Category: Asceticism

What does Adam have to teach us about spiritual rebirth?

Below is powerful excerpt from Chapter 8 of Archimandrite Aimilianos’s book ’The Way of the Spirit’. As we prepare ourselves for Lent on the upcoming Sunday of Expulsion of Adam from Paradise, we have the essential of our need to become more conscious of our dependance on God’s Mercy.

On Spiritual Rebirth – Excerpts from Chapter 8 – The Way of the Spirit

“The Lord died for the sake of all, and now He calls all to life. And this life is a heavenly, spiritual rebirth, without which no soul can live, as the Lord Himself said: Unless a man is born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God (Jn 3.3)”

St. Makarios the Egyptian , Homily 30.3

We have been reading from the Spiritual Homilies of St. Makarios the Egyptian, and reflecting on his doctrine of spiritual rebirth. 1 In one place, we read that Christ is like a painter, who “depicts the image of the heavenly man in the hearts of those who look to him in faith.” In another place, we saw how this heavenly image is illumined by the divine energies, and we spoke about how the ineffable light of the Holy Spirit dwells within us, making God a tangible reality in our souls. We heard how “the body receives life from the soul, and the soul receives life from the Spirit, so that the body lives through the soul, and the soul lives in God through the Spirit. “A person who is complete in this way is a “bearer” of the divine image, indeed a bearer of God Himself.

Thus a person “acting under the influence of the heavenly fire”—by which he means the Holy Spirit (cf. Mt 3.11; Lk 3.16; Acts 2.3)—“ ceases to be led about by his passions and the demons.” In the same way that “iron takes on all the qualities of fire, once it’s been placed in a furnace, so too does man, under the power of the Holy Spirit, take on the qualities of God.” 2 Whenever the Holy Spirit takes “man upon his wings, and elevates him above all things, nothing evil can lay hold of him; no demon, or evil thought, or temptation, or anything else at all, can draw near to him or touch him.”

In this way, the “new Israel,” consisting of these God-bearing souls, is “far above the old Israel, whose footsteps were confined to the bottom of the sea and the river (cf. Ex 14.22; Josh 3.14-17). But being freed from the brine and brackishness of life, the true children of God walk above the sea of bitterness, through which glide evil powers. “And they are able to do this because “both their souls and their bodies have become the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit,” and these three together make a complete human being.

Let us now continue with our reading of the text:

“On the day that Adam fell, God appeared, walking in paradise (Gen 3.8), and when He saw Adam, He wept, and said: ‘What is this that I see? I created you in My image, placed you in paradise, and gave you every blessing; what, then, is this evil thing you have chosen?’” The fall of Adam, the first human being, causes God to weep. Of course we know that God does not weep: this is a human, anthropomorphic way of expressing God’s concern for fallen man, the creation of His hands. The same is true concerning God’s initial surprise and subsequent question: “What is this strange thing I see? What is this evil thing you have chosen?” As if to say: “Where on earth did you find such a thing, and why did you choose to make it your own? I placed you in paradise (Gen 2.8), where evil did not exist. Everything was exceedingly good (Gen 1.31). How then, could this have happened? It seems impossible, absurd. It’s as if I said to you: ‘Here are pure, angelic souls: choose one for a companion,’ and you stretch forth your hand and select a foul demon’.” And so God weeps. He is at a loss to understand what happened. With tears in His eyes, He looks upon Adam and wonders aloud: “From what glory have you fallen, and with what shame have you clothed yourself? The leaves that cover you now, and the coats of skin you’ll put on later (cf. Gen 3.7, 21), are these not the symbols of your shame?” Indeed, they represent the fall itself, and the garment of sin in which Adam clothed himself. 3

“I raised you up to great glory, I made you a son of God, I made you the king of creation, I made you a perfect creature in order for you to become a perfect god. How was it, then, that you were able to turn away from the gift of glory, choosing instead to purchase disgrace? How were you able to clothe yourself in the vile garments of shame? I created you as a being of pure light, and now you are all darkness! I, God, your creator, am Light; My essence is light, My energy is light, and in My light I bathed and clothed you, what, then, is this darkness that now enshrouds you?”

What a terrible thing sin is! How unspeakably tragic is the fall of man! And the same thing happens to us when we quench the fire of the Holy Spirit (cf. 1 Thess 5.19); when we cease being bearers of the Spirit and are overtaken by the darkness of our passions, stumbling into the mud of corruption, and much else besides.

“When Adam fell into sin, he fell away from God and died spiritually. “Do you understand what he’s saying? The life of God is the life of the Holy Spirit within us. When Adam fell, he separated himself from the Spirit, and thereby lost God, and died a spiritual death. 4 The light drained from his body, and he was filled with darkness. He was suddenly deformed, disfigured, ugly, and vile. And thus God said to him: Adam, where are you? (Gen 3.9).

We can say that God’s lament, His tears, and His anxiety over the fate of His missing son, are all things which, in a sense, happened before he put this question to Adam. They are events in the life of God that occur during God’s search for fallen man. With the glorious light of His countenance, God searches the house of paradise for the lost coin, which bears His sovereign image (cf. Lk 15.8), and as He does so He cries out in hope: Adam, where are you? The response God was longing to hear was this: “Here I am, Father, waiting for You, because I have sinned; but I know that You are still my Maker and my God.” But what did Adam say? I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid, and so I hid myself. The woman whom You gave to be with me, she deceived me (Gen 3.10, 12).

Do you understand what Adam is saying? “I am no longer looking for God, but only to justify myself.” Instead of hearkening to God, Who had called out to him, Adam has turned inward, so that God becomes a frightening, external force: I heard the sound of You, and I was afraid. And what is he afraid of? He is afraid of the truth about himself, afraid that God will not accept his self-justifying explanation of what happened. And what explanation was this? That God Himself was to blame for what happened! Because that is what Adam meant when he said, “the woman whom You gave me, she deceived me, and thus this is all Your fault, God.” 5

And this is the appalling sin that we commit every day: we seek to justify ourselves before God and those around us. We are ready to blame God in order to save our own life, to preserve ourselves in our state of sin (Mt 16.25). But when David sinned, he said: Against You only have I sinned, and done this evil before You, so that You may be justified in Your words, and prevail when You are judged (Ps 50.6). But we do not care to see God, or anyone else, justified: only ourselves. Indeed nearly all that we say, think, and do, including our seemingly selfless “good deeds,” are essentially attempts to justify ourselves, and thereby sustain our egos in their fallen condition. That’s what Adam did, and that’s what we do, as true children of our fallen father.

But once Adam had spoken in this way, there was no longer any possibility for communion between him and God. And that is also what has happened to us. Cut off from God, severed from the light, we are but miserable little creatures, crawling around on the earth like ants, stealing into the dark holes of our passions and petty self-interest, which are more suffocating than any ant-hole, which for the ants are palaces. And all of this has happened because, like Adam, we are infatuated with our selves and have no interest in looking to God.

And this happens every day. Suppose you have words with another nun, and after a few minutes, you learn that the elder wants to see you. Right away you think: “Hmm. She’s told him we’ve had words. But I’ll tell him what really happened!” At that moment, you fall away from God. You’re thinking only about your self; you’re concerned only to justify your actions, to preserve yourself in your state of sin. For you, God becomes whatever it is you’re thinking about at that moment.

Suppose a farmer sees hail falling on his fields. Where will his thoughts be? On his fields. Or suppose a man who loves his wife sees a beautiful dress. Where will his thoughts go? To his wife, to give her a present. Every one thinks about that which is dear to him. In such moments, your true love is revealed, your treasure, your God (cf. Mt 6.21).

And so it was with Adam: “I’m over here, hiding, because I was afraid to see you, because I’ve sinned. I’m afraid that you wouldn’t accept my excuses; that You’d say it was all my fault. I was afraid that you would no longer acknowledge me as Your child.” To be sure, Adam’s desire to justify himself, the various excuses he contemplated, were the signs of certain death. And this is why St. Makarios says: “When Adam fell away from God, he died spiritually.” Seeking to justify himself, Adam condemned himself to life without God.

Until then, the damage wasn’t fully done; the blow could have been blunted, the tragedy averted. This was the critical moment, which we all must face, when it becomes clear whether we’ll choose God or our self. As a general rule, we choose our self. Every day we repeat the sin of Adam. He fell when he opened his soul to the poison of the serpent, but there was still hope that he might turn and embrace God. He could have raised his arms to God and cried: “God, I am your voice, your self-expression; I am your creation, your child, and I have sinned. Bend down and hold me; save me before I perish completely!” Instead, he said, in effect: “What do You want, God? Have you come here to judge me?”

St. Makarios says that “Adam fell away from God” to indicate that Adam himself chose sin; of his own volition he departed from God, the source of life. And when he did, death covered him like a shroud. At this, “God wept, the angels wept, all the heavenly powers wept, and the earth and all its creatures lamented the death of Adam. “And as they wept, they said to him: “Adam, why were you thinking only of yourself, and not your Father? Why did you try to justify yourself? Why did you answer in the way that you did, instead of turning to God?”

After this, St. Makarios tells us that “all creatures saw the king who had been given to them.” The sky, the earth, the animals, and all the angels and heavenly powers, had been placed under a king. Who? Man. Yes, man was made king even of the angelic powers, because whereas they are ministering spirits, sent forth to serve (Heb 1.14), man was created a king, according to the image of God (Gen 1.26).

“They saw the king who had been given to them become a slave of evil powers.” He who had been given authority over all the angels, and was exalted over all heaven and earth, became the slave of a fallen angel. “Then his soul was cloaked in darkness, bitter and evil, for he was now the slave of darkness. He was the man who ‘fell among robbers’ and was ‘left for dead’ on the road ‘from Jerusalem to Jericho’ (Lk 10.30-37).” The man in the parable was Adam, although all of us, in our own way, retrace his steps, and fall victim to the same spiritual robbers. 6

“And Lazarus, whom the Lord raised from the dead, is also a symbol of Adam, for he was so rank with stench that no one could approach his tomb (cf. Jn 11.39). So when you hear of Lazarus, and of the man who fell among thieves, don’t let your mind wander off to the mountains. “That is, don’t let your mind wander off to the hill country of Bethany, where Lazarus lived, or to the hills of Judea, or to paradise with Adam, for that would be a mistake. Instead, “enter into your soul”—enter into your true self—“ because you too bear these same wounds, and this stench, and this darkness. That which befell Adam has befallen all of us, for we are all his children.”

The sin of Adam has affected all mankind, and is beyond any human cure. This is why St. Makarios at this point quotes from the prophet Isaiah: There is no soundness in them; but bruises and festering sores, which cannot be healed; it is not possible to apply a plaster, nor oil, nor bandages (Is 1.6). And this is why David says: There is no healing in my flesh (Ps 37.4). “I look at my flesh,” he says, “at my hands, my feet, my entire body, and all of it is sick; not a single part of me is healthy. And when I look at my soul, I see that it, too, is sick; black and blue with the bruises of sin. Then I look even deeper, to try and see the Holy Spirit, but my soul is empty, isolated, and dead.”

Isaiah says: There is no soundness in them, but bruises. Not just a bruise here and there; not just a little black and blue; not merely one festering sore, but an endless sore, because the whole of me is a bruise, the whole of me is festering: I am a massive, bleeding wound. It is not possible to apply plaster. Of course not: if I were to apply something soothing, such as a bit of plaster, or some ointment, or a strip of bandage, where would I put it? Here? There? But I’m inflamed all over, festering through and through. In any case, no amount of oil would be sufficient, nor could I obtain the necessary number of bandages, for we have been stricken with an incurable wound. 7

And let us ask ourselves this: how often do we realize that we’re in such a wretched state? Do we understand that our wound is fatal, and that there is no remedy for it, no cure? Do we realize this? Do we think about this? How often? When? And even if we don’t realize that there is no healing in our flesh, no soundness, at least we should know that, somewhere in our soul, there is a tiny wound, an imperfection. But we don’t even believe that. And even if, from time to time, we shed a little tear, and say “forgive me, Lord, I’m a sinner,” it’s a lie, an out and out lie. Why? Because when we say such things, it’s usually out of self-regard, or because our pride has been hurt, or our self-will frustrated, or because of some memory we’re clinging to, or something we’re after, or because of some failure we’ve experienced, or because of someone else’s success. That’s why we say we’re sinners and shed a tear or two, and not because we’re really thinking of God.

That’s the kind of liars and hypocrites we are when we supposedly repent. And when we set out to mourn over our sins, or commit ourselves to some other such practice, it’s nothing more than an effort to show God—as if He didn’t know!—that we are mighty, spiritual warriors. “See, God, I even shed tears.” And then a bit of squeezing around the eyes to get the tears rolling, just to be sure that God can see them.

For we have been stricken with an incurable wound of such proportions that only the Lord is able to heal it. With these words, St. Makarios is telling us that we, on our own, can do nothing (cf. Jn 15.5). God does everything. Your father, your mother, the abbess, they’ll all give you a little money, tell you to go shopping, and prepare dinner. But God doesn’t even ask you to do that much. He brings you the food, perfectly prepared, and says: “Keep the money.” And not only that, but He’ll even place it in your stomach, so you won’t tire from chewing! That’s how good God is!

Why, then, are you lacking in virtue? Why are you in the darkness, and not in the light? Why do you worry, and get sad and despair? Why do you care so much about your sin, your failure? What does it matter if you’ve got your health or not? What does it matter how people treat you? What does it matter if you’re rich or poor? What significance do those things have? Why should you worry about any of them, when, right now, at this very moment, God Himself is standing before you?

“And this is why He Himself came: because none of the ancients, not the Law itself nor any of the prophets, were able to bring healing. He alone, in virtue of becoming man, cured this incurable wound of the soul.” If you think you can do anything about this wound, you’re wrong. If you want to see what frauds we are, what hypocrites we are before God, examine yourself carefully when you fast, pray, keep vigil, and read your books; or when you perform some act of kindness, especially when you say “yes” to something which you really wanted to say “no” to. You feel as if you’ve achieved something, haven’t you? And you expect something in return for it, don’t you?

That’s the way we are. Our aim is always to prove that we’re somebody, or that we’ve achieved something which makes us better than everybody else. Do you see how sick we are? How deep the wound goes? “None of the ancients, not the Law itself, nor any of the prophets” could do a thing about it: but you, in your pride, are going to triumph, all by yourself. The truth, however, is that your heart, your mind, your wisdom, and all your virtue don’t amount to the husks that a pig eats (cf. Lk 15.16). But if you could be free of all that—free from your self!—and allow God into your life just once, that would be something! “

Let us then welcome God the Lord, the true healer, Who alone is able to heal our souls, having labored greatly for us.” He did all that was necessary in order to heal us, tiring Himself out (cf. Jn 4.6) as he descended into the grave, so that we might be freed from death and corruption. He suffered in order to free us from suffering; He died so that we might live; He redeemed us from our slavery so that He Himself could enter into our soul, and make it His dwelling.

Triodion – Why do we fast? – Archbishop Kallistos Ware

The primary aim of fasting is to make us conscious of our dependence upon God. If practiced seriously, the Lenten abstinence from food – particularly in the opening days – involves a considerable measure of real hunger, and also a feeling of tiredness and physical exhaustion. The purpose of this is to lead us in turn to a sense of inward brokenness and contrition; to bring us, that is, to the point where we appreciate the full force of Christ’s statement, ‘Without Me you can do nothing’ (John 15: 5). If we always take our fill of food and drink, we easily grow over-confident in our own abilities, acquiring a false sense of autonomy and self-sufficiency. The observance of a physical fast undermines this sinful complacency. Stripping from us the specious assurance of the Pharisee – who fasted, it is true, but not in the right spirit – Lenten abstinence gives us the saving self dissatisfaction of the Publican (Luke I 8: 10-1 3). Such is the function of the hunger and the tiredness: to make us ‘poor in spirit’, aware of our helplessness and of our dependence on God’s aid.

Yet it would be misleading to speak only of this element of weariness and hunger. Abstinence leads, not merely-to this, but also to a sense of lightness, wakefulness, freedom and joy. Even if the fast proves debilitating at first, afterwards we find that it enables us to sleep less, to think more clearly, and to work more decisively. As many doctors acknowledge, periodical fasts contribute to bodily hygiene. While involving genuine self-denial, fasting does not seek to do violence to our body but rather to restore it to health and equilibrium. Most of us in the Western world habitually eat more than we need. Fasting liberates our body from the burden of excessive weight and makes it a willing partner in the task of prayer, alert and responsive to the voice of the Spirit.

It will be noted that in common Orthodox usage the words ‘fasting’ and ‘abstinence’ are employed interchangeably. Prior to the Second Vatican Council, the Roman Catholic Church made a clear distinction between the two terms: abstinence concerned the types of food eaten, irrespective of quantity, whereas fasting signified a limitation on the number of meals or on the amount of food that could be taken. Thus on certain days both abstinence and fasting were required; alternatively, the one might be prescribed but not the other. In the Orthodox Church a clear-cut distinction is not made between the two words. During Lent there is frequently a limitation on the number of meals eaten each day, 5 but when a meal is permitted there is no restriction on the amount of food allowed. The Fathers simply state, as a guiding principle, that we should never eat to satiety but always rise from the table feeling that we could have taken more and that we are now ready for prayer.

If it is important not to overlook the physical requirements of fasting, it is even more important not to overlook its inward significance. Fasting is not a mere matter of diet. It is moral as well as physical. True fasting is to be converted in heart and will; it is to return to God, to come home like the Prodigal to our Father’s house. In the words of St. John Chrysostom, it means ‘abstinence not only from food but from sins’. ‘The fast’, he insists, ‘should be kept not by the mouth alone but also by the eye, the ear, the feet, the hands and all the members of the body’: the eye must abstain from impure sights, the ear from malicious gossip, the hands from acts of injustice. 6 It is useless to fast from food, protests St. Basil, and yet to indulge in cruel criticism and slander: ‘You do not eat meat, but you devour your brother’ . 7 The same point is made in the Triodion, especially during the first week of Lent:

As we fast from food, let us abstain also from every passion. . .

Let us observe a fast acceptable and pleasing to the Lord.
True fasting is to put away all evil,
To control the tongue, to forbear from anger,
To abstain from lust, slander, falsehood and perjury.
If we renounce these things, then is our fasting true and acceptable to God.
Let us keep the Fast not only by refraining from food,
But by becoming strangers to all the bodily passions. 8

The inner significance of fasting is best summed up in the triad: prayer, fasting, almsgiving. Divorced from prayer and from the reception of the holy sacraments, unaccompanied by acts of compassion, our fasting becomes pharisaical or even demonic. It leads, not to contrition and joyfulness, but to pride, inward tension and irritability. The link between prayer and fasting is rightly indicated by Father Alexander Elchaninov. A critic of fasting says to him: ‘Our work suffers and we become irritable. . . . I have never seen servants [in pre-revolutionary Russia] so bad tempered as during the last days of Holy Week. Clearly, fasting has a very bad effect on the nerves.’ To this Father Alexander replies: ‘You are quite right. . . . If it is not accompanied by prayer and an increased spiritual life, it merely leads to a heightened state of irritability. It is natural that servants who took their fasting seriously and who were forced to work hard during Lent, while not being allowed to go to church, were angry and irritable.’ 9

Fasting, then, is valueless or even harmful when not combined with prayer. In the Gospels the devil is cast out, not by fasting alone, but by ‘prayer and fasting’ (Matt. 17: 21 ; Mark 9: 29); and of the early Christians it is said, not simply that they fasted, but that they ‘fasted and prayed’ (Acts 13: 3; compare 14: 23). In both the Old and the New Testament fasting is seen, not as an end in itself, but as an aid to more intense and living prayer, as a preparation for decisive action or for direct encounter with God. Thus our Lord’s forty-day fast in the wilderness was the immediate preparation for His public ministry (Matt. 4: 1-11). When Moses fasted on Mount Sinai (Exod. 34: 28) and Elijah on Mount Horeb (3 [1] Kgs. 19: 8-12), the fast was in both cases linked with a theophany. The same connection between fasting and the vision of God is evident in the case of St. Peter (Acts 10: 9-17). He ‘went up on the housetop to pray about the sixth hour, and he became very hungry and wanted to eat; and it was in this state that he fell into a trance and heard the divine voice. Such is always the purpose of ascetic fasting – to enable us, as the Triodion puts it, to ‘draw near to the mountain of prayer’. 10

Prayer and fasting should in their turn be accompanied by almsgiving – by love for others expressed in practical form, by works of compassion and forgiveness. Eight days before the opening of the Lenten fast, on the Sunday of the Last Judgment, the appointed Gospel is the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats (Matt. 25′: 31-46), reminding us that the criterion in the coming judgment will not be the strictness of our fasting but the amount of help that we have given to those in need. In the words of the Triodion:


Knowing the commandments of the Lord, let this be our way of life:
Let us feed the hungry, let us give the thirsty drink,
Let us clothe the naked, let us welcome strangers,
Let us visit those in prison and the sick.
Then the Judge of all the earth will say even to us:
‘Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you.’ 11

This stanza, it may be noted in passing, is a typical instance of the ‘evangelical’ character of the Orthodox service-books. In common with so many other texts in the Triodion, it is simply a paraphrase of the words of Holy Scripture. 12

It is no coincidence that on the very threshold of the Great Fast, at Vespers on the Sunday of Forgiveness, there is a special ceremony of mutual reconciliation: 13  for without love towards others there can be no genuine fast. And this love for others should not be limited to formal gestures or to sentimental feelings, but should issue in specific acts of almsgiving. Such was the firm conviction of the early Church. The second-century Shepherd of Hermas insists that the money saved through fasting is to be given to the widow, the orphan and the poor. 14 But almsgiving means more than this. It is to give not only our money but our time, not only what we have but what we are; it is to give a part of ourselves. When we hear the Triodion speak of almsgiving, the word should almost always be taken in this deeper sense. For the mere giving of money can often be a substitute and an evasion, a way of protecting ourselves from closer personal involvement with those in distress. On the other hand, to do nothing more than offer reassuring words of advice to someone crushed by urgent material anxieties is equally an evasion of our responsibilities (see Jas. 2: 16). Bearing in mind the unity already emphasized between man’s body and his soul, we seek to offer help on both the material and the spiritual levels at once.

‘When thou seest the naked, cover him; and hide not thyself from thine own flesh.’ The Eastern liturgical tradition, in common with that of the West, treats Isaiah 58: 3-8 as a basic Lenten text.


So we read in the Triodion:

While fasting with the body, brethren, let us also fast in spirit.
Let us loose every bond of iniquity;
Let us undo the knots of every contract made by violence;
Let us tear up all unjust agreements;
Let us give bread to the hungry
And welcome to our house the poor who have no roof to cover them,
That we may receive great mercy from Christ our God. 15

Always in our acts of abstinence we should keep in mind St. Paul’s admonition not to condemn others who fast less strictly: ‘Let not him who abstains pass judgment on him who eats’ (Rom. 14: 3). Equally, we remember Christ’s condemnation of outward display in prayer, fasting or almsgiving (Matt. 6: 1-18). Both these Scriptural passages are often recalled in the Triodion:

Consider well, my soul: dost thou fast? Then despise not thy neighbor.
Dost thou abstain from food? Condemn not thy brother.

Come, let us cleanse ourselves by almsgiving and acts of mercy to the poor,
Not sounding a trumpet or making a show of our charity.
Let not our left hand know what our right hand is doing;
Let not vainglory scatter the fruit of our almsgiving;
But in secret let us call on Him that knows all secrets:
Father, forgive us our trespasses, for Thou lovest mankind. 16

If we are to understand correctly the text of the Triodion and the spirituality that underlies it, there are five misconceptions about the Lenten fast against which we should guard. In the first place, the Lenten fast is not intended only for monks and nuns, but is enjoined on the whole Christian people. Nowhere do the Canons of the Ecumenical or Local Councils suggest that fasting is only for monks and not for the laity. By virtue of their Baptism, all Christians – whether married or under monastic vows – are Cross-bearers, following the same spiritual path. The exterior conditions in which they live out their Christianity display a wide variety, but in its inward essence the life is one. Just as the monk by his voluntary self-denial is seeking to affirm the intrinsic goodness and beauty of God’s creation, so also is each married Christian required to be in some measure an ascetic. The way of negation and the way of affirmation are interdependent, and every Christian is called to follow both ways at once.

In the second place, the Triodion should not be misconstrued in a Pelagian sense.If the Lenten texts are continually urging us to greater personal efforts, this should not be taken as implying that our progress depends solely upon the exertion of our own will. On the contrary, whatever we achieve in the Lenten fast is to be regarded as a free gift of grace from God. The Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete leaves no doubt at all on this point:

I have no tears, no repentance, no compunction;
But as God do Thou Thyself, O Saviour, bestow them on me. 17

In the third place, our fasting should not be self-willed but obedient. When we fast, we should not try to invent special rules for ourselves, but we should follow as faithfully as possible the accepted pattern set before us by Holy Tradition. This accepted pattern, expressing as it does the collective conscience of the People of God, possesses a hidden wisdom and balance not to be found in ingenious austerities devised by our own fantasy. Where it seems that the traditional regulations are not applicable to our personal situation, we should seek the counsel of our spiritual father – not in order legalistically to secure a ‘dispensation’ from him, but in order humbly with his help to discover what is the will of God for us. Above all, if we desire for ourselves not some relaxation but some piece of additional strictness, we should not embark upon it without our spiritual father’s blessing. Such has been the practice since the early centuries of the Church’s life:

Abba Antony said: ‘I know of monks who fell after much labor and lapsed into madness, because they trusted in their own work and neglected the commandment that says: “Ask your father, and he will tell you.'” (Deut. 32: 7)


Again he said: ‘So far as possible, for every step that a monk takes, for every drop of water that he drinks in his cell, he should consult the gerontes, in case he makes some mistake in this.’ 18

These words apply not only to monks but also to lay people living in the ‘world’, even though the latter may be bound by a less strict obedience to their spiritual father. If proud and willful, our fasting assumes a diabolical character, bringing us closer not to God but to Satan. Because fasting renders us sensitive to the realities of the spiritual world, it can be dangerously ambivalent: for there are evil spirits as well as good.


In the fourth place, paradoxical though it may seem, the period of Lent is a time not of gloom but of joyfulness. It is true that fasting brings us to repentance and to grief for sin, but this penitent grief, in the vivid phrase of St. John Climacus, is a ‘joy-creating sorrow’ . 19 The Triodion deliberately mentions both tears and gladness in a single sentence:

Grant me tears falling as the rain from heaven,O Christ,
As I keep this joyful day of the Fast. 20

It is remarkable how frequently the themes of joy and light recur in the texts for the first day of Lent:


With joy let us enter upon the beginning of the Fast.
Let us not be of sad countenance. . . .
Let us joyfully begin the all-hallowed season of abstinence;
And let us shine with the bright radiance of the holy commandments. . . 
All mortal life is but one day, so it is said,
To those who labor with love.
There are forty days in the Fast;
Let us keep them all with joy. 21

The season of Lent, it should be noted, falls not in midwinter when the countryside is frozen and dead, but in spring when all things are returning to life. The English word ‘Lent’ originally had the meaning ‘springtime’; and in a text of fundamental importance the Triodion likewise describes the Great Fast as ‘springtime’:


The springtime of the Fast has dawned,
The flower of repentance has begun to open.
O brethren, let us cleanse ourselves from all impurity
And sing to the Giver of Light:
Glory be to Thee, who alone lovest mankind. 22

Lent signifies not winter but spring, not darkness but light, not death but renewed vitality. Certainly it has its somber aspect, with the repeated prostrations at the weekday services, with the dark vestments of the priest, with the hymns sung to a subdued chant, full of compunction. In the Christian Empire of Byzantium theatres were closed and public spectacles forbidden during Lent; 23 and even today weddings are forbidden in the seven weeks of the fast. 24 Yet these elements of austerity should not blind us to the fact that the fast is not a burden, not a punishment, but a gift of God’s grace:

Come,O ye people, and today let us accept
The grace of the Fast as a gift from God. 25

Fifthly and finally, our Lenten abstinence does not imply a rejection of God’s creation. As St. Paul insists, ‘Nothing is unclean in itself’ (Rom. 14: 14). All that God has made is ‘very good’ (Gen. I: 31): to fast is not to deny this intrinsic goodness but to reaffirm it. ‘To the pure all things are pure’ (Titus I: I S), and so at the Messianic banquet in the Kingdom of heaven there will be no need for fasting and ascetic self-denial. But, living as we do in a fallen world, and suffering as we do from the consequences of sin, both original and personal, we are not pure; and so we have need of fasting. Evil resides not in created things as such but in our attitude towards them, that is, in our will. The purpose of fasting, then, is not to repudiate the divine creation but to cleanse our will. During the fast we deny our bodily impulses – for example, our spontaneous appetite for food and drink – not because these impulses are in themselves evil, but because they have been disordered by sin and require to be purified through self-discipline. In this way, asceticism is a fight not against but for the body; the aim of fasting is to purge the body from alien defilement and to render it spiritual. By rejecting what is sinful in our will, we do not destroy the God-created body but restore it to its true balance and freedom. In Father Sergei Bulgakov’s phrase, we kill the flesh in order to acquire a body.

But in rendering the body spiritual, we do not thereby dematerialize it, depriving it of its character as a physical entity. The ‘spiritual’ is not to be equated with the non-material, neither is the ‘fleshly’ or carnal to be equated with the bodily. In St. Paul’s usage, ‘flesh’ denotes the totality of man, soul and body together, in so far as he is fallen and separated from God; and in the same way ‘spirit’ denotes the totality of man, soul and body together, in so far as he is redeemed and divinized by grace. 26 Thus the soul as well as the body can become carnal and fleshly, and the body as well as the soul can become spiritual. When St. Paul enumerates the ‘works of the flesh’ (Gal. 5: 19-21), he includes such things as sedition, heresy and envy, which involve the soul much more than the body. In making our body spiritual, then, the Lenten fast does not suppress the physical aspect of our human nature, but makes our materiality once more as God intended it to be.

This has been extracted from the full article that replicates what is in the Triodion.

Triodion – CheeseFare Week – Themes Preparing Us For Great Lent

Up to this point, the Triodion has only had messages for us on Sundays. This week it begins to expand itself into daily Matins and Vespers services. These Triodion daily services continue throughout Lent and Holy Week.

So, what are the key messages for this first day of daily Triodion services?

Monday’s Triodion messages fit into themes that look backwards at our Pre-Lenten preparation as well as forward to the upcoming Sunday of the Expulsion of Adam from Paradise and of course the Lenten Fast itself which begins a week from today on March 7th. Below are the key themes along with some quotes from Monday’s Daily Matins and Vespers Services.

1. Desire/Eagerness (Zacchaus)

The entranceway to divine repentance * hath been opened: * let us eagerly enter therein, * purified in body and observing abstinence * from food and the passions, * as obedient servants of Christ * who hath called the world into the heavenly Kingdom. * Let us offer unto the King of all * a tenth part of the whole year, ** that with love we may behold His Resurrection.

The bright forefeast of the time of abstinence, the bright threshold of the Fast hath appeared today, wherefore brethren, let us run the race with hope and great eagerness.

2. Humility/ God’s Mercy (Publican)

My way of life is shameful and bitter, but Thy mercy and compassion are immeasurable O Lover of mankind, wherefore I beseech Thee O Savior, grant unto me who doth sing Thy praises with love, time for repentance.

3. Repentance (Prodigal)

Having wasted my whole life living prodigally, I have been hired by bitter and wicked citizens; but O Christ who desireth that I turn back to Thy compassion, reject me not.

The beginning of compunction and repentance is to make a stranger of sin and abstain from passions. Therefore, let us hasten to cut off our wicked deeds.

Behold, the door of repentance hath already opened, O friends of God: come, let us make haste to enter therein, that Christ not close it and we be shut out as unworthy

4. Being Merciful & God’s Judgement (Last Judgement)

Behold, now is the season of repentance, the forefeast that prepareth us to enter the Fast. Awake, O my soul, and with a fervent heart be reconciled to thy God and Benefactor, and thus escape His just and truly fearful judgment

The time for repentance hath begun; be not heedless, O my soul. Give bread to the hungry, and pray unto the Lord every day and night and each hour, that He may save thee.

5. Expulsion of Adam from Paradise (Coming This Sunday)

By transgressing I have emulated our forefather Adam, and wretched as I am, I have been cast out from sweet joy. Therefore I fall down before Thee in repentance weeping: O Lord save me.

6. Lenten Fast & Fasting ( Our fast begins slowly this week and in high gear next)

At all times the Fast is profitable for those * who choose to observe it, * for the temptations of devils are rendered ineffective * against those who fast, * rather the protectors of our lives, the angels, * abide with us who with fortitude, ** cleanse ourselves by fasting.

With fasting let us hasten to wash away * the filth of our transgressions, * and by means of mercy and compassion to the poor, * let us enter the bridal chamber of the Bridegroom Christ, ** who hath bestowed upon us great mercy.

7. Preparation and Purifying Ourselves ( General throughout Pre-Lent and Lent)

Announcing that spring is upon us, the week of cleansing which prepareth us for the holy Fast, let us all now illumine our souls and bodies thereby

Standing before the entrance and gateway of the Fast, let us not begin it with reckless abandon and drunkenness, rather, let us eagerly enter with purity of thought, that we may worthily receive crowns of immortality and the fruit of our labors.

Sunday of Last Judgement Adult Education Class

Many themes come together this week in the Sunday of Last Judgment. 

Perhaps, the one that stands out the most to me personally is the difference between my judgment and God’s mercy and judgement.  From our prior weeks together, I see in the example of both the Pharisee and the elder son the separation (and sin) that occurs when I impose my judgment on God and elevate my judgement over His.  I also see in the examples of the Publican and younger son; God’s ceaseless merciful desire for a communion of Love with those of us who can accept the reality of our desperate need for Him as we release our judgement(s) and experience His mercy.  

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

Luke 6:37

How can I be ‘right-sized’ as the creature and He as the Creator if I lose this perspective on judgment?  And in this desire I have for self-reliance and self-sufficiency, am I not separating myself from the life that is only available in Him.  

Is there any ceiling to this repentant possibility of releasing what is truly false in me (from distorting the reality of myself as wholly dependent on Him) and discovering what is true in Him?

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy way acknowledge Him, and He shall direct they paths

Proverbs 3:5 – 7

And what more poignant message than this parable of the Last Judgment to make clear the danger of elevating my judgement above God’s.    

Perhaps, from this theme of judgement we are lead with new resolve into humility and mercy.  Father Thomas Hopko describes humility as ‘seeing reality as it is in God’.  What does my response to the message of the Last Judgement tell me about where I stand in humility and being right-sized in the way I relate myself to God?   Am I willing to accept God’s mercy as essential in this daily practice of repentance? Is my preparation for Lent teaching me to open my heart to God‘s mercy and the needs of those I encounter each day?

Perhaps , we can hear the many chants of ‘Lord have mercy’ differently this Sunday.  Perhaps , my chants can be a bit more of an intense expression of my heart yearning for what only He can do in my life. 

This week I’ve chosen just two of our readings for the class to focus on. I’ve intentionally reduced our focus to hopefully allow us to deepen the time we spend on discussion and reflection:

Great Lent & Last Judgment – Father Alexander Schmemann

Our Heart Condition & Last Judgement – Father Symeon Lev

Here were the other postings this week that are useful background for the class but I will (in an effort to save trees) not print these out for the class.

Orthodox Saints on Repentance

Bearing Shame in Confession

Danger of Judging Others

A Sensitive & Loving Heart

What does it mean to repent?

Father Stephen Freeman published an article entitled ’The Instinct of Repentance’. I’ve excerpted some of this article that focuses on repentance as something very straight forward and tangible that we do and therefore experience.

Here are some highlights from this article:

The Instinct Of Repentance – Father Stephen Freeman

In the original language of the New Testament repentance is metanoia, a change in the mind (nous). The word nous, in Eastern Christian tradition, is often used interchangeably with the word heart. Repentance is an inner change of heart. Repentance is not concerned with clearing our legal record but with being changed – ultimately into the likeness of Christ.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me

Psalm 50:10

The fathers of the Church – particularly those who strove the most deeply for repentance (found predominantly in the desert tradition of the ascetics) – borrowed the language of their own day, as well as that of Scripture… The result is the language of the canons and the patristic writings. Most of the “road map” that is attached to these words is an experiential map. It is a reflection on how the heart changes in practice that dominates the teaching of the desert fathers and the tradition that flows from their labors. Theory is not driven by a priori assumptions about the constructs of man’s inner life. Thus there is no particular account of the mechanics of the inner life, other than a description given from experience – what works. The coherence of this patristic language is found in its common assumption that the human heart (nous) – the core of our being – is capable of change and can indeed be conformed to the image of Christ. Thus the goal of repentance is this very metanoia – a change of heart. There is nothing within modern psychology that reflects this particular concern.

Modern man is not predisposed to think about a change of heart. We think of psychological wholeness or well-being, but we do not have a language of conformity to Christ. We do speak of “hardness of heart,” but we know very little about how such a heart is changed.

This creates difficulties for us. Our temptation is to translate the language of the Church into concepts with which we are more familiar. Those coming to confession often give evidence of our psychologized world. We not only confess our sins, but we often want to give a small psychological analysis of where our sins came from and a progress report on how we are doing. (I have often thought that this makes a confession sound much like a monologue from Woody Allen, the comedian).

So, how do we repent?

The Scriptures give one of the clearest examples of how we should think about repentance. The encounter of John the Baptist with the crowds who came to and heard his message of repentance contain an interesting exchange:

Then he [John the Baptist] said to the multitudes that came out to be baptized by him, “Brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Therefore bear fruits worthy of repentance, and do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I say to you that God is able to raise up children to Abraham from these stones. And even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees. Therefore every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

So the people asked him, saying, “What shall we do then?”

He answered and said to them, “He who has two tunics, let him give to him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise.”

Then tax collectors also came to be baptized, and said to him, “Teacher, what shall we do?”

And he said to them, “Collect no more than what is appointed for you.”

Likewise the soldiers asked him, saying, “And what shall we do?”

So he said to them, “Do not intimidate anyone or accuse falsely, and be content with your wages.” (Luke 3:7-14).

John’s response to the people who came was not to launch them into a world of introspection. The heart changes in the crucible of our actions. Generosity and kindness are begotten of generosity and kindness. If you have enough to share – then share.


I have always been bemused by the great lengths that modern interpreters of Scripture go when trying to account for sayings such as, “Sell what you have, give to the poor and come and follow me.” Or “How hardly shall a rich man enter the kingdom of God.” We are often told that such passages are really about how we feel about our wealth – that our wealth should not be the center of our lives. But if we have and do not share, then “feeling good” about our wealth is just delusion.

The commandments of Christ are not difficult because they are so complex or mystical – they are difficult because they are so clear and we do not want to keep them.

The disciplines traditionally practiced during the season of Great Lent, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, are given to us not in order to generate a season of introspection. They are given to us as a call to a season of action. Prayer is something we do. It is a struggle, but it is an action (Orthodox prayer is particularly marked by action – even physical action). Fasting is an action as well. In our psychologized culture, it is hard for many to understand fasting as having anything to do with repentance. But it is the experience of Scripture and generations of the Church, that the discipline of fasting (abstaining from certain foods and eating less) has a clear effect on the heart – our inner disposition – particularly when that fasting is coupled with prayer and almsgiving. Almsgiving is an action that is all too often ignored in our thoughts about repentance.

Giving is an action. Give money away. Give sacrificially of your time. Give mercy and kindness to others. Forgive the sins of others as if your own forgiveness depended on it (it does). If we would see our hearts change in the direction of the image of Christ – the “roadmap” is not hidden. Pray, fast, be merciful and give.

This is the instinct of repentance. With practice it becomes the habit of the heart. Kindness, practiced consistently over a period of time, by the grace of God results in our becoming kind. To be kind is to be like God (Luke 6:35). Repentance is the path to the kingdom of God. The actions of repentance (under grace) – given to us in the Tradition of the Church – are the means by which such a changed heart will be formed within us.

How does facing our shame in confession enhance our repentance

As we discussed in our first class regarding the Publican and Pharisee, our shame, like that of Adam and Eve , separates us from God as we attempt to coverup and hide with our own form of fig leaves. As we’ve seen in the last two weeks with Zaccheus and now the Publican, our repentance and reconciliation with God is not founded upon some false pretense of ourselves but the truth of who we are and the truth of who God is. He is big enough to accept us in the fullness of whatever is true. The article below from a parish priest in Texas does a very good job of laying out the high level of this process in becoming real to ourselves and God in confession. I find this article quite prescriptive and practical for what I can do differently in confession as I prepare myself for the Lenten journey ahead. It is a very real example of a movement away from the pride of my self reliance to deepening my humility and dependance upon God and others. Using my Google Map analogy , the practice outlined below can be very useful in placing me where I am not where I might like to pretend I am.

Do You Want Grace? Embrace Shame – Father Peter Kavanaugh

Becoming Aware of Personal Sin

“In order for a person to repent and to be healed from sin, he must first become aware of his sinfulness…The gift of the grace of awareness of one’s sinfulness, which is of essential and fundamental value to the spiritual restoration of man, is bestowed according to the measure of that man’s faith in the word of Christ” (Archimandrite Zacharias).

There is nothing secret about how you can share a deeper relationship with God. It requires you becoming more and more aware of your sin. The more aware you are of your sin the more fervently you can repent, the more radically you can turn towards God. However, this cannot be done on your own. This is impossible in any private setting. Awareness of sins comes from communion — from living within community — parish life, monasticism, marriage, day-to-day relationships, and most of all, from the Sacrament of Confession. Imagine living in a time without mirrors. You could never see your own face, and you could only know the blemishes on your face by someone else telling you. That is how sin works. We cannot know our own inner life without the aid of others, in particular, without the guidance of a spiritual father. In the Orthodox Church, we are urged to partake in the Sacrament of Confession as frequently as possible, ideally, on a monthly basis. To quote Metropolitan Joseph, “this is not an option.” Why? Because by not doing so, we end up living in a state of delusion about our inner life. When confession is a way of life, we become aware of our inner “stuff” and our need for repentance.

The Greater the Shame, the Greater the Grace

“The believer endures shame before a father-confessor…As soon as he becomes aware of his iniquity, he does not hide it. ‘He confesses his transgressions unto the Lord.’ For the shame that he endures through this act of repentance the Lord forgives him ‘the iniquity of his heart’ and renews him through the grace of eternal salvation. The greater the shame one experiences when one reveals one’s sins during confession, the more will be the power and the grace received for the renewal of one’s life” (Archimandrite Zacharias).

Imagine you have gangrene. You are afraid to reveal it to your doctor because of shame. How could you possibly dare to show something so foul and putrid to another person? Nonetheless, the longer you go before revealing it, the deeper the gangrene sets until it is too late. In reality, anyone with sense would rush to the doctor to have the infection purified as quickly as possible. In the same way, all truly-spiritually minded people rush to their confessor with haste. To be Christian is to be a “health addict” in the truest sense. But the shame! We are embarrassed by our sins. We want to be liked. We do not want others, let alone a priest, to see who we really are (or who we believe we are). We dread the feeling of shame. Yet, as Christians, we have to come to love the shame. We should hunger for it, knowing that the more honestly we confess, the more shame we feel when we face ourselves in the mirror of another person, the more thorough will be our healing and transformation. If it means getting God, bring on the shame.

Shame Uproots Evil and Prepares the Soul for Holiness

“Pain and shame because of one’s sins plough the fallow heart and uproot the dishonorable passions that are in it. They heal and unify the powers of the soul so that it may accomplish the divine commandment to love and be able to stand before the Lord ‘in spirit and in truth.’ If we remain attached to our own self-esteem and are afraid to be ashamed because of our sins, then we will not come to know the price of the blows the Lord endured for our salvation” (Archimandrite Zacharias).

“Therefore also now, saith the Lord, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning: And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil” (Joel 2:12-13).

How often do we remain attached, cling to, crave to protect our self-esteem? We are desperate to hide, as Adam and Eve were desperate to cower in the bushes. We are clinging to death. How silly. God simply wanted Adam and Eve to come out and fix the relationship. Paradise was a step away, but they preferred the hiding. It is time to be honest with ourselves. We pretend to be decent Christian people, good enough, comfortable as we are. Yet, if we truly believed we were good enough, why would we avoid confession as we do? In the gut, we know what lies within, and it burdens us day and night. All the while, Christ stands with open arms, ready to heal and to love. One last word: Most of the time, we cringe at the words: “shame,” “sin”, and “repentance.” Why is this? I believe it is because we have not yet experienced enough of God’s grace. The more we experience confession, the more we open our wounds to heaven and receive God’s profound washing, the more we come to long for shame and repentance. It becomes a joy to discover and admit one’s sins. It becomes the greatest happiness to tap into the shame, because we discover the grace. How beautiful it is to let go and be clean — to really know that we are clean! How wonderful to discover and dive into God’s infinite love!

Full Article Link

How does the parable of the Prodigal Son illustrate God’s goal for us and our purpose?

I find this passage from Archimandrite Zacharias of Essex (disciple of Saint Sophrony of Essex) full of great wisdom and guidance for us as we prepare ourselves this week for the Sunday of the Prodigal Son.

This passage is an extract from his book ’Hidden Man Of The Heart’. Perhaps, this provides some solid ground to a question raised in yesterday’s class…. what is my purpose; why am I here … in the context of this parable. This article may also remind us all of the essential humility that even with a parable which we believe we are quite familiar ; we can humbly accept that ’we realize we know but a little’ and find much to learn.

Within this passage , you will also see how the themes of our hearts, exile, and shame are woven powerfully together into this explanation and exploration of the Prodigal Son.

The Mystery Of Man’s Heart (Extract from Hidden Man of the Heart)

All the ordinances of the undefiled Church are offered to the world for the sole purpose of dis­covering the ‘deep heart’,[1] the centre of man’s hypo­s­tasis. According to the Holy Scriptures, God has fashioned every heart in a special way, and each heart is His goal, a place wherein He desires to abide that He may mani­fest Himself.

Since the kingdom of God is within us,[2] the heart is the battlefield of our salvation, and all ascetic effort is aimed at cleansing it of all filthiness, and preserving it pure before the Lord. ‘Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life’, exhorts Solomon, the wise king of Israel.[3] These paths of life pass through man’s heart, and therefore the unquenchable desire of all who ceaselessly seek the Face of the living God is that their heart, once deadened by sin, may be rekindled by His grace.

The heart is the true ‘temple’ of man’s meeting with the Lord. Man’s heart ‘seeketh knowledge’[4] both intellectual and divine, and knows no rest until the Lord of glory comes and abides therein. On His part God, Who is ‘a jealous God’,[5] will not settle for a mere portion of the heart. In the Old Testament we hear His voice crying out, ‘My son, give Me thy heart’;[6] and in the New Testament He commands: ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength.’[7] He is the one Who has fashioned the heart of every man in a unique and unrepeatable way, though no heart can contain Him fully because ‘God is greater than our heart’.[8] Nevertheless, when man succeeds in turning his whole heart to God, then God Himself begets it by the incorruptible seed of His word, seals it with His wondrous Name and makes it shine with His perpetual and charis­matic presence. He makes it a temple of His Divinity, a temple not made by hands, able to reflect His ‘shape’ and to hearken unto His ‘voice’ and ‘bear’ His Name.[9] In a word, man then fulfils the purpose of his life, the reason for his coming into the transient existence of this world.

The great tragedy of our time lies in the fact that we live, speak, think, and even pray to God, outside our heart, outside our Father’s house. And truly our Father’s house is our heart, the place where ‘the spirit of glory and of God’[10] would find repose, that Christ may ‘be formed in us’.[11]Indeed, only then can we be made whole, and become hypostases in the image of the true and perfect Hypostasis, the Son and Word of God, Who created us and redeemed us by the precious Blood of His ineffable sacrifice.

Yet, as long as we are held captive by our passions, which distract our mind from our heart and lure it into the ever-changing and vain world of natural and created things, thus depriving us of all spiritual strength, we will not know the new birth from on High that makes us children of God and gods by grace. In fact, in one way or another, we are all ‘prodigal sons’ of our Father in heaven, because, as the Scriptures testify, ‘All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’[12] Sin has separated our mind from the life-giving contemplation of God and led it into a ‘far country’.[13] In this ‘far country’ we have been deprived of the honour of our Father’s embrace and, in feeding swine, we have been made subject to demons. We gave ourselves over to dis­honourable passions and the dreadful famine of sin, which then established itself by force, becoming the law of our mem­bers. But now we must come out of this godless hell and return to our Father’s house, so as to uproot the law of sin that is within us and allow the law of Christ’s command­ments to dwell in our heart. For the only path leading out of the torments of hell to the everlasting joy of the Kingdom is that of the divine commandments: with our whole being we are to love God and our neighbour with a heart that is free of all sin.

The return journey from this remote and inhospitable land is not an easy one, and there is no hunger more fearful than that of a heart laid waste by sin. Those in whom the heart is full of the consolation of incorruptible grace can endure all external deprivations and afflictions, trans­form­ing them into a feast of spiritual joy; but the famine in a hardened heart lacking divine consolation is a comfort­less torment. There is no greater misfortune than that of an in­sensible and petrified heart that is unable to distinguish be­tween the luminous Way of God’s Providence and the gloomy confusion of the ways of this world. On the other hand, throughout history there have been men whose hearts were filled with grace. These chosen vessels were enlight­ened by the spirit of prophecy, and were therefore able to dis­tinguish between Divine Light and the darkness of this world.

No matter how daunting and difficult the struggle of purifying the heart may be, nothing should deter us from this undertaking. We have on our side the ineffable good­ness of a God Who has made man’s heart His personal con­cern and goal. In the Book of Job, we read the following aston­ishing words: ‘What is man, that thou shouldest mag­nify him? And that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him? And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment…Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?’[14] We sense God, Who is incomprehensible, pursuing man’s heart: ‘Be­hold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.’[15] He knocks at the door of our heart, but He also encourages us to knock at the door of His mercy: ‘Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’[16] When the two doors that are God’s goodness and man’s heart open, then the greatest miracle of our existence occurs: man’s heart is united with the Spirit of the Lord, God feasting with the sons of men.

From the few thoughts we have mentioned, we now begin to see how precious it is to stand before God with our whole heart as we pour it out before Him. We also begin to understand how vital is the task of discovering the heart, because this allows us to talk to God and our Father from the heart and to be heard by Him, and to give Him the right to perfect the work of our renewal and restoration to the original honour we enjoyed as His sons.

We deprive ourselves of the feast of God’s consolation not only when we hand ourselves over to the corruption of sin, feeding swine in a far country, but also when we contend in a negligent way. ‘Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully,’ warns the Prophet Jeremiah.[17] In the feed­ing of swine, it is the devil, our enemy, who gives us work which is accursed. But if we do the Lord’s work half-heartedly, we put ourselves under a curse, though we may be dwelling in the house of the Lord. For God will not toler­ate division in man’s heart; He is pleased only when man speaks to Him with all his heart and does His work joyfully: ‘God loveth a cheerful giver,’ says the Apostle.[18] He wants our whole heart to be turned and de­voted to Him, and He then fills it with the bounties of His goodness and the gifts of His com­passion. He ‘sows bounti­fully’[19] but He expects the same from us.

As long as man is under the dominion of sin and death, being given over to the power of evil, he becomes in­creas­ingly selfish. In his pride and despair, and being separated from God Who is good, he struggles to survive, but the only thing he gains is a heavier curse upon his head and even greater desolation. But however much he may be cor­rupted by the famine of sin, the primal gift of his having been created in God’s ‘image and likeness’ remains irrevoc­able and indelible. Thus, he always carries within him the possibility of a rising out of the kingdom of darkness and into to the kingdom of light and life. This occurs when he ‘comes to himself’ and in pain of soul confesses, ‘I perish with hunger.’[20]

When fallen man ‘comes to himself’ and turns to God, ‘it is time for the Lord to work’, as we say at the beginning of the Divine Liturgy; in pain, man then enters his own heart, which is the greatest honour reserved by God for man. God knows that He can now seriously con­verse with him, and is attentive to him, for when man enters his heart he speaks to God with knowledge of his true state, for which he now feels responsible. Indeed, man’s whole struggle is waged in order to convince God that he is His child, His very own, and when he has con­vinced Him, then he will hear in his heart those great words of the Gospel, ‘All that I have is thine.’[21] And the moment he convinces God that he is His, God makes the waterfalls of His com­passion to flow, and God’s life be­comes his life. This is the good pleasure of God’s original design in that it is for this that He created man. God then says to the one who has succeeded in persuading Him that he is His, ‘All My life, O man, is thy life.’ Then the Lord, Who is God by nature, grants man His own life, and man becomes a god by grace.

In the Gospel of St Luke we are told that the prodigal son ‘came to himself’ and said, ‘I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.’[22] This is a wondrous moment, a momentous event in the spiritual world. Suffering, affliction, and the menacing famine of the ‘far country’ compel man to look within himself. But a single movement of divine grace is enough to convert the energy of his misfortune into great boldness, and he is enabled to see his heart and all the dead­ness from which he is suffering. Now, with prophetic know­ledge, he boldly confesses that ‘his days are consumed in vanity’.[23] In pain of soul, he discovers that his whole life until then consists of a series of failures and betrayals of God’s commandments, and that he has done no good deed upon earth which can withstand the unbearable gaze of the Eternal Judge. He sees his plight and, like the much-afflicted Job, cries out, ‘Hades is my house.’[24]

With such a lamentation of despair and, thirsting only for God’s blessed eternity, man can then turn his whole being towards the living Lord. He can cry from the depth of his heart to Him Who ‘has power of life and death: who leads to the gates of hell, and brings up again’.[25] This is the turning point in our life, for God the Saviour then begins His work of refashioning man.

When man falls into sin his mind moves in an outward direction and loses itself in created things, but when, con­scious of his perdition, he comes to himself seeking sal­vation, he then moves inward as he searches for the way back to the heart. Finally, when all his being is gathered in the unity of his mind and heart, there is a third kind of movement in which he turns his whole being over to God the Father. Man’s spirit must pass through this threefold circular motion in order to reach perfection.

During the first stage, man lives and acts outside his heart and entertains proud thoughts and considers vain things. In fact, he is in a state of delusion. His heart is dark­ened and void of understanding. In his fallen condition, he prefers to worship and serve ‘the creature more than the Creator’.[26] Because he lives without his heart, he has no dis­cern­ment and is ‘ignorant of [Satan’s] devices’.[27] As the Old Testament wisely observes: ‘The fool hath no heart to get wis­dom’,[28] and because his heart is not the basis of his exist­ence, man remains inexperienced and unfruitful, ‘beat­ing the air’.[29] He is unable to walk steadily in the way of the Lord and is characterised by instability and double-minded­ness.

In the second stage, man ‘comes to himself’, and he begins to have humble thoughts that attract grace and make his heart sensitive. Humble thoughts also enlighten his mind; they are born within himself, and they help him in dis­cerning and accepting only those things that strengthen the heart, so that it stays unshakeable in its resolution to be pleasing to God both in life and in death. During the first stage, man surrenders to a vicious circle of destructive thoughts, whilst in the second, inspired by Christ’s word, he is led along a chain of thoughts, each deeper than the last: from faith he is led to more perfect faith, from hope to firmer hope, from grace to greater grace and from love of God to an ever greater measure of love. ‘We know’, as the Apostle Paul says, ‘that all things work to­gether for good to them that love God.’[30] Indeed, this entry ‘into oneself’ and the discovery of the heart are the work of divine grace. And when man heeds God’s call and co-oper­ates with the grace that is bestowed on him, this grace summons and strengthens all his being.

When the grace of mindfulness of death becomes active, man not only sees that all his days have been consumed in vanity, that everything until now has been a failure, and that he has betrayed God all his life, but he realises that death threatens to blot out all that his con­science has hitherto em­braced, even God. He is now con­vinced that his spirit has need of eternity and that no created thing, neither angel nor man, can help him. This provokes him to seek freedom from every created thing and every passionate attachment. And if he then believes in Christ’s word and turns to Him, then it is easy for him to find his heart because he is be­coming a free being. His faith is salutary, for he now acknow­ledges that Christ is the ‘rewarder of them that diligently seek him’,[31] that is, he believes that Christ is the eternal and almighty Lord Who has come to save the world and will come again to judge the whole world with justice. He has entrusted himself to ‘the law of faith’,[32] and begins to be­lieve in hope against hope,[33] pinning everything on the mercy of God the Saviour. Such true faith can be seen in the Canaanite woman, who received the Lord’s instruction as a dog receives food from its master, and she followed Him freely and steadfastly. As far as she was concerned, God re­mained righteous and forever blessed whether He were to rebuke her or praise her. Faith like this receives the ap­proval of adoption because it grows out of love and humi­l­ity, ever attracting divine grace which opens and quickens the heart.

When man believes and his spirit finds true contact with the Spirit of ‘Jesus Christ who was raised from the dead’[34] and Who lives and reigns forever, he is enlightened so that he can see his spiritual poverty and desolation. He also perceives that he is still far from eternal life, and this gives birth to great fear in him because he is now aware that God is absent from his life. Godly fear such as this strengthens man’s heart to resist sin and begets a firm resolve to prefer heavenly things to earthly things. His life begins to prove the truth of the words of Scripture: ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’[35] As man’s heart draws to itself the grace of God, this gift of fear humbles him, and pre­vents him from becoming overbold; that he ‘not think of himself more highly than he ought to think’,[36] and that he keep himself prudently within the limits of created being.

Another infallible means by which the believer finds his heart is in accepting shame for his sins in the sacrament of confession. Christ saved us by enduring the Cross of shame for our sakes. Similarly, when the believer comes out of the camp of this world,[37] he disregards its good opin­ion and judgment, taking upon himself the shame of his sins, and thereby acquiring a humble heart. The Lord re­ceives his sense of shame for his sins as a sacrifice of thanks­giving, and imparts to him the grace of His great Sacrifice on the Cross. This grace so purifies and renews his heart that he can then stand before God in a manner that is pleas­ing to Him.

I have not said much, but I hope it is clear that man’s principal work, which alone gives worth to his life, is the effort of discovering and purifying his ‘deep heart’, that it may be blessed with the indescribable contemplation of our God, Who is Holy.

Source: Archimandrite Zacharias (Zacharou), The hidden man of the heart, edition Stavropegic Monastery of St John the Baptist, Essex 2007, pp. 11-26.

NOTES 

1. Cf. Ps. 64:6., 2.Cf. Luke 17:21., 3. Prov. 4:23., 4. Prov. 15:14., 5. Exod. 34:15,6. Prov. 23:26., 7. Matt. 12:30., 8. 1 John 3:20., 9. Cf. John 5:37; Acts 9:15., 10. 1 Pet. 4:14., 11. Gal. 4:19., 12. Rom. 3:23. , 13. Luke 9:15. , 14. Job 7:17, 15. Rev. 3:20. , 16. Luke 11:9-10. , 17. Jer. 48:10. ,  18. 2 Cor. 9:7. , 19. Cf. 2 Cor. 9:6., 20. Luke 15:17.,21. Luke 15:31. , 22. Luke 15:18-19. , 23. Cf. Ps. 78:33. , 24. Cf. Job 17:13. , 25. Wisdom of Solomon 16:13. , 26. Rom. 1:25. , 27. 2 Cor. 2:11. , 28. Cf. Prov. 17:16. , 29. Cf. 1 Cor. 9:26., 30. Rom. 8:28. , 31. Heb. 11:6. , 32. Rom. 3:27. , 33. Cf. Rom. 4:18. , 34. 2 Tim. 2:8 , 35. Prov. 1:7 LXX. , 36. Rom. 12:3. , 37. Cf. Heb. 13:11-12.

What is the condition of my heart?

As we begin our Pre-Lent Adult Education this Sunday , I thought it might be useful to raise questions which may be very relevant to our preparation process for Lent. This week’s upcoming Sunday of the Publican & Pharisee can stimulate lots of these opportunities for self reflection about where we stand in relation to pride and humility.

Here are two quotes … the first from a 4th century saint, St. Macarius of Eqypt and the second from a well known Nobel Prize winning Orthodox author of the 20th century, Alexander Solzhenitsyn. Both are useful reminders that our spiritual battlefield today and every day lies within our own hearts:

And the heart itself is but a small vessel, yet there also are dragons and there are lions; there are poisonous beasts and all the treasures of evil. And there are rough and uneven roads; there are precipices. But there is also God, also the angels, the life and the kingdom, the light and the Apostles, the treasures of grace—there are all things

St Macarius ‘50 Spiritual Homilies and Great Letter’ (Homily 43)

“The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained”

Alexander Solzhenitsyn ‘The Gulag Archipelago’ 

Open To Me The Gates Of Repentance – Song & Lyrics

YouTube Recording

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. Open to me the doors of repentance O Lifegiver; for my spirit rises early to pray towards Thy Holy Temple, bearing the temple of my body all defiled. But in Thy Compassion purify me by the loving kindness of Thy Mercy. Now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen. Lead me on the paths of Salvation O Mother of God, for I have covered my soul in shameful sins and have wasted my life in lazy acts. But by your intercessions, deliver me from all impurity. Have mercy on me O God according to Thy Great Mercy and according to the multitude of Thy Compassions blot out my transgressions. When I think of the many evil things I have done, wretched I am, I tremble at the fearful day of Judgement, but trusting in Thy loving kindness, like David I cry to Thee. Have mercy on me O God, have mercy on me O God, Have mercy on me O God according to Thy great Mercy.

Taking the Lenten Journey – Ancient Faith – Father Ted Paraskevopoulos

Audio Link

Many people have the—I guess you could say—common assumption that Lent begins with Clean Monday, which this year falls on February 23, and that that is the beginning of the Fast which leads to the Great Feast, the center of our faith, which is Holy Resurrection—Pascha, Easter. But really, if we look at the ecclesiastical year, and we look at the cycle of services and the themes that are being introduced to us, that journey towards the resurrection of Christ begins today, with the beginning of the cycle called the Triodion. The Triodion, it’s named after a book that we use—the psaltis use and the priests use inside the altar—which is called The Triodion, and it begins today and ends right before the resurrection of Christ.

The themes of the Triodion are of repentance, of self-examination, of self-discovery, and we see that the Triodion starts four weeks before the actual Fast begins. We start today with the Sunday of the Publican and the Pharisee, the theme of true repentance and pseudo-repentance, two different characters, and how we approach actual repentance and how we approach humility and whether we have true humility or not. Next week we will have the Sunday of the Prodigal Son, another beautiful story of repentance and coming back to the Father. The Sunday after that we have the Sunday of the Last Judgment. And the Sunday after that, which is the last Sunday before the beginning of the Fast, is the Sunday of Forgiveness, another beautifully themed Sunday.

All these themes that we have are done intentionally to prepare us for this journey, which we call in Greek the journey towards the resurrection, which is Great Lent. Even if we pay attention to the whole cycle of the year, we see that Pascha, the Resurrection, takes up a third of the year, if we take into account starting to today, leading to Pascha, and even the afterfeasts: the Ascension all the way up to Pentecost, which is fifty days after Easter. That whole block of time takes up a third of our year, which means that this Feast of Pascha is the most important. Most important not only for teaching, but most important for our own personal spirituality, that we dedicate such a long period of time to focus on one event.

Many people ask me, “Father, I really don’t feel that I can actually do the things that the Church asks me to do,” which is to fast, to pray, to confess, to go to more services. It seems a bit overwhelming, and it can be very overwhelming, especially when we’ve never done it before. Many people tell me, “Father, I’ve just become accustomed to fasting on the last week, Holy Week, and then I’ll just go into Easter and experience it.” Other people say, “Well, Father, I don’t even do that. I just show up for the Anastasi.” And as we can see with the thousands of people that show up on Anastasi night, that is usually the case, that many of our brothers and sisters simply show up for the light, as if the light saved them.

I always respond to people like this and friends of mine whom I grew up with that doing the journey, actually struggling through it and actually following the different traditions and the Fast, leading up to Easter and not doing it and simply just showing up at the end are two very different experiences. I used to have a professor in seminary who said it really beautifully to us. He said that the Lenten journey, and indeed the whole Triodion, is like climbing a mountain. The top, of course, is the goal. It is the union with God. It is the witnessing of the holy Resurrection. It is the beautiful view that you get from the top. So we begin from the bottom, and we struggle to climb this mountain. We have many difficulties: we fall, we get back up again. Some of us climb faster than others. Some of us turn around and help those who have fallen behind us; others help from behind. We all try to climb this mountain. For those who struggle and work hard and finally make it to the top, which is the end of Lent, beginning the actual Resurrection—for those the experience at the top is very, very different from [that of] those who simply hopped on the helicopter and flew to the top and got dropped off. Both will experience the view. Both will experience the light of the Resurrection. But those who struggled to reach the top, for them the experience will be completely different. They will appreciate it more, they will have a sense of accomplishment, and it will be much more of a profound experience than [that of] those who didn’t work for it but simply showed up.

I can attest to that even as a young man, growing up in Toronto. When I was a young man growing up, there were some years where I did the Fast, and there were some years where I did not, unfortunately. And I can attest to the difference in experience, of struggling and growing through the actual spiritual exercises and reaching that night of the Resurrection after having fasted for 47 days, and not only fasted but examining my conscience and going to confession and helping others and doing more volunteer work—the whole thing—and reaching that point of the Resurrection, it is a point that is quite moving, because we have opened up our souls, have cleansed our souls, and we have allowed for the light of the Resurrection to have entered into us. The years in which I did nothing—my heart was closed, so when I attempted to experience that light, it was not the same thing. It didn’t have the same spiritual potency as it did the years that I tried.

So I say all this not because I’m trying to force or trying to persuade everybody to go to church every Sunday, but rather so that we understand what the cycles of the Church are, why they are set up the way they are for the last 2,000 years, and why they work and why all these things are put in place to prepare us for what the Fathers say is the three-fold method of achieving salvation or achieving holiness.

For the Fathers, the three stages are katharsis, which basically means purification; photisis, which means illumination; and theosis, which means divinization, becoming like God, becoming holy. We have to understand that one cannot come before the other. First we have to purify ourselves before we can be enlightened. And after we are enlightened, we can actually become divine.

So if we don’t do these things, we will never be able to understand what the Church is talking about. We will never be able to see the reality which Christ reveals to us in the Resurrection. It will just simply be another night, another night of going to the church and lighting a candle and taking it back home, devoid of anything spiritual, devoid of anything that is truly profound in our lives. But for those who take the chance… And I hope that all of you take the chance this year, beginning with today, not to do everything perfectly—you can’t; that’s okay—but to try, to maybe take a few steps further, to do a little more than what you did the year before. And maybe next year you do a little more than that, but to try, a little bit.

And together we can climb the mountain, and together we can truly enjoy the light of the Resurrection as it’s supposed to be enjoyed, as it’s supposed to be perceived. It all begins with today, and it ends with the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on the evening of Pascha. Amen.