Not even a beginning

Lord, have mercy.

Here we are, on the Sunday of Mary of Egypt, starting the sixth and final week of the Forty Days! At sundown next Friday, Lent is finished, and we enter the twilight, the pre-dawn of the new heavens and the new earth on the Sabbath of Lazaros, where he sleeps in the tomb for four days, in premonition of the Lord’s rest in His life-giving tomb on the following Sabbath. Our trek to the gates of the new paradise, to those gates now open to welcome us in repentance, is almost over, but have we in fact been shriven of our sins and confessed? Have we made our peace?
The gates are open now: they will not be for ever.
Jesus says,

‘Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.’
Matthew 5:25-26

Lord, have mercy.

I recall this saying of the Desert Fathers,

They said of the abbot Pambo, that in the hour of his departing from this life, he said to the holy men that stood about him, ‘From the time that I came into this place of solitude and built my cell, and dwelt in it, I do not call to mind that I have eaten bread save what my hands have toiled for, nor repented of any word that I spoke until this hour. And so I go to the Lord, as one that hath not yet made a beginning of serving God.’
The Sayings of the Fathers, Book I, xvi.

I remembered this saying as I was praying upon my bed, thanking the Lord for everything He has given, all that He has provided.
I meditated.

Where can you look, my soul,
where you will not see the signs of His love for you?
Everywhere you turn, outside yourself or within,
are the signs of His love.
The very comforter you lie on to rest, He provided.
Your holy ikons and books,
all your holy things given out of love,
out of solicitude for your needs,
all the gifts of His friendship.

And within, the secret things He has divulged to your soul,
and the love with which He taught you
the languages of His Holy Scripture.
And through all your lonelinesses and trials,
He has stood beside you,
comforting and defending you, never judging you,
because He knows the Word planted in you
will purify you and raise you after any possible fall.
Such was and is His great love for you, my soul,
such was and is His respect for you.

Yet, like a stranger you turn away from Him,
as if He were an enemy to be despised.
You judge Him, as if He were a criminal to be punished.
Worse than His people who accused Him,
when He fed them with manna and quails and gave them drink
from a rock that followed them.
And worse even than them whom He healed and fed,
and who nevertheless gave Him up to be crucified.

What madness is this?
What ingratitude hidden amidst the foliage of piety?
Is this the kind of Jew you are, my soul,
continuing the work of your fathers who slew the prophets?

Lord, have mercy.

I go to You, Lord,
as one who has not yet made a beginning of serving You,
yet the time is close.

Repent for me, Spirit of God,
press me harder through the sieve of repentance.
Hold back my coarse and useless dust,
let through only the flour refined by Your grace.
Moisten me, then, with real tears and knead me,
yeastless, into a level loaf.
Pierce me all over,
that in the earthen oven of tribulation
my body may bear the stripes darkened by the fire,
to guide the fingers that must break me in pieces
for the brethren.

Yes, Lord, I go to You as one
who has made not even a beginning of serving you.

Lord, have mercy.