Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Grace and peace be with you! I'll leave this post up for some time, so that everyone has a chance to find me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
In the Byzantine tradition, there are several Saturdays during Lent in which the deceased are commemorated and specially prayed for (something akin to All Souls’ Day in the Latin tradition). The common Gospel reading for the deceased is John 5:24-30. I’ll give the key verses here: “Amen, amen, I say to you, he who hears my word and believes in him who sent me has eternal life; he does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life. Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live… the hour is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and come forth: those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of condemnation.”
In only one of the verses above is Jesus actually talking about bodily death; the others talk about spiritual death. That is not hard to see: one who hears his word and believes has already passed from death to life, and this can only mean spiritual death, for there are many who hear and believe and have not yet endured bodily death. Twice Jesus speaks of an hour that is coming, but the first time he adds, “and now is,” meaning of course that He is talking of the present time, or at least of a moment imminently to arrive. The “dead” will hear his voice, and those who hear will live, that is, will enter the life of grace and communion with Him which is called “eternal life,” and which begins even before bodily death. The second time He speaks of a coming hour that clearly has not yet come, for he makes it clear here that the dead are “those in the tombs” who will rise at the general resurrection, the quality of whose lives will determine their permanent destination.
William Barclay is a rather well-known Bible commentator, though I don’t like him all that much—too many errors in his commentaries. But sometimes he gets it right. One of the monks here recently used his commentary in preaching on spiritual death. I think that Barclay has a few good insights here, so I’ll share them with you.
“To be spiritually dead is to have stopped trying. It is to have come to look on all faults and ineradicable and all virtues and unattainable. But the Christian life cannot stand still; it must either go on or slip back; and to stop trying is therefore to slip back into death.
“To be spiritually dead is to have stopped feeling. There are many people who at one time felt intensely in the face of sin and the sorrow and the suffering of the world; but slowly they have become insensitive. They can look at evil and feel no indignation; they can look at sorrow and suffering and feel no answering sword of grief and pity pierce their heart. When compassion goes, the heart is dead.
“To be spiritually dead is to have stopped thinking… When a man’s mind becomes so shut that it can accept no new truth, he is mentally and spiritually dead. The day when the desire to learn leaves us, the day when new truth, new methods, new thought simply become a disturbance with which we cannot be bothered, is the day of our spiritual death.
“To be spiritually dead is to have stopped repenting. The day when a man can sin in peace is the day of his spiritual death; and it is easy to slip into that frame of mind. The first time we do a wrong thing, we do it with fear and regret. If we do it a second time, it is easier to do it. If we do it a third time, it is easier yet. If we go on doing it, the time comes when we scarcely give it a thought. To avoid spiritual death a man must keep himself sensitive to sin by keeping himself sensitive to the presence of Jesus Christ.”
That’s a little something to reflect upon during Lent. We pray for the dead, but we need to pray for the spiritually dead as well, and to make every effort that we do not ourselves gradually enter their moribund ranks. Christianity is about the abundant life made available to us by divine grace, but it is up to us to hear the voice of the Son of God and believe in the Father who sent Him. Thus we will not only “pass from [spiritual] death to life,” we will at length rise to the everlasting resurrection of life!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Today’s feast of
When I was preparing to enter the novitiate—many, many, many years ago!—I wanted to receive Joseph as a monastic name, partly because of my developing devotion to him, but mainly because I was aware that he was everything I was not, and, being such a powerful intercessor in Heaven, he could help me grow in all the virtues in which he himself excelled. I think I’ve proven to be something of a tough nut to crack, but
It’s a little difficult to write about
The first comes from
Finally, we can perhaps make some valid assumptions about
So let us strive to learn from
As we celebrate the Patron (which means father) of the Universal Church—recall that Jesus said: he who humbles himself will be exalted; and He exalted his foster father immensely, another proof of St Joseph’s humility—let us realize that like Jesus, we have only one true Father in Heaven, who is God of all. But let us also remember that, like Jesus, we also have a foster father in Heaven,
Sunday, March 18, 2007
On the 4th Sunday of Lent we commemorate the life and teachings of the monastic father St John Climacus, and in his honor the Gospel reading is the beatitudes from St Matthew. They open the Sermon on the Mount, which is an expression of the radical uniqueness of the Christian life, and a summary of its requirements.
In St Gregory of Nyssa’s commentary on the beatitudes, he begins by noticing that Jesus went up on a mountain to proclaim them, so that we can ascend with Him “from superficial and ignoble thoughts to the spiritual mountain of sublime contemplation… lit up on all sides by the rays of the true light, that from its summit all things…may be seen in the air of pure truth.” He then says that the words of blessing Jesus pronounces bring happiness even in the mere hearing of them.
I won’t comment on them one by one; that will be your work in your private meditation, for we have to ask the Holy Spirit how they apply to us individually, not just to the Church or humanity as such. I’d rather look at what they mean as a whole, as the overture of all of Jesus’ teaching, for this is his first sermon (not bad for a beginner!). He starts by showing what kind of people are blessed in the sight of God. Some translate “happy” instead of “blessed”. This is not quite accurate, but happiness is an element of blessedness, or perhaps a fruit of it. Maybe to modern people it is better to say “happy,” since the term “blessed” is incomprehensible to many today and connotes something “religious” that may not be high on their list of priorities. But everyone wants to be happy, so—you will be happy if you follow the beatitudes! If you are living in the Holy Spirit, you will be happy even in this life, but if the beatitudes don’t make you particularly happy at the moment, know that they are the keys to eternal happiness.
The goal of living the beatitudes is entry into the
It is not easy to be poor in spirit, that is, setting all your hopes on God alone and on nothing in this world. It is not easy to be pure of heart and merciful, not easy to be so focused on doing the will of God that you can be said to hunger and thirst for righteousness, not easy to endure persecution and reviling for the sake of Christ and his Gospel. For some, these may seem unattainable, or at the very least impractical. For others, the promise of the
That something, according to Pope Paul VI, is the joy that comes from knowing that we are loved by God. That is the power behind living the beatitudes with grace, fruitfulness, and perseverance. Here is a rather lengthy excerpt from his Apostolic Exhortation “On Christian Joy.”
“But it is necessary here below to understand properly the secret of the unfathomable joy which dwells in Jesus and which is special to Him... If Jesus radiates such peace, such assurance, such happiness, such availability, it is by reason of the inexpressible love by which He knows that He is loved by His Father. When He is baptized on the banks of the
“And the disciples and all those who believe in Christ are called to share this joy. Jesus wishes them to have in themselves His joy in its fullness (Jn 17:13). ‘I have made your name known to them and will continue to make it known, so that the love with which you loved me may be in them, and so that I may be in them’ (Jn 17:26). This joy of living in God's love begins here below. It is the joy of the
This is more evidence that the Christian life does not consist in learning and abiding by a long sheet of rules. CS Lewis says that God is not primarily interested in securing obedience to a set of rules; He is interested in forming a certain kind of people. Christianity, then, is about entering into a relationship with Someone and thus learning what makes for true peace and happiness, and then living accordingly, in constant communion with Him who grants the grace and hence the joy to do so. Pope Paul referred to the text from John’s Gospel in which Jesus prayed that his disciples would not merely be happy, but would have his own joy in them. That is what beatitude is—not the superficial “happiness” that comes from an abundance of comforts or a lack of trials, not mere fun and stimulation of the senses or simply having everything go your own way. The happiness that is true blessedness comes from Christ abiding in us, learning from Him what true joy is, for He said, “Learn from Me.” He will teach us that genuine joy is first recognized and experienced through the knowledge of God’s love for us, and then it is expressed by our loving others, communicating to them both our love and the truth that God loves them too. This is how joy is meant to spread through this world.
So we have to situate ourselves interiorly in the proper way. We can’t just take a look at the beatitudes and say: “Oh no, it’s too hard to be poor and pure and merciful and persecuted. That doesn’t make me happy at all!” If we look at them that way, we must admit that we are still of the mindset of the world, of those who do not know Christ, those who do not have his joy in them from knowledge of the love of the Father. We need to begin by seeking the awareness, the certainty, that we are loved by God. Then the joy of Christ will be in us, for we will be partakers of his joy in the Father’s love. Once we have that love and joy in us, God can ask of us what He will, and with confidence we will put the best of our efforts into the task. We’re not trying to measure up to a standard, we are trying to respond joyfully and wholeheartedly to a calling from Him who loves us and who prepares for us the unbroken joy of the
Let us choose the blessed life, the authentic life that tests our true worth, tests the genuineness of our profession of faith and our hope for eternal life. We can do this if Christ’s joy is in us, the joy that comes from security and confidence in the Father’s love. And ours will be the
Saturday, March 10, 2007
I don’t know if you’ve heard of the 12-year-old child prodigy, Akiane Kramarik. She is rather well-known, if website hits are any indication (150 million annually). I heard of her a couple years ago, but didn’t pay close attention until a friend recently lent me a book about her. Any little kid whose artwork is good enough to sell paintings for over $100,000 apiece ought to attract some attention, but there is much more to her than that.
She was raised by unbelieving parents, never even heard the word “God,” was homeschooled and didn’t have a TV. One day, when she was four, she told her mother, “Today I met God.” Her mother asked her how she knew it was God. She replied, “Just like I know you are my mommy, and you know I am Akiane.” Then, “Who even taught you such a word, God?” “You won’t understand.” That marked the beginning of a series of heavenly visions and gifts from the Lord, primarily in art and poetry. She began with drawings when she was four and five, and began painting when she was six. Many of her paintings by age eight and nine were at least as good as those of professional artists of many years’ experience. Akiane never had any training in art. She painted what she saw, and she did it to draw people to God. The picture here is her self-portrait (age 11), in which she saw herself as working with God in the creation of beauty. You can see more of her paintings by clicking here.
The following are just a few stanzas from her poem, “Conversation with God,” written when she was eight years old. Quite incredible!
I receive an envelope with the seal of Your lips
As I am waiting for You I get covered with dust
My heavy rope is full of holes and now it’s in a cast
But why are Your gates always higher than us
As we used to talk to each other before
The depth for notions true friendship deepens
Would you tear the tears from my salty fists
The leftovers of my house are just the seeds…
When questions question the questions
The docile answer kneels gently on dull knife
When I see You, Lord, my eyes do not blink
For if I blinked I would lose my whole life
Can I still grow up in the same womb
Can I hide inside your whitest hair
You say the narrow mind passes the answers
And whoever screams cannot see or hear
I see Your hands without the wrinkles, bones, or veins
Just the maps, just events, just the worlds, just the time
I see the waterfalls full of songs under stairs by Your feet
The poems whisper by the millions from Your mouth in rhyme…
I’d like to share a couple of things she described from her visions of Heaven. Her parents had wondered why she cried and refused to listen any kind of music they would play in their home (she was five at the time). She said, “…the music that I hear in heaven is better than here. This music hurts my ears and my head really bad, but heavenly music is always gentle. I can’t tell you how different it is from what you hear on earth! It feels like joy, looks like love, smells like flowers, and dances like butterflies. Music there is alive! You can even taste it.”
About one of her meetings with God (at eight years old), she said, “I was with God again, and I was told to pray continually. He showed me where He lived, and it was so light… I was climbing transparent stairs; underneath I saw gushing waterfalls. As I approached my Father in paradise, His body was pure light. What impressed me most were his gigantic hands—they were full of maps and events. Then He told me to memorize thousands upon thousands of wisdom words on a scroll that didn’t look like paper but more like intense light. And in a few seconds I somehow got filled up. He showed me the endless universe, its past and its future, and He told me that from now on I needed to get up very early and get ready for my mission. I hope one day I’ll be able to paint what I’ve been shown” (all quotes are from Akiane: her life, her art, her poetry, by Akiane and Foreli Kramarik).
I think it is beneficial and encouraging for us to receive a few glimpses of Heaven through the pure eyes of a child. She could never have learned what she did, not only in art and poetry, but also in the awareness of God and his heavenly mysteries, without a special grace from on high. We tend to get so caught up in the cares of life, or our own troubles and preoccupations, that we lose sight of the One Thing Necessary. It is then that a four-year-old girl walks up to us and says, “Today I met God,” and our own forgotten longing for
I hope and pray that Akiane will not be adversely affected by her growing fame, and that she will continue to use her gifts to glorify God and draw others to Him. Her ingenuous faith and her passion for her art—along with her incredible talent—can make her an effective instrument in the hand of her Lord. Would that hardened hearts be broken open by the words and images of a child whose eyes have seen the light of
Friday, March 09, 2007
Pray, fast, do penance! We hear these exhortations frequently, especially during Lent. Such salutary practices aid spiritual growth and strengthen our souls. But can our mortification help someone else who may be far from God? Can we really help to "repair what is shattered" (Ps 60/61)?
Scripture and Tradition say, Yes.
One of the images of the power of intercession and reparation found in some of Our Lady's apparitions is that of her "holding back the arm of divine justice." I have never found this to be a helpful image. It seems to imply a conflict of wills between God and Mary, since it apparently puts Mary alone on the side of mercy while God has to be the Enforcer of Justice. Now it is true that our Merciful Mother is not the judge of mankind, and that God is. Yet God's preferred manner of revealing Himself is as the Compassionate Savior. And whatever mercy in is the Mother has its only source in the Son.
Moses offers us a pertinent biblical paradigm (see Exodus 32). The Israelites sinned grievously, and God told Moses to stand aside so He could vent His wrath and destroy them. Moses pleaded with God to spare those with whom He had made a solemn covenant. And so God did not destroy the people.
God did not really want to destroy his people, so there was no conflict between his will and Moses'. But there was this matter of sin to be resolved, and without the repentance which draws down mercy, there remains but justice. Without someone "standing in the breach" there is no forgiveness (Ezek. 22:30-31). Moses was willing even to suffer condemnation if it would help save the people (
Now the offering of our Lord Jesus Christ, who was condemned to death that we might live, was alone sufficient to atone for all sin. Through Him God reconciled mankind as such to Himself. So where do we come in? "You are the Body of Christ, and individually members of it" (1Cor 12:27). As members of his Body, we share in the power of Christ's death and resurrection. Our own prayers, our voluntary penances and involuntary sufferings, if offered in union with Jesus' Passion, acquire a power and a meaning they could not otherwise have. We can "stand in the breach" for other members of the Body, so that God's will to save can be personally realized for them. We help forestall divine justice while we pray and sacrifice that their hearts will open to divine mercy. With
The Mother of God participated uniquely in the mysteries of the Incarnation and Redemption, so in her the fullness of the Church's power of intercession and reparation resides. Her will and God's are as one, but He expects her as our Mother to offer intercession on our behalf. We have only to call upon her to open the floodgates of God's free gift of grace for ourselves and for others. Grace is free, but it's not cheap. Mary will call upon us to stand with her at the Cross, to repeat her "yes" to the price of our redemption. Our prayer must be from the heart, and our penance in the full fervor of love's required sacrifice.
We should rejoice that we have been made "God's fellow workers" (1Cor 3:9), sharers in Jesus' perpetually fruitful self-oblation. We are to go forth and keep bearing fruit (see Jn 15:16) until every member of Christ's Body personally accepts the gift of forgiveness and salvation. Freely we have received; now we are called freely to give.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
I’d like to invite St Ephrem the Syrian to help us with some Lenten meditations. There is a special prayer of his we pray at all the Offices during Lent, and maybe we’ll look at that sometime soon, but for now I’d like to use some other prayers of his. We’ll begin with a few excerpts: “O only wise and merciful Physician, I beseech your benevolence; heal the wounds of my soul and enlighten the eyes of my mind, that I may understand my place in your eternal design! And inasmuch as my heart and mind have been disfigured, may your grace repair them… What shall I say to You, O Knower of the heart, who search the heart and the inner workings of men?... Impart to me just one drop of your grace, that the flame of your love may begin to burn in my heart and, like a fire, may it consume evil thoughts like thorns and thistles!... From your treasury pour out upon us restoration to heal our sores… Accept the tears of us sinners and…establish peace in our souls.”
The first point to reflect upon is St Ephrem’s petition “that I may understand my place in your eternal design.” How often do we think of this? There’s no such thing as a generic human being. We each have a place, a unique one, in God’s eternal design. And He expects us to fulfill it, for He gives us the grace to do so. We have to ask ourselves if we are responding to this grace, if we are earnestly seeking to know God’s will for our lives. Each of us has his own interior life and unique relationship to God. How does He want you, specifically, to fit into his plan, both for your sanctification and the salvation of souls? What is He asking of you in order to fulfill your mission? We cannot please God without a deep and fervent seeking of his face, and a conscious, persistent striving to grow in his grace and be all He created us to be—even at the cost of personal self-renunciation.
The next point from St Ephrem’s prayers is the great love and mercy of God by which our souls are healed, and love is enkindled in our hearts. He prays for the healing of inner wounds and spiritual “sores,” for the repairing of inner disfigurements and the burning up of evil thoughts. We all have these needs and must daily bring them to God. By the grace and love God, we seek healing and purification. But this does not come as an unsolicited miracle or something that happens to us without our co-operation. God’s love must enkindle love in us, and it is through our love for the Lord that our desire to be free from all that hinders our communion with Him must increase and be continuous. When we see how much Jesus suffered out of love for us, our hearts ought to be moved to repentance and to a longing to love Him with our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength.
So we pray with St Ephrem: “Accept the tears of sinners…”—the tears which Jesus’ ineffable sufferings draw from our repentant hearts. Meditation on the passion of Christ is therefore an important element of our Lenten spirituality, for it is at the heart of Christian life as such. It is for your sins and mine that Jesus willingly underwent his unspeakable agony. God loves us so much, yet we offer Him so very little in return, even when we are capable of more. The Pope’s theme for this Lent is “they shall look upon Him whom they have pierced,” and this ought to be for us a stimulus to greater love and deeper repentance and conversion.
Finally, let us look not only to our own spiritual lives but to the world in which we live. We live in a “post-modern” world, one in which many traditional beliefs and world-views have been rejected: in education, politics, social life, morality, and even in religion. Some of the scenarios of “futuristic” novels like Brave New World, 1984, and CS Lewis’ That Hideous Strength are actually coming to pass, and are being approved by the government and society in general. We have to break out—in our conscious awareness—of the small and often petty world we build out of our selfish desires or concerns. We need to pray, but even that is not enough. What is needed is that our lives become wholly conformed to Christ, in all their dimensions, if our prayer is to bear abundant fruit for the salvation of souls. We must acquire Jesus’ humility, obedience, compassion, sacrificial love, his wisdom, his peace, his profound concern for mankind’s salvation.
All of the above is meant, as St Ephrem prays, “to establish peace in our souls.” To do the will of God is to know peace. We’ll conclude with another of his prayers:
“Like the apple of your eye preserve me, O Lord God; defend me and beneath your wings shelter me from temptations. Be the guardian of the eye, that it might not look about in the manner of a thief; be the guardian of the ear, that it might not perceive falsehood. Be the guardian of the lips, so that slander, judgment, criticism, and idle words might not come forth from them. Be the guardian of the heart, that it might not be inclined to evil and might not work iniquity. Grant us, O Lord, knowledge, both of what we should do and of how to set about it… Grant us, O our Lord, that we may love You and renounce the world…
“Grant us, O our Lord, to bring You three choice gifts…to burn three aromatic censers before You. Grant us, O our Lord, to light for You three brightly burning lamps: the spirit, the soul, and the body, these three gifts for the One Trinity… Grant us, O our Lord, to rejoice in You, and may You rejoice in us in the last day. To You is praise, from the spirit, soul, and body. And to us be your mercies. Amen.”
Monday, March 05, 2007
Last week I went to a place on the coast to do some concentrated work on a new book, free from the distractions of telephones and the dozens of details daily demanding attention. The place is an old Catholic mission originally built in the 19th century and run mostly by Capuchins, but now run by diocesan clergy. It is located in a tiny town of about 250 souls. The view from the kitchen window is a small back yard and the
On Saturday, I was planning to sleep just a little later than usual, since most of my work for that week was done. But I woke up at 4:00 AM, with moonlight streaming through the curtains. The weather had been mostly cold and rainy during the week (kept me attentive to my work!), but it cleared up on Saturday. I looked out the window and saw the light of the full moon on the water and knew that this was why I had been awakened. I went out into the chilly pre-dawn darkness sat on a little bench on a bluff where I could get a good view. I gazed at the mesmerizing moonlight on the surface of the sea. All was calm, all was bright. The surf was light, and its sound was as if to say: Shhh! Listen…
I remained in the awesome early morning silence for some time, feeling almost as if I had stumbled upon some secret tryst between moon and sea, and I dared not disturb them. The peace and the stillness were palpable, and the gentle play of the silvery light on the water was soothing. The only sound was the surf; I could have been the only man on earth moments after the Lord God had created the sea and the stars.
After a while I went in to pray Matins, and then I went out to check on the moon again. I don’t often have the chance to see the moon set over the ocean, so I wanted to take my fill of its awesome beauty. By this time it was a large, golden orb, slipping slowly down to the horizon, and I marveled as it disappeared behind the morning mist. The moon’s shift had finished, and it was time for the sun to begin his day’s labors. The sun rose as the moon set, casting pink hues across the newborn sky. God called the darkness Night, and the light He called Day. The heavens were telling of his glory.
I myself went from glory to glory, for as the moon set and the sun rose, I went back into the church to offer the Divine Liturgy, the Mystical Sacrifice, to meet the Creator of all I had just seen, to crown the cosmic celebration with communion in the deified flesh and blood of the incarnate Son of God. At one point I turned around to bless and was greeted with sunlit stained glass sending brilliant colors throughout the chilly yet intimate church. As I approached the time of Communion, I was struck by the preface to the Lord’s Prayer in which “we dare to call You, O God of Heaven, Father, and say…” It was a moment of revelation, of communion before Communion. All the grandeur and glory I had witnessed, all the wonders and beauty, all the awe-inspiring power came from the hand of the infinite Omnipresence sustaining the universe—whom I was invited to call “Father.” The Creator of the ocean, of the sun and moon, called me his son. I could not restrain the tears.
After the Liturgy, I went out to the front porch to make my thanksgiving. Welcoming me was a warm, brilliant sun and a joyous choir of songbirds. My heart sang with them as I gave thanks unto the Lord. Before I returned to the monastery I went out to look at the ocean again for a while. By this time the water was a bright, deep blue, and the sky was streaked with a few light clouds. The back yard was sporting hundreds of yellow flowers. As the sun warmed my back, a light, cool breeze filled me with a breath of
I was not too eager to return to all the inevitable responsibilities and difficulties I would face when “ordinary” life resumed, so I asked the Lord for a word to guide me through this transition. I opened the Bible and read: “Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the world” (Mt. 28:20). So wherever I go in this world, be it a paradise or a purgatory, He will be with me. The One who made the Ocean is my Father, and his sun and moon rise and set daily as tokens of his providence and love. I have only to remember what I have seen and heard and felt, and the cosmic liturgy will resume.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Several times during the liturgical year we are presented with accounts of Jesus healing a paralytic. While it may be somewhat tedious for preachers as we struggle to produce a fresh approach to these repeated Gospel readings, it is important to try to discover what the Church wants us to learn today, for the mystery of the word of God is inexhaustible. Lent is probably the most appropriate season for reflection on the healing of paralysis and the forgiveness of sins, for on the spiritual level they are virtually one and the same thing.
In one of St Ephrem’s prayers, he laments being paralyzed by intoxication with sinful pleasures, so in this case sin and paralysis are related as cause and effect. Sin produces a kind of intoxication which results in spiritual paralysis, that is, the inability to function in a normal and healthy way, which, if left untreated, becomes a sickness unto death. Ephrem uses the image of intoxication, which renders a person’s thoughts and speech incoherent, makes him unable even to walk steadily, and finally renders him completely unconscious and hence unable to move, somewhat like a paralytic. The physical and mental state of an unconscious drunk is analogous to the spiritual state of one who is filled with sin, for the effects of sin upon the soul and spirit are like the effects of disease or severe intoxication on the body—remember that the word “intoxicated” literally means “poisoned.”
We aren’t told in the Gospel if the paralytic’s physical disability was an effect of his sin. That was a common assumption in those times, though in the case of the blind man in John’s Gospel Jesus said that the affliction was not a result of sin but was permitted so that God could be glorified through it. Perhaps that was the case here as well, but unlike the case of the blind man—in which Jesus simply healed his eyes—here the Lord first forgave the man’s sins and only then worked the miracle of bodily healing. Regardless of the cause of the physical ailment, Jesus placed the priority on removing the sin. It is not uncommon today when people are praying over others for physical healing that it is revealed that the person seeking healing must first confess his sins, or a least that some spiritual issue is at the root of his physical symptoms.
So the paralytic may have been suffering from a spiritual paralysis as well. Perhaps he was bitter because of his affliction, or angry at God, or full of self-pity and complaints. In any case, he evidently was burdened with sins, for Jesus forgave them. The Gospel tells us that it was because of the faith of the four men that carried the paralytic that Christ forgave and healed him. “When he saw their faith,” it says. This “their” cannot have included the paralytic, at least grammatically. For they (not the paralytic) removed the roof, they made an opening, they let down the pallet, then Jesus saw their faith. For us this highlights the importance of both charity and intercession. Out of love for others—especially those who may be lacking in faith or otherwise unable or unwilling to come to God—we bring them to Him in our prayer. Through our intercession we help them gain access to God’s grace and mercy, opening up the roof, as it were, and carrying them into his presence. And in his mercy the Lord will see our faith and forgive and heal them. As members of the Body of Christ we are able to influence others in this way and to help them, even before they have the good sense to go to God on their own—though ultimately everyone must personally and freely believe in Christ and follow Him if they are to be saved.
The Gospel says that Jesus saw their faith. If we were speaking about anyone else, we would assume that this means their faith was recognized in a sort of deductive process based on their actions. They went to great lengths to bring their friend to Jesus; therefore they must have faith. But Jesus does not need to reason from external events; He really saw their faith! He looked into their souls and knew precisely their relation to God and their belief in his own power to heal. Jesus’ ability to read souls is made explicit when it comes to the scribes who “questioned in their hearts” why Jesus forgave sins, considering it blasphemy. The Gospel says that Jesus immediately perceived in his spirit that they thus questioned within themselves. And he publicly answered their inner doubts and accusations with a miracle that confirmed his divine authority to forgive sins.
The scribes are the real paralytics in the story. They were spiritually intoxicated—by their own pride, self-righteousness, and condemning attitude—to the point of paralysis. They were unconscious of the presence of God in their midst and thus unable to respond appropriately to his wonderful works. In so many instances in the Gospels where Jesus works wonders, all the common people are rejoicing and glorifying God, while those who regarded themselves as the learned and righteous ones ended up angry, bitter, humiliated, and went away muttering indignantly and plotting Jesus’ destruction. The crowd shouted with joy and wonder after witnessing the miracle: “We have never seen anything like this!” The scribes too never saw anything like that, and they were probably hoping they never would again, for to them it was a defeat and not a reason to rejoice.
What is the difference—besides pride—between those who benefited from God’s mercy and power and those who attacked it? It is faith. The Gospel begins by saying Jesus was “preaching the word” to the people. What does Scripture say about the word? The author of the Letter to the Hebrews says: “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit…discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” I recently discovered something in this same section of Hebrews that I hadn’t really given sufficient thought to before, and it explains why the scribes and Pharisees remained paralyzed, and why the word of God, the message that Christ was preaching, did not reach its goal in them. The same message was given to all, but, according to Hebrews, “the message which they heard did not benefit them, because it did not meet with faith in the hearers.”
That is important, not only for our understanding of this story from the Gospel, but for our own lives. We hear the word of God day after day in the Liturgy and in our own personal reading of Scripture. Does that word meet with faith when it reaches our hearts and minds? If we are not bearing fruit, if our lives aren’t changing for the better, if we have any interior resistance to the truth and power of the word of God, then it will not benefit us, for it is not meeting with faith in us who hear it. It is not sufficient merely to have a kind of vague understanding or acceptance of the Bible as a sacred text that may at times be a useful guide. We have to believe that when we read the Gospel, Jesus Christ is personally preaching to us! And when we read the letters of the New Testament, the apostles are preaching to us through the grace of the Holy Spirit.
As we read the Scriptures, Jesus sees our faith, as he saw the faith of the men who brought the paralytic to Him. He also perceives our inner questioning, grumbling, or contrary attitudes and resistance. Among whom to we want to be counted—those who receive the word with joy and glorify God, or those who question and accuse, and who thus do not benefit from the word, since it did not meet with faith in them?
So, as we continue with our Lenten spiritual efforts, let us come to Jesus for healing and forgiveness, and bring others to Him as well, through our intercession and genuine concern for the enlightenment and salvation of all. We must be aware that Jesus perceives, at all times, all that we keep within our hearts, both good and bad. So let us not be among the spiritually paralyzed but among the liberated, those who receive his word with faith, and who glorify the Lord with joy and thanksgiving.
Friday, March 02, 2007
When we’re in a penitential time like Lent, the focus is usually on sorrow for our sins and the ascetical efforts necessary to overcome our bad habits, turning away from evil and embracing the good. Yet the Byzantine tradition, notorious for its heavy emphasis on repentance and self-accusation of all sins ever committed, often speaks of Lent as a time of joy. So I thought I’d try to inject a bit of joy into these somber days with some encouragement from the “farewell discourses” in the Gospel of John. For if we are without joy, we will also be without a genuine spirit of repentance and an eagerness to be restored to life in Christ, the source of our joy.
First, our joy is to be associated with love of Christ and of the Father’s will. “If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I go to the Father” (Jn. 14:28). Joy doesn’t come merely from having things our own way—the disciples would rather that Jesus didn’t leave them—but from recognizing the perfection of the Father’s will. Why did Jesus obey the Father’s will? “So that the world may know that I love the Father” (14:31). So He says, if you loved Me, you would rejoice that I do what the Father says. For the Christian, love and obedience are sources of true joy.
The next thing to note is probably the most important, for it defines what we mean when we speak of joy. The joy that God wants us to have is not mere “fun” (which often entails sin, at least if we follow the “world’s” juvenile concept of fun), nor is it even the superficial happiness we might experience simply through the absence of hardship or the presence of comfort, health, or general well-being. Partway through his discourse, Jesus said this: “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full” (15:11). We come immediately to the essence of true joy: Christ’s joy in us. That is the only way our joy can be full. I don’t pray anymore merely for joy. I pray that his joy may be in me. That way I know it’s the real thing; that way I know I’m not seeking some sort of selfish happiness outside of Him.
As soon as Jesus said that our joy would be full because of his joy in us, He went on to speak of the world’s hatred and the persecutions that would be a result of it, and of the sorrow his disciples would experience at his death. At that time, they would be sorrowful while the world would rejoice with its savage and godless revelry. A great contrast is made here, as oftentimes in this Gospel, between God and the “world” (insofar as it rejects the truth and refuses to believe in Christ). The world hates the ones who love God; those who are of God are not of the world.
Despite all this, the Lord says that they will see Him again, “and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (16:22). This is another element of the true joy that comes from God. It is not ephemeral, fluctuating, easily lost. It is a joy that is permanent, enduring, not susceptible to the world’s efforts to destroy it. That is because it is not based upon material wealth, sensual pleasures, or high emotions. All those are transitory by nature, but the joy of the Lord is meant to be a permanent state of soul, an abiding presence, a dynamic inner energy that propels us toward the fullness of life in Christ.
Finally, as Jesus prayed his “high-priestly prayer” to the Father, He asked “that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves” (17:13). This text is sandwiched in between others about keeping them in his name, guarding them from perdition, and protecting them from the evil one. So, like lambs in the midst of wolves, the disciples are to go forth with Jesus’ joy fulfilled in them, as that which enables them to do his will in a hostile world and to persevere in the truth.
We will find it very difficult to do what our Christian vocations require of us if we don’t have the Lord’s joy fulfilled in us. As I pray for the Lord’s joy to be in me, I notice that He reminds me of that—I’m supposed to be rejoicing, not just going through the motions. That occurred to me during the Divine Liturgy a while back, as I was going back to bless the “throne on high” (the special chair in the apse reserved for the bishop, where Christ invisibly presides), saying: “Blessed are You on the throne of your glory, enthroned upon the Cherubim, always now and forever, amen!” I thought to myself: How can you say that with a long face? Say it with joy!
There’s so much about Christian worship and prayer and life in general that should be cause for rejoicing, cause for us to recognize Jesus' joy in us. If we love Him, we will rejoice, and his joy in us will sustain us in the midst of the opposition of the “world” and all that is against the truth and love—and hence the joy—of the Lord. So pray that the joy of the Lord will be in you, that your joy may be full. And let’s not see that long face during your Lenten penances, for the world must come to know that you love the Father!