Goodness

Jesus said to the servants, ‘Fill the jars with water… Now draw some out…’

Who or what does Jesus Christ represent for us? I mean, I know who He is, we all know who He is, or at least we all have an idea of who He is. Some of us think He is all God, others that He is all man, but sometimes it's hard for us to see and realize what the word Theánthropos, God-man, means, not doctrinally, but theologically, that is, what it means for us. Until we grasp that, I think we either remain religionists or humanists.

Christ came to create a new man in us that is divine. When we try to imagine what Christianity is, we all too often fall into thinking it is either just a religion or just a self-improvement regimen. Both attitudes fall short of—no, actually, they never even come close to—what Christianity is, and who Christ is. We hear the saying, 'God became man, so that man could become God,' but its significance eludes us.

The primal instinct of man, what was planted in us when God created us, is the desire for goodness. Why is this? As the bible tells us in the opening chapters of Genesis, as God created everything, He pronounced it good, each and every day. As creatures of God, we too are created good, and hence our deepest desire is for goodness. That's where we fit, that's our natural environment. Yes, we were made for paradise.

Yet, that is not where we find ourselves. Instead, as soon as we become aware, we find ourselves 'outside the gates' of that goodness that we desire and to which we aspire. It doesn't matter what our nation or our religion is, or even whether we are born into a traditional society or not. Unless we give up almost immediately—and that sometimes happens—most of us try our best to find the good and enter into it.

For the Christian, the revelation is that somehow God has entered into the human arena as one of us, and apart from everything else He may have done, He has become the source of an otherwise unattainable goodness, one that we can, and must, resort to if we hope to ever become good. The very idea that someone or something outside ourselves could be the only source of goodness for us is repugnant at first hearing.

We want to believe that 'we can do it' all on our own, even though all the evidence we can ever find proves the contrary. All our climbing up to goodness is a temporary ascent. The slope is steep and slippery to goodness or, looked at from the opposite direction, the slope of descent into sin and death (for here we must resort to 'traditional' wording) is steep and slippery, broad when sliding down,
narrow when ascending.

But we find we cannot ascend on our own, no matter how hard we try. Again, for the Christian (if he knows his bible), we have Jesus. He is not just the historical figure the world knows about but cannot see. He is the One standing in our midst wherever we find ourselves, or alongside us when we are alone, and we can and do see Him, always, if our eyes are wide open. What eyes? Yes, you're right.
Not those two.

The eye of the heart, which is single, through which we become full of light: those are the eyes by which we see Him. We know this because Jesus says so. But there are others for whom Jesus is not the Christ, that is, not the Messiah. There are Jews who do not accept Him, even though He is a Jew like them. Are they any different? No, they're just like us. They want goodness. They find they cannot buy it even by their devotion.

So we find ourselves all in the same predicament, no matter who we are, what we believe or don't believe about God and the universe. We all want goodness, but can't achieve it, but still try, those of us who haven't given up in despair. To return to my original question, now put a different way, who or what will do for us what we cannot do for ourselves? When we begin to understand the nature of the struggle, what will we do?

Not everyone who says to Jesus, 'Lord, Lord,' even knows what they are saying or who He is. Yet there He stands, there He walks, accessible as ever, to all who call upon Him by name or only in untaught trust, knowing somehow that the desire for goodness in us is no accident, no illusion, is not a psychological by-product of evolution, or an inherited herd mentality. And who or what Jesus Christ represents for us, He is that for all.

Lord, all that I long for is known to You,
my sighing is no secret from You…
(Psalm 38)

Unknown to them for who He is, the world has invited Him to their wedding banquet, and the wine they have been drinking, 'fruit of the vine and the work of human hands,' has run out, yet the feast must go on. He is the only one who changes water into wine, no work of human hands, which He does when we ask, though where the wine comes from, few know. But we know, because we follow His instructions, 'fill the jars with water, and then draw some out…'

Not my will, but Yours

Whether you have a degree or not (I don't), whether you're ordained or not (I'm not),
as a follower of Jesus there isn't a moment when you're not available for ministry,
not a location where you're exempt from doing His will. It's all just a matter of choice.

Not only in a Christian context does the seed of the Word get planted in the souls around us by every action, every word, even every thought that issues from our being.

The call of Jesus is so fundamental, so basic, so universal, and so available (in the Word of God) that most people miss it.

The incense smoke screen between the sacred and profane is pierced by a mere puff of breath, of the Holy Breath,
το πνευμα το αγιον, to pnévma to ághion,
who lives in us.

It's good to say, ‘His will, not mine.’
In a slightly different form, that's another one of the prayers of the hesychast—‘Not my will, but Yours, not my thoughts, but Yours, not my love, but Yours, not my life, but Yours.’

Over and over, we whisper it under our breath, we wake up hearing it flowing as the blood pulsing through our temples, we feel it reverberating with our very heartbeat. It is the background silence, ησυχία, hesychía, to our waking stream of thought.

Everything is consecrated now, all water is holy water, all paths walked in obedience to the call of Jesus become paths to paradise, though they pass through the valley of the shadow of death.

Yes, in obedience to the call of Jesus.

His banner over us

Nothing we do, however good or well-intentioned, is completely free of the will of our flesh. Yet if we did nothing at all, Christ could not work through us, since He has made us witnesses of His resurrection to the ends of the earth (cf. Acts 1:8, 22).

Though we work as hard and as faithfully as we can, He still instructs us to say at the end of each day, that we are unworthy servants who have only done what was given us to do (cf. Luke 17:10), and not only to say it, but know it.

Jesus is with us, and He is so close to us as we walk with Him that His shadow over us heals us of our iniquities great or small. If only we can manage to stay close to Him and not wander off on the paths of our own imaginings, we will remain safe.

With the eternal Word speaking to His Father on our behalf, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do,” we can have no better assurance of our eternal salvation or better proof of His banner over us from day to day.

And His banner over us is love. (cf. Song of Solomon 2:4)

דִּבְרֵי עֲוֹנֹת גָּבְרוּ מֶנִּי

Divréy avonót, gávru méni… ‘Matters of iniquities have overwhelmed me…’ I picked up my copy of Tehillim, the Hebrew book of Psalms, and just started reading, offering, at random this morning, not paying attention to the daily cycle. Looking at the literal translation, I was moved by the words’ simple straightforwardness, ‘matters of iniquities have overwhelmed me.’ Yes, the events of these past days feel overwhelming somehow. Whether the suffering world realises it or not, Christ Jesus is being crucified daily, in the flesh at the hands of the world, and spiritually in the mouths and minds of His followers. For though we abhor iniquities, especially the mindless, terrifying acts that carry away lives and destroy our peace, we often do not work healing and restoration, but carry the burden of false righteousness and judgment, calling it ‘justice,’ and ourselves remain unhealed and unrestored, because we refuse to follow Jesus.

There is no mercy for the merciless, not in this life, or in the world to come. That prospect itself should terrify us into obedience, yet it does not. We remain as we were, following Christ because we know He is going to feed us with the miraculous Bread that is Himself, and forgetting Him in the next moment, as we join in the hue and cry of those who shout ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ How is it that we do not recognise the Lord in His helpless disguise?

Brethren, let us work for the healing and the salvation of the whole world, and when we encounter the works of the evil one, let us shun them in ourselves as well as in others, and keep lifting ourselves and each other up before the Mercy Seat of the only Lover of mankind. As Jesus says, ‘Be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect’ and ‘Come, and follow Me.’

Children

Weep, my people, weep, for your land,
Once a city set on a hill
that could not be hid,
Is now a byword for the nations,
who toss their heads and say,
“If Yahweh is their God,
Let Him help them!”


Land of riches, now despoiled,
Land of sons and daughters,
now defiled,
Land of promise, now defamed,
Land of free men, now reviled,
“If Yahweh is their God,
Let Him help them!”


To the bitter end of your revelry,
To the bitter end, take your pleasures,
No matter your children charred,
Passed through the fire of Molech,
Cry out to you,
“If Yahweh is your God…”


Now is the time of redemption
From the sickening tree.
Now the acceptable day
Of the Lord’s visitation.
He comes in the clouds
Despite the doubt of His people,
“If Yahweh is His God,
Let Him help Him.”


Living ikons of the Son of Man,
Weeping saltwater instead of myrrh,
Tears gushing more plentifully
Than miraculous, healing springs,
Crying out with one inaudible voice,
To lure pilgrimages to their tombs,
Waiting for the venerating kiss,
That dry bones may take on life,
“If Yahweh is your God,
Help us!”

— Romanós

Lord, hear my cry!

Why is it that we stone one another so frequently? Why is it that we love to triumph over our defects in others but not in ourselves?

The heartless reasoning that we put on as mental clothing, wrapping ourselves in the very vanity that we thank God we’ve been delivered from!

Don’t we understand yet that fig leaves will not cover our nakedness before the Lord? Don’t we understand yet that He has already provided for us a covering, the fleece of the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world?

We stand proud and cast glances of pious false pity at everything and everyone we feel ourselves superior to. We are caught dead in our tracks as we ready ourselves to stone our infidelities in the other harlot, while ignoring the written Word of God, that His own finger carves not on tablets of stone, but doodles in the dust of our hearts.

O heavenly God hidden in weakness and rejection!

Becoming sin for us, You have taken away our shame and hold out to us in Your open, pierced palms the Bread of Life, yet we turn away to consume the bread of suffering, of tears, we prefer to remain in our camps and grumble at manna and quails!

Forty years are not enough to purge us of our insane cravings, we want to enter the land of promise but without walking there on the only road possible, following Jesus. Instead, pining after dead Moses whose body has disappeared, we collect fragments of broken tablets and stay in the wilderness.

Save us, O Lord! Save Your people and bless Your inheritance!

Help us, heavenly Shepherd.
Guide us, quietly but firmly, back to the flock,
back to dwell close by the shepherd’s tents.

Make us meek again, renew our childhood,
open to us the gates of repentance.

Lord, hear my cry!

Even so, I stayed in Your presence…

It is impossible to read the Psalms and not come away with more than you have given. The Lord speaks to us through them to the very details of our lives, answering all our concerns, all our prayers even before we ask Him. He is a good and loving God.

Psalm 71, one of the Psalms appointed for the fourteenth day of the month, always stops me in my tracks, especially when I read the words, “To many I have seemed an enigma…” How true, Lord, how true! This was true when I used to pray this Psalm thirty-five years ago, and it’s still true today, but so is the second half of that verse, “but You are my firm refuge.”

God is faithful. He maintains us in our first call, and in our first love. All we have to do is stay close to Him. Here I share with you, brethren, a psalm of a man in his age, and a psalm of the same man in his youth, the sinner but servant of God, Romanós.

Psalms for the 14th Day
71 72 73 74

Psalm 71

An old man's prayer

In You, Yahweh, I take shelter;

never let me be disgraced.

In Your righteousness rescue me, deliver me,

turn Your ear to me and save me!

Be a sheltering rock for me,

a walled fortress to save me!

For You are my rock, my fortress.

My God, rescue me from the hands of the wicked,

from the clutches of rogue and tyrant!

For You alone are my hope, Lord,

Yahweh, I have trusted You since my youth,

I have relied on You since I was born,

You have been my portion from my mother's womb,

and the constant theme of my praise.

To many I have seemed an enigma,

but You are my firm refuge.

My mouth is full of Your praises,

filled with Your splendour all day long.

Do not reject me, now I am old,

nor desert me, now my strength is failing,

for my enemies are uttering threats,

spies hatching their conspiracy:

‘Hound him down now that God has deserted him,

seize him, there is no one to rescue him!’

God, do not stand aside,

my God, come quickly and help me!

Shame and ruin on those

who attack me;

may insult and disgrace cover those

whose aim is to hurt me!

I promise that, ever hopeful,

I will praise You more and more,

my lips shall proclaim Your righteousness

and power to save, all day long.

I will come in the power of Yahweh

to commemorate Your righteousness, Yours alone.

God, You taught me when I was young,

and I am still proclaiming Your marvels.

Now that I am old and grey,

God, do not desert me;

let me live to tell the rising generation

about Your strength and power,

about Your heavenly righteousness, God.

You have done great things;

who, God, is comparable to You?

You have sent me misery and hardship,

but You will give me life again,

You will pull me up again from the depths of the earth,

prolong my old age, and once more comfort me.

I promise I will thank You on the lyre,

my ever-faithful God,

I will play the harp in Your honour,

Holy One of Israel.

My lips shall sing for joy as I play to You,

and this soul of mine which You have redeemed.

All day long, my tongue

shall be talking of Your righteousness.

Shame and disgrace on those

whose aim is to hurt me!

[Amín!]

Psalm 73

The triumph of justice

God is indeed good to Israel,

the Lord is good to pure hearts.

My feet were on the point of stumbling,

a little further and I should have slipped,

envying the arrogant as I did,

and watching the wicked get rich.

For them, no such thing as pain,

their bodies are healthy and strong,

they do not suffer as other men do,

no human afflictions for them!

So pride is their chain of honour,

violence the garment that covers them;

their spite oozes like fat,

their hearts drop with slyness.

Cynical advocates of evil,

lofty advocates of force,

they think their mouth is heaven

and their tongue can dictate on earth.

This is why my people turn to them

and lap up all they say,

asking, 'How will God find out?

Does the Most High know everything?

Look at them: these are the wicked,

well-off and still getting richer!'

After all, why should I keep my own heart pure,

and wash my hands in innocence,

if You plague me all day long

and discipline me every morning?

Had I said, 'That talk appeals to me',

I should have betrayed your children's race.

Instead, I tried to analyse the problem,

hard though I found it—

until the day I pierced the mystery

and saw the end in store for them:

they are on a slippery slope, You put them there,

You urge them on to ruin,

until suddenly they fall,

done for, terrified to death.

When You wake up, Lord, You shrug them off

like the phantoms of a waking dream.

When my heart had been growing sourer

with pains shooting through my loins,

I had simply failed to understand,

my stupid attitude to You was brutish.

Even so, I stayed in Your presence,

You held my right hand;

now guide me with advice

and in the end receive me into glory.

I look to no one else in heaven,

I delight in nothing else on earth.

My flesh and my heart are pining with love,

my heart's Rock, my own, God for ever!

So then: those who abandon You are doomed,

You destroy the adulterous deserter;

whereas my joy lies in being close to God.

I have taken shelter in the Lord,

continually to proclaim what You have done.

[Amín!]

The hardship of history…

…and the beauty of icons — presented as the homily at the Orthodox Clergy Brotherhood of Greater Pittsburgh Doxology Service for the Sunday of Orthodoxy.

The Wikipedia web site begins its description of Orthodoxy Sunday with these words:

Despite the teaching about icons defined at the Seventh Ecumenical Council in 787, the Iconoclasts began to trouble the Church again. After the death of the last Iconoclast emperor, Theophilos, his young son Michael III, with his mother the regent Theodora, and Patriarch Methodios, summoned the Synod of Constantinople in 842 to bring peace to the Church. At the end of the first session, all made a triumphal procession from the Church of Blachernae to Hagia Sophia, restoring the icons to the church. This occurred on 19 February, 842 (which that year was the first Sunday of Lent). The Synod decreed that a perpetual feast on the anniversary of that day should be observed each year on the First Sunday of Great Lent, and named the day, "the Sunday of Orthodoxy."

From this paragraph we can recognize a familiar pattern.

First there is the initial anti-icon movement — the iconoclasm of the Isaurian Emperors. Then there is the Seventh Ecumenical Council. That, one would think, should have settled things.

But then soon after, the iconoclasts rise again, supported by the Emperor and the army. Icons are prohibited by law. Large, beautiful icons are publicly destroyed. Patriarchs, bishops and clergy who defend icons are sent into exile. Monastics are imprisoned, tortured and some are even executed. The leader of the monastic “pro-icon” movement is St. Theodore, abbott of the Studion Monastery in Constantinople — he is sent into exile after he cried out to the Emperor, Leo V, to stay out of matters of church doctrine, and to mind his own imperial business.

One thing leads to another, and thankfully, the icons are once again restored at a Church Council under the leadership of the Empress Theodora and the Patriarch Methodios.

It is a happy ending. Unfortunately, history never stops at happy endings and usually always goes on just to make sure that people don’t get too comfortable. Soon, after the Triumph of Orthodoxy in 842, the good Patriarch Methodius dies and a rather difficult Ignatius takes his place. Ignatius proceeds to offend enough people around the Emperor that he is removed from office, and replaced with Photios the Great. The brilliant Photios is outmaneuvered by Ignatius and his party, who bring in the participation of Pope Nicholas of Rome, who, in turn, jumps at the opportunity to interfere in the affairs of Constantinople and the eastern Churches.

This sad state of affairs eventually produces the first major schism between Rome and the rest of the Church.

I mention this turn of events that occurred so soon after the Triumph of Orthodoxy, mainly to underscore this frustrating fact: there are no permanent “triumphs” in history or in this world.

History can be a bear, as any history student can tell you — especially one of my students at Christ the Saviour Seminary in Johnstown. But the really unbearable quality of church history has nothing to do with all the tedious details, the names, the dates and the footnotes.

The main difficulty of church history has to do with the inevitable disappointments of living in the world, in this fallen time and space, in this existence that is so profoundly riddled by sin and death. We learn quickly, as we grow up, that you can’t give away your heart to any political party or movement, politician or celebrity …

… and you can’t put too much faith in any historic victory, either. The end of World War II at the surrender on the USS Battleship Missouri was soon followed by the outbreak of the Korean War. Remember the nineties, when we all thought that the fall of the Iron Curtain would usher us into a long period of stability and prosperity? There were some scholars who even talked openly of “the end of history” as we know it.

Then came, of course, the many tragedies of 9/11 and the wars that followed it. Then came the financial collapse of old money and the rise of new, more distant powers.

We have learned the hard way that no political leader or president or king or congressman is ever going to fail to disappoint. Every movement and philosophy, every fad and fashion and style and even scientific theory gets superseded and made obsolete.

Of course we’ve been warned about this in Scripture. “Put not your faith in mortal princes,” the Psalmist tells us. Even our Lord said “And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye not be troubled: for all these things must come to pass” (Matthew 24.6). The writer of Ecclesiastes says it most succinctly: “All — that is, everything in this world — is vanity.”

Now I say all this not to depress you. But it is worthwhile to remind ourselves that the while the things of this present age possess a certain glamour and attraction, they cannot be sought on their own. One cannot grasp the things of this world and try to derive joy and meaning from them, especially if they are torn out of their relationship with God.

By themselves, even the best of worldly things fall apart: but with God, they will remain and only grow in beauty. Against the tide of time and history — or rather, above the tide there is the grace of God, the work of the Holy Spirit.

And that truth explains the rugged persistence of the monastics — over twelve hundred years ago — who risked their lives under the icon-smashing Emperors. To these monastics and to almost all of the faithful, and to great theologians like St John of Damascus and St Theodore the Studite, icons were not merely old-fashioned primitive pieces of sentimental religiosity.

The iconoclasts, it must be remembered, were modernists who wanted to renovate the Christian religion and sweep away what they considered to be superstitious — even pagan — nonsense. The iconoclasts of today, who prefer a “minimalist religion,” say exactly the same thing.

But to the monastics and the faithful, and to St John and St Theodore, icons belonged to a different order of things. Icons belonged to an order that did not decay or disappoint, like the rest of history, time and space. It was an order of unfading beauty and peace.

To them, icons belonged to the Kingdom of God, not to the kingdom of men. Icons came from the Eschaton, the Last Day when all things will be transformed and glorified.

To them, icons powerfully testified to that profound, revolutionary truth that in Jesus Christ, human nature is brought into saving contact with the divine nature. To them, icons reveal the reality of theosis — that radical, eternal process of deification by which God calls all humanity to salvation.

To them, every single Orthodox icon preaches the powerful word that in the Apostolic proclamation of the Orthodox Gospel, Salvation is defined nothing more or less than theosis.

Salvation is not just escaping hell. It is not just a get-out-of-jail-free card in Cosmic Monopoly. Salvation is participating in the divine nature, as St Peter writes in his first epistle. Salvation is Theosis. It is nothing less than growing into the likeness of God. Forever.

It is this “eschatological message,” this “testimony of theosis,” that explains why our Orthodox icons look more than a little strange to modern eyes. An icon — particularly one that is written according to the traditional iconographic canons — does not look like a photograph. And even though all such icons are manifestly beautiful, there are some that simply do not “look pretty.” Some depict grievous acts like beheadings or stonings. Others depict the saints in extreme, haggard conditions — the icon of Holy Mother Mary of Egypt is one very obvious example.

But in every case, there is a certain, irreducible beauty that shines out of the saint in the icon. The light comes from within the saint — a proper icon does not have the usual photo-realistic or romantic shadows that you get with other styles of classic art. You get the impression that these holy persons simply “glow in the dark.”

All this is meant to be, of course. Every icon is painted in such a way that the light shines out of the soul through the body. The internal, essential light is really a light of Transfiguration — a light that was first manifest in the Holy Transfiguration of our Lord on Mt Tabor in the Gospels.

It is a light that shows forth the Beauty and Peace that is made possible by Jesus Christ alone — Who is the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, coming to us and living amongst us as the Second Adam, the Head of the Body of Christ which is the Church.

It is a light that shows forth a possibility — it is a universal predestination that is offered as a gift — that you and I can be renewed and brought into Christ-likeness and share in the divine nature. We, too — if we accept the gift and cooperate with Grace — we too can become icons of Christ that do indeed “glow in the dark.”

This is the only Gospel that matters. This is the Orthodox Gospel that does not fall apart and deteriorate. The is the Gospel of the Triumph of Orthodoxy! This is the Orthodoxy that truly does keep the world and the stars and the planets moving, in good measure, just as our Vesperal verses told us so last night.

Icons are empirical that history is not all there is. Icons are evidence that the disappointments of time and space will not overcome the beauty and peace of Jesus Christ. Icons are shining beacons from the Last Day, the Kingdom of God, shining into the here and now.

Every Orthodox icon broadcasts this message that salvation is theosis.

But some icons proclaim it louder, with a broadcast in high-wattage, stereophonic HD.

There are two icons today at my friend’s church at St. George’s in Taylor, Pennsylvania. They positively stream with miraculous oil, redolent with the unmatchable fragrance of unknown fields of roses. There is so much oil, every day, that Fr Mark has to collect it with swaths of cotton.

You don’t have to take my word for it — and neither do I (to be honest). I am naturally a skeptic. So I looked for hidden tubes, or for my friend to sneak in late at night and apply the oil. I really wanted a reasonable explanation, because the alternative is shocking.

There was no reasonable explanation to be had. The shocking alternative is simply — and scarily — this: this weeping icon is an obvious, undeniable Sign from the Future. It is a Messenger from the Last Day. It is proof that deification exists — not just as a possibility, but a reality.

Since October of 2011, when those icons began to weep, I have been thinking a lot about this weeping, and about icons. I have been looking for explanations.

But then it occurred to me that I’m asking the wrong questions. Instead of me — and you — trying to comprehend this miracle that is really true of all icons, maybe it is better to consider a different possibility.

Maybe this miraculous Orthodox Gospel that is so beautifully presented in our icons … maybe this Gospel is comprehending us. If we call Icons “windows to heaven,” then should we be so surprised that the “looking” of icons might go both ways? Maybe we not only “look in” at the icon — maybe there is Someone “looking out” … at us?

Maybe we are meant to look at an icon as a symbol of what we are to become … that we ourselves are to glow in this present darkness.

You and I ought to be shining icons of Jesus Christ.

Maybe we are meant to look at these myrrh-streaming icons and recognize their challenge: you and I should be myrrh-streaming people, who everyday emit streams of the miraculous myron of mercy, of kindness, of the Orthodox Gospel, of healing generosity and constant intercession and Christ-like love.

Maybe, you and I ought to venerate these Orthodox icons, and became "venerable" ourselves … as images of Christ on a world with an unbearable history, in a time and space so riddled with sin and death.

You and I should ourselves broadcast a different message … a message of the Triumph of Orthodoxy … that with Christ, and Christ alone, there is beauty and peace.

My Comment

This excellent homily by Fr Jonathan Tobias focuses on just one aspect of Orthodox Christianity, and yet even from this singular focus, one can distinguish the outlines of Orthodoxy, which is the Christianity that I adhere to. And without meaning to offend or to exclude anyone, it is this faith and understanding of reality that I am pointing to when I say such things as ‘Orthodoxy is Christianity,’ and why I believe that the Church has never been and can never be divided, and why I welcome everyone home to it, because it is the common inheritance of all the saints, that is, all who confess Christ. For me there is no argument and nothing else to do but to invite, saying, ‘Come and see.’

P.S.: For those interested in ikons, a comment sent me by a reader privately led me to the webpage of the Prosopon School of Iconology. There looks to be much interesting material there. Just click on the linked name for a visit! 

True man

True man is he who doesn’t want to live long in this world. He wants to give his testimony and return as soon as possible, return home to Christ. He isn’t concerned about living a long life; he only wants to live on earth as long as his Lord wants him to live. Why? Because he is already living with Christ in His kingdom. He knows it with perfect certainty. He is redeemed, delivered from every desire and ambition that snares men and chains them to this world, and he is impatient to be free of this body of death, because he no longer lets it use him to sin. He is already living in heaven with Christ; all he wants is to be living there completely. If he must continue living in this world, he knows it’s only to do here what Christ wants him to do, to do what he sees Jesus doing in this world. He wants only to follow Jesus who, though living visibly in heaven, is alive invisibly on earth. And so, true man lives invisibly in heaven while he is living visibly on earth, following Jesus.

True man lives in the Word of God, and that Word is everything to him, and it makes him a child of the Kingdom, it makes him a disciple of Jesus. And Jesus and the Father come and live with him there, making him one of them by giving him the Spirit to live inside him. The Word of God is everything to him, it is his home, his food, his covering, his companion, his teacher, his protection, his inheritance. He is never without it, whether the Book is in his hand or not. The Word of God becomes his words, becomes his thoughts, becomes his actions. It is his strength, it guards his purity, it is his defense against all the lures and snares of the enemy. The Word of God proves His unalterable faithfulness to him and in him, and makes him faithful to God. The Word of God never leaves him, never leaves him alone, becomes a hedge around him, and makes him a hedge around the Kingdom in which he lives with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

True man is the implacable foe of the evil one, and doesn’t yield for a moment even an inch of territory, because the Word of God lives in him, and he lives in the Word. That is his world, and that world is the Kingdom. His citizenship is there while in the body he lives here. He is an unregistered alien in this world, which either shuns him as it goes along with its trifling affairs, pretending not to see him, or when it can’t help but see him, he is seen as a threat, he is seen as dangerous, and he is opposed with every injustice that can be brought against him in the name of the world’s justice. Because he obeys another Law, fulfills another commandment, that of His Lord, he falls under the condemnation of the laws of men and suffers with His Lord, who is put to death every day by the world. This too is an earthly evidence of his heavenly citizenship. He has nowhere to lay his head, no place in this world where he is comfortable, seeing that everywhere is under the dominion of the evil one, and with Jesus he is turned away at every inn, turned away because he is a God-bearer.

True man is too strong for the men who seek their home and their security on earth, and so he finds no friends among them. His strength is not from himself. He seems to wear his strength effortlessly, while others who claim to be strong or who try to be, make excuses for their weakness. But his strength is not from himself, it is from Christ who lives with him and who supplies him from His armory. His eye looks stern and unfriendly to men who have eyes only for the world, because his eye is single, and it looks always upon heaven, and from heaven where he already is living with Christ. His strength is from his Lord, and it shows in his walk and in his stance, in his speech and in his silence, in what he does and in what he does not do. All of this is a threat to other men who seek their strength only in things of this world, in things man-made, in what will not endure.

True man is in the world, but not of it. Why? Because he lives already in the Kingdom of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. He lives there and he knows it. He has his proof of citizenship in the Word that never leaves him. He has his passport ready and can come and go through a door that to him is never shut between worlds, a door which, if he chooses to shut it, no one can open, and if he chooses to open, no one can close. He has been given this kind of authority because he can be trusted. Why can he be trusted? Because he has proven himself faithful to his charge, because he renews his faithfulness every day in the presence of his Father, by following the Son of God, by doing only what he sees Him doing. He has already been given the crown of life, because he is willing to lay down his life in this world, because of the Word of God and the testimony of Jesus.

Brothers, this is our call in Jesus Christ. This is the guarantee of our salvation. This is the life that has no end. This is the treasure hidden in the field that a man finds and then sells all that he has to purchase the field. This is the true man that has been recreated in the image of the Holy Triad who said, “Let us make man in Our own image, in the likeness of ourselves, and let them be masters…”

Brothers, this is true man.

All you have to do

So you’ve sinned. You’re afraid, so you hide out. You don’t want your sin to be discovered. You don’t want anyone to know. Least of all Him, even though you don’t acknowledge Him, you don’t want to think of Him, you don’t want others to think that you think of Him.

You have this nagging voice inside you, telling you what you’ve done is wrong, but you turn away from it, and lose yourself in other sounds, noises really, anything that will voice-over the Voice, because you know, once again, that He’s found you out, that He knows all about you, even though you don’t want to know all about Him.

So you hide out, afraid of coming out of your room, afraid of being seen exiting the place of your sin, where you made unlawful deeds your companion. How do you know they’re unlawful? You just know, you just suspect they are. You’re not really sure, yet you are sure. You are cornered by the play between your faith suppressed and your doubt proclaimed.

You know the commandments in rough, and you know you’ve broken them in fine, probably all of them, in fact. But I’m telling you, though you should be afraid, what you should be afraid of is not what you think. Truth be told, we have all broken the commandments. Some of us are breaking them even now. It’s part of the human condition, but we all know, that’s no excuse.

Come out of hiding where we can see you, where He can see you.
Join the crowd. It’s certainly not lonely here. There’s so many of us, so many law-breakers, so many who have broken them, broken them all. Yet among us there is not even one who is lawless, not even one who is clothed in shame and guilt. Here, take a look.

The only One of us who has never sinned, who has never broken a commandment, not even the smallest, He is among us, He’s somewhere in this mighty throng. Actually, look a little more closely. He is not only among us, He’s all over us. Do you see anyone naked here? Do you see anyone weighed down by a burden too heavy to carry?

He has clothed us in Himself. Yes, the One who you’ve been tormented by, that Voice is His. I think you knew that, but you might’ve been hoping it was just an hallucination. I did too, once. Then I took the Voice at face value, finally. I found that behind the Voice there was a face, and when I saw that face I was surprised that it wasn’t angry.

Back to brass tacks. Yes, you’ve sinned, you’ve been sinning, and sinning all along hoping that no one would notice, especially hoping that He wouldn’t notice, trying to talk yourself into believing that He isn’t really there at all, that the Voice is an illusion. I’m here to tell you, Uh-uh! The Voice is no illusion, and Yep! Your sins are every bit as real as mine.

This game of hide and go seek has to end now, but only you can end it, and it can only be ended by going to seek. This is no time to put it off till tomorrow. Can you really keep on in this way, doing what you know is wrong, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change it? Well, you know there is something you can do, but that would take too much effort.

You know you’d rather pay the price in cash to get rid of this load of guilt, but that’s not an option. The price has to be paid in blood, and you’d be happy to pay it yourself, but you don’t want Anyone else paying it for you. You think you’d be happy to pay it yourself, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. It isn’t as though you could ever pay the price in blood, on your own.

But give it a chance. If you really want to pay the price in blood, to pay up like a man, then the first thing you’ve got to do is let that Other One pay the bill in full, yes, pay it in full with His blood. After you let Him do that, He’ll give you all the chances you could ever want to make good your debt. It won’t rob you of your manhood to let Him pay, it’ll give you a manhood you never could have had on your own.

Isn’t it about time you come out of your hiding place? Find out what the purpose of the Law really is? What the commandments are there for? How you can hear the unchanging Voice say a new word to you, after you have changed your mind? Remove the imaginary line between you and happiness. Acknowledge both your fears, that you sin and that He is real, and transform them into faith.

Remove that imaginary line. That’s all you have to do.

Προσδοκώ ανάστασιν νεκρών

Our integration into the Divine Nature is no accident. Neither is it our due. It is not something that will inevitably happen, but it is where our being will lead us if we do not resist it, if we do not resist God.

Yes, God made man for immortality. We are not speaking of some kind of purely spiritual existence, eternal but bodiless. No, man was made, body and soul, for immortality, for deathlessness.

The entire culture, even Christianity, is infected with this idea—that any trans-mortal existence must be purely spiritual, as if we are going to be changed into angels—and it instantly recoils.

The religious recoil subconsciously by fantasizing about it. The irreligious recoil knowingly by rejecting it. Still, it is a fact of human nature: our bodies are made for immortality, and hence, our souls.

But what can it mean, our integration into the Divine Nature? Aren’t we spirits already? Some do indeed teach and believe, ‘I am a spirit, I have a soul, I live in a body.’

Simplistic thinking comforts for a while, but not for long. Although by nature God made us immortal, body and soul, that does not make us spiritual. Only One is Spirit: that is God.

Though we lost our natural immortality through our transgressions, by resisting our human nature as created, God, in becoming a man, Jesus Christ, accomplished more for us than immortality.

He, being One of the Holy Triad and pure Spirit, integrated with the body and soul of a man that He created. God became man, that man might become God, except for our free will, must become God.

St Gregory Nazianzen says in his Funeral oration for St Basil, ‘Man has been commanded to become God.’ He is also the first Church father to use the term ‘théosis’ for that God-charged deification.

So man who, body and soul, was created for immortality in the first Adam but forfeited that life by separation from the Divine Nature, that is, by suicide, in the second Adam is recreated for divinity.

Christ, in defeating death by death, bringing life to those in the tombs, Himself rose from the dead, body and soul, as first-fruits of all who have ever died. Not as a Spirit only, but as a complete man.

Yes, the God-man, who, though standing before His Father who is in heaven interceding for sinners, walks with His disciples on earth, even shares food with them, proving the resurrection of the dead.

Though in this present life our souls are the life of our bodies, in the world to come, the Spirit is the life of both our souls and bodies, our human nature fully integrated with the Divine Nature.

Through Jesus Christ the human race has gained more than it lost. Human nature has been raised to the Divine Nature. Respect your body as much as your soul, and expect the resurrection of the dead.

Asleep in our boat

Sometimes I wonder, when Jesus fell asleep with His head on a cushion in the disciples' fishing boat, what was He doing? He must have gone out countless times with them on that fickle lake, in clear weather and in foul, by night and by day. Did He often just fall asleep? Was He tired, or just bored with what was going on? Of Him, if of no one else, this saying is at least true, ‘I sleep, but my heart is awake,’ yet He is not the Bride (who speaks these words in the Song of Songs), but the Beloved whom the psalmist extols, ‘of all men You are the most handsome, Your lips are moist with grace, for God has blessed You forever’ (Psalm 45:2 Jerusalem Bible).

When the Word and Son of God became man, was that too a kind of ‘sleep in the boat’?
I mean, while reclining and growing in the womb of the Theotokos, He was asleep, yet the worlds continued to run their courses, and nature renewed itself as it always does, even though the Lord who creates, sustains and (yes!) destroys all things was hidden in a cleft, not of rock, but of human flesh.

Of course, how could someone not record that day when sleeping, they had to rouse Him? They needed His help. The wind and the waves were getting the best of them. They were in danger of capsizing. If He didn't wake up and do something, He would have to swim for His life as well. Or would He? Does He only pretend to be asleep, so we have to go to the trouble to rouse Him?

Perfect trust met perfect care on that day. He who slept for our sake in the Woman's virgin womb, and slept for our sake in the rich man's unused tomb, slept also for the sake of His disciples in that boat. Strong as that vessel was, they knew it could not withstand the tempest raging around them. They woke Him. ‘Master, don't you care? We're going down!’ We know how that story, and all the others written about that Man, ends.

Yet here we are in our boat, our fishing boat, the Holy Church, and the sea is getting very rough as we can see. The disciples have forgotten all about fishing. Some are attending to the management of the rudder and sail, some are counting the moneys garnished from the last catch, a few are mending nets, and all are worrying, mostly without admitting it, about the raging tempest around them. Do we know who it is that is asleep in our boat?

The unchanging change

What the [Church] Fathers require and give is the change which comes from the Spirit. If we want to approach them outside this reality, they will remain for us incomprehensible as writers, and scorned as persons.

Communication of the patristic word, the word of the Holy Fathers, is not a matter of applying their sayings to this or that topic with the help of a concordance. [The Kingdom of God is not a Talmud, nor is it a mechanical collection of scriptural or patristic quotations outside our being and our lives. ibid., p. 34.] It is a process whereby nourishment is taken up by living organisms, assimilated by them and turned into blood, life and strength. And, subsequently, it means passing on the joy and proclaiming the miracle through the very fact of being brought to life, an experience we apprehend in a way that defies doubt or discussion.

Thus the living patristic word is not conveyed mechanically, nor preserved archaeologically, nor approached through excursions into history. It is conveyed whole, full of life, as it passes from generation to generation through living organisms, altering them, creating “fathers” who make it their personal word, a new possession, a miracle, a wealth which increases as it is given away.

This is the unchanging change wrought by the power that changes corruption into incorruption. It is the motionless perpetual motion of the Word of God, and its ever-living immutability. Every day the Word seems different and new, and is the same. This is the mystery of life which has entered deep into our dead nature and raises it up from within, breaking the bars of Hell.

How beautiful it is for a man to become theology. Then whatever he does, and above all what he does spontaneously, since only what is spontaneous is true, bears witness and speaks of the fact that the Son and Word of God was incarnate, that He was made man through the Holy Spirit and the ever-virgin Mary. It speaks silently about the ineffable mysteries which have been revealed in the last times.

Archimandrite Vasileios

Hymn of Entry, pp. 35-36 passim

“Remember who your teachers were…”
2 Timothy 3:14

Today in your hearing

Thus says Yahweh,
“Let the sage boast no more of his wisdom,
nor the valiant of his valour,
nor the rich man of his riches!
But if anyone wants to boast, let him boast of this:
of understanding and knowing Me.
For I am Yahweh, I rule with kindness,
justice and integrity on earth;
yes, these are what please Me
—it is Yahweh who speaks.

Jeremiah 9:22-23

See, then, that the days are coming—it is Yahweh who speaks—when people will no longer say, “As Yahweh lives who brought the sons of Israel out of the land of Egypt!” but, “As Yahweh lives who brought the sons of Israel out of the land of the North and back from all the countries to which He had dispersed them”. I will bring them back to the very soil I gave their ancestors.

Jeremiah 16:14-15

Doom for the shepherds who allow the flock of My pasture to be destroyed and scattered—it is Yahweh who speaks! This, therefore, is what Yahweh, the God of Israel, says about the shepherds in charge of My people: You have let My flock be scattered and go wandering and have not taken care of them. Right, I will take care of you for your misdeeds—it is Yahweh who speaks! But the remnant of My flock I Myself will gather from all the countries where I have dispersed them, and will bring them back to their pastures: they shall be fruitful and increase in numbers. I will raise up shepherds to look after them and pasture them; no fear, no terror for them anymore; not one shall be lost—it is Yahweh who speaks!

Jeremiah 23:1-4

Yahweh says this:
Now I will restore the tents of Jacob,
and take pity on his dwellings:
the city shall be rebuilt on its ruins,
the citadel restored on its site.
From them will come thanksgiving
and shouts of joy.
I will make them increase, and not diminish them,
make them honoured and not disdained.
Their sons shall be as once they were,
their community fixed firm in My presence,
and I will punish all their oppressors.
Their princes will be one of their own,
their Ruler come from their own people.
I will let Him come freely into My presence
and He can come close to Me;
Who else, indeed, would risk His life
by coming close to Me?—it is Yahweh who speaks!
And you shall be My people and I will be your God.
Now a storm of Yahweh breaks,
a tempest whirls,
it bursts over the head of the wicked;
the anger of Yahweh will not turn aside
until He has performed and carried out
the decision of His heart.
You will understand this in the days to come.

Jeremiah 30:18-24

Falling pulpits

The day is full of deceptions.
Night enters,
cloaked in clerical brightness,
to do deeds in broad daylight
that shame the righteous,
corrupt the pious,
kill faith and trust.
Confusion reigns.

Yes, but signs,
there are signs given,
that robbers are abroad,
thus some, distinguishing the Voice
from the voices, flee.

Falling pulpits—
let those who have ears hear!—
and demons
flying through shattered glass—
let the reader understand!—
and lampstands removed
from the Holy Place—
let those who have eyes see!—
symptoms of great sickness,
panoplies of pride
corroding piety by dissimulation,
all speak warning—
let the buyer beware!

The fires are hot
but blaze not in hell only,
they burn those who hate,
enlighten those who love,
God’s kingdom
and His righteousness.

Father, deliver us from this calamity,
save us from these precipitous slopes,
that we may serve Thee
in singleness of heart,
purged of all pretense,
and in spirit and truth
worship Thee, and live.

— Romanós

When Christ walks in hell

                 
                    When Christ walks in hell,
                    will I follow Him even there,
                    will I walk inside His footsteps,
                    out of fresh and sunlit air?

                    He suffered, yes, and suffers
                    though no longer on the tree,
                    whose standing from the grave
                    gave God glory freeing me.

                    Do I go down as He descends,
                    delve deep my brother’s grave
                    to hold him close and cradle him,
                    help Him one soul to save?

                    The nether regions of the dead,
                    not painted myths and lore,
                    are open if I only dare
                    to go through Him the Door.

— Romanós

x

Do you want to be well?

It is the complete lack of freedom in the workplace that bothers me, in a country where freedom of speech is a supposed basic right, coupled with the almost universal compliance by most Christians with the world's determination to eliminate God from every aspect of public life.

It is not unlike what happened with the Orthodox Church in Russia in the Soviet era, when the clergy were forced to sign a document pledging their loyalty to the Soviet system, making ‘the victories of the motherland our victories’—seemingly a harmless, patriotic affirmation—yet, the professed aim of the Soviet-ruled motherland was the complete triumph of atheism! Hence, the bishops signed a document that made them say that it would be their victory if all belief in God were exterminated. Those who didn't sign became martyrs—witnesses—of Christ.

We read books about the history of Christianity, and its triumph in various countries, and they make it sound as if there were whole periods when Christianity was strong, vibrant and dynamic. Perhaps this has been true in local instances at various times for very short periods.

But I am beginning to suspect that at almost all times and in almost all places the Church has never been more than an ill-equipped, no, I should say, poorly-staffed, hospital for the sick human race, where the doctors were few, and few the patients who ever made it to health, while the rest were satisfied to remain mere patients, satisfied to let death be the cure for their miserable lives.

This is not the life which is the cure for our miserable death, that Jesus Christ the Physician of our souls, won for us on Calvary. He walks among the seven golden lampstands (cf. Revelation 2:1) as John the Revelator saw in his visions, He walks among them unceasingly from the beginning to the end, seeking those to whom He will present all the prizes of victory described in His letters to the seven churches.

This is not dead letter of a forbidden and mysterious book, but living words that will fall on our ears if we are among those of whom the Book itself declares, ‘He who has ears, let him listen, to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.’ (Revelation 2:7, et al.)

Courage, brothers! Either our lives in Christ are afire, or they are nothing. What do we want, whom do we want, what do we answer when Christ asks us, ‘Do you want to be well?’ (John 5:6)

It is I

‘Death is a sickness like any other,’ it has been written, but so is sickness a death, and so is death an invasion of privacy and illusion-shatterer like no other. We live our lives peacefully and prosperously in the short spells of quiet that are evacuated between cataclysms, we live as individuals, as societies, even as worlds. Clenched between the jaws of inflexible fate, without daring to delve the depths of the illusion that has captured us and freed us in the vise of time, we wait purposely ignoring the end of all. Like the sudden darkness and violence of a storm that makes our road impassable and causes us to halt, either for an hour or forever, without our foreknowledge or permission, an unwelcome diagnosis of terminal illness, or the death of a child, puts an end to what we were and pushes us into what we must be. Nothing remains the same, if anything remains of us at all.

By whose mercy or caprice, or whether by mindless, existence-taunting chaos, these brief moments of order and reason, that tempt us to hope, open to receive us and feed our illusions, we dare not ask. Swept along with the whole universe, if there be such a place, we cannot keep anything material but wisdom that adheres to the soul, that the soul itself, our souls, are nonetheless real, though everything around us, our implacable enemy, denies what we know to be, crushed by what is not. We do not choose, we realize, and in fact there is no choice. We march because that is what we are, seen between two unseens, without destiny or destination, proof only to ourselves that we exist at all, movements excruciated from primordial clay. Neither yesterday nor tomorrow hold meaning, so we grasp today to convince ourselves that if we can have nothing else, at least we can have that.

God appears, uninvited if not unexpected. The religious delightfully moan in welcome, the illiterate cover themselves with rocks, neither make sense of this or can really distinguish epiphany from mindless fate. Inexorable, impossible of deflection like the high walls of the narrowing chasm inside which we will disappear as we have seen others disappear, we hope we can charm him or her or them or it by clever constructions. Instead, though we fear to admit it, we fail to follow the only avenue that would focus our attention on the opening, as we crumple in self-defeat and congratulate ourselves on having avoided the end one more time. Meanwhile, the Light shines, we do not know from where, and so we shut our eyes, and fight on. This is why we are made, we think that we think, but know that these are just the turnings of immense wheels, and once again swoon to be mashed between their teeth.

In the night, awake, always awake in the night while others sleep, obsessed with the science of unknowing, in the darkness discerning light, out of wandering being delivered to the mark as an arrow takes flight, the archer aiming not at the bird perched on the high branch, seeing not even its head, only its neck, does he pass his test. Always, everywhere, overcome by the terror of the task, thinking it is kill or be killed, we are charioted forward to engage, what is against what is not, and we emerge, as we have been forewarned, almost alone. It seems no one has survived, the world is full of ghosts, but flesh and blood, decapitated, mangled forms fill the field of vision where great deeds were done. This was no mere clashing of worlds. We find no one with whom to share the victory. We return to forgetting all, because all is pain. Then He comes to take us by the hand, and we walk upon the ageless sea.

‘It is I. Do not be afraid.’

The poverty of God

The poverty of God. The poverty of God? What can this possibly mean? God is the richest, the wealthiest, the most abundant and powerful of all beings, creating all, owning all, sustaining all. He is the ground of being itself, ‘in Him we live and move and have our being.’ Yet I cannot escape this mystery, the poverty of God. We know from scripture and tradition that in Christ, God ‘came down from heaven,’ that He impoverished Himself to make us rich, He that is all righteousness ‘bent the heavens and came down’ to make us sinners righteous, to take away our shame, to remove our sin from us ‘as far as east is from the west.’ Yet, this is not the poverty of God that I meet in this moment of time I call ‘my life.’ This is still infinite wealth coming to the relief of finite poverty. Yes, infinity taking finity into itself, life taking death.

No, the poverty of God, who makes everything out of nothing, who does so much with so little, He wastes nothing, lets no opportunity slip by. ‘If you have seen me,’ says Jesus, ‘you have seen the Father.’ And we do see Him, whose life was passed in this world as unknown, inglorious, matter-of-fact, without fanfare, as the lives of the rest of us. He didn’t fraternize with the rich and famous and successful, not even with the ‘wise in their own eyes.’ The only time He came to the notice of the rich and powerful was when He was hauled in front of them to be condemned. Yet it isn’t as though He were a beggar. No, a beggar does nothing but beg, for whatever reason, unemployment, physical or mental handicap. No, He never begged His bread: He gave bread. In fact, He became bread. From five loaves He feeds the world.

Yes, He is very economical. He does so much with little. And where does He get it, that little with which He does so much? ‘How many loaves do you have? Go and see,’ He says, and when we do as He asks, that which we cannot supply, He supplies. Yet He doesn’t have any more than we have. All He has is His word, as He tells us, ‘Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.’ That is the poverty of God, the same who says, ‘Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.’ He keeps very close count of us, down to our very hairs, hoarding all and losing none, just as the poor man watches what little he has, to get the most for it. That is God’s economy too.

The imprint of the poverty of God is on all things, and especially on all flesh, our flesh, where we can see it. Science, the study of what He makes, can trace out the economy with which everything is made. We see the evolution of the natural world, the immensity of space and time, just short of infinity, and our own smallness, making us feel insignificant, yet we notice the same ‘waste not want not’ design everywhere we look. As soon as we think we have discovered what something is or does or is used for, we find yet another. Studying ourselves, our physical nature, this is especially true. How many functions each of our organs and attributes has! It’s as though whoever made us had to fit so many capabilities into so few structures. His architecture in us, in all things, is poverty not surplus, yet it results in wealth.

‘The devil is in the details’ we hear said, as we plough our mental fields to turn over the soil of ideas, as we do what we’re best at, following our Maker. Our sin, though, is to deviate from His poverty, as we waste our lives trying to move from glory to glory while we litter the world with the signs of our success. Always trying to be rich, we impoverish ourselves. Always seeking ease, we discover drudgery. Always pursuing excitement, we catch up with boredom. Our fields become infertile because we overuse them, seed falling on depleted soil. No, the devil is not in the details for Him as it is for us. Why? Because He never tries to be what He is not and thus does not make what cannot be. ‘The whole world was shining with brilliant light and, unhindered, went on with its work.’ Reality does not operate at a surplus.

Neither does God. As I look back over my life, I see how this ‘divine economy’ operates. He may be a poor God, but He is not a stingy one. He has never afflicted me with any insufficiency. He gives neither too little nor too much. He is never too late but also never too early. Where I would have preferred to have a safety net or a cushion against calamity, He has relegated me to relying on His mercy, which again is sufficient. He uses my weaknesses not only to benefit me, but even to benefit others. By giving me the freedom to choose, He makes best use even of my mistakes to save me, and others. Teaching me gently but persistently, He never abandons me even when I run away from Him. He is too poor to buy back my attention and my obedience, so He waits, ready to receive me, when my poverty twins His.

The poverty of God. Yes, this is a strange kind of poverty and a very strange God. He lives among the poor of the earth, demonstrating His teaching, ‘How happy are the poor in spirit; theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Happy the gentle: they shall have the earth for their heritage.’ His poverty is not a state of having or not having, whether power or possessions, but of being. It is a nakedness that does not need to be covered by fig leaves. He may cover our nakedness with His own skin, but again, because He is so poor, that is all He has. He does this, so that we can learn how to be just as poor as He is. ‘You must be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.’ This poverty of God, far from what we fear as poverty, is the fertile womb of worlds. All true wealth arises from it. All true wealth flows into it.
Yes, the poverty of God.

Athenaïs / Evdokía

It’s been a few months since I watched the film Agora. It's one of my favorite historical films, and I watch it a couple of times a year. I once wrote a post about it. In spite of the historical inaccuracies in it, I do enjoy the film. From my study of history, I would say there are many parts in the film that ring true, historically I mean.

For example, the non-denominational mutual affiliation of the members of the Academy where Hypatia was lecturing. This seems to be factual. Synesios (later bishop of Cyrene in North Africa) was certainly one her pupils. Both Synesios and Hypatia were the type of highly intelligent and well-educated pagans whose philosophical views could be merged into the rising Christianity, but not at the popular level. In other words, there were barbarous Christians and there were enlightened ones. Not much different from the scene today.

Synesios was a man of such integrity that the Christians of Ptolemais elected him to be their bishop even as an unbaptized catechumen, and even though he was happily married and would not abandon his wife. As was common back then, the belief that baptism washes away actual sins was so strong that people waited till just before their deaths to be baptized, even though they were already believing in Christ and living their faith. In the case of Synesios, since priests had to be baptized come what may, he submitted to baptism and then took up the defense of the Christians of Ptolemais, leading and encouraging them to carry on, despite the repeated incursions of barbarians from the desert, who eventually destroyed their civilization.

All the while, Synesios remained in touch with and a close friend of Hypatia, up until her assassination. Though the records are silent on this point, many believe she was in fact a Christian in the philosophical sense at least, something that the film Agora does not allow. Instead, it tries to demonstrate that there is more freedom in non-Christianity, in science, in philosophy.

We know that Christ has applied a tourniquet to the severed arm of our unbridled speculations and actions, but that is only to keep us from spiritually bleeding to death. The freedom of a Christian is not just personal, but moral, freedom. Thus, it is in a somewhat different category than what the world calls ‘freedom.’ Nevertheless, history is full of examples of false authority being wielded in the name of Christ or the Church in suppressing freedom, but in this as in all other deviations from the Gospel, these are not Christian acts, but religious ones. And the spirit of religion serves many masters.

After watching the film the first time, I took up and began reading a wonderful but uncommon book about another pagan Greek female philosopher who was almost the exact contemporary of Hypatia, except that she lived not in Egypt, where the blend of ancient and sometimes violent cultures could lead to tragic results, but in Greece itself, in Athens.

This was Athenaïs, the daughter of Leontios the philosopher. Though she did not publicly teach, as did Hypatia, she was nonetheless educated in all things by her philosopher father, and like Hypatia she was a cultured and chaste woman of intelligence and dignity. When the widowed father of Athenaïs died, his estate was divided between his two sons, leaving her with only a purse of ‘a hundred coins.’ My guess is this was a hundred gold solidi, but perhaps it was a different coin, worth even less.

She was forced to leave the house of Leontios and lodge with a sister of her mother in Athens, who advised her to go to Constantinople and seek justice from the youthful Emperor, Theodosios II. This is the same Theodosios mentioned in the film Agora. While she was waiting for an audience, she lived with a sister of her father. Eventually, she was granted an audience with the older sister of the emperor, the Augusta Pulcheria. According to the author Jeanne Tsatsos, author of my book and wife of a former president of Greece, it was Pulcheria who picked out Athenaïs for her brother the emperor, as his wife.

“I found her young, pure, modest, fine-featured, with a well-proportioned nose, a complexion white as snow, large eyes, curly blond hair, little feet, also educated, a Greek virgin,” was what Pulcheria announced to her brother, leaving Athenaïs waiting in the reception room. Theodosios had to see her himself, and came and stood behind a curtain to view her. This was the beginning of a beautiful but, in the end, tragic romance. The emperor was not her equal in courage or brilliance of intellect, but he was faithful. They would marry, but first, the future empress of the Romans had to be evangelized.

Contrary to what many moderns think, not all conversions in the Christian Roman Empire were insincere. Constantine's was not; neither was the conversion of Athenaïs. The biography attests,

“A thick veil was torn from Athenaïs’ eyes. The horizon which spread before her had the force of revelation. A simple man spoke, without making a revolution, without abolishing anything, and the very essence of the world was changed. Here, mind and learning were not needed. Only a boundless heart to receive Him completely. ‘Blessed are they that mourn…’ ‘Another commandment give I unto you, that ye should love one another.’ The proud Logos of the Greeks and the severe Jehovah stepped aside respectfully before this trumpet-call of compassion for the overflowing pain of humanity. And this commandment God Himself gave from His Cross. By His total sacrifice, truth covered the earth, and this truth is our salvation. With her whole soul Athenaïs answered this call. In her sure, open acceptance of the first values, she was overwhelmed by the divinity of Christ. She studied His words; she lived by His precepts. ‘Walk while ye have the Light, lest darkness come upon you…’ ‘Enter in at the strait gate,’ and many others.”

Reading history is the best antidote, or at least the most fitting remedy, for correcting distortions intentional or merely dramatic that we find in the movies. Though the big screen captivates us, we should still come away with the desire to complement mere entertainment with knowledge, especially when sacred history is the subject. The life and times of Hypatia as depicted in the film Agora are at best a local snapshot in time and place. During the same era, other events were taking place, many of which shaped our world without us knowing it.

One final lesson in history that I learned early on, is that one age cannot judge another, just as one culture cannot really judge another. We tend to do both, and our judgments are usually very partial and motivated by self-love and the desire to be ‘better than them.’ But the best response to history is simply to learn from it, as best we can, and of course, to try to find real history among the hundreds of books that are written, again, with an agenda in mind.

Usually the victors in a conflict write the history books. But there is really only One Victor, and it is only what we find in His History Book that really matters.