti-traditional.  The priest thus is not to concern himself with money at all, except to act sometimes as a kind of salesman whose personal persuasiveness may be put to use by and for the parish council, the proper agency for dealing with this necessary, but still dirty business.
 
Money as Worship:
     It may be startling to hear that the giving of money is an integral part of worship and can in no way be divorced from the spiritual life.  But such is the case, for there is no worship without giving or offering.  The Christian’s life demands a total consecration to God, and this means that every aspect of his life must be sanctified.  No one part of his life can be reserved and kept as a purely material, this-worldly concern, for when one refuses to let his wealth be sanctified, then it can become the root of all evils, and stand between him and God.  In commenting on 1 Timothy 6:10, St. John Chrysostom says, “but this root is from us, and not from the nature of the things.”  The young man thought he was just because he kept all the commandments, but went away sad when he learned that the one thing needful for him was to part with his wealth (Matthew 19:22).
 
The Theology of Giving:
     The offering acceptable to God is nothing less than the offering of oneself.  In speaking of the gift of the Macedonians, St. Paul says, “First they gave their own selves to the Lord” (2 Corinthians 8:5).  And, “yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead” (Romans 6:13).  In the Eucharist, the meaning of the offertory is that each member offers himself to God, all that he is and all that he has.  His offering is accepted and is returned to him so that he may be a member of the Body of Christ through Communion.
 
     Throughout the Old Testament, the sign of man’s offering of himself was his offering from what he produced.  Such offering, regularly the tithe or the tenth (Leviticus 27:30-32), was holy and in turn sanctified the rest of his possessions.  So when Man produced things, the works of his hands, the produce of the land, cattle or other animals, it was the tenth part of those things that he offered.  In modern society, the only (or primary) thing that Man produces is money.  He usually works for a salary or he invests money and increases his holdings through interests and dividends.  To this pursuit of making money he dedicates most of his time and energy, that is, he devotes himself.  Unless a certain part of his modern product is consciously and premeditatedly dedicated to God, to His work, and to the extension of His kingdom among men, then donations, gifts, and dues are merely token amounts.  The amount of one’s gift and the spirit in which it is made indicate the relative importance God and His Church hold in the heart of the giver.  The eighth and ninth chapters of St. Paul’s Second Epistle to the Corinthians contain the whole theology of Christian giving.  Although he is speaking specifically about a collection of the relief of the Christians at Jerusalem, he reveals a number of universal truths about giving.
 
     Giving represents the degree of a Christian’s devotion, and is a means of grace (8:1 and 8:8).  It is part of the Christian life and even proof of one’s love (8:24 and 8:7).  Christian giving is sacrificial (Mark 12:43-44), and our Lord’s emptying Himself and becoming poor for our sakes is the basis for the call to Christians to sacrifice (8:9).    Giving must be in proportion to what one has, though the Macedonians had given even more than they were able (8:3).  It must be voluntary (8:12) and cheerful (9:7).  Giving provides a good example to others and is the occasion for thanksgiving (9:11-12).  Truly, if each Christian followed the principles of giving as outlined by St. Paul, there would be no need for any kind of fund-raising events or assessments.
 
Conclusions:
     In the light of the clear teaching of the Gospel, each Christian must give according to his means.  This implies that he must dedicate regularly a part of his income to God’s work (ideally a tithe, or even more if he is especially blessed materially).  It would be appropriate for the Church to be a real item in the budget of each family and each individual.  The concept of total commitment, which is the only acceptable way of life for a Christian, means that we must begin, as indeed many parishes have already done, to encourage the people to consider seriously the urgency of adopting the pledge system or any other system in which they could give freely and generously to God’s work, to respond to the responsibility of mission, to complete the work of sanctification of their whole lives.
 
     Further, when real Christian giving becomes general (the norm) in our Church, the necessity for parishes to depend on fund raisers and money-making schemes will automatically diminish.  Then much of the energy and time of the parish can be given over to knowing the saving faith of Christ, to preaching the Gospel, and to deepening the spiritual life.
 
     Parishes in their turn, rather than being selfishly turned in upon themselves must make the work of the whole Church and the carrying out of its mission their own concern.  This means that parish budgets should include regular and generous contributions and allotments to work outside their own boundaries – to mission, to education (particularly to seminaries), and to works of mercy.
 
     Finally, it should be understood that there is a close relationship between the spiritual life and one’s financial commitment to the Church.  Over and over again in the Bible, it is made clear that one’s willingness to give of his possessions to God’s work is the measure of his willingness to give himself; and one’s self is the only acceptable offering.  “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Luke 12:34)

 
     Recently I saw a billboard on a Ft. Worth highway which displayed an advertisement for a local non Orthodox Church.  It read:  “Real Direction, Real Life, Real Jesus.”  For Orthodox Christians the most important two words on that billboard were perhaps the last:  Real Jesus.  Without the real Jesus there is no real life, nor can there be proper direction given for a person’s life.
 
     Looking historically at Orthodox Christianity, it can be said truthfully that the effort to define and preach the Real Jesus has been a dominant activity.  We have, for instance, as an important part of our Sacred Tradition, Seven Ecumenical Councils (4th – 8th centuries) whose main work focused on explaining the identity of Christ, and on articulating a proper doctrine of the Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – according to that which has been revealed in Holy Scripture and through the life of the Church.  The Holy Fathers of these Councils were strongly motivated in their efforts to clarify central Christian doctrines in the face of existing heresies, false teachings which distorted the overall message of the Gospel, rendering it, in effect, powerless.  Many heresies centered on the person and work of Christ Himself, thus placing on center stage the question, “Who is the Real Jesus?”   
 
     One such example was Arianism.  Arians rejected Christ’s divinity, identifying Him exclusively with the realm of created things. This position was dealt with by bishops of the 1st Nicean Council in 325 A.D. and followed up by those participating in the 2nd Council of 381.  The hierarchs stressed that Jesus is God’s divine Son, defending the position that the two natures of Christ – divine and human, perfect and complete – are absolutely necessary for the salvation of man.  As an important result of their work we have inherited a Creed, recited at each Divine Liturgy, which affirms that Jesus Christ is, “light of light, true God of true God, begotten, not made, of one essence with the Father…Who for us men and for our salvation came down from Heaven and was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became Man.”      
 
     Moving to the 21st century, our own time has been characterized as fertile ground for heretical movements.  It has been described relatedly, as “anti dogmatic” (Archbishop Dmitri).  In an ever shrinking world, for the sake of “getting along,” people generally prefer less rather than more precision when it comes to religious truth.  As a matter of fact, motivations for such vagueness are increasingly more profound:  i.e. many individuals today – even regular “churchgoers” – may be classified as skeptics; they deny or at least seriously question man’s ability to know ultimate spiritual/religious truth.  Either that or they claim that such truth, if knowable, is personal in nature, relative: i.e. “what’s true for you is true for you, but what’s true for me is my own truth.”  In these cases spiritual/religious truth is often reduced to what makes a person happy or a success, but is not understood as something objectively definable.
 
     The Bible declares, however, that:  “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). “God…desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2: 3-4). “This is life eternal that they may know Thee the only True God, and Jesus Christ Whom Thou hast sent” (John 17:3). “The Spirit of Truth…will guide you into all Truth” (John 16:13), and so forth. Unless one ascribes such possibilities exclusively to the end of time and a future age, or relies purely on subjective criteria to define truth, it is difficult to comprehend the existence in Christian circles of religious skepticism or relativism.  In any case, both are unacceptable from an Orthodox point of view. 
 
     Given these facts it is clear that the Church today – and not merely that of history – must be vigilant and concerned with putting forth a proper understanding of the Real Jesus, Who identified Himself as “the Way, the Truth and the Life.”  She declares that He can and must be known even in this fallen world, and reaffirms that in such knowledge is life. In so doing the Church continues to combat false teachings about Christ, including its ancient nemesis, Arianism.  Alongside this we can name Gnosticism, Nestorianism and Iconoclasm in various forms, as prevalent age old “thorns in the side” plaguing modern disciples.  It can be stressed that Christians of the 21st century struggle against every conceivable perversion of the Gospel, even from within their own ranks.  In a country such as ours which historically has been referred to as “Christian,” there is today a great need, ironically, to reintroduce the authentic Christ to Christians themselves.      
 
     By skeptics and relativists, time spent on such issues will most certainly be considered a waste, an annoyance or possibly an affront against their own beliefs. On the other hand, we all know good and faithful people who are grateful for such efforts.  They are searching for a credible witness to traditional Christianity.  They come to Orthodoxy from churches in which clarity of doctrine as well as moral behavior is radically obscured; or, perhaps the teachings are spelled out clearly enough but they are perceived over time as being very different from those of the ancient Faith.   
 
     The Orthodox Church has a great deal to offer individuals with such experiences of Christianity. Without going into numerous comparisons or details, we can say that the Real Jesus as known and taught by the Orthodox Christian community is demonstrated perhaps most vividly in one, comprehensive way. It is shown by the Orthodox Church’s teaching of the imminence of God’s Kingdom, declared by Christ Himself: “Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.”  It is revealed by her insistence that God’s Son came into the world not merely to save it as some future event, but that He makes possible even “now” the sanctification of creation. He does this because in Him, God and man are united, the creature and the Creator have become one; and because of this intimate union in Christ, the experience of the earthly, transformed by God’s presence – the experience of God’s Kingdom on earth through the life of the Church – is given as a present possibility/reality, a foretaste of that which is to come at the end of time.  The possibility is given to know God in this life and to be changed, transfigured by such knowledge borne out of a living relationship with our Creator.     
    
     This approach to the Faith generally sets the Orthodox Church apart from other churches and is reflected in distinct teachings and practices that stem from a belief in the Real Jesus:  i.e. our sacramental life; the veneration of icons; the use of the body in prayer as well as the mind; blessings of all kinds; our unique approach to church architecture and consecration of churches; the call that we have to theosis or deification; not to mention the Orthodox understanding of evangelism, tithing, charity and righteous living (with regard to the latter four points especially, Orthodoxy has much in common with other Christian bodies). These practices, these areas of Christian living, assert the Orthodox belief in the inherent goodness of creation, the dignity of man created in God’s image with the call to grow in His likeness, and the possibility for both – through the Real Christ – to be filled with “all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:19).  The Transfiguration of Christ, one of twelve major Christian feasts and celebrated on August 6th, vividly portrays this destiny.  First and foremost the event manifests our Lord’s divine glory.  As the “God-Man,” however, His transfigured humanity reveals that glory to which all are called.  Some of the saints, in this present life, were even blessed with occasions on which they shone with God’s uncreated light.  
 
        On a personal level, for Orthodox Christians – whether or not we ever help with personal cases of skepticism and theological relativism – the real crux of the matter resides also in this:  it is not enough to sit back and take comfort in the official beliefs of one’s Church.  The Fathers of the Church did not sit in council and at times endure persecution merely for the sake of passing on accurate religious information to future generations.  We are called to do something with that information which provides only a beginning.  It must move from the mind to the heart of a Christian.  Our knowledge of Christ must become “first hand” and experiential, grounded in a living relationship with our Savior. The Church’s teachings must profoundly influence our daily lives as Orthodox.  To the degree that we internalize Christian teachings, act upon them, and in fact center our lives in them, we can say personally and truthfully, that we believe in the Real Jesus.  And just as a matter of course, other Christians will hold us accountable on this very point.  The minute that Orthodoxy is held out as exemplary in terms of doctrinal purity and for its adherence to saving disciplines, others will gauge the accuracy of our witness by how and to what degree the Church’s integrity has helped to transform us.  We may not always be stellar representatives of Orthodox Christianity but if we say, “…we have seen the true light…we have found the True Faith, worshipping the undivided Trinity…” people will want living proof of this discovery and its inherent power. 
 
     In conclusion, our personal faith in the Real Jesus will surely lead to a more fervent participation in the Orthodox practices cited above.  In turn, these disciplines will help to strengthen our faith, opening our lives to God’s saving grace.

(The preceding article is an edited sermon given on June 8, 2008).

Assembly 2008
A Personal Reflection: Indicators of the Future
Fr. Basil Zebrun

“Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?”
Fr. Basil Zebrun

     
     As we draw near to the end of the Resurrection Season it may be helpful to reflect, once again, upon the Gospel lesson for the 3rd Sunday after Pascha, that of the Paralytic, John, chapter 5:1-15  (In her calendar the Orthodox Church numbers this as the 4th Sunday after Pascha, even though it is celebrated three weeks after the Resurrection). The healing of this man is considered by many people to be one of the great miracles performed by Jesus during His earthly ministry.  It is great because of the type of infirmity from which the man is delivered.  It is great because of the length of time he suffered with paralysis.  And the miracle is considered great because of the general circumstances surrounding it.  What are some of these circumstances?
 
     First, the miracle takes place at the Sheep’s Pool in Jerusalem, a location that is anything but hospitable.  The Gospel itself does not go into great detail about the area surrounding the pool, but one well known and devout Russian Orthodox priest – Fr. Alexander Men – assassinated in 1990, described it in the following manner:  “The Pool of Bethesda, (the Sheep Market), was a miserable, dirty place…From time to time the water in the pool was disturbed and people would crawl in, swearing, pushing and shoving each other out of the way, for whoever got in first benefited from the water’s healing power…This was a terrible place, a place rent with envy and hatred, with quarrels and the moaning of the sick.  Most people tried to avoid it…Everywhere lay the sick, groaning, contorted and foul smelling” (“Awake to Life,” page 72).
   
     Fr. Alexander Schmemann commenting on the plight of those gathered around the water – the horrendous conditions they endured – focused on the cry of the Paralytic, “I have no man…”  He stressed that, “this truly is the cry of someone who has come to know the terrible power of human selfishness, narcissism.  Every man for himself.  Looking out for number one…All of them waiting for help, concern, healing comfort.  But…each waits by himself, for himself.”  Fr. Alexander goes on to stress that, “from the Gospel’s point of view, this pool…is an image of the world, an image of human society, a symbol of the very organization of human consciousness” (Celebration of Faith, page 140.)    
 
     The fact that Jesus comes to this place of illness and death at His Own initiative is understood to be an act of great compassion.  Our Lord approaches voluntarily a place that others avoid, in order to identify with those who are suffering, to share in their sufferings.  This statement sums up Christ’s entire ministry, but it says something about our own calling as well. As Christians, in order to spread the Gospel, in order to serve Jesus by serving others, we frequently have to go to places and into situations that others would prefer to shun, to identify with those who need help, to share their pain and thus communicate love as given to us in Christ.         
    
     With regard to the story of the Paralytic one must highlight the miraculous healing properties of the Sheep’s Pool as pointing to the greater spiritual healing that comes to us through the waters of Baptism.  St. John Chrysostom expresses this belief in his thirty sixth homily on the Gospel according to St. John: “What manner of cure is this?  What mystery doth it signify to us?  For these things are not written carelessly, or without a purpose, but as by a figure and type they show in outline things to come, in order that what was exceedingly strange might not by coming unexpectedly harm the faith of the hearers.  What then is it that they show in outline?  A Baptism was about to be given (through Christ), possessing much power, and the greatest of gifts, a Baptism purging all sins, and making men alive instead of dead.  These things then are foreshown as in a picture by the pool, and by many other circumstances…”
 
     The liturgical services for the 3rd Sunday after Pascha also make the connection between the Sheep’s Pool and Baptism:  “Of old an Angel came down to the Sheep’s Pool and healed one man every year, but now Christ cleanses endless multitudes by divine Baptism” (Matins:  Ode 1 and Ode 4 of the Canon).
              
     The above descriptions generally reveal the Christian approach to all of Christ’s miracles.  They certainly have an inherent value for the time and location in which they take place:  they are occasions of joy, revelations of God’s love for His creatures.  At the same time, however, miracles indicate an approach to life that goes beyond an emphasis on physical well being. They point to the “wholeness” and healing, the new life given only through Jesus. 
 
     The cleansing that we receive through Baptism brings with it responsibilities.  Some see this as indicated by Christ’s inquiry, “Wilt thou be made whole?” or “Do you want to be healed?”  Once the Paralytic is healed his life will be changed forever.  The question is, when the miracle occurs is he ready for the extra responsibilities, the specific direction and Godly orientation that come with a new life? 
 
     This same question could be asked of each Christian with regard to anything that one does relative to the Faith.  For example, why did we joyfully submit to Baptism and/or Chrismation? Did we do so with the intention really to live as those who have died to this world in Christ and who have risen to a better life? When we pray, why do we call upon the Name of the Lord?  Are we prepared to do whatever the Lord directs once He answers our prayer? Why do we prepare ourselves to receive Holy Communion every week?  Is it so we can live according to the experience of joy and illumination given during the Liturgy?  Is our desire to respond in a proper way to the communion with God and neighbor given through Christ?  Do we read the Bible on a regular basis in order to draw closer to Christ, and to be taught by Him? Or do we read primarily in order to be able to out argue others?
     We need to remember our Lord’s parting words to the Paralytic.  He said, “Go and sin no more lest something worse befall you.”  A person may ask, what could be worse than being paralyzed for one’s entire life, having to sit in a dreadful place, ignored by everyone?  The answer: what could be worse is that a person lose his own soul for all eternity because he takes for granted the gift of grace given to him by God through miracles, through existence itself, and especially through the Holy Mysteries of Baptism, Chrismation, Confession, Unction, Marriage, Ordination, the Eucharist, through prayer and reading of Scripture. That type of neglect is far worse than any physical malady and its fatal results are of an infinitely longer duration. 
 
     In this respect the Paralytic received a double portion of compassion from Jesus. Some commentators point out that the Paralytic neglected to thank Christ for the healing he received.  That in itself is inexcusable.  But Jesus heals this man purely out of love (not in order to be thanked) and tries further to set him on the right path saying, “Go and sin no more…” 
 
     Christ does the same thing with us.  He knows that our response to Him in our lives will be minimal, at best, most of the time. He saves us anyway, however, and says, “In light of the grace and the new life that is given unto you, go and sin no more…”  “Don’t take for granted that which I give to you.” If we follow this directive we will find that we too like Jesus at the Sheep’s Pool will be empowered to go to many places and into challenging, even disgusting situations where others refuse to go.  We will be able to identify with those we find and lead them to Christ.  We will receive healing for ourselves as well.  “Wilt thou be made whole?”  The question is posed; the answer must be given by each of us, individually.  The benefits of such “wholeness” can be seen in those who have faithfully followed Jesus (especially the Saints), who valued above all else the new life found in Him.          

      (The preceding is an edited sermon given on Sunday, May 18, 2008.  Certain ideas were also borrowed from The Year of Grace of the Lord, pp 187-189, and from The Miracles of Christ, pp. 84-91, both published by St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press).

Doubting Thomas
Protopresbyter Alexander Schmemann

    In the Orthodox Church the Sunday after Pascha (Easter) is the Sunday of St. Thomas.  With that in mind during this Paschal season we offer the following transcribed sermon by Fr. Alexander.  Those who first heard these words were people living under communism in the former Soviet Union.  “Every week, for almost thirty years, Fr. Schmemann delivered a series of broadcasts over Radio Liberty to reflect upon and explain the meaning of Christianity to an audience deprived by a militantly atheistic regime of their freedom to pursue the spiritual search” (Fr. John Jillions)
 
     “Unless I see…I will not believe” (John 20:25).  So said Thomas, one of Christ’s twelve disciples, in response to the joyful news of those who had seen their crucified and buried Teacher risen from the dead.  Eight days later, as recorded in the gospels, when the disciples once again were all together, Christ appeared and told Thomas:  “Put your finger here and see my hands; and put out your hand and place it in my side; be not faithless, but believing.”  And Thomas exclaimed:  “My Lord and my God!”  Then Christ told him:  “You have believed because you have seen me; blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe…” (John 20:24-31).
 
     Millions of people today think and speak essentially like Thomas, and assume that this is the only correct approach worthy of any thinking person.  “Unless I see, I will not believe…”  In our contemporary speech isn’t this the “scientific approach?”  But Christ says:  “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.”  This means that there is, and was, another approach, another standard, another possibility.  True, others may say, but that approach is naïve and not rational; it’s unscientific; it’s for people who are backward; and since I’m a person of the modern world, “Unless I see, I will not believe.”
 
     We live in a world of great oversimplification and therefore spiritual poverty.  “Scientific” or “Unscientific.” People use words like these all the time as if they were self-evident and self-explanatory, and they use them because everyone else also uses them, without reflection, without debate.  In fact, they themselves believe these reductions blindly and simplistically, and so any other approach appears to them as neither serious nor worthy of attention.  The question is already decided.  But is that really true?  I just said that we live in a world of great spiritual poverty.  And indeed, if the end result of humanity’s interminable development boils down to this pronouncement, “I won’t believe it till I see it”; if the human race looks upon this as the height of wisdom and reason’s greatest victory, then our world truly is poor, superficial, and most all, incredibly boring.  If I only know what I see, touch, measure and analyze, then how little I really know!  The whole world of the human spirit falls by the wayside, all the intuition and profound knowledge that flow not from “I see” or “I touch,” but from “I think” and, most importantly, “I contemplate.”
 
     What falls away is that realm of knowledge which for centuries was rooted not in external, observable experience, but in another human faculty, an amazing and perhaps inexplicable ability that sets human beings apart from everything else and makes them truly unique.  Even robots, machines and computers can now touch, handle and manipulate objects; they can make accurate observations, and even make predictions.  We know that they actually perform better than human beings in measuring, comparing, making exact observations flawlessly; they are more accurate, more “scientific.”  But here is what no robot, under any circumstances, will ever be able to do:  to be filled with wonder, to be awed, to have feelings, to be moved by tenderness, to rejoice, to see what can’t be seen by measurement or analysis of any kind.  No robot will hear those unheard sounds that give birth to music and poetry; no robot will ever cry, or trust.  But without all this doesn’t our world become colorless, boring and, I would say, unnecessary?  Oh yes, planes and spaceships will fly ever further and faster.  But where to and what for?  Oh yes, laboratories will conduct their analyses with ever increasing accuracy.  But to what end?  “For the good of humanity,” I’m told.  I understand, so this means that one day we will have a healthy, well fed, self-satisfied human being walking about, who will be totally blind, totally deaf and totally unaware of his deafness and blindness.
 
     “Unless I see I will not believe.”  Clearly, however, observable experience, empirical data, is just one form of knowledge, the most elementary, and therefore the lowest form.  Empirical analysis is useful and necessary, but to reduce all human knowledge to this level is like trying to comprehend the beauty of a painting by a chemical analysis of its paint.  What we call faith is at a second and higher level of human knowledge, without which, it can be claimed, man would be unable to live even a single day.  Every person believes in something or someone, so the only question is whose faith, whose vision, whose knowledge of the world corresponds more accurately and more completely to the richness and complexity of life.
 
     Some say that the resurrection of Christ must be a fabrication since the dead do not rise.  True, if there is no God.  But if God exists, then death must be overthrown, since God cannot be a God of decay and death.  Others will then say:  but there is no God, since no one has seen him. But how then do you account for the experience of millions of people who joyfully affirm that they have seen, not with their physical eyes, but with a profound and certain inner sight?  Two thousand years have passed, but when the joyful proclamation “Christ is risen!” descends as if from heaven, all still send out the same triumphant response, “Truly He is risen!”
 
     Is it really true that you neither see nor hear?  Is it really true that in the deepest part of your consciousness, away from all analysis, measurements and palpation, you neither see nor feel any undying, radiant light, you do not hear the sounds of an eternal voice:  “I am the way, the resurrection and the life…”?  Is it really true that in the depth of your soul you do not recognize Christ within us, within me, answering Doubting Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe?”     
 

The Cross of our Lord:
What Do “We” See?
Fr. Basil Zebrun

     (The following is an edited sermon delivered on the Sunday of the Cross, March 30.  We wish to share these thoughts in light of the fact that at the end of Holy Week, on April 25 and 26, we will pray and prostrate ourselves before the precious Cross and Tomb of Christ.)

     On the third Sunday of the Great Fast, the Cross of our Lord is placed in the center of the temple for veneration. The Church assumes, as do Saints of past generations, that the very sight of the Cross has great meaning for Christians and power to affect people’s lives.  One is reminded of the example of St. Mary of Egypt (a former prostitute) whose life changed radically because she desired to enter the Church on a feast of the Cross to gaze upon the Life giving Tree.  Believing in this power of the Cross, the Church places it before us ceremoniously every year in the middle of the Lenten season.  It is presumed that the very sight of it, adorned and venerated, will be a source of hope and inspiration for the faithful to continue with the ascetic struggles of the Fast.

     In light of these assumptions we can ask ourselves, “When we look at the Cross of Jesus Christ, what is it that “we” see?”  “What do I personally and spiritually glean from gazing upon the Life giving Tree?”

     (A.) According to our Faith, perhaps the first thing that should come to mind is that the Cross is a sign of joy; of victory.  It is “the” instrument by which God has saved us.  Through the Cross, Christ has trampled down death by His death.  From the Cross comes life. Thus, Orthodox Christians unashamedly preach Christ crucified. (1 Corinthians 1:23). We unashamedly put the Cross forward as “the symbol” of Christianity.  We place it “in” our Churches, “on” our Churches, we traditionally construct our Churches in the form of a Cross, we adorn our homes with Crosses, wear them around our necks, and we make the sign of the Cross in prayer. The Cross appears everywhere as a reminder of the offering Christ made for the sake of the world.  Fr. Thomas Hopko has stressed that, “the Cross says everything to us about God and our very existence”  Fr. Peter Gillquist, in a homily given at St. Seraphim Orthodox Cathedral, emphasized that making the sign of the Cross is a way in which Orthodox Christians “glory” or “boast” in the Cross of Jesus, taking their cue from St. Paul (Galatians 6:14).

     For these reasons the Orthodox find it surprising when believers attempt to disguise or diminish the Cross, either in religious art and architecture, or while preaching.  I recall seeing once a very large, beautiful church constructed in such a way that a forty foot Cross adorning its entry way was hidden in elaborate brick work, visible only when viewed from the correct angle at the proper time of day. One may also refer to the example of a very popular Southern preacher who has come under fire recently from fellow Protestants because they cannot discern the message of the Cross in his preaching.  The Orthodox Faith, however, has never separated the message of the Crucifixion from the proclamation of the Resurrection, either in Jesus’ life or in the life of His disciples. The Cross grants to us joy, victory and life.  

     (B.) What else do we see gazing upon the Cross?  God’s love, most definitely; His infinite love for creation.  Jesus said to His disciples, “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for His friends” (John 15:13).  Not only did our Lord teach about sacrificial love. He then proceeded, voluntarily, to offer His life for the world. 

     Bishop Kallistos Ware has written that the Cross reveals, “the victory of suffering love,
…         (that) the Cross shows us a love that is stronger than death,” stronger than sin, more powerful than the forces of evil and the corruption of this world (“The Orthodox Way,” pp. 80-81). When we think of God’s love a number of acts come to mind: the creation of the world, man fashioned in the Creator’s image, the miracles of Christ, God’s total identification with us in the Incarnation, as well as the many spiritual and earthly blessings our Lord provides. All things considered, however, God’s love (and His glory) are most fully revealed when Christ appears weakest; when He seems to be a failure; when He looks defeated upon the Cross. At that moment He voluntarily experiences first hand, out of love, the depth of human despair and agony.  And, at that moment it is not only the physical pain and death that are crucial.  Many individuals focus on these, in verbal and artistic descriptions of the Crucifixion.  Just as significant and even more terrible is the inner anguish Christ felt, knowing the loneliness and isolation from both God and man that people experience because of sin. Here we must stress that Christ assuredly was sinless, but He took upon Himself all of the consequences of sin, even identifying completely with those who feel that God is absent. 

     One of the great “mysteries” of the Cross is this specific bond between Jesus and His fellow man; for how could Christ submit to an experience of isolation from the Father when He Himself “is” God?   Logically it defies explanation.  Nevertheless, we see this mystery declared by our Savior when from the Cross He cried out with the words of (Messianic) Psalm 21/22: “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”  The Psalm continues, “O My God, I cry out by day, but Thou dost not hear Me.” 

     The real misery and torture He also endured when rejected by men is expressed in a number of verses: “But I am a worm, and not a man; a reproach of man and despised by the people.  All who see me mock me; they speak with their lips and shake their head, saying, “He hoped in the Lord, let Him rescue him; let Him save him since He delights in him.”  “For many dogs surrounded me; an assembly of evildoers enclosed me; they pierced my hands and my feet. I numbered all my bones.  And they look and stare at me.  They divided my garments among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots” (Psalm 21/22: 7-9; 17-19).  Orthodox Christians hear this Psalm quoted repeatedly during the services of Great and Holy Friday.

     Humanly speaking, Christ’s love upon the Cross is tested beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, all of the forces of satan and of this corrupt world could not force Christ to sin; they could not rob Him of His love; they could not lead Him to blaspheme His Father or any human being for the situation in which He found Himself.  Christ accepts all the consequences of sin and even enters into death for us, but nothing could make Him transgress or steal away His compassion. Thus, Christ’s death becomes a “victory” because it is without sin, offered in love. “It reveals a love that is stronger than death.”

     (C.) This leads to a third aspect of the Cross that should be evident.  Briefly stated, the Cross is a constant reminder of the world in need of salvation. As a sign of God’s boundless love, it also makes clear the depths to which man has fallen; he readily kills the only Source of life and enlightenment. 

     (D.) Finally, the Cross reveals a “way of life” that we have chosen, a life that Christ has already lived.  “Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me” (Mark 8:34; from the Gospel reading of the Third Sunday of Great Lent).  We have voluntarily chosen this path, and Christ’s victory upon the Cross becomes our victory as we learn, first hand, the power of suffering love.

     In this regard it is good to keep in mind what Bishop Kallistos says about love
and hatred:  they are not only “subjective feelings” affecting the inner man, but also
“objective forces” that impact the world around us. His message, basically, for our
purposes is this:  if I give-in to the temptation to hate people and to retaliate for wrongs committed against me (whether real or imaginary), I can negatively affect people and situations around me by my hatred and/or indifference.  On the other hand, if I choose to love people, I may help them to become more loving because I myself become a presence of “Love,” choosing not to sin.  No matter what others may do to me I can choose, by God’s grace, not to give-in to the forces of evil, following Christ’s example. That “cross” then, which I take up, becomes in some small measure a “life creating” cross with the power “to change,” deriving such strength from our Lord’s Own sacrifice.  

     These thoughts help us to understand in a more profound way such teachings as:  “love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in Heaven…” (Matthew 5: 44-45).  Jesus gives us these commandments first, because adhering to them is the best thing for us. If we would “find ourselves” as creatures fashioned in God’s image then we must emulate God Who is kind to the just and unjust.  Secondly, however, by taking up our cross, by loving those who are evil, we become in some sense a saving presence of Christ Himself.  Our Lord’s commandments have this possibility in mind.  We are reminded here of the prayer at the end of every liturgical service: “Most Holy Theotokos save us.” The Virgin Mary – because of her purity and faithfulness to God – reveals most perfectly this potential for all human beings.  And, if this potential exists for us in our little corner of the universe, imagine the “objective power” of Christ’s Cross and suffering love. 

     For us, though, it is enough now to reaffirm that the Cross is a sign of joy, victory, love and glory, and to reaffirm that the Way of the Cross has a life giving power that will be known by us and others if we do not diminish, run or hide from it, but embrace it as did St. Mary of Egypt and so many Saints before and after her.  (Some of the ideas expressed were taken from The Orthodox Way by Bishop Kallistos Ware, published by St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press).

Life and Death

Father Basil Zebrun

     The weekend of February 9 and 10, 2008 was very emotional for our parish, and unique when compared to the life of most American churches.  In addition to the usual schedule of Saturday and Sunday services, parishioners took part in the baptism of James Wingerd, son of Zachary and Lindsey Wingerd.  These family members had belonged to St. Barbara’s, but now attend the St. John of Damascus Mission in Tyler, Texas where they reside.   
 
     During the same two-day period we celebrated memorial services for the newly departed servant of God, George Alkhazaschvilly.  George fell asleep in the Lord on Thursday, February 7.  At the family’s request, and with the Archbishop’s blessing, the main funeral service was conducted on Sunday evening. George’s body rested in the center of the Church for twenty four hours, from Saturday evening (just after the baptism and Vespers) until the conclusion of the funeral.  He was a founding member of St. Barbara’s and much-beloved by the community. 
 
     The diverse liturgical rites celebrated these two days were indeed emotional and evoked questions by some people.  On the one hand joy was clearly expressed by all as the child of God, James, was baptized, “in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit;” as he was, “sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit,” through chrismation; as he was made by God’s grace, “a consecrated vessel, a child of the light, and an heir of the Kingdom.”  On the other hand we experienced great sadness, tempered by hope, as a friend was laid to rest, the choir singing, “with the Saints give rest, O Christ…” and “Memory Eternal” (1 Thessalonians 4:13).  The contrast and range of feelings could not be greater.  Add to this the fact that during the Sunday morning Divine Liturgy – a joyful service of thanksgiving and praise – George’s coffin lay open as is the tradition in Orthodoxy.
 
     On the surface, it may have appeared that the community was on an emotional roller coaster, touched deeply by very different, yet seemingly unrelated, events. On another level, however, the eyes of faith were able to see their profound connection. Basically, on that particular weekend we were being powerfully confronted from all sides with the story of man – life and death, corruption and salvation, the tomb and resurrection – in one forty-eight-hour period.  We participated in the rebirth of a baby, but we experienced the end of another individual’s earthly life.  We celebrated a child’s death and resurrection in Christ through the waters of baptism; then over the body of George we proclaimed that Christ is, “the resurrection, the life and the repose of (His) servant who has fallen asleep…”  We witnessed the transformation of James as he became a citizen of God’s Kingdom here and now, yet, during the funeral, we affirmed that the faithful who “have gone to their rest before us” are also citizens of that same Heavenly Kingdom.  
 
     For some, that act which may have evoked the most questions was an open coffin during the Sunday Divine Liturgy.  The practice of having the deceased in the Church during other kinds of services, though, is not unusual in the homelands of Orthodoxy.  For example one book on the Russian Orthodox Church contains photographs that show a coffin in a Church during the wedding of a young couple.  In “Awake to Life,” a collection of sermons by the popular Russian priest Alexander Men who was assassinated in 1990, the good father addresses his congregation during the Liturgy on the Sunday of the Prodigal with these words, “we are now approaching the Lent fast, but in addition we are constantly approaching our own death. Today we have a dead man among us in church; the dead are with us almost every day.  They remind us that, sooner or later, we shall also be lying here.”  In addition, a Divine Liturgy with an open coffin in the center of the Nave is traditionally part of the funeral process, celebrated usually on the morning of the burial. 
 
     The point to be made here is that Orthodoxy understands and affirms powerfully--in Her theology, worship, and in the lives of the saints--the relationship between life and death.  We are born only to die physically at some point in the unknown future.  We know that.  Death is the result of man’s sin and is an inevitable experience awaiting us all.  But in Christ that final act becomes an ultimate witness to the Lord’s victory over corruption and the forces of destruction.  He (or she) is alive in Christ even though an individual may physically lie dead in the Church.  The life now experienced by our brothers and sisters who have “gone to their rest before us,” is a continuation of that same abundant life given to them at baptism, chrismation, marriage, and in the context of the Divine Liturgy when they partook of the Body and Blood of Jesus.  That is one reason why the Liturgy is part of the Orthodox burial process: we who are alive on earth maintain communion with the faithful who have departed this life. 
 
     In a sense, for the Orthodox to have the dead present during the Liturgy, or even at a marriage or baptism – should circumstances make it necessary – is not out of place at all. In what has been called a death-denying culture, one which also denies the value of a traditional, authentic Christian life, talk such as this would be viewed as madness, or at the very least, strange. But one must remember that in Christ there is no “strict separation” of the living from the dead, the Church Militant from the Church Triumphant.  Hence the many prayers to the saints offered by the faithful, and the presence of a multitude of Icons in our Churches depicting the “cloud of witnesses” which surrounds us (Hebrews 12:1). 
 
     On Sunday, February 10, George was at home, surrounded by his friends, family and all the saints during the Eucharist, enveloped by his loved ones and the heavenly hosts during the funeral.  These same disciples encircled the newly-illumined child James at his baptism.  The Orthodox Church of St. Barbara in Ft. Worth was given a precious gift on that particular weekend:  the opportunity to declare in the most vivid way possible that Christ truly has “dominion over both the living and the dead.”  We were given the chance to pray and reflect upon the power of Christ at work in His people.