Archbishop Lazar on the prayer rope…

Veneration of Icons…

When someone venerates the holy icons with devoutness and fervent love, he absorbs the colors from them and the Saints are imprinted on his soul. The Saints are pleased when they are lifted up from the paper or the wood and imprinted in people’s hearts. When a Christian devoutly devoutly kisses the holy icons and prays for help from Christ, Panaghia, the Saints, he draws into his heart not only the grace of Christ, of Panaghia and of the Saints, but also the whole of Christ, or of Panaghia, or of a Saint, and places them upon the iconostasis of his own temple. Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. – Elder Paisios

Putting up with fools…

But what I do, I will also continue to do, that I may cut off the opportunity from those who desire an opportunity to be regarded just as we are in the things of which they boast. For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of Christ. And no wonder! For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also transform themselves into ministers of righteousness, whose end will be according to their works. I say again, let no one think me a fool. If otherwise, at least receive me as a fool, that I also may boast a little. What I speak, I speak not according to the Lord, but as it were, foolishly, in this confidence of boasting. Seeing that many boast according to the flesh, I also will boast. For you put up with fools gladly, since you yourselves are wise! For you put up with it if one brings you into bondage, if one devours you, if one takes from you, if one exalts himself, if one strikes you on the face. To our shame I say that we were too weak for that! But in whatever anyone is bold-I speak foolishly-I am bold also. – 2 Cor. 11:12-21

The epistle reading for today comes from 2 Corinthians. The whole passage can be found on the Orthodox Church in America website, if you wish to read it. I have to say, it is amazing how almost 2000 years since this was written, St. Paul’s personality still shine through. Paul was obviously a man who did not mince words, and his obvious slight—and sometimes not so slight—sarcasm make me smile. I find St. Paul’s situation here so interesting. The basic premise: Paul, in attempting not to take advantage of the Corinthians and offer no opportunity for scandal, refused to take money from the Corinthian church for his preaching to them. Apparently, he had been helped by congregations in other parts of the empire. It seems the Corinthians—those colorful, colorful Corinthians—were scandalized by this. Thus we have this part of the letter. While Paul, a true apostle of Christ, attempted to offer the Gospel to these people without charge, without being any kind of financial burden on them, they were somehow offended that he did not take their money! In fact, as Paul notes, it was those men who were false prophets, greedy, and using the Gospel to make a quick buck who were held up and most welcomed by the local church! And we have to appreciate Paul’s sense of humor. He tells the congregation that they don’t mind if someone comes in an abuses and robs them, but only with those who attempt to offer the Gospel while asking nothing in return.

 The point? How many ministers does the Church have like this today? Not many it seems. Now, there is certainly nothing wrong with a minister/priest being paid for his service. St. Paul insists that this is right. Yet I must lower my sights onto these preachers of these grand churches that walk around in luxury, in three-piece suits, and driving expensive cars. At first, I was going to name names, but I do not now feel that is needed or appropriate. The fact is that these people are in many different places, across numerous denominations, and across hundreds of years of time. While it has come under some scrutiny, the “prosperity gospel” is still being preached and continues to appeal to masses of people. The ministers who preach this crossless Christianity are almost always, if not always, shining examples of the gospel they preach. And why not? How can a parishioner believe that God wants him/her to be rich if their minister is living in a shack?

Now, am I insisting that ministers live in utter poverty? Of course not. Most ministers have families and they need to be able to know their basic, daily needs, and that of their families are being met. Surely this is one stress a minister should not have. And many ministers do live comfortably, without living extravagantly. However, many do live extravagantly, and what’s more, they preach a “gospel” in which their parishioners can have a similar “good life” of their own. Yet, this sets a horrible example for the rest of the Church, as well as those watching from the outside. Worldly wisdom is infecting the Church and telling us this is what our lives should be like. In other words, the church of today is becoming like that of the Corinthian church of old. If our ministers rob us, we applaud. If they do not, we think them weird. The prosperity gospel sounds good to us.

Now, some ministers have nice things, not just because they bought them, but because they were given them by donors. One high profile preacher was given a Rolls-Royce. I know of another who was given a Corvette. Is there anything wrong with keeping these types of things? Many would say no. However, it is my feeling that the answer is yes. Why? First of all, it sets a bad example and sends the wrong message. Is it possible that the congregations, who donate these things to their ministers, do so partly to make themselves feel ok? If we keep our ministers in luxury, does not this make it ok for us to continue pursuing luxury ourselves? Another consideration is: might this send a message to those outside the church that these are things we, as Christians, care about? We care about nice cars and suits and possessions, rather than the eternal goods of the Kingdom of God. Lastly, I feel these things are not ours to keep. Here I must quote St. John Chrysostom:

Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: “This is my body” is the same who said: “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food” and “Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me”… What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start by satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.

Again, I do not mean to demonize all ministers, by any means. This is a problem which faces all churches, whether Baptist, Anglican, Catholic, Orthodox, Pentecostal. The issue is even bigger than the ministers themselves, but includes the congregations they serve. It is a tendency for us to be scandalized by what appears weak and poor by worldly standards, while holding up and praising that which appears rich and strong. By doing so, we completely miss the Kingdom of God. We cast our pearls before swine, and indeed, just as Christ warned us, we are trampled by them. And all the while, we are receiving a “gospel” in which we do not have to take up our crosses and follow Christ to Golgotha, but get to by-pass it altogether and go straight to the empty tomb. Rather, we do not even have the tomb, but the kingdom imagined by the Apostles before Golgotha, before the tomb, before Pentecost. And all the while, our brothers and sisters in this world continue to go hungry and the unbelievers have either no gospel preached to them, or worse yet, a false gospel. May God forgive us for gravitating toward the light of satan’s disguise, rather than the true imperishable beauty of the light of Christ. Yes, let us support those ministers who bring to us the true path of Christ, but let us not feed greed and worldly ways buy our excess, but use our blessings to bless those in need. May God give us true wisdom!

From the midst of wickedness…

But the righteous man, though he die early, will be at rest. For old age is not honored for length of time, nor measured by number of years; but understanding is gray hair for men, and a blameless life is ripe old age. There was one who pleased God and was loved by him, He was caught up lest evil change his understanding or guile deceive his soul. For the fascination of wickedness obscures what is good, and roving desire perverts the innocent mind. Being perfected in a short time, he fulfilled long years; for his soul was pleasing to the Lord, therefore he took him quickly from the midst of wickedness. Yet the peoples saw and did not understand, nor take such a thing to heart, that God’s grace and mercy are his elect, and he watches over his holy ones. – Wisdom of Solomon 4:7-15

I know the title of this blog is “On the Gospel”, but I fully intended to use any of the Church’s daily readings as inspiration. Today’s particular reading is the third Vespers reading and it really hit me. I love Wisdom of Solomon. Date-wise it is placed in what they call the “inter-testamental” period. This is that silent—not-so-silent—time between which Malachi and Matthew were written. It is a part of that collection of books known as the Apocrypha, which is included in both the Catholic and Orthodox Bibles, and which was actually part of the original 1611 King James Bible as well. Whether you consider it canonical, deuterocanonical, or non-canonical, it is valuable reading, as it provides that much needed link between the Judaic theology of the Pentateuch and the Christian theology of the New Testament.

Why this explanation? Because in this reading for today, if we pay attention, we see a shift from the theology of the Old Testament, closer to that of the New. In the Old Testament, long life was a sign of God’s favor and of the receiver’s righteousness. Along with long life we could add: children, prosperity, health, and victory over enemies. A passage like this does not really fit in with that kind of theology does it? It does fit more in with Christian theology. In the Gospels and Epistles we are not promised long lives free of care or heartache. Blessings don’t always take the form of health or wealth (despite was some modern-day “evangelists” say), but more often take the form of the very presence of Christ, gifts of the Spirit, fruits of the Spirit: these things that no enemy has the power to take away and which endure even into old age and beyond the grave, when all those physical and material blessings can vanish.

I feel like this passage is just as valuable, if not more so, as the day it was written. Today, just like then, we see the pain or even the death of good, righteous, and/or young people, and can only think “why did God let this happen?” I will be the first to admit that the death of small, innocent children is very difficult for me to reconcile with faith in a loving God. Yet we have to balance these deaths, these pains—which we don’t completely understand—with what we do know for certain about God, based on Christ’s actions: God has a special place in His heart for young people and children. Christ took time to bless the children and he set a child among His disciples as an example of the kingdom, and He even said that one who caused a child to stumble should be thrown off a cliff into the sea. Perhaps passages like this can give us a clue into why God allows these things to happen. Elder Ambrose of Optina said, “The Lord is longsuffering. He only cuts short a man’s life when He sees either that he is prepared to pass into eternity or that there is no hope for his correction.” Now, I understand if this doesn’t completely cut it for some of us. It probably sounds over-simplified doesn’t it? But I think we grossly underestimate the vast difference in perspective between us and God. I think maybe we are far more limited by time and space than we can imagine. Yet God is not limited by anything. He is “everywhere present and fills all things.” He lives in the eternal present. Perhaps when these bad things happen, we should keep reverent silence. Because we cannot possibly imagine what reasons God has for allowing it.

Maybe we should be mindful of who our real enemy is: the devil who is seeking to pervert our souls. Perhaps we should look at tragedy more from the perspective of the Wisdom of Solomon: that it can actually be a mercy of God. We think we are being noble by desiring that a person’s earthly life last for a long time. But what use is the longest life if it comes at the cost of one’s soul and eternal life with Christ? I feel like the more constructive thing to do is trust God, that even though we cannot even begin to comprehend what His purpose is, that He does have one. If we cannot see what will happen a day in front of us, shouldn’t we trust He who sees to the end of our very lives and beyond? And perhaps an equally constructive thing would to pray for those still with us, that they would find salvation and be perfected in the faith. If we grieve over loss, let it not be so limited as to the short, passing things of this age, but rather the great, eternal things. Yes, let us pray for the health of those battling sicknesses of the body, but let us pray all the more fervently for the health of those with sicknesses of the soul, which do infinitely more damage.

I don’t mean to come off as if I have all the answers. I know well enough that in the midst of loss, the pain of grief gives us the feeling of having the right to be angry and upset. I’m not saying those feelings aren’t valid. All I’m saying is that while things are well, let us pray for the salvation and repentance of all we hold dear; indeed for the whole world, for every person is dear to someone. And if any loss comes our way, let’s still pray, praying for help from God to trust in His limitless love and mercy, asking Him to give us His eyes to see, or at least the faith to trust Him in our blindness.

If I were a rich man…

And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, it will be hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” – Matthew 19:23-24

Technically, this was the Gospel reading from yesterday. But this passage spoke to me today and so I wanted to make this my opening entry. As I sat in church today, I could hardly hear the Gospel being read, but thankfully it was typed out in the bulletin. The priest pointed out that while for the rich man, it was possessions that held him back, and which he cared about more than eternal life, we each have our own things that we care more about as well. Yet the words “it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom” reminded me of something I had read in Metropolitan Anthony Bloom’s classic Beginning to Pray just a few days ago. In speaking about coming to God in prayer, what he calls “knocking at the door”, he makes the point that we tend to far too easily consider ourselves already in the kingdom. Now, he’s not speaking of us being in or out in any broad, final terms of salvation or damnation, but more of an attitude. In considering ourselves outside, we would have the attitude of the publican, in the parable of the publican and the Pharisee, or the thief on the cross next to Jesus. He stresses the need for the first Beatitude: poverty of spirit. That if we consider ourselves rich, we cannot come to God in humility. Humility is essential if we are to approach Christ. Scripture says that God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.

It is my feeling that we could probably all put ourselves in the place of this ruler. We might have a passion for God and even live fairly virtuous lives. Yet, is it possible that we still, even subconsciously, consider ourselves rich? Few of us would say we are rich monetarily. What I mean by “rich” is the condition of feeling like we own something, whether physical or spiritual or relationship-wise. Is it possible that Christ’s words have a deeper meaning than merely that it is difficult for a person who is rich in money and possessions to enter the kingdom? Perhaps we can all put ourselves in the shoes of this young man. Perhaps it is hard for us, poor as we may be when it comes to money, to enter the kingdom as well, because we lack true poverty: poverty of spirit. This is wealth that comes not from having much, but from holding on too strenuously to little we feel we do have. I am talking about the popular image of the boy whose hand is stuck in the vase because he is grasping a penny at the bottom. Yet there stands his mother offering him a quarter. To gain what is greater, he must remove his hand from the vase. But to do that, he must let go of the small coin he clutches. Some believe that when Jesus talks about the camel going through the eye of a needle, the eye is actually a short gate through which a camel would have to lower itself to get through. Perhaps this is the secret of the narrow and wide gates. Perhaps it is not so much about them being great or small when it comes to width, but when it comes to height. Perhaps the kingdom of God can only be reached through a gate that is short, through which we can only enter by bending down, by lowering ourselves. And we cannot do this with all our possessions or spiritual pride packed on our backs.

Maybe we should stop and ask ourselves what thing(s) we would find it hard to release if Christ told us to. It can be external or internal I am sure. Whatever that is, that is where we consider ourselves rich. That is where we make it difficult for us to enter into the kingdom. And if we can figure out what it is, perhaps we should at least admit to Christ that it is hard to give up and ask for His help. Thankfully, what is impossible with man is possible with God.