All life should be a meditation on death. Socrates taught this to his disciples, and he was not alone. St. Gregory insisted that Christians think about one thing, our departure from this world. “For this departure we prepare ourselves and gather our baggage as prudent travelers.” St. John of Sinai tells us, “Let the memory of death sleep and awake with you.” The Holy Scriptures echo: “In all you do, remember the end of your life, and then you will never sin” (Wisdom of Sirach 7:36). These four weeks of Advent are a time for detaching from the world a little more. By fixing our heart on the end, we become open to gratitude and eternity.
The city of Rome was bursting with anticipation. The streets and alleys echoed with excitement. Butchers prepared cattle for the slaughter. Wine makers filled their barrels. Years of quarreling lords had fractured Rome. At last, one emperor conquered and united them all. After the battle at Melvian Bridge, 312 A.D., Constantine the Great rode in to Rome. His arrival, the era it marked, and all the jubilation, was celebrated with one word: the adventus, the coming, the Advent.
Dark silhouette of a man standing by the sea at golden sunset. Lonely teenager looking a setting sun.
“My children, let us fear coldness and enmity towards our brethren, as well as the various thoughts that accompany these attitudes” (Elder Efraim of Arizona).
As we prepare for death, forgiveness must be first. This is a common theme in the writings of the fathers. They urge that we not enter into death with any trace of resentment, anger, or bitterness. We must be at peace with God, the world, and ourselves. Most of all, we must be at peace with our family and community. But we cannot postpone this for another day. Death could come any time. We only have the moment, and at the moment, eternity depends on our forgiveness.
“A time will come, the hour will strike, the moment will arrive for these eyes to close and for the soul’s eyes to open. Then we shall see a new world, new beings, a new creation, a new life without end” (Elder Ephraim of Arizona).
What will it be like to take our last breath and open the eyes of our soul on the other side? In some manner, it will be like seeing for the first time. We will look back and realize how vain all this was. All our little disputes, all our fear for our health, all our stress about the economy or society, what will it matter? At that moment, only one thing will matter, where we will stand before Jesus Christ? Today we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King. This is a feast which forever presents a challenge, who is the true King of your heart?
“When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven’” (Matthew 9:2).
Chicago comedian, Sebastian Maniscalco, gives a skit about our angst when the doorbell rings. Twenty years ago, he says, when your door bell rang, it was a happy moment. “It’s called company.” The whole family shot off the couch. Everybody ran to the door — kids sliding in their socks, mom fetching the cake she saved for just such an occassion — a visitor had arrived! Today, the door bell rings and everyone panics. “Oh my gosh. What in the world is going on? Duck. Get in the closet. Don’t let them see you.” If you visit someone you have to call them from the driveway, and warn them that you are intruding. Comedians make the best social commentators. Life has changed. Society has lost an old sense of community, and community is the heart of Christianity. As a church in our times, we have this work cut out for us. We must create an authentic culture of community.
“Repentance opens the heavens, takes us to Paradise, overcomes the devil. Have you sinned? Do not despair! If you sin every day, then offer repentance every day!”
St. John Chrysostom writes these beautiful words. Repentance is the joy of Christianity. It is the hallmark of our faith. The rest of the world cannot repent. It can regret. It can despair. But in Jesus Christ, we have a place to come, to wash, and heal. Repentance is the secret gift Christ came to offer. In the Orthodox Church, this mystery of refreshment always occurs within a sacrament, the sacrament of confession.
Unceasing prayer should be the driving goal in our life. February, 1595, Sir Walter Raleigh lead his expedition to find Eldorado. The legend of a golden city enthralled Spanish explorers for generations. Sir Walter was the most relentless. His men scoured over 16,000 square miles of impassible jungles, defying starvation, volatile weather, and savage ambushes. How could a man endure so much? He had an objective. He was obsessed with a vision. This same kind of obsession should drive each Christian man and woman, not an obsession for gold, but an obsession for the Kingdom of Heaven.
“The greatest danger with God is for us to become accustomed to him, to fall from awe into routine” (Rev. Raniero Cantalamesa).
C. S. Lewis once went on a stroll with a friend. They were contemplating how one can learn to worship. Lewis suggested they think about the universe, creation, and God’s grand gifts. His friend looked down at the brook, splashed his face in a small waterfall and said, “Why not start here?” We err whenever we become too lofty. We must learn to adore God in all the little things.
Forgiveness is not an option. Holding onto a grudge is not acceptable for a Christian. If you have a choice to drink poison or to harbor angry thoughts, take the poison first. Anger and bitterness are far more toxic. We must be ruthless, ruthless with determination, to search our hearts for any trace of unforgiveness. We must become free.
“Only the silent hear and those who do not remain silent do not hear” (Joseph Pieper)
There was once a bull named Ferdinand. He was different than the other bulls. His friends all liked to fight and tumble. Ferdinand just wanted to sit and smell the flowers. One day, a bee stung Ferdinand and the bull roared and bellowed, kicked and stamped. Onlookers goggled, “What a fierce bull!” So they brought him to the bullfight. The trumpets blew, the shouts resounded, but Ferdinand was distracted. He just gazed around at the pretty flowers in the ladies’s hats: “What fragrance. What beauty.” The banderilleros and picadors were dismayed. They rushed Ferdinand away and left him in his pasture. He is there today, sitting under a tree, happily smelling the flowers. There is a spirituality to Ferdinand the Bull which we must all learn to adopt.
“They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly” (Matthew 7:32-35).
We are that deaf man. We are deaf because of our distractions. God created us to enjoy constant communion with him. Every morning, God tells the sun to rise and it rises. He tells the flowers to open and they open. The birds sing because they adore God. The trees grow because they reach for God. This is not anthropomorphic poetry. The scriptures describe the entire universe as obeying, worshipping, and cherishing God. Only humanity is cut off.
“[The godly man is] like a tree planted by the waterside, that will bring forth his fruit in due season…[The ungodly] are like the chaff, which the wind scattereth away from the face of the earth” (Psalm 1:3-5).
Nothing separates us from God so much as distraction. Here is how one monk puts it: “The human mind, created in a state of rest, became agitated and distracted when it fell from grace…Forgetting God and grasping at the world, we become subject to unhealthy desires and addictive behaviors, driven by a continuous preoccupation with and pursuit of nothing… Habitually surrendering…the mind becomes enslaved” (Fr. Maximus Constas). St. Symeon echoes this: “To the extent that our inner life is in a state of discord and dispersed among many contrary things,” to the extent that we are distracted, “we are unable to participate in the life of God.”
In other words, we are like dogs chasing our tails. We are like ostriches, with our heads buried in sand. We are not enough like Ferdinand the Bull, contemplating truth and beauty.
“I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity, a striving after wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:14).
Rather than Ferdinand the Bull, we are like the frog in boiling water. Cell phones, video games, television, the news…all this is so normal to us. It is profoundly abnormal. Humanity was not designed for so much distraction. “[Lingering] in a realm of illusions; mesmerized by the images flitting about on our computer screens,” Fr. Maximos Constas lectures, “We become ‘dull, predatory flies buzzing on the chamber winder,’ desperate to consume all the futility of the world”. It is 2021. This is Aldous Huxley’s “brave new world.”
“He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened’” (Mark 7. 33-34).
Now let’s talk about being Christian. In particular, let’s talk about Ferdinand the Bull. All the other bulls were caught up in the noise of the world. Beauty was all around them, but they were too busy to notice. Indeed, in their furor and excitement, they trampled down the flowers they never noticed. Ferdinand was different. He was still. In his stillness, he discovered the important thing. Ferdinand was not lazy. No, he was active. He chose the life of contemplation.
Jesus Christ had compassion on the deaf and mute man. He took the man away from the crowd. He took him to a place of quiet and solitude, and in that quiet and solitude, he healed him. This is how Jesus heals us today. He invites us to step out of the noise.
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion” (Luke 10:42). Martha was like the rest of the bulls. She was like us in the 21st century, anxious and fretting. Mary was like Ferdinand. She slowed down and found rest with Jesus Christ.
In 1998, the philosopher, Joseph Pieper, wrote a book called “Leisure: The Basis of Culture.” He grew up in post-WWII Germany — talk about a culture struggling to get back on its feet. The nation succeeded. They pulled themselves out of economical and psychological devastation and became a first world country. But something was missing: the soul of the culture. Pieper saw this same emptiness in all modern civilizations. With our skyscrapers and industries, we left out the main thing: a life focused around truth, goodness, and beauty.
Leisure, the Greek word for contemplation, is the heartbeat of traditional Christian living. It is not laziness. It is intentional living. It means being still and quiet, enjoying simple, natural beauty, and resting your heart in prayer. Pieper writes: “When we really let our minds rest contemplatively on a rose in bud, on a child at play, on a divine mystery, we are rested and quickened as though by a dreamless sleep. Or as the Book of Job says, ‘God giveth songs in the night’ (Job 35:10)…It is in these silent and receptive moments that the soul of man is sometimes visited by an awareness of what holds the world together.”
Step out of the crowd with Jesus. Schedule your lives around the services of Church and the calls to prayer. Leisure means turning off the violent and angry media, and reading your bible. Leisure means watching less television, and sitting on your porch with ice tea. Our culture is pagan. We are called to be Christian, and only the Christian lives the good life.
“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8).
I used to think this was just a sentimental verse, you know, the kind you see hanging embroidered on the wall. It makes you smile, and then you forget it and get back to “real life.” There is nothing sentimental here. This verse sums up the whole Christian philosophy. It is our way of life. Before we do anything, we need to ask: “Is it true? Is it pure? “Is it wholesome?” If it is not, throw it away. The Christian is called to a different life.
‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly” (Matthew 7:32-35).
It is time to become a little bit more like Ferdinand the Bull. Christ came to clear our heads. He invites us out of the crowd. If we follow, we will be healed.
