Icon of the Last Judgment from an Orthodox Monastery in Kosovo
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Equating Christ With "Great Men"
Only a proud man is always prepared to equate Christ with other great men. Even though it is obvious at first glance, that great men are one thing and the Lord Christ another, just as creation is one thing and the Creator is another. Christ is not only great but He is the Creator and Source and Inspirer of every true greatness in the history of mankind. Napoleon, one of the transient great men in exile and misery on the island of St. Helena, uttered these words: "Alexander, Caesar, Hannibal, Louis XIV, with all their genius, are nothing. They have conquered the world and were unable to gain one friend. And behold, Christ calls and instantly entire generations are united in a bond closer and stronger than the bond of blood. Christ ignites the fire of love which consumes all egoism and surpasses whatever kind of love you desire.
- St. Nikolai Velimirovich
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
What Is YOUR Profession?
Continuing on our 'theme' of looking at this season of the Apostles' Fast for our own spiritual growth, let's ask the title question.
"What is your profession?"
It's an integral part of how we as human beings interact with one another. When we first meet a person, we say to them, "Tell me something about yourself," so that we might come to know them better. And the 'standard' response to such a situation is, "I'm a ___", where you fill in the blank with your profession. It is as if someone should come to know a lot about us if we describe ourselves as a lawyer, a banker, an engineer, a doctor, a housewife, or a teacher. And indeed, those 'labels' reveal something about us, but they don't come close to revealing to someone who we really are.
How many people would respond to the question with the answer, "I am an Orthodox Christian!"? In my entire life, I've never encountered that as a response. And in many instances, I or my family members have come to be 'introduced' to people who were in fact Orthodox Christians, and we only 'discovered' that spiritual connection after many discussions with them - a chance glimpse of a cross worn around the neck, or seeing us make the sign of the cross before we take a bite of food. It takes those clandestine professions of faith to indicate to someone something more intimate about who we really are as a person, to reveal a portion of our spiritual side.
I write these things not to indict, for I am a classic case study in the issue. I am secularly employed as an engineer, and the opportunities for meeting new people are endless. In those opportunities, I never once introduce myself (in that business world) as, "I'm an Orthodox priest." Rather, I'm an engineer, an alumnus of a certain college, with so many years of experience in a particular field. And all this is right and proper, I think, for the situation.
But I often wonder, can the people who are new acquaintances see the priest inside the person they just met? To generalize for all of us, can a new acquaintance find Christ reflected in what they see when they look at us?
If I profess faith in Jesus Christ, I have a 'profession'. To make that profession visible, to strengthen my faith so that it is obvious to others, there is a reason for me to fast in this season. Saint Paul taught, "To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled. They profess to know God, but in works they deny Him, being abominable, disobedient, and disqualified for every good work." (Titus 1:15-16)
May this Fast strengthen us all "for every good work".
"What is your profession?"
It's an integral part of how we as human beings interact with one another. When we first meet a person, we say to them, "Tell me something about yourself," so that we might come to know them better. And the 'standard' response to such a situation is, "I'm a ___", where you fill in the blank with your profession. It is as if someone should come to know a lot about us if we describe ourselves as a lawyer, a banker, an engineer, a doctor, a housewife, or a teacher. And indeed, those 'labels' reveal something about us, but they don't come close to revealing to someone who we really are.
How many people would respond to the question with the answer, "I am an Orthodox Christian!"? In my entire life, I've never encountered that as a response. And in many instances, I or my family members have come to be 'introduced' to people who were in fact Orthodox Christians, and we only 'discovered' that spiritual connection after many discussions with them - a chance glimpse of a cross worn around the neck, or seeing us make the sign of the cross before we take a bite of food. It takes those clandestine professions of faith to indicate to someone something more intimate about who we really are as a person, to reveal a portion of our spiritual side.
I write these things not to indict, for I am a classic case study in the issue. I am secularly employed as an engineer, and the opportunities for meeting new people are endless. In those opportunities, I never once introduce myself (in that business world) as, "I'm an Orthodox priest." Rather, I'm an engineer, an alumnus of a certain college, with so many years of experience in a particular field. And all this is right and proper, I think, for the situation.
But I often wonder, can the people who are new acquaintances see the priest inside the person they just met? To generalize for all of us, can a new acquaintance find Christ reflected in what they see when they look at us?
If I profess faith in Jesus Christ, I have a 'profession'. To make that profession visible, to strengthen my faith so that it is obvious to others, there is a reason for me to fast in this season. Saint Paul taught, "To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled. They profess to know God, but in works they deny Him, being abominable, disobedient, and disqualified for every good work." (Titus 1:15-16)
May this Fast strengthen us all "for every good work".
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
The Apostles' Fast
The season in which we find ourselves is often either confusing to or ignored by many who call themselves Orthodox faithful. I've often wondered why this is.... The season is one that can carry a very important significance to us, if only we allow ourselves to immerse ourselves in that which is prescribed by the Church. How is this true, you might ask???
First, we need to go back to Chapter 9 of the Gospel of Saint Matthew. Herein, our Lord is being questioned by the disciples of Saint John the Forerunner, who come to the Lord and ask, "Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but Your disciples do not fast?" Perhaps it was 'just a question'. More likely, it was a question sourced from jealousy. Ancient Hebrew tradition included fasting, and the rabbi's compared a fast with offering up ones own body in a symbolic sacrificial way, depleting ones blood and fat which compared with the burnt offerings at the altar. In that 'tradition', fasting was 'absolute', i.e. no food nor drink from 'first light' (before dawn) until sunset.
In responding to the query from Saint John's disciples, our Lord instructed them: "Can the friends of the Bridegroom mourn as long as the Bridegroom is with them?" In this response, Jesus clearly links fasting with this perspective of mourning. But the Lord continues, saying, "The days will come when the Bridegroom will be taken from them, and then they will fast."
As we find ourselves in this season after our Lord's Ascension, when the Apostles are filled with the Holy Spirit, it is not inconsistent for us to relate these words to exactly this season. But if this was true for our Lord's Apostles, what does it say about us? Are we not also His disciples in the most literal sense? And if we are, why would we not avail ourselves of this season?
"But it's so hard, father!" many will say. "This is the beginning of vacation season. We go on picnics. We travel. Why do we need to fast now?"
The questions are posed from the wrong perspective, I fear. For indeed, one may reasonably ask, "When is the season in which we should not fast?" With all due respect to the Pascal season that we've just exited, when is it ever a bad idea to bring our bodies into submission to the Spirit?
Fasting for us is not aligned with the above 'idea' of the ancient Jews, where it is some symbolic replacement for a burnt offering, a sacrifice to please God. Fasting for us as Orthodox Christians is a tool, a God-given means of weakening the flesh so that the spirit may increase. Will we feel hunger? Certainly. Will we desire things that we set aside 'for a season'? Absolutely! But how much more savory is the food from which we've separated ourselves when the season ends?
In my own household, my children (when they still lived at home) would come from time to time during the year and ask, "Dad - will you make some Pascha bread? It sounds SO good...." And my standard answer was, "NO!" It was something quite special, and our eating that sweet bread was always related to one day in the year, and no other.
While some may think that our 'fasting regimen' should end with Holy Saturday until the next year's Sunday of Orthodoxy, if we live in that way, we deprive ourselves of the differences of the fasting seasons throughout the year.
What can one find "special" here within this fasting season which can benefit our spiritual growth? Given that this is the Apostles' Fast, how about reading from the lives of the Apostles? What benefits might we accrue if we came to the firm realization that the Apostles were "just normal people" like us, except that they allowed the Holy Spirit "space" within themselves to change their lives?
In our homily this past Sunday, we recalled a story - I can't remember the source. But it was about a little girl who came to church all the time. One particular evening, she had been noticeably focused on the stained glass windows of the church, and the images of the saints which were cast into them. When it was dark, and the service had ended, she approached the priest and said, "Father, I remember those windows from Sunday morning. The saints aren't as pretty without the sun's light shining through them."
What a profound thing! The saints are not beautiful unless they are filled with the light of Christ....
Remember - We are all called to be saints!
First, we need to go back to Chapter 9 of the Gospel of Saint Matthew. Herein, our Lord is being questioned by the disciples of Saint John the Forerunner, who come to the Lord and ask, "Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but Your disciples do not fast?" Perhaps it was 'just a question'. More likely, it was a question sourced from jealousy. Ancient Hebrew tradition included fasting, and the rabbi's compared a fast with offering up ones own body in a symbolic sacrificial way, depleting ones blood and fat which compared with the burnt offerings at the altar. In that 'tradition', fasting was 'absolute', i.e. no food nor drink from 'first light' (before dawn) until sunset.
In responding to the query from Saint John's disciples, our Lord instructed them: "Can the friends of the Bridegroom mourn as long as the Bridegroom is with them?" In this response, Jesus clearly links fasting with this perspective of mourning. But the Lord continues, saying, "The days will come when the Bridegroom will be taken from them, and then they will fast."
As we find ourselves in this season after our Lord's Ascension, when the Apostles are filled with the Holy Spirit, it is not inconsistent for us to relate these words to exactly this season. But if this was true for our Lord's Apostles, what does it say about us? Are we not also His disciples in the most literal sense? And if we are, why would we not avail ourselves of this season?
"But it's so hard, father!" many will say. "This is the beginning of vacation season. We go on picnics. We travel. Why do we need to fast now?"
The questions are posed from the wrong perspective, I fear. For indeed, one may reasonably ask, "When is the season in which we should not fast?" With all due respect to the Pascal season that we've just exited, when is it ever a bad idea to bring our bodies into submission to the Spirit?
Fasting for us is not aligned with the above 'idea' of the ancient Jews, where it is some symbolic replacement for a burnt offering, a sacrifice to please God. Fasting for us as Orthodox Christians is a tool, a God-given means of weakening the flesh so that the spirit may increase. Will we feel hunger? Certainly. Will we desire things that we set aside 'for a season'? Absolutely! But how much more savory is the food from which we've separated ourselves when the season ends?
In my own household, my children (when they still lived at home) would come from time to time during the year and ask, "Dad - will you make some Pascha bread? It sounds SO good...." And my standard answer was, "NO!" It was something quite special, and our eating that sweet bread was always related to one day in the year, and no other.
While some may think that our 'fasting regimen' should end with Holy Saturday until the next year's Sunday of Orthodoxy, if we live in that way, we deprive ourselves of the differences of the fasting seasons throughout the year.
What can one find "special" here within this fasting season which can benefit our spiritual growth? Given that this is the Apostles' Fast, how about reading from the lives of the Apostles? What benefits might we accrue if we came to the firm realization that the Apostles were "just normal people" like us, except that they allowed the Holy Spirit "space" within themselves to change their lives?
In our homily this past Sunday, we recalled a story - I can't remember the source. But it was about a little girl who came to church all the time. One particular evening, she had been noticeably focused on the stained glass windows of the church, and the images of the saints which were cast into them. When it was dark, and the service had ended, she approached the priest and said, "Father, I remember those windows from Sunday morning. The saints aren't as pretty without the sun's light shining through them."
What a profound thing! The saints are not beautiful unless they are filled with the light of Christ....
Remember - We are all called to be saints!
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