Motivated by Fear

Motivated by Fear

Fr. Basil Zebrun

Following His Resurrection Jesus said to the apostles, "peace be unto you" (John 20: 19,21,26).  Furthermore, He distinguishes the peace He bestows from that which is given by the world (John 14: 27).   St. Paul describes it as, "...the peace of God which passes all understanding" (Philippians 4:7).  Christians experience this peace as not merely the absence of fear or strife, but the presence of Christ in the lives of the faithful.

Additionally, during a storm at sea Jesus offered His disciples these words of comfort, "fear not" (Matthew 14:27, Mark 6:50, John 6:20), and prior to raising Jairus' daughter from the dead He said to the father, "Do not be afraid" (Mark 5:36).  At the Annunciation and at the announcement of the Baptist's conception, the angel also reassured both Mary and Zacharias that there was no need for trepidation (Luke 1).

The statements, "peace be unto you" and "fear not," were meant to allay the personal anxieties of those whose lives were radically changed by divine grace, freely received.

Christ's words of peace are repeated at each liturgical service in the Orthodox Church.  On occasion one is tempted to say that "fear not," should be added as well.  Our society in general is far too acquainted with fear, and unfamiliar with the peace of Jesus Christ.  We live daily in fear of crime, terrorism, war, an uncertain economy, as well as apprehension from urban isolation, from not knowing -- and thus not trusting -- family and neighbors.

Beyond this, fear is used as a powerful tool, driving personal, political and corporate agendas.  Those with agendas often find it easier to motivate people out of fear, rather than out of concern for doing the right thing;  to unite people against a perceived enemy -- real or imaginary -- rather than to rally them around peaceful, constructive goals.  People who otherwise have nothing in common find mutual ground against a shared opponent. An ancient proverb comes to mind:  "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."  Knowledge of such predictable behavior serves as a basis from which to evoke desired responses from select individuals.

As part of the fallen human experience, fear is also a reality in the life of the Church.  Christians face the aforementioned anxieties, in addition to the common fear of human interaction, acceptance and/or rejection by others;  fear of change, of "letting go," i.e. divesting oneself of non-essentials for the Gospel's sake;  an overwhelming fear of God's wrath in churches where divine retribution is a constant theme;  fear of persecution and martyrdom for Christ;  and fear of death generally, with no expense or effort being too great to delay the inevitable, or to make death as painless as possible.

There are those, however, who have risen above personal insecurities, suspicions, threats from non-believers, and anxieties over death.   Many who conquered their fears through love and faith, we call saints.  They provided examples of courage that we strive to emulate.  They knew, as well, a healthy "fear of the Lord" that is "the beginning of wisdom" and which leads to life. (Proverbs 1:7; 9:10; 19:23).

Fear, however, creeps into the Church's life in other ways.  Tragically, as with society at large, it can be used in varying degrees to drive agendas -- personal and political -- even within the Body, to divide one Christian from another.

Additionally, fear is brought in from the outside, as a vestige from the past in the lives of many who convert from other faiths.  In such cases fear may lead to "going on the defensive," assuming that Orthodoxy is easily susceptible to trends adversely affecting non-Orthodox churches.  Thus, at times one encounters knee jerk reactions -- personal efforts to guard the Church -- against legitimate threats, but also against what could be considered normal, healthy activity within the life of the Body.

A few specific examples of the latter readily come to mind, but we will cite only one.

Approximately two decades ago one of our seminaries held a conference concerning, "The Role of Women in the Church."  The theme seemed innocent enough and useful.  People have questions about parish ministries, as well as Orthodoxy's understanding of both men and women serving the Body of Christ.  Thus, a conference devoted to such a topic appeared quite beneficial.

That year a guest editorial was printed in an Orthodox paper, written by a member of the Orthodox Church in America.  His former faith had gone through major changes, among which was the "ordination" of women to the priesthood. The article was somewhat harsh, but primarily defensive.  He emphasized that the seminary gathering, with its focus on women, was an example of activities that could open the floodgates for women's ordination in the Orthodox Church.

Although to some extent I understood his mindset, I disagreed with his predictions of doom.  His words constituted a warning based on prior experiences in another Christian group.   In response to similar situations a friend of mine used to remind people, "Yeah, but that isn't  the Orthodox Church;"  a significant comment, surrounded as we are by countless faiths from which we receive many into Orthodoxy.

His reasoning was that the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church is unique and unrepeatable.  It is the Body of Christ, and strictly speaking, cannot be equated with other churches.  Furthermore, having survived two thousand years of every imaginable persecution and hardship, the Church itself has nothing to fear, particularly from sincere questions by the faithful, and open (reasonable) dialogue.  While regretting what happens outside the Orthodox Church, its members should never deny, out of fear, the power of a living Tradition to address contemporary issues in a forthright manner.  They should never limit the work of the Holy Spirit  as the One Who guides the faithful into all the Truth.

It is a great blessing that we are free and possess the means in this country to convene conferences devoted to "Women in the Church," or to other worthwhile topics, having ready access to knowledgeable theologians, clergy and laymen.  Education and open (reasonable) dialogue on theological, moral, even political issues, are to be encouraged and not feared.

"Airing out" the Faith, letting it breathe and speak to life, allows it to challenge and guide contemporary culture.  Constructing non-essential walls around the Church out of fear, isolating its members from non-existent threats, only serves to harm the Body, placing obstacles to spiritual growth where they need not exist, diverting our focus from the real enemy.  The Apostle's words in his letter to the Ephesians are a continual reminder of where the true danger lies: "we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:12).

For two millennia the Truth has triumphed over falsehood.  Christ bestowed the gift of peace and promised that, "the gates of hell shall not prevail" (Matthew 16:18).  Individuals may fall and lose sight of the Truth.  The Church of Jesus Christ, however, cannot die.   As an Orthodox nun once commented:  "...even if it is in the heart of one person, the Orthodox Church will always exist."

Admittedly some of these thoughts may be viewed as  simplistic, as perhaps ignoring the great theological controversies of the past, the profound concerns of the Church Fathers as they fought against heresies, as well as the persecutions and strong emotions that accompanied their efforts.  Our intention, however, is not to minimize threats, or serious spiritual consequences resulting from error and delusion.  We merely wish to distinguish between perceived and actual dangers for the Church, and to emphasize the uniqueness of Orthodoxy among the Christian faiths, a distinction which should give courage to the faithful by instilling within them trust in a living Tradition, guided by the Holy Spirit.

We also wish to discourage, within the Church, paralysis brought on by fear, and to encourage a certain openness that is reflected in Church history, as the Church sought to speak creatively to surrounding cultures, bringing into its life, elements of local culture that were worthy of being blessed and baptized.

St. Paul instructs that "fear" -- specifically fear of the "ultimate enemy" -- is something from which Jesus came to deliver mankind (Hebrews 2:15).  Society at large, as well as religious groups, may be prompted or paralyzed by fear and delusion, or may use these things as tools driving agendas of all sorts.  But certainly within the Orthodox Church, its faithful should find courage,  be driven by devotion to Truth and motivated by love, perfect love which "casts out all fear"  (1 John 4:18).

A Man from Texas

A Man from Texas

Fr. Basil Zebrun

Every now and then we meet a person who makes a strong first impression, in either a positive or negative way.  On a recent deanery trip, I had such an experience when I met Thomas from a small town in Texas.  Thomas was the manager of a motel: The Timber Lodge.  On repeated occasions I had the opportunity to watch him enthusiastically answer the motel phone and greet people making their way into the lobby.

Thomas apparently managed alone, so whenever the phone rang he would quickly rush to the counter and answer:  "Good morning, this is Thomas of the Terrific Timber Lodge.  How may I help you?"  As potential guests stepped out of their vehicles he would meet them at the door, shake their hands and ask what he could do to assist them.  In addition, he faithfully informed guests that the breakfast area and snacks were available free of charge, fourteen hours a day, from 8 am to 10 pm.  And if visitors were in doubt as to local "must see" sites, Thomas was all too happy to point them in the right direction.  He proved to be a storehouse of information.

Many people in the retail, entertainment and hotel/motel industries display a degree of friendliness;  they are, we would say, "good salespeople."  The best are those -- like Thomas -- whose enthusiasm and helpfulness are extensions of their natural character:  "it's just who they are."  They believe in their product and are genuinely sensitive to the needs of others.

My impressions of Thomas, however, were shaped by more than his zeal as manager of an inn.  He obviously possessed a fair amount of religious knowledge and was never shy while referring to his practice of the Christian faith.

As examples, when we walked into the lobby and he saw our cassocks Thomas asked if we were Roman Catholic or Orthodox priests.  He apparently knew about the Orthodox Church, and was definitely familiar with the local Orthodox community and some of its members.  When asked about his own Church, he identified himself simply as, "Christian," not mentioning a particular denomination.

In addition, his normal routine required him to be at the motel by 7:30 am.  But during our conversations he stated that many mornings he would awake at 4:30 or 5:00 am.   Prior to leaving the house he naturally would shower, get dressed and eat.  He also had what Orthodox Christians call, "a personal rule of prayer."  If time allowed Thomas would read brief passages from the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, and sing "songs of praise," before departing for the office.

Thomas's enthusiasm for work, and practice of his faith, were impressive.  As one might expect, while watching him manage the lobby my thoughts turned to our own efforts as Orthodox Christians to greet visitors and to be sensitive to their needs when they come through the doors of the Church.

Whenever we meet someone like Thomas who makes a strong first impression it can be a revelation.  For instance, sensing something admirable in Thomas, worthy of emulation, one adult guest said to him lightheartedly during breakfast, "Thomas, when I grow up I want to be like you."  That is quite a statement -- even when said in jest -- coming from someone who only met Thomas the previous night.  On a more serious note, the history of the Church contains examples of those whose lives were changed radically by first impressions, by the sight of Christians observed for the first time, suffering valiantly for the faith, offering forgiveness to their persecutors.  More consistent, though, with our own experiences, are people we know who returned to the Orthodox Church a second time and eventually converted, partially as a result of first impressions: i.e. warm, sincere Church members displaying interest in their initial visit.

My point in all of this, is to encourage us to reflect upon Thomas's dedication to both his job and faith, in terms of Church life generally.  Thomas  was certainly in no danger of suffering or dying immediately for Christ.  In fact, one could say that he had a pleasant career and was merely practicing Christian "bare essentials" within that context:  prayer, hospitality and respect for others. Perhaps being impressed by the bare essentials is a bit revelatory in and of itself.

Be that as it may, imagine what life in the Church would be like generally if, like Thomas, Orthodox Christians  practiced their own rule of prayer more faithfully;  if we displayed more respect for others;  if we concerned ourselves strongly with the immediate needs of guests, welcoming newcomers with the same enthusiasm as this man from Texas.  He performed admirably -- even inspirationally -- within the context of a business: the "Terrific Timber Lodge."  We have something, however, infinitely more precious than a motel:  we have the Church, whose life is that of Christ Himself.  Through the life of the Church we have been united to Christ.  Through Him we have become children of God, citizens of the Kingdom here and now.  Part of our responsibility -- the bare essentials -- is indeed to welcome others into this Reality, this Body, which interestingly has been likened to the inn -- motel -- in the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

One can pray that our recognition of these precious gifts and our enthusiastic response, will perhaps lead others to say, even just in passing,  "When I grow up I want to be like you Orthodox Christians."  As for me, whether or not I am ever able to emulate the admirable qualities of Thomas, I certainly would like to stay at his motel again, if travels permit.   A large welcome and great service will most assuredly be waiting.

The True Worth of Man

The True Worth of Man

+Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

Two notions have come to the fore, since the war perhaps more than in the years that preceded it, the notion of the greatness of man, of his significance both for us men and for God; and the notion of human solidarity. And these are two points on which I wish to say a few words. In doing so we will have to measure how far we dare value the significance of men, and how far we dare go in our solidarity; that is, how great our daring can be and also what are its limits.

The Greatness and Depth of Man; The Third Dimension: For centuries, as it seems, within the Church we have tried to make our God as great as we could, by making man small. This can be seen even in works of art in which the Lord Jesus Christ is represented great and his creatures very small indeed at his feet. The intention was to show how great God was, and yet it has resulted in the false, mistaken, almost blasphemous view that man is small, or in the denial of this God who treats men as though they were of no value. And these two reactions are equally wrong. The one belongs to people who claim to be children of God, God's own chosen people, who are the Church. They have managed by doing this to make themselves as small as the image they have of men, and their communities as small and lacking in scope and greatness as their constitutive parts. The other attitude we find outside the Church, among the agnostics, the rationalists and the atheists; and we are responsible for these two attitudes and we shall be accountable for both in history and at the day of judgment. And yet this is not the vision of God about man.

When we try to understand the value which God himself attaches to man we see that we are bought at a high price, that the value which God attaches to man is all the life and all the death, the tragic death, of the only begotten Son upon the Cross. This is what God thinks of man, of his friend, created by him in order to be his companion of eternity. Again, when we turn to the gospel, to the parable of the Prodigal son, we see this man who had fallen away from the greatness of his sonship, of his vocation, coming back to his father. On his way he prepares his confession. He is ready to admit that he has sinned against heaven and against his father. He is prepared to recognize that he is no longer worthy of being called a son. And yet, when he meets his father, his father allows him to make half of his confession, to recognize that he is unworthy, that he is a sinner, that he has sinned against heaven and against him; but as to allowing him to ask a place in the kingdom on terms lower than those of sonship, 'let me be like one of thy hired servants', this he does not allow. He stops him at a moment when the young man has recognized his unworthiness, but he is not prepared to allow his son to establish new terms of worthiness, unworthy of the primeval, original and eternal relationship to which he is called. He can be an unworthy son; he can be a repentant son; he can come back to the father's house, but only "as" his son. Unworthy though he be as a son he can never become a worthy hireling.

And this is the way in which God looks at man - in terms of the sonship offered us in the Incarnation of the Lord Jesus Christ, implied in the act of creation and in our calling to become partakers of the divine nature, to become sons by adoption in the only begotten Son and in the only Son; to become, in the very words of Irenaeus of Lyons, the only begotten son in the total Christ.

This is our vocation. This is what we are called to. And nothing less than this is acceptable to the Lord. Now, this vision of man is something which is incompatible with the small vision we so often acquire from false teaching and from a slavish approach to the Lord. And this is why the outer world cannot receive our message because this message has become false, because no-one who knows the spirit of man within himself will ever be prepared to be treated as though he was lower than what he knows he is. Man is the point of encounter between the believer and the unbeliever, between the faithful and the man who is godless, provided we are prepared for an encounter and for a common thinking. You remember the passage in the Book of Acts in which we are told of St. Paul discovering in Athens an altar dedicated to the unknown God. Isn't this unknown God, man (himself)?  In our time he seems to be so more than ever. Those who have repudiated God and rejected Christ have made man their god, the measure of all things. And indeed they are right as against the falsified image which at times is offered them. They have made man into their god and they have put him on the altar; but this man whom they have made into their god is an idol. It is a two-dimensional man, a prisoner of the two dimensions of time and space. This man made into a god is not a man with depth. It is a man as we see him in practical, ordinary, empirical life before we discover that man has a depth. He is seized in these two coordinates, he has volume, be occupies space, he has shape; he is tangible and visible but he has no content. In a way one may say that he belongs to the world of geometry in which one can speak of volumes, but these volumes are empty; there is nothing to be said about what is within these volumes. And man considered only in terms of space and time in this two-dimensional system appears to us only as a shell, an outer shape. He is a presence and we are related to his presence. His presence may be pleasant or unpleasant. There is no depth to plumb, there is no depth we can investigate or even perceive, because the depth of man is neither within time nor within space; it cannot be found there.

When the Scriptures tell us that "the heart of man is deep," they speak of that depth which escapes geometry, which is a third dimension of eternity and immensity - that dimension which is God's own dimension. And so when man is put on the altar to be worshipped but only as a historic event developing in time and space, there is nothing to worship in him. He can be big; he can outgrow his stature. He may become one of those very fine idols of the early civilizations, but he will never have greatness, because greatness does not reside in size. It is only if man has this third dimension, invisible, intangible, the dimension of depth and of content, this dimension in infinity and eternity, that there is more to man than the visible, and then even in his humiliation man becomes great. Even defeated he may be greater than the one who seemingly defeats him.

The revelation of God in Christ, or the absolute dimension of eternity and immensity in Christ, is coupled with the revelation of defeat and humiliation. To those who either in the pagan world or in the Hebrew tradition thought of God as vested with all the imaginable greatness of man -- who saw in God the sum total of all their aspirations, all their goals, all they admired in the created -- (to them) the revelation of God in Christ was an insult and a blasphemy, something they could hardly bear because the great transcendental victorious God whom they had imagined and who is described with such beauty, for instance, and power by the friends of Job, that God appears to them as helpless, defenseless, vulnerable, defeated and therefore contemptible. And yet, in him we find final greatness because in all that, in his seeming defeat, we see the victory of love, a love which invested to the last point, to the last possibility, perhaps beyond possibility, if we think in our terms of reference, remains undefeated and victorious. No one, says Christ, takes my life from me. I give it freely. No one has greater love than he who will lay down his life for his friends. Apparent defeat, perfect victory of love, tested to the last limit.

This man, Jesus Christ, we also put on the altar. He is also the measure of all things for us. But he has a quite different quality than the poor idol which we are called to adore and to whom we are called to sacrifice ourselves and others by a godless world. So we Christians can meet the unbeliever; we can meet those who search and those who do not yet search, in the image of man. But we must be prepared to claim that man is greater than the wildest imagination of the unbeliever. Our pride in man is greater than the pride of those who want to make man as big as possible in the two-dimensional world out of which God is excluded. And yet, it is on this point, on the vision of man, that we can meet all those who claim that man has a right to be great and to be worshipped, because we worship one who is man; we bow down before him; he is our God.

God's Solidarity with Us;  Our's with the World: And now I come to the second point of our meditation. How far can we feel final, total, definitive solidarity with those who deny the existence of the very possibility of this dimension of greatness and depth? St. Paul in his time, speaking of the Jews, was prepared to be excluded from the presence of God, if only that could make it possible for the people of God to be saved in its entirety. Can we go further, and can we together with Christ and not against him, together with God and not against him, say, 'let our life be the ransom of the life of the world'. And when I say 'the life' I do not mean the temporary existence but all the total destiny of mankind. Can we be prepared to take the final risk of solidarity, either salvation together or lose all things together? A Christian can have no other attitude to things except that of Christ himself: of God revealed in Christ within human history, within the becoming and the tragedy and the glory of the destiny of mankind. And so let us cast a glance at the kind of solidarity which God in Christ accepts with men.

The solidarity begins at the moment of creation when the word of God calls all things into being and when man is called, not to a transitory ephemeral existence, not as an experiment, but is called to be, and to be forever, the companion of eternity of the living God. This is the moment when God and man find themselves linked together, if I may use this word, by and within the same risk, because it is at the creation that God takes upon himself not only the consequences of having created man but the consequences also of what man will make of time and of eternity. Throughout the Bible we see the way in which God never renounces either responsibility or solidarity with man; how he bears one after the other the various situations which man creates; how he adjusts himself to them in order to work out our salvation, which is the final fulfillment of man's vocation. But the essential event, the essential act of solidarity is the Incarnation of the Word of God. God becomes man. He enters into history. One may say, he acquires a temporal destiny; he becomes part and parcel of a becoming. But how far does this solidarity go? Usually in our sermons we underline, or we hear people say, that he became partaker of all that was man's condition except sin. And if we ask what are these things he became partaker of, we are told that it is the limitations of time and space and the conditions of human life, tiredness, and hunger and thirst and anguish and isolation and loneliness and hatred and persecution and in the end death upon the cross. But when we have said this we seem to overlook something which is subjacent to all this, something which seems to me more important than any of these things. Yes, Christ accepts finally not only human life but human death. But what does this imply? How far does this solidarity go?

If you turn to Scripture you will see that death and sin, that is death and severance from God, death and the loss of God, what one can call etymologically atheism, are inseparably linked. The fact of not having a God is at the root of death. St. Maximus the Confessor, in one of his writings, brings it out in a most striking way; speaking of the Incarnation, he says that in the very moment of the conception of Christ, even in his humanity Christ was immortal, because one cannot conceive of a human flesh united to the Godhead and capable of death. Further, when we speak of the crucifixion we are aware of the fact that the death of Christ upon the Cross was an impossible tearing apart of an immortal soul and an immortal body; it was not the fading away of life; it was a dramatic, an impossible event inflicted by the will of God on the one who was both equally and perfectly God and man. But then the words of Christ upon the Cross acquire a significance that is deeper and more terrifying than anything which we have made of them. When the Lord says 'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?', it is a moment in which, metaphysically, in an unspeakable way, in a way for which we cannot account because we can account for nothing in the mystery of Christ, Jesus nailed to the Cross loses the consciousness of his union with God. He can die, because he, free of sin, becomes at that moment fully partaker of the destiny of man, and he also is left without God, and having no God he dies. This is also what is signified in the Apostles' Creed when it says 'He descended into hell'.  Hell in the Hebrew tradition was the place where God was not; he went into the depth of this absence of God and he died. Here is the measure of a divine solidarity with us, not only the shedding of blood, not only the death on the Cross, but the very condition of this death upon the Cross, of this death altogether, the loss of God.  And here we see that there is not one atheist in the world, whether ideological or, if I may put it this way, gastric - if you take St. Paul's word that some have made their belly into their gods - no atheist has ever gone into the loss of God, into atheism, in the way in which Christ has gone into it, has experienced it and has died of it - he, immortal in his humanity as in his divinity. This is far beyond any other form of solidarity. This is the full measure of Christ's and God's love for men in what God is prepared to do, and the measure of how far he is prepared to go in his oneness with us. But then again, when we think of men, of those men who are not of the Church, of those men who are outside of it, who have turned against it because of us, because the name of God is blasphemed among the nations for our sake, then we can see how far we dare to go, and how great our daring must be.

Our solidarity must be with Christ first, and in him with all men to the last point, to the full measure of life and death. Only then, if we accept this, can we, each of us, and can the congregation of all faithful people, the people of God, grow into what it was in Christ and into what it was in the Apostles, into a group of people whose vision was greater than the vision of the world, whose scope was greater than the scope of the world, so that the Church in the beginning could contain all these, could be partakers of all those things which were the condition of man, and therefore could lead mankind into salvation.

And this is not the state in which we are. We have grown small because we have made our God into an idol and ourselves into slaves. We must recapture the sense of the greatness of that God revealed in Christ and the greatness of man revealed by him. And then the world may begin to believe and we may become co-workers of God for the salvation of all things. Amen.

Reflection on 9/11

Reflection on 9/11

(The following talk was given by Fr. Anthony Hughes at the Islamic Center just outside of Boston, in Wayland, Massachusetts on September 11, 2003.  Fr. Anthony was one of many invited clergy speakers who offered thoughts on the horrific events of 9/11/01.  He is the priest at St. Mary's Antiochian Orthodox Church in Boston, Massachusetts.  As they remind us of God's humility and boundless love, we present Fr. Anthony's words on this solemn day for our country.)

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, One God. Amen.

Please allow me to reflect theologically for just a moment on the events of September 11, 2001 from the perspective of the Eastern Orthodox Faith.

We do not for a moment believe that the terrorists enacted the will of God on that terrible day. It was not God’s will these men performed, but their own. God’s will is not the same thing as His foreknowledge say the Orthodox fathers.  Simply because God knows something is going to happen does not mean that He has willed it to happen! Then, as fundamentalists in every religion do, they attempted to put their own face on the face of God and we all know what the end result is:  they make gods of themselves and idols in their own image.

Above all things God is limitless, incomprehensible, unconditional and inexhaustible love. As paradoxical as it may seem, God, the All-Powerful, the All-knowing has revealed Himself to be also the Humblest of All, the Most Merciful, the Most-Compassionate.

We speak lightly of justice in this world as the ultimate value.  But this is not so. It is not justice that heals the world, but mercy. St. Isaac of Syria, the great ascetical spiritual father has written these words:

"Do not say that God is just…God’s own Son has revealed to us that he is before all things good and kind. He is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Where is the hell that could afflict us or the damnation that could make us afraid to the extent of overwhelming the joy of God’s love? In the place of what sinners justly deserve, he gives them resurrection. In place of the bodies that have profaned his law, he clothes them anew in glory…See, Lord, I can no longer keep silent before the ocean of thy Grace!"

What remains for us then, as people of faith, is to live lives full of mercy, peace, light, and beauty in this world, lives resembling God. Living such a life is risky. It demands that we give our all to values many do not share. A wise rabbi once said, “The messiah will come when one person in the world says yes to God.” For Christians that person is the Virgin Mary who risked everything for the healing of the world by saying "yes" to God and giving birth to His Son. We too must say yes, my friends, so that light may shine more brightly in this present darkness.

Tithes and Firstfruits

Tithes and Firstfruits

Archpriest Dmitri Cozby

“Honor the Lord with your substance, and with the firstfruits of all your produce” (Proverbs 3:9).  In ancient Israel, the Church of the Old Testament, the Law of Moses instituted the “tithe”, also called the offering of the firstfruits. “Tithe” is merely the Old English word for “tenth”. Israel’s tithe was an assessment of one-tenth of all produce for the maintenance of the Temple, the support of the priesthood, and the sustenance of the poor (Num. 18:24; Deut. 12:11 and 26:12). Usually this portion was rendered from the first harvested of the crop, hence the title “firstfruits”.

These activities are still necessary parts of Church life. Parishes need suitable places for worship, education, and fellowship; we are still responsible for our priests’ livelihood; and the Lord continually reminds us of our obligation to the needy. Therefore, the practice of good stewardship, represented by the tithe, retains its importance.

The motive behind the Old Testament tithe, however, was not purely pragmatic. For the ancient Hebrews tithing was never merely an efficient way to raise money. Rather, they understood that their relationship with God required them to dedicate a substantial portion of the fruit of their labor to His purposes.

Our basic understanding as Orthodox Christians, derived from the Old Testament, is that everything comes from God. All that we have or hope to possess, beginning with life itself, is His gift. We acknowledge this fact in our spiritual life through prayer and fasting and through our struggle to follow His commandments. With regard to our material blessings, we confess that He is their true source by returning a portion to Him, to be used for His purposes in this world. These works include the maintenance of worship, the support of those called to His special service, and aid for the poor. By thus giving a portion of our wealth for His purposes, we sanctify the remainder. Through offering a part, we bring the whole of our lives into harmony with God’s will.

The Old Testament Law embodied this admission of God’s sovereignty in the tithe. Nothing in this is changed by the coming of Christ. Tithing is not a purely Old Testament observance revived by Protestants and, therefore, a thing we Orthodox Christians need not worry about. It is true that many Old Testament practices are now understood in a spiritual way fulfilled, transformed, or displaced by Christ’s coming, death, and Resurrection. It is also true that, in recent times, some Protestants have stressed tithing as the norm of giving. But in reality, neither of these objections applies to the tithe or denies its validity.

Our Lord criticized the way in which his opponents tithed, but in so doing, He confirmed the tithe itself: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe your mint, dill, and cumin, but have omitted the weightier matters of the law judgment, mercy, and faith. These you ought to have done, without omitting the others” (Matthew 23:23).

Likewise, one of the earliest witnesses to Holy Tradition, The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (sometimes called The Didache), applies the firstfruits to the Church. “Every firstfruit of the produce of the wine-vat and of the threshing-floor, of cattle and flocks, you will take and give as the firstfruit to your prophets; for they are your chief priests . . . . if you prepare food, take and give the firstfruit according to the commandment. Likewise, when you open a jar of wine or oil, take and give the firstfruit to the prophets. Take also the firstfruit of money and clothing and every possession, as it may seem right to you, and give according to the commandment.”

St Irenaeus, writing toward the end of the second century, notes that Christ Himself “gave directions to His disciples to offer the firstfruits of His own created things not as if He stood in need of them, but that they might be themselves neither unfruitful nor ungrateful.”

St John Chrysostom contends that the tithe is more binding on us than on the Jews. In one of his sermons, he notes that under the Old Testament tithing was the norm. Among Christians, however, it has become a cause for amazement;  we exclaim in wonder, “Why, so-and-so tithes!” St John finds this a sad reflection on our piety and ends with the warning, “if it was a danger to neglect the tithe then, imagine how serious it must be now!”

As we said, the Old Testament saints did not see the tithe merely as a way for organizing fund-raising for the Temple and clergy, but as part of their relationship with God. Similarly, we cannot regard our giving merely as providing for our parish’s material needs. We must appreciate the spiritual importance of tithing, as the return to the Lord of a portion of His blessings through which we sanctify the remainder for our own use. Thus we acknowledge the Lord’s claim upon the whole of our life and affirm that the focus of our existence is not this world but the Kingdom to come.

The tithe, one-tenth, is the ideal of stewardship set forth in Scripture in the Old Testament tithe, and in Tradition, represented by The Didache, St Irenaeus, and St John Chrysostom. At first, for those not used to the idea of tithing, this amount may seem staggering.  The best way to begin is to adopt a lower percentage and then increase it over time.  First, we should accept the underlying principle behind tithing: that we should not give an arbitrary amount, but that our contributions should represent a proportion, a percentage, of our income. Once we establish a certain percentage (for example 3%-5%) as our starting point, we can then increase it by one percent a year until we reach the tithe. From the beginning, however, we must adopt the idea that we give a percentage of our treasure;  we cannot base it on impulse, giving “a little something” from what we “have left over.” Instead, our offering should represent “the firstfruits of our produce” offered because we feel need to “honor the Lord with our substance”, because we want show our gratitude to Him for His blessings, and because we acknowledge our part in His work of redeeming the world.

(V. Rev. Dr. Dimitri Cozby, prolific author and long time missionary in the Diocese of the South, OCA, is currently the priest at All Saints Orthodox Church Church in Victoria, Texas.)

Sermon on the Cross

Sermon on the Cross

+  Metropolitan Anthony Bloom

(On Saturday, September 14, the Church celebrates the feast of The Universal Elevation of the Cross of Christ.  In anticipation we offer the following sermon which speaks of the Cross in terms of love.)

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. We have been keeping these days the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. There is a passage in the Gospel in which the Lord says to us, "No one has greater love than he who gives his life for his neighbor."  And these words resolve the antinomy between the horror of the Cross and the glory of it, between death and the resurrection.  There is nothing more glorious, more awe-inspiring and wonderful than to love and to be loved.  And to be loved of God with all the life, with all the death of the Only-Begotten Son, and to love one another (as well) at the cost of all our life and, if necessary, of our death, (this) is both tragedy but mainly victory.  In the Canon (Anaphora) of the Liturgy we say:

"Holy art Thou and all-holy, Thou and Thine only-begotten Son and Thy Holy Spirit!  Holy art Thou and all-holy, and magnificent is Thy glory!  Who hast so loved Thy world as to give Thine only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life; who when He had come and had fulfilled all the dispensation for us, in the night in which He was given up -- or rather, gave Himself up for the life of the world -- took bread in His holy, pure, and blameless hands;  and when He had given thanks and blessed it, and hallowed it, and broken it, He gave it to His holy disciples and apostles....."

This is the divine love.  At times one can give one's own life more easily than offer unto death the person whom one loves beyond all;  and this is what God our Father has done.  But it does not make less the sacrifice of Him who is sent unto death for the salvation of one person or of the whole world.

And so when we think of the Cross we must think of this strangely inter-twined mystery of tragedy and of victory.  The Cross, an instrument of infamous death, of punitive death to which criminals were doomed -- because Christ's death was that of an innocent, and because this death was a gift of self in an act of love -- becomes victory.

This is why Saint Paul could say, "It is no longer I, it is Christ Who lives in me."  Divine love filled him to the brim, and therefore there was no room for any other thought or feeling,  any other approach to anyone apart from love, a love that gave itself unreservedly:  love sacrificial, love crucified, but love exulting in the joy of life.

And when we are told in today's Gospel, "Turn away from yourself, take up your Cross, Follow Me"  (Mark 8: 34) — we are not called to something dark and frightening;  we are told by God:  "Open yourself to love! Do not remain a prisoner of your own self-centeredness." Do not be, in the words of Theophane the Recluse, "like a shaving of wood which is rolled around its own emptiness." Open yourself up!  Look — there is so much to love, there are so many to love!  There is such an infinity of ways in which love can be experienced, and fulfilled and accomplished.  Open yourself and love (others) — because this is the way of the Cross! Not the way which the two criminals trod together with Christ to be punished for their crimes;  but the wonderful way in which giving oneself unreservedly, turning away from self, existing only for the other, loving with all one's being so that one exists only for the sake of the other — this is the Cross and the glory of the Cross.

So, when we venerate the Cross, when we think of Christ's crucifixion, when we hear the call of Christ to deny ourselves — and these words simply mean: turn away from yourself! Take up your cross! — we are called to open ourselves to the flood of Divine Love, love that is both death to ourselves and openness to God, as well as to each and to all.

In the beginning of the Gospel of Saint John we are told, "And the Word was with God"; in the Greek it says "Godwards." The Word, the Son, had no other love, no other thought, no other movement but towards the Beloved One, giving Himself to Him Who gave Himself perfectly to Him.

Let us learn the glory of crucified Love, of this sacrificial Love which is, in the words of the Old Testament, "stronger than death, stronger than hell," stronger than all things because it is Divine Life conquering us and poured through us onto all those who need to be loved in order to come to Life, to believe in Love, and themselves to become children of Love, children of Light, to inherit Life eternal. Amen.

No Greater Blessing

No Greater Blessing

(Holy and Righteous Parents:  Examples from History)

Protopresbyter Thomas Hopko

There is no greater blessing that a person can have than to be raised by righteous parents.  And there is no greater sorrow and source of sadness and harm than to be raised by the wicked and ungodly.

When we consider the greatest of Christians, and the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, we are struck by the fact that the holiest people were the children of the holiest parents.  Jesus was born of the most perfect human being who ever lived and will live, the blessed Virgin Mary.  He was raised by her, with the righteous Joseph;  was subject to His parents from childhood, and grew in wisdom and stature before God and man in obedience to them within the gracious atmosphere of their holy family.

Mary herself was the child of the righteous Joachim and Anna.  She was born as the answer to prayer, according to the promise of God, and was consecrated to the Lord from before her birth.

John the Baptist, the prophet and forerunner of Christ whom Jesus called "the greatest born of woman," was also conceived by God's gracious will to his aged parents, the priest Zacharias and his wife Elizabeth who were among the holy remnant of the righteous poor prepared to receive Christ at His coming.

The Three Hierarchs: Although there were saints who were persecuted and even killed by their parents, as for example, Saint Barbara, most of the greatest and most influential saints in the history of the Church were the children of holy parents.  A powerful example of this in church history is that of the Three Hierarchs:  Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian and John Chrysostom.

Saint Basil's mother and grandmother were widows.  They built a chapel on their estate and dedicated their lives to the service of God and the care of their children.  Saint Basil wrote in this way about his mother at the time of her death:

"Now for my sins I have lost my mother, the only comfort I had in life.  Do not smile if, old as I am, I lament my orphan-hood.  Forgive me if I cannot endure separation from a soul with whom I can see nothing in the future which lies before me to compare."

Saint Basil's mother Emmelia, with his grandmother and his brother Gregory of Nyssa and his sister Macrina are all canonized saints of the Church.

Saint Gregory the Theologian's mother Nonna is also a canonized saint with his father Gregory, and with his brother the "distinguished physician" Caesarius and his sister Gorgonia.  Nonna was the cause of the conversion of her husband to Christ from a pagan sect, who later himself became a bishop of the Church.  About his parents, particularly his mother, Saint Gregory wrote:

"...she was consecrated to God...possessed of piety as her most precious possession, not only for herself, but also for her children...she (and her husband) were lovers of their children and lovers of Christ...their one joy was to see their children names and acknowledged by Christ."

Saint John Chrysostom's mother Anthusa is also a canonized saint of the Church.  Her son lived with her until he was well over thirty at which time he began his service in the Church first as presbyter in Antioch and later as bishop in Constantinople.  The pagan rhetorician Libanus was so impressed with the mother of his famous student John, that he uttered the often-quoted phrase about her:  "Heavens, what women these Christians have!"

Saint Augustine: One of the most blessed men of the Western Church, and its most influential theologian, was Saint Augustine.   His mother too is a canonized saint (as, incidentally, is the mother of Saint Gregory Palamas.)  When, after a profligate and wandering life of almost forty years, Augustine finally met Saint Ambrose, also the son of a holy mother, and was baptized, he wrote to his mother Monica:

"I believe without a doubt and affirm that it is because of you and your prayers that God gave me that mind to prefer nothing to the discovery of the Truth;  and to desire and think and love nothing else...to you I owe all which to me is Life."

And when Monica died, he recorded these as her last words:

"My son, I have no further pleasure in this life...there was one reason, and one only, why I wished to remain a little longer in this life, and that was to see you a catholic Christian before I died.  God has granted me my wish...All that I ask of you is that, wherever you may be, you should remember me at the altar of the Lord."

Thankful to God: I recently  participated in a spiritual renewal conference where a leading theologian of the Greek Orthodox Church was introduced to speak by the pastor of his parents.  The priest introduced the speaker by praising his parents.  When we look into the lives of many of our church leaders today, priests, bishops and lay persons, we discover that the great majority are children of righteous and godly parents and grandparents.  We are thankful to God for this, His most wonderful blessing.

St. Herman of Alaska: August 9

St. Herman of Alaska: August 9

A Necessary Witness and Example

Protopresbyter Thomas Hopko

The elder Herman of Alaska, missionary monk of Spruce Island, near Kodiak, died on the December 13, in 1837.  He is the first formally canonized saint of the Orthodox Church in America, glorified on August 9, 1970. (Both dates are annual feasts of this beloved father in Christ.)

For those familiar with the actions of the Lord in history, who have heard of the Passover of His people from Egypt, who have been struck by the Word of God from the mouth of His prophets, who have believed in the Gospel of the Kingdom of His Incarnate Word Jesus, the fact that the elder Herman should be the first glorified saint in His Church in America comes as no surprise whatsoever.  How like the Lord it is – Who has His only begotten Son born on earth of a lowly woman in a cavern, nailed to the Cross with thieves outside the wall of the Holy City, witnessed in His resurrection by a former prostitute out of whom came seven devils, and preached by the greatest apostle who had previously acted as an accomplice to the murder of the first Christian martyr – how like this Lord it is to raise up first among the holy ones of the Church in the new lands a person like St. Herman.

The young monk Herman was a hermit in the monastery of Valaamo in Russian Finland.  He was chosen to be a member of the first missionary team being sent to the Russian lands in Alaska.  He was not ordained.  He was not formally educated.  He had no particular human skills.  His only grace was that he was a holy man, a person of genuine faith and continuous prayer.

Herman came to America with the first group of missionaries.  He alone survived, living for many years as a simple monk on Spruce Island.  He taught the people the Gospel.  He attended to their spiritual and physical needs.  He defended them against the cruelty of the Russian traders.  He pleaded their cause before the imperial throne.  He was beaten and persecuted by his own people for his condemnation of their injustices and sins.  He identified wholly with the afflicted and oppressed.  He died in obscurity, foretelling his glorification in future years by the Church that would emerge from his own humble efforts and those of the waves of immigrants who would inhabit the continent.  And he revealed himself from heaven to those who, like him, remained faithful to God, including the great missionary bishop, the widowed priest and “Apostle to America,” Saint Innocent Veniaminoff.  (Bishop Innocent died in 1879 as the Metropolitan of Moscow and was officially canonized on October 6, 1977, which day remains his annual feast, together with the day of his death, March 31.)

American Christianity desperately needs the witness of Saint Herman, for the American way of life is so radically opposed in so many ways to the life of this man and the Lord Jesus whom he served.  Power, possessions, profits, and pleasures: these are the things that Americans are known for. These are the goals that we are schooled to pursue.  These are the things in which we take pride.  And, sadly enough, these are also the things that many of us are taught to value by our “religious leaders,” both by their words and their examples.  But this was, and is, not the way of the Lord Jesus Christ.  And it is not the way of His saints.

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasure in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also…No one can serve two masters…You cannot serve God and mammon…But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” (Matthew 6:19-21, 24-25, 31-33.)

By American standards, Saint Herman of Alaska, like the Lord Jesus Himself, was a miserable failure. He made no name for himself. He was not in the public eye. He wielded no power. He owned no property. He had few possessions, if any at all. He had no worldly prestige. He played no role in human affairs. He partook of no carnal pleasures.  He made no money.  He died in obscurity among outcast people.  Yet today, more than a hundred years after his death, his icon is venerated in thousands of churches and his name is honored by millions of people whom he is still trying to teach to seek the Kingdom of God and its righteousness which has been brought to the world by the King Who was born in a cavern and killed on a cross.  The example of this man is crucial…especially in America.  (From The Winter Pascha, pp. 45-48, published by St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press.)

A Christian Understanding of Freedom

A Christian Understanding of Freedom,

+ His Eminence Archbishop Dmitri,

(In light of America's July 4th celebration of Independence, we offer the following article written years ago and published in The Dawn.)

People generally use the word freedom in order to describe two things:  the first and perhaps most persistent meaning of the term is simply lack of subjection to any kind of ownership or tyrannical authority, the lack of restriction of one’s actions, the absence of obstacles to self-determination or personal choices, the right to make up one’s own mind with regard to occupation, speech, assembly, religion and so on. Naturally, this kind of freedom is entirely desirable and, in many ways, our very nation came into being out of a deeply felt need for this. Although our democratic system of government has experienced many pitfalls and defects, and throughout the course of our history we have not always been able to achieve perfect freedom in the sense just described, it is none the less true that few would question the desirability for such freedom. Men are still willing to make enormous sacrifices – their very lives at times – for the  ideal of freedom.

Christian teaching lies at the very heart of such an ideal. And in spite of the ups and downs of Church history, wherein even the Church has seemed to be an accomplice to agencies and forces that would deny this kind of basic right to the human race, it would be inaccurate to say that the Christian Church in most of its classical forms teaches that men are not destined to be free in this very sense. It is incompatible with Christian teaching to maintain that man should be shackled with restrictions against his personal freedom to pursue a way of life to his own choosing.

At the same time it appears also that freedom is being increasingly applied to a kind of license which says that man is not to be subjected to any kind of restriction that is not to his liking. Even when the common good demands the contrary he is somehow to be free to "do his own thing." The blame for much of the disorder and confusion of our own times could perhaps be laid to this concept of freedom:  the near capitulation of our legal system in face of demands for freedom to peddle pornography, to sell drugs, to defy the law enforcement agencies of the cities, etc.

In this particular article it is not our intention to dwell on the matter of freedom as described above, making this a plea for law and order. Rather, we wish to present a general account of the Orthodox Church’s understanding of freedom, in light of Christ’s work of redemption, His "breaking the chains of hell and overthrowing the tyranny of hades."

Jesus said, "If you continue in my word, then you are my disciples indeed;  And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free" And those who heard Him said, "We are Abraham’s seed, and we were never in bondage to any man, how sayest thou, you shall be made free?" And He answered, "Verily I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin." (1 John 8:31-34)

He said in another place, "I am the way, the truth and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. If you had known me, you should have known my Father also; and from henceforth you know Him, and have seen Him." (John 14: 6-7)

Jesus Christ is the truth about God and the truth about man, since He is both God and man. God’s real nature is completely revealed in the Son of God, the Incarnate Word, and the whole truth about man, his worth, value and dignity, are realized and made manifest to man in the Son of Man, Jesus of Nazareth. And since man’s fundamental sin was and is godlessness or atheism, we then understand what is meant by the statement that "Christ came into the world to save His people from their sins."

An author once pointed out that, "Mankind is in bondage until Christ sets men free." St. Paul in the Epistle to the Romans says, "For when you were the servants of sin, you were free from righteousness. But what fruit had you then from those things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. But now set free from sin and become servants to God, you have your fruit unto holiness, and as your end, life everlasting." (6:20-22)

The deepest and most fundamental of the Church’s understandings of freedom is simply the freedom from sin and its wage or consequences. The understanding that Christ has given to men a freedom that cannot be taken away, no matter what the external circumstances of life may be, has provided the strength, the dynamism, the very life of the Church in the different periods of her bondage, her restrictions. There was the long three century persecution of the Church by the Roman Empire, and the very martyrs were witnesses and advocates of their freedom in Christ. The Moslem conquest and domination of much of the world that had been Christian, and the reduction of Christians to second-class citizenship, the restrictions against their proclaiming the Gospel, brought no despair to those who knew Christ and His truth. This lasted well into the nineteenth century in certain places.  And in our own twentieth century, restrictions and persecutions, perhaps heavier and more severe than in any other time, in Communist lands failed to extinguish the light of Christian truth, and finally the most essential Christian freedom.

It is in Christ, as perfect Man, that man comes to the full realization of what it means to be in the image and likeness of God.  For man’s freedom is an Icon, an image of the Divine Freedom itself.

It is just when our freedom lies within the "opus Dei," the work of God, that it does not cease to be true freedom. The "Let it be to me according to thy word," of the Virgin at the Annunciation does not come from a simple submission to His will, but that very acceptance expresses the ultimate freedom of her being. In this sense, she was the first fruits of the intervention of God into human time and history, the first product of the Incarnation. She is the image of the Church, those who receive the Word of God and keep it, of those who would lose their life and gain it.

Christ, in becoming Incarnate, has permitted us, not to imitate, but to relive His life, to conform ourselves to His essence.   In each Christian’s response to God, in saying, "let it be to me according to Thy will," he identifies himself with the God-Man Christ, and in this way, the Divine Will, freedom comes as an expression of one’s own will. The will of God, His work, His freedom have become one’s own. "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me," says St. Paul. (Galatians 2:20)

None of the foregoing is said to diminish or to negate in any sense the validity and importance of all human beings, especially Christians, to seek, to work for freedom in the usual earthly (if you will), sense of the word:  social justice, equality, and the right to pursue, unrestricted, a better life here and now for the human race.  The Christian, if he takes his commitment seriously, can never be guilty of putting restrictions in the path of others, of coercing, of forcing.  On the other hand, what has been said is conceived as a reminder that much of the Christian world, my own Church, has a long experience of this, has lived under repression in places where freedom, justice, equality, and the right to differ, were given lip-service, but were not realities. The hope of Christians, their consolation is based on a higher freedom, which only God can give, which our Lord Jesus Christ showed us.

The Ethics of the Resurrection

Ethics of the Resurrection

+ Protopresbyter John Meyendorff

     Human life is inevitably dominated by worries, preoccupations, fears or concerns with the one sure fact of the future for all of us:  physical death.  These concerns and worries are sometimes quite unconscious, but nevertheless, omnipresent.  There is no way in which we can avoid being concerned about our income, our insurance policies, our savings, as well as about the availability of such services which society can offer us to provide us with a measure of security in our old age or when we are sick.  But have we ever thought that all these preoccupations are basically connected with one reality:  the ultimate inevitability of death, which we understandably want to postpone and to make as harmless as possible?  Actually, our society even offers artificial gimmicks to make us forget about it, to hide death under funeral make-up.  But should we really ignore the obvious reality which lies behind it?

     Furthermore, is it not true that our mortality serves -- quite unconsciously again -- to justify our concern for ourselves, instead of our neighbors?  My neighbor can be cold and hungry next door, but I feel quite justified in preserving my own standard of living and the security of my own future, because I consider my money as having been earned by me (or given to me) with no other purpose than to prolong my own life and to make it as comfortable as I can.

     Moreover, even the laws of this mortal world of ours are made in such a way that their main purpose is to preserve my rights and my property.  They justify violence as a form of self-defense.  And the history of human society is one of conflicts and wars in which individuals and nations struggle and kill others in the name of temporal benefits which will be destroyed by death anyway.  But this is still considered as "justice."

     Such is, indeed, the inevitable logic of a world, which St. Paul describes as "the reign of death" (Romans 5:14).

     On Easter Day (Pascha) however, we celebrate the end of this reign.  Christ came to destroy it.  "Death is swallowed up in victory, O death, where is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:54-55).  "Christ is Risen, and no one remains in a tomb" (St. John Chrysostom).  Therefore, as the Church sings, "let us embrace," "let us forgive."

     This victory which our Church celebrates so brilliantly, so loudly, so triumphantly, is not simply a guarantee of "after life."  Rather, it changes the entire set of our ethical priorities, even now.  There is no need for self-preservation anymore because "our life is hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3).  To love one's neighbors and to give them the "last penny" is better insurance than to "store treasures upon earth."  "To lose one's soul" is "to save it."

     This is indeed total "foolishness" in the eyes of the world, but it is the wisdom of God, revealed in the Resurrection of the Lord.

     (Fr. Meyendorff succeeded Fr. Alexander Schmemann as Dean of St. Vladimir’s Seminary.  Fr. John was a noted Orthodox Patristics scholar and prolific author.  For years he was also the editor of The Orthodox Church newspaper.  The above editorial appeared in the April 1981 issue.)