“Never does the human nature put forth itself in such power, with such effort, with such energy as to have faith in God…It is the doing that is everything, and the doing is faith and there is no division between them.”
George MacDonald preached these words, the Scottish poet and mystic. He spent his youth tilling the soil, cutting lumber, and herding sheep in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. In that northern world of winds and snows, he learned early on the importance of hard work. It is no wonder, that, with such conviction, he grasped the tie between faith and work. Like a prosperous farm, faith is the fruit of years of steady labor.
“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.
There is no calling so high as to be persecuted for Jesus’ sake.
May 8 of this year, Pastor Artur Pawlowski was intercepted on the highway. Heavily armed SWAT police surrounded his car. He was cuffed and dragged away, awaiting a 4-year-sentence in Canada. His crime: he opened his church and lead the faithful in worship. The news went viral. Within weeks, feces and nails were thrown at his house and arsonists torched his garage. Earlier this month, Pastor Artur lead a prayer rally in Portland. Antifa thugs attacked the crowd with paintball gunfire and mace, while shouting: “God has abandoned you!” All year, he has been warning Americans and Canadians to prepare for what is ahead: “The enemy is not hiding anymore.” “It’s here.” “Wake up or else.”
There is only one good life: a life of prayer. In The Little Prince, a 1943 novella, the adventures unfold of a boy traveling through space. He moves from one asteroid to the next, each time meeting an eccentric character. On one asteroid, he runs into a businessman. “Good morning,” the boy says, “Your cigarette has gone out.” The businessman mutters, “Three and two make five. Five and seven make twelve. Twelve and three make fifteen…I haven’t time to light it again. Twenty-six and five make thirty-one.” The boy asks the businessman what he is counting. “Stars.” Why? “I own them.” “What do you do with them?” “I count them and recount them…” the businessman asserted. “[These are] matters of consequence… five-hundred-and-one-million, six-hundred-twenty-two-thousand, seven-hundred-thirty-one…” The Little Prince shook his head, “Grown-ups are certainly altogether extraordinary.”
We take our lives so seriously, but what does it matter? All of it, without prayer, is as meaningless as the life of the businessman counting his stars.
God calls us to one purpose: to fill our hearts with prayer.
“As he came near and saw the city, [Jesus] wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace. But now they are hidden from your eyes.” Then Christ entered the temple, “and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, ‘It is written, My house shall be a house of prayer’” (Luke 19:41-42, 25-26).
Our Gospel begins with human delusion.
“If you had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace.” “They are hidden from your eyes.”
I am reading a book on ethics. The author is wrestling with a question: Is reason enough? Can you figure out ‘good’ and ‘bad’ just by using your brain, or do you need God and religion? The more I read, the more convinced I am: reason alone is worthless. Without faith and religion, all human effort is a waist of time— mental gymnastics that come to nothing.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8).
We start with the heart. If the heart is healthy, the brain can put two and two together. If the heart is sick, the brain malfunctions. You cannot think right, if your soul is not in the right place. Do some youtube searches about the crazy ideas ethics professors teach. They have more degrees than I have fingers on my hand. Yet, their conclusions are so ridiculous, my five-year-olds can do better. Only the pure in heart can make sense of anything.
‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day” (Luke 19:42).
We have to guard ourselves from delusion. The Jews knew the Law, but they were scared. They feared the power of the Roman empire. Fear and stress turned them into a mop, and that mop hung Christ on a cross.
In the witch hunts of the 1600’s, thousands of women were killed. They were burnt at the stake, not because of crimes, but because they became the scapegoats of insane societies. Fear and stress created mobs, and the mobs became a monster.
Between 1939 and 1945, Nazi officials implemented the Jewish badge. The Star of David marked the Jews as “different” and “dangerous.” The Germans were the most educated people in the world. It boggles the mind that such intelligent, modern people could get sucked into the hypnotism of hatred. The Germans had been normal people. They were educated. They were upstanding citizens. Fear and stress turned them into mobs, and the mobs became a monster.
We are not above this. So much around us is scary. Global warming, Taliban seizure of Afghanistan, new strains of Covid-19, even wearing a face mask or staying locked away at home. Any one of these alone is enough to drive a person crazy. Among all these, what is our biggest enemy: fear. Who will become the scapegoats in our times: extremists, religious fanatics, perhaps, the unvaccinated? We cannot give in to the delusion.
Carl Jung made a brilliant remark:
“It is not famine, not earthquakes, not microbes, not cancer, but man himself who is man’s greatest danger to man, for the simple reason that there is no adequate protection against psychic epidemics [i.e. mass delusion], which are infinitely more devastating than the worst of natural catastrophes.”
Whatever happens in the world, we cannot give in to fear.
What can we do?
Breathe.
Jesus Christ is with us.
“Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, ‘It is written, “My house shall be a house of prayer” (Luke 19:45-46).
Make your heart a house of prayer. Immediately after warning the disciples of delusion, Jesus cleared the temple. The people had given into fear. The veil was pulled over their eyes. So what did Jesus do? He taught them to pray.
Everything seems so important. Our to-do-list feels urgent. The news is overwhelming. We get caught up in the fear and gravity of it all. We become like the self-important businessman counting stars, “I have no time for loafing.” It is futile. Christ simply invites us to sit down at his feet.
I want to end with a little story. Something happened to me last week. I was driving home and saw an elderly neighbor. She was hobbling up to her trash can, so I pulled over to see if I could help — but she helped me. She was wearing one of those old, cotton dresses — it was probably made in the 1950’s — and one of those pinned up bonnets. We started talking. She talked about how Jesus keeps her company. He is with her all day long. We are so blessed, she said. For a moment, standing there by this faithful woman, all the hubbub of the world disappeared. I felt like I was standing in a different world. It was an epiphany, a glimpse into the deeper reality around us. God is with us, and God keeps his own.
Above all other things, we have one job: become a house of prayer.
