KEEP THY MIND IN HELL AND DESPAIR NOT

KEEP THY MIND IN HELL AND DESPAIR NOT:
A Word of God for Our Generation
Archimandrite Zacharias Zakharou

This lecture, which was delivered by Hieromonk Zacharias at the Annual Lecture Series at St. Tikhon 's Seminary, September 16, 1997, has been edited by Christopher Veniamin.

Christ is the sign of God to men of every age, and his way is the only true one which leads to the eternal Kingdom of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

When the Jews erroneously asked Jesus for a "sign from heaven" (Luke 11:16), He repeatedly spoke of "the sign of Jonas the prophet" which was given to the generation of the Ninevites (Luke 11:29-30), as being the only sign of God for the world. The sign of Jonas prophetically foreshadowed Christ's descent into the lower parts of the earth followed by His ascent above the heavens. In Christ's person, in His life and in His example, was given the answer to all of man's questions. He became the eternal sign of God for every age and generation. This event of His descent and ascent constitutes also the fount of every grace flowing from the Holy Spirit. A "friend" of God is one who receives this sign with faith, taking it as a model and pattern for his life: "but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you" (John 15:15).

Moreover, as Jonas was a sign to the Ninevites, so also are the "friends" of Christ in every age a sign for their generation, according to His unfeigned promise that "I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world" (Matt. 28:20). They are the sign of God for their generation because God speaks through them and by their words they provide an answer to all the problems of their own age. They become the sign of God when, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, the way of Christ is revealed to them: descent (even unto hell), and ascent, according to the example and way which Christ showed. One cannot be holy, a friend and a disciple of the Teacher, that is to say of Christ, if one has not traversed this road to the end and "known the mysteries of the kingdom of God" (Luke 8:10). It is only on this condition that one may become a "light in the world" proclaiming "the word of life" (Phil. 2:15-16) for his generation. If, according to the word of the Apostle Paul, "the saints shall judge the world" (I Cor. 6:2), this is right simply because they first became the mouth of God the Word, and by their word gave light unto the world. Christ spoke through them and He Himself states: "the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day" (John 12:48). According to the spiritual law which we have set forth above, if the Church guided by the Holy Spirit "unto all truth" glorified Silouan as an "apostolic and prophetic teacher," what should we seek in his person, life and word as being the characteristics of one who is a sign of God for his generation? What is the "word of life" which God revealed to our generation through him?

If one has "ears to hear" and the "mind to understand" the "words of the unlettered" Silouan, he will recognize their divine origin, despite their simplicity. He will remember the answer St. Silouan gave to Father Stratonicos' question — "How do the perfect speak?" — that "The perfect never say anything of themselves... They only say what the Spirit inspires them to say." (1) He will see that his words are given by the Holy Spirit and that not even one of his words is a product of human reasoning, but all his words are born of a pure heart, one which is "enlarged" (II Cor. 6:11) according to the gift of Christ. In a short talk such as this it is not possible to examine all his words, which are offered as words of God for our generation. It is enough for us to hold on to one word only, and try to go to its very depth. Then this word may by God's grace become a lens through which we can gaze fixedly at the endless horizons of the great mystery of godliness which has been revealed to us. So, today the word under consideration is the word of Christ to Silouan: "Keep thy mind in hell, and do not despair."

Timewise, our generation is nearer to the second coming of Christ than ever before. Christ's word, "Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on earth?" (Luke 18:8), implies moreover that our generation finds itself in greater want and tribulation, and has need of salvation, than ever before. What are the tribulations which emphatically constitute the common and distinctive mark of our generation? We can number a few, which, according to our poor opinion, are the chief ones: pride, the darkening of the mind and its captivity by the spirit of wickedness, despair and the multitude of involuntary afflictions which accompany it, and finally, despondency, the manifest lack of concern for that salvation which God offers every day to the world. This revealing word from Christ Himself, "keep thy mind in hell and do not despair," offered by St. Silouan to his contemporaries who are of like passions, provide the answer to these and many other symptoms.

After this brief introduction to the subject, and before proceeding to analyse it, I should like to briefly refer to some points in the Saint's life which preceded these revelatory words.

St. Silouan was born in a village in Russia in 1868. While still a young man, a series of intense and alternating states of the grace of God, and an acute sense of hell, gave birth to the desire for monasticism in him. He set out for Mount Athos at the age of twenty-six, and, after six months of even more intense struggle, he was deemed worthy to behold the living Christ before the icon of the Saviour. Although this event only lasted an instant, it had such an effect on him that from that moment his prayer embraced all the peoples of the earth. How did this happen to a simple villager, barely educated, who perhaps had never even seen a map of the world? It is because at the time of his vision of Christ, the same state of Christ Himself was transmitted to him, Who as the second Adam and the true High Priest of the New Testament carries in Himself the whole of mankind of every age. (The enlargement of Zacchaeus when he was counted worthy to see Christ, Luke 19:2-9.)

The grace he received during his vision was great, and filled not only Silouan's soul, but even his body which, as he said, longed to suffer for Christ. This grace diminished, however, and Silouan was attacked by thoughts from the enemy. He lost that indescribable peace which he had felt with the grace of the vision. But it was not possible that he could accept this change in himself passively. From the lives of the saints we see that when man has known such a measure of grace, he remains inconsolable after the loss or diminution of such grace. At that moment, Silouan was ready to endure every sacrifice for the sake of re-acquiring that lost treasure. Like the Apostle who says, "Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which I am apprehended of Christ Jesus" (Phil. 3:12), so Silouan could not have resumed a normal way of life after the vision.

Silouan went to seek help from an experienced spiritual father of the Monastery, Father Anatoly, to whom he told all that had happened to him. This spiritual father helped him by his advice, but did not hide his amazement for the young novice and said to him: "If you are like this now, what will you be by the time you are an old man!" (2) These words gave Silouan over to a delicate and difficult war with vainglory, something complicated and dangerous for the young novice. The desert fathers used to say that praise to our brother without discernment can deliver him into the hands of the enemy, that is to say, can make him a victim of conceited self-love.

In this way, by God's permission, Silouan was engaged in a titanic war against vainglory and pride. This episode is described by his biographer vividly and with understanding as follows: "At all events, the young and still inexperienced monk Silouan set out on the most difficult, complex, subtle battle against conceit. Pride and vainglory entail every disaster and downfall - grace de-parts, the heart grows cold, prayer feeble. The mind is distracted, and wrong thoughts set to work. The soul contemplating another life, the heart that has savoured the grace of the Holy Spirit, the mind that has known purity are unwilling to accept the base thoughts that at-tack. But how is this to be managed?" (3) This is our question now.

This difficult period of alternating states and vacillations lasted fifteen years. During this time, Fr. Silouan tried every form of asceticism and way of life he could think of, which might restore him to the grace which he had known. He would sleep on a stool for only one and a half to two hours in the night, and this only in snatches of about fifteen to twenty minutes. As far as his prayer of repentance is concerned we can catch a glimpse of it from these words of Adam's Lament, in which he speaks of himself:

"Adam, father of all mankind, in paradise knew the sweetness of the love of God; and so when for his sin he was driven forth from the garden of Eden, and was widowed of the love of God, he suffered grievously and lamented with a mighty moan. And the whole desert rang with his lamentations. His soul was racked as he thought: 'I have grieved my beloved Lord.' He sorrowed less after paradise and the beauty thereof — he sorrowed that he was bereft of the love of God, which insatiably, at'every instant, draws the soul to Him.

"In the same way the soul which has known God through the Holy Spirit but has afterwards lost grace experiences the torment that Adam suffered. There is an aching and a deep regret in the soul that has grieved the beloved Lord.

"Adam pined on earth, and wept bitterly, and the earth was not pleasing to him. He was heartsick for God, and this was his cry:

'"My soul wearies for the Lord, and I seek Him in tears.

'"How should I not seek Him?

'"When I was with Him my soul was glad and at rest, and the enemy could not come nigh me'" (4).

In St. John of the Ladder's wonderful description of those living in repentance in the prison outside a Monastery in Alexandria, it is clear that all who have known the Light of the grace of Christ, and then lost it, are ready to give themselves over to death at any moment in order to regain with knowledge the first grace of their calling and not be shut out of the bridal chamber of Christ. As St. John of the Ladder says, their repentance takes on the form of those lamenting over their dead (Step 5,5) (5). (See also the Life of St. Bessarion.)

In Adam's Lament, St. Silouan says the following:

"Adam wept:

'"The desert cannot pleasure me; nor the high mountains, nor the meadow nor forest,

'"nor the singing of birds. '"I have no pleasure in any thing. '"My soul sorrows with a great sorrow:

'"I have grieved God. '"And were the Lord to set me down in paradise again, there, too, would I sorrow and weep —

'"O why did I grieve my beloved God?'" (6).

Living like this and passing the nights with the tormenting thought, "Why did I grieve my beloved God," and not departing from the love he felt for God at the time of the vision, he would come to the point of asking: "Where art Thou, O Lord ... Why hast Thou forsaken me?" (7) The Saint's biographer mentions the following explanation in the words of the Saint, "If in the beginning the Lord had not given me to know how much He loves man, I could not have survived one of those nights, and yet they were legion" (8).

I cite now the description of the last night, which is also the most dramatic of his fifteen years of martyrdom, where God intervened and gave the solution:

"It was fifteen years after the Lord had appeared to him, and Silouan was engaged in one of these nocturnal struggles with devils which so tormented him. No matter how he tried, he could not pray with a pure mind. At last he rose from his stool, intending to bow down and worship, when he saw a gigantic devil standing in front of the ikon, waiting to be worshipped. Meanwhile, the cell filled with evil spirits. Father Silouan sat down again, and with bowed head and aching heart he prayed,

'"Lord, Thou seest that I desire to pray to Thee with a pure mind but the devils will not let me. Instruct me, what must I do to stop them hindering me?'

"And his soul heard,

'"The proud always suffer from devils.'

"'Lord,' said Silouan, 'teach me what I must do that my soul may become humble.'

"Once more, his heart heard God's answer,

"'Keep thy mind in hell, and despair not'" (9).

Strange and incomprehensible is God's word to Silouan. Strange and incomprehensible moreover is Silouan's reaction to the word which he heard in his heart. "Thenceforth I began to do this, and my soul found rest in God" (10). This grace realised his passing over from death to life, and rejoicing, Silouan sings a song of victory, echoing the just men of all ages:

"O the compassion of God! I am an abomination to God and man, yet the Lord so loveth me, giveth me understanding and healeth me, and Himself doth teach my soul humility and love, patience and obedience, and hath poured out the fulness of His mercy upon me ... O wonder! ...

"As soon as the Lord lays His hand upon the soul, she becomes a new being ...

"Who shall describe the joy of knowing the Lord and reaching out toward Him day and night, insatiable? O how blessed and happy are we Christians!" (11).

The Lord spoke the words in Silouan's heart, offering him the vision of hell, and amazingly, he immediately emerges possessing great knowledge and his life is restored with a wealth of grace and of the love of God.

What is, I wonder, the mystery of God which is enclosed in the words:

"Keep thy mind in hell and do not despair"? It is evident that knowledge of this mystery brought Silouan victory over the power of the enemy and a perfect likeness to his Master, our Lord Jesus Christ. This is what Silouan witnesses to in another part of his writings:

"He who has humbled himself has conquered the enemy. No enemy can come near the man who in his heart esteems himself deserving of eternal fire. No earthly thoughts find place in his soul — heart and mind, he lives entirely in God. And the man who has come to know the Holy Spirit, and learned humility of Him, has become like to his Teacher, Jesus Christ, Son of God, and resembles Him" (12).

Why did this word of the Lord free Silouan from the fight with the enemy and add to his stature strength of spirit and stability of life?

This happened because the word of the Lord placed Silouan on the very way of the Lord Himself. By following the way of the Lord one's heart is enlarged and man becomes unapproachable to his enemies.

As we said in the beginning of the talk, the sign of Jonas represents the way the Lord walked, and the apostle says that victory came into the world by Christ's descent into hell and His ascent which followed (see Eph. 4). Hence, when the Lord proposes hell to Silouan (and through Silouan to our despairing generation), the Lord is offering him the possibility for descent, for going down. This is a spiritual journey and St. Silouan's biographer, Archimandrite Sophrony, says that "those led by the Holy Spirit do not cease condemning themselves in their journey downwards" towards Christ, Who is the head of the inverted pyramid, and Who holds all the weight of the pyramid on His shoulders, and takes away the sin of the world. Christ said once and for all time, "Ye know not what ye ask" (Mark 10:38) to those who think themselves worthy of ascent without drinking the cup of descent. As for Capernaum which arrogantly "sought after a sign" (Matt. 12:39) the Lord said, "And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell" (Luke 10:15). However, He raised and justified the publican who "would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven," but fulfilled Christ's law, which says, "He that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted" (Luke 18:13 and 14).

When the Lord was praised by men for His miracles. He immediately directed his gaze prophetically to His coming cross and death, but also to His resurrection "on the third day" (Luke 13:32 and 18:33). And in doing this He gave us an example.

The way of the Lord stretches out, therefore, through the death on the cross to the infernal regions of hell. It is like descending into the water of Baptism: we meet Christ and put Him on and ascend reborn and with newness of life, since He has first descended into the waters and blessed them. So in like manner, when we are commanded to descend into hell, it is not in order that we may perish, but so that we may explore even there the unspeakable mystery of the divine and humble love which reaches down even to that dreadful place. It is so that we may humble ourselves unto the end before the greatness of this love, and in our turn reply with gratitude to Christ so perfectly and powerfully, that nothing and no place, not even hell, can separate us from God the Saviour.

This humble journey downwards is also the way that the Holy Church shows us. If we carefully examine her thought expressed in her prayers, we shall again see this twofold movement. Before the service of Baptism, or of the Divine Liturgy, we see the celebrant humbling himself in spirit, and descending so that he may be clothed with strength to perform the service of God, and thereby be raised on high together with the faithful whom the Spirit of the Lord has entrusted to him. Almost every significant prayer of the Church is divided into two parts. The first part is the descent of the spirit, and the second the ascent with the cry of faith trusting in the boundless mercy of our Bountiful God. To confirm this truth, it is sufficient for one to read the prayers before Holy Communion. The life of the faithful is a life of repentance. Through repentance we have the descent in humility "beneath the strong hand of God that he may raise us in time." That wonderful teacher of the Ladder, St. John, says at the end of the chapter On Repentance that, "by voluntarily accepting retribution and punishment, we escape the punishment which is everlasting" (Step 5, 30) (13).

So, by descending into hell, we do nothing other than follow the Lord. This is the way of the Lord Himself. However, the way of the Lord leads to life, and for this reason we should not despair.

Having now spoken about the theological basis of the Lord's word to Silouan, "Keep thy mind in hell, and do not despair," it remains for us to explain how to carry this out in practice.

Before continuing, we should clearly stress that all the power of the mystery hidden within the word is due to the fact that the descent of the Lord into hell was voluntary and sinless, due only to his obedience and love for His Father and for the desire of salvation for fallen man. For this reason in order that our descent be blessed and bear fruit it must be voluntary and by the commandment of the Lord.

St. Silouan's experience of hell was a charismatic one — full of grace — and that is why the Lord's revealing word corresponded perfectly to his state. It is difficult for us to conceive its depth, without having had a similar experience. However, since it expresses the tradition of the Church's ascetic life, we shall try, by referring to the Holy Fathers, to go to its root, and comprehend its power — even if only in part.

Contrition and Spiritual Poverty

This word, "keep thy mind in hell and do not despair," is a commandment from the Lord with the intention that we might imitate Him in his descent, whilst at the same time trusting in His mercy and the eternal salvation which He obtained for us by His ascent. The mere disposition in us to receive this word and fulfill it in our life attracts the grace of God. Being a divine light, this grace discloses and confirms this truth: Hell is where man finds himself separated from the God of Love. It also discloses sin, injustice and spiritual poverty. This knowledge brings contrition to the soul. This contrition is a precious gift from God to man. This is the beginning of humility and it (that is, contrition) prepares a dwelling-place for God in us.

As a property of grace, this contrition gives birth to spiritual courage. St. Symeon the New Theologian says:

"What is more courageous than a humble and contrite heart, which without difficulty routs the massed troops of devils and pursues them to their end?" (14) This contrition is spiritual courage since it is the only state in which man, inspired by the grace of God, dares to stare at his spiritual poverty without despairing, whilst hoping that He Who revealed to him the depth of his desolation is also able to carry him across unharmed to the other bank, where God is. He achieves this through self-condemnation and the following prophetic attitude: he attributes every justice to God, whereas his face is covered with shame (see Daniel 9:7). It is for this reason that St. John of the Ladder says that spiritual courage is victory (Step 14, 32) (15). It is victory because without the courage born of contrition, it is impossible for us to behold clearly our spiritual poverty. Then spiritual poverty becomes a gift, which lays the foundation for our spiritual ascent. "What is more glorious than spiritual poverty, which is the means of obtaining the kingdom of heaven?" (16)

Saint Silouan knew the power of this spiritual phenomenon — contrition — through Christ's word to him: "Keep thy mind in hell and do not despair." He would find it by taking refuge, as he says, in his beloved song:

"Soon I shall die, and my accursed soul will descend into the blackness of hell. I shall languish alone in the sombre flames, weeping for my Lord. 'Where an Thou, O Light of my soul? Why hast Thou forsaken me? I cannot live without Thee.'" (17).

And in another place he says:

"Though our sins be forgiven, we must remember them and grieve over them all our lives, so as to remain contrite. I did not do this, and ceased to feel contrite, and suffered greatly from evil spirits. And I was perplexed by what was happening to me, and said to myself, 'My soul knows the Lord and His love. How is it that evil thoughts come to me?' And the Lord had pity on me, and Himself taught me the way to humble myself — 'Keep thy mind in hell, and despair not.' Thus is the enemy vanquished" (18).

With His word, the Lord revealed to Silouan the way to acquire contrition and humility and in this way to defeat the enemy.

(Another great teacher of spiritual science, St. Barsanuphius, says that without the pain of a contrite heart it is impossible for us to discern the thoughts which come to us (19)).

We said that contrition is spiritual courage and light for the soul. It leads to humility which is victory over the enemies and prepares the soul to become God's dwelling-place. It is a precious gift of grace, and is accomplished by self-condemnation, the extreme form of which is self-condemnation to hell. St. John of the Ladder verifies this when he says that the following prayer of prisoners: "We know, we know that we deserve every punishment and torment" — hell, "was able to move to contrition even the very hardness of stones" (Step 5, 5) (20). In another place he again says that condemning one's self to hell preserves "the mind unruffled." We see, therefore, that putting into practice the words of the Lord, "Keep thy mind in hell and do not despair," bears the fruit of humility and purity of mind, which is a vital condition for freedom from passions and union with our Holy God. St. Silouan was taught this science by this word of the Lord. As he himself writes: "I began to do as the Lord taught me, and my soul was rejoiced by rest in God" (21). In another place he says, "He who has humbled himself has conquered the enemy. No enemy can come near the man who in his heart esteems himself deserving of eternal fire. No earthly thoughts find place in his soul — heart and mind he lives entirely in God" (22). "But when my mind emerges from the fire, suggestions of passion gather strength again" (23).

We notice with sadness that nowadays men suffer dreadfully because their mind is fragmented. Imagination, which is only one of the mind's activities, is over-indulged and dominates men's lives. It leads some to a hard heart due to pride, and others to mental illness. According to the teaching of the Gospel and all of Scripture, the mind works naturally only when it is united with the heart. Mind and heart are naturally joined together when the fire of contrition is in the heart. That is why St. Silouan recommends the following therapy for the soul: "Keep your mind in your heart and in hell. The more you humble yourself, the greater the gifts you will receive from God" (24).

Which are the "greater gifts from God"?

From the words of St. Silouan it is clear that self-condemnation to hell is not only harmless, but also becomes a fount of great gifts. As he says, it gives birth to repentance "unto the remission of sins" in the soul and brings the joy of salvation to the heart.

Moreover, the Saint witnesses that the Lord gives the Holy Spirit to those who work at condemning themselves. This should not be at all surprising, since self-condemnation to hell can only take place in a spirit of humility. The Saint writes:

"I was thinking to myself, I am an abomination and deserving of every punishment; but instead of punishment the Lord gave me the Holy Spirit. O sweet is the Holy Spirit above all earthly things!" (25) These words of St. Silouan are in accordance with the spirit of the New Testament. The Lord tells His disciples that when they are persecuted and brought before the judges: "Settle it therefore in your hearts, not to meditate before what ye shall answer: For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist" (Luke 21:14-15). The Lord gives this wisdom of the Holy Spirit to all who willingly place themselves before the judgment seat of God and anticipate his judgment by their voluntary self-condemnation to hell.

God does not judge twice. As the Apostle Paul says: "For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged" (1 Cor. 11:31). And in another place he says, "We shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ" (Rom. 14:10) — but we shall not all be condemned. It is possible, by willingly condemning one's self even unto hell, to anticipate God's judgment, and by this to be justified even in this life, and become a partaker of God's word and wisdom. And this is the grace of, and betrothal with, the Holy Spirit.

Archimandrite Sophrony writes. God does not judge twice, and St. John of the Ladder says that "by voluntarily accepting retribution and punishment, we escape the punishment which is everlasting" (Step 5, 30) (26), and elsewhere he says, "By present shame we are delivered from future shame" (Step 4, 15) (27).

We see the same golden thread of tradition unceasingly unfolding in the teaching of all the ascetic Fathers. Self-condemnation to hell is the most powerful means for one to be delivered from hell. It is inspired by the grace of the Holy Spirit. It brings contrition, cleanses the mind, leads to humility, defeats the enemies, gives freedom from sins, and makes man a participant of the Holy Spirit. I shall pass over the words of the desert fathers which are well-known to many, and just quote a short extract from St. Gregory Palamas where he expresses the same science which we have seen in St. Silouan: "If someone really accounts himself guilty of eternal punishment, he will courageously endure not just dishonour but also harm, disease and, in fact, every kind of misfortune and ill-treatment. He who shows such patience, as though in debt and guilty, is delivered by a very light condemnation, temporary and annulled, saved from truly grievous, unbearable and unending punishment. Sometimes he may even be delivered from dangers threatening him now, because God's kindness begins from that point, due to his patience. Someone chastised by God said, "I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against him" (Micah 7:9) (28).

When the involuntary cross of the grateful thief became voluntary by his good confession and self-condemnation, this made the thief a saint and participant in the love of Paradise — that very same day.

The three children in the fiery furnace showed their love for God to be stronger than death, rendering justice to Him, and reproaching themselves. So also the faithful in the fire of self-condemnation, bearing within them the same spirit, offer an acceptable thanksgiving to God and attract the dewy coolness of the Spirit to their hearts (St. John Chrysostom).

We have hardly said anything about the words "and do not despair." It is enough, however, to say the following:

In the same way in which the Saint remembered the humble and boundless love of Christ which he had known at the beginning of his monastic life, and did not despair, remaining faithful to the vision, so too must the faithful remember that God freely saves by His grace, when we humble ourselves. "But we must count ourselves the worst of all men, and then the Lord by the Holy Spirit will give us to know the humility of Christ'' (29).

We could summarise the great science of the Spirit, which we tried to describe above, with the words of St. Silouan himself:

"The Saints all said, 'I shall suffer torments in hell' — even though they performed great miracles. They had learned by experience that if the soul condemns herself to hell but trusts the while in God's compassion, the strength of God enters into her, and the Holy Spirit bears witness of salvation. The soul grows humble through self-condemnation, and there is then no place in her for intrusive thoughts, and she stands before God with a pure mind.

"This is the wisdom of the spirit. " (30)

As the time has passed and I must end the talk, I should just like to close the subject with the words of Saint Silouan's disciple, Staretz Sophrony, in which he expresses the science of the Spirit, which is truly great:

"We must overcome all earthly suffering by immersing ourselves in even more profound suffering. 'Keep thy mind in hell.' We must condemn ourselves to hell as unworthy of God but we must 'despair not'.

"This ascetic effort will lead to victory over the world. It will bring us to the 'kingdom which cannot be moved.'

"Is there a limit to this noble science on earth? We have the answer in Christ Who 'conquered death by death.'

"Blessed be the Name of the Lord from this day forth and for ever more." (31)

NOTES

1) Archimandrite Sophrony (Sakharov), Saint Silouan the Athonite, translated by Rosemary Edmonds (Essex: Patriarchal and Stavropegic Monastery of St. John the Baptist, 1991), p. 57.

2) Ibid., p. 36.

3) Ibid., pp. 36-7.

4) Ibid., p. 448.

5) References in the main text are made to the Greek edition of the Ladder. This corresponds to Step 5, 9, in the English translation by Archimandrite Lazarus Moore, Ladder of Divine Ascent, (Willits, CA; Eastern Orthodox Books, 1959), p. 100.

6) Ibid., p. 450.

7) Ibid., p. 41.

8) Ibid., pp. 41-2.

9) Ibid., p. 42.

10) Ibid., p. 460.

11) Ibid., pp. 430-1.

12) Ibid., p. 411.

13) English translation, Step 5, 42, op. cit., p. 109.

14) Catechesis ii. Archbishop Basil Krivocheine, ed., Sources Chretiennes 96 (Paris 1963), p. 244, 42-44.

15) English translation, Step 14, 36, on. cit.. p. 145.

16) Catecheses II, op. cit., p. 244, 44-45

17) Saint Silouan the Athonite, p. 46.

18) Ibid., p. 298.

19) See Answer no. 265 in the Erolapokriseis of Barsanuphius and John, Greek text, edited by Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain, reissued by B. Regopoulos (Thessalonica, 1974), p. 163.

20) Cf. English translation, Step 5, 12, op. cit., p. 100.

21) Saint Silouan the Athonite, p. 431.

22) Ibid., p. 411.

23) Ibid., p. 298.

24) Ibid., p. 497.

25) Ibid., p. 435.

26) English translation, Step 5, 42, op. cit., p. 109.

27) Cf. ibid., Step 4, 12, p. 70.

28) Homily II, On the Lord's Parable of the Publican and the Pharisee, 23. Quotation taken from the Homilies of Saint Gregory Palamas, edited with an introduction and notes by Christopher Veniamin, and translated by Christie Seife (forthcoming: Saint Tikhon's Seminary Press).

29)Saint Silouan the Alhonlte, p. 277.

30) Ibid., p. 169.

31) We Shall Sea Him As He Is, translated by Rosemary Edmonds (Tolleshunt Knights, Essex: Patriarchal and Stavropegic Monastery of St. John the Baptist, 1988), p. 94.

Dr. Christos Yannaras: Person, Essence, and Energies

In Orthodox theology, on the other hand, the problem of the energies is put exclusively in terms of existential experience. The experience of the Church is the knowledge of God as an event of personal relationship, and the question raised is one of witness to and defense of that event, the question of how we come to know God, who is neither intelligible nor sensible, nor at all a being among the other beings.¹ The knowledge of God as an event of personal relationship reveals the priority of the truth of the person in the realm of theological knowledge. There is no room for bypassing the reality of the person by means of an intellectual leap directly to the essence: Truth for us is in realities, not in names.² The person recapitulates the mode of existence of nature; we know the essence or nature only as the content of the person. This unique possibility of knowing nature presupposes its ecstatic recapitulation in terms of a personal reference, i.e. the possibility for nature to stand outside of itself, to become accessible and communicable not as an idea, but as personal uniqueness and dissimilarity. The ecstasis of nature, however, cannot be identified with nature itself, since the experience of relation is itself an experience of non-identification: the ecstasy is the mode, the manner by which nature becomes accessible and known in terms of personal otherness; it is the energy of nature which is identified neither with its bearer nor with its result: The energy is neither the active cause nor the resultant effect.³

It is not possible, of course, to know the energy except through the one who acts; and, again, only through the natural energy can one know the one who acts as personal otherness as well as nature and essence. The will, for example, is an energy of nature. However it is accessible to us only through its personal bearer; we refer to the what of the will only because we know the how of its personal expression.⁴ The what of the will reveals to us the nature which has the possibility to will, while the how of the will reveals the personal otherness of its bearer.⁵ The will itself, however, is not identified either with the nature which has the possibility to will or with the person who wills, always in a unique, dissimilar and unrepeatable manner. For this reason we recognize in the will an energy of nature, ontologically (but not ontically) distinguishable from the nature as well as from the person.

Even though we distinguish the energy from the nature and the nature from the persons, we do not attribute any synthetic character to nature itself; we do not divide and we do not fragment the nature into persons and energies: the persons and the energies are neither parts nor components nor passions nor accidents of nature, but the mode of being of nature. The personal expression of each energy recapitulates impartially and wholely the entire nature; it is the existence of nature. The how of the energy of will (or the energy of creativity or of love or whatever other energy) recapitulates the what of the natural energy of will; the possibility of nature to will exists and is expressed only through the otherness of the personal will. Painting, music, sculpture are creative energies of the human nature, but they do not exist except as expressions of personal otherness: as music of Mozart, as painting of Van Gogh, as sculpture of Rodin. Nor is there any other manner of expressing and defining essence or nature outside its active ecstasis in terms of personal otherness. The only way we can name nature is in the personally expressed energy of nature; energy signifies nature: Essence and energy can both receive the same name (.⁶λόγος)

Notes

1.    Dion. Areop., On Divine Names, III, P.G. 3, 869C.

2.    Maximus the Confessor, Theological and Polemical Chapters, P.G. 91, 32BC.

3.    Basil the Great, quoted by St. Gregory Palamas, Physical and Theological Chapters, P.G. 150, 1220D.

4.    To want and how to want is not the same; nor is to see and how to see the same. For to want and to see belong to nature, and it is a qualification of all who have the same nature and belong to the same species. But how to want and how to see ... are manners by which the reality of wanting or seeing is used; it is a qualification that belongs only to the subject who wants and sees and distinguishes him from others according to the commonly accepted category of difference. Maximus the Confessor, Dialogue with Pyrrhus, P.G. 91, 292D.

5.    The will of all can be demonstrated to be one in reference to nature; but the manner of movement is different. Maximus the Confessor, Theological and Polemical Chapters, P.G. 91, 25A.

6.    Basil the Great, Letters, 189, P.G. 32, 696B; see also St. Maximus: While energy belongs to the one who acts, nature belongs to the one who exists, Theological Chapters, P.G. 91, 200D.

Palm Sunday

The Raising of Lazarus: Icons from the 4th-16th Century

4th Century

12th Century

16th Century

A book is more than a verbal structure or series of verbal structures; it is the dialogue it establishes with its reader and the intonation it imposes upon his voice and the changing and durable images it leaves in his memory. A book is not an isolated being: it is a relationship, an axis of innumerable relationships.

Jorge Luis Borges

The Liturgy: A Festival of the Resurrection

Metropolitan John Zioulas

Icon by the hand of Fr. Stamatis Skliris

The most eloquent proof of the eschatological character of the Eucharist and its identification with the foretaste of the Kingdom of God is the fact that from the beginning it has been associated with Sunday, as the most appropriate day for its celebration. We referred above to the Quartodecimans in Asia Minor in the second century who celebrated Easter on the fourteenth of the month of Nisan. This, of course, involved celebration of the Eucharist on a day other than Sunday, at least on Easter day. As is well known, this custom gave rise to the paschal controversy which threatened to divide the early Church because, apart from anything else, it created variations in the time of fasting in places such as Rome where Easter was celebrated on Sunday by the local Church, and not according to the practice of the Quartodecimans, who came from Asia Minor and were living in Rome in the second century. But it was not long before this custom gave way, and the celebration of Easter and performance of the Eucharist on Sunday became general. Evidence for connection of the Eucharist with Sunday could start with the Acts of the Apostles (20:7) and the First Epistle to the Corinthians (16:2) and proceed to Revelation (1:10), the Didache (14:1) and Justin (First Apology 67) who is clear on this question.

But why Sunday? What led the Church to this practice? What is the deeper theological meaning of this practice?

Sunday is the day of the Resurrection of Christ. The Christians regarded it thus from the beginning,[1] on the basis of the biblical evidence that the Resurrection took place “on the first day of the week” (Mark 16:2; cf. Matt. 28:1 and Luke 24:1). But the meaning that they gave to the Resurrection of Christ from the beginning was very profound, and was necessarily carried over both to Sunday and to the Eucharist which was celebrated on that day. It is worth noting some of the fundamental aspects of this meaning in order to understand better the relationship between Eucharist and Kingdom.

As the day of the Resurrection, Sunday is the eighth day. The reason is that the “new creation” begins on this day, when “our Christ appeared risen from the dead, it being forever, however, the first in terms of its significance. For Christ, being the firstborn of all creation, again became the chief of another race, that which is regenerated by Him. . . .”[2] St. Basil the Great throws light on the eschatological character of the “eighth day” in his work On the Holy Spirit (27:66), when he writes the following highly significant words, which we must not forget when we speak about the Divine Eucharist:

“Thus we all look to the east at our prayers, but few of us know that we are seeking our own old country, Paradise, which God planted in Eden in the east. We pray standing on the first day of the week, but we do not all know the reason. On the day of the Resurrection we remind ourselves of the grace given to us by standing at prayer, not only because we are risen with Christ and are bound to seek those things which are above, but because that day seems to us in some sense an image of the age which we expect. Therefore, though it is the beginning of days, it is not called by Moses “first” but “one” . . . as though the same day often recurred. Now “one” and “eighth” are the same, in itself distinctly indicating that day which is really “one” and truly “eighth” . . . the state which follows after this present time, the day which knows no end or evening, and no successor, that age which does not end or grow old. Of necessity, then, the Church teaches her own foster-children to offer their prayers on that day standing, in order that through the constant reminder of the endless life we may not neglect to make provision for our removal thither. Moreover, all of Pentecost is a reminder of the resurrection expected in the age to come. For that one and first day, if seven times multiplied by seven, completes the seven weeks of the holy Pentecost. And so it is a likeness of eternity. . . . On this day the rules of the Church have educated us to prefer the upright attitude of prayer, for by their plain reminder they, as it were, make our mind to dwell no longer in the present but in the future.”

We have quoted this lengthy passage in its entirety because it gives us quite clearly the eschatological meaning of Sunday and of the Eucharist which is celebrated on that day. We note in particular that for St. Basil, the avoidance of kneeling on Sunday[3] is necessitated not only by the fact that it is the day of the Resurrection, but also by the expectation of the age to come, so that our minds are made to dwell “no longer in the present but in the future.” This strong impetus toward what is to come, not simply toward what is above, brings the dimension of time into eschatology, and recalls what we have said above in commenting on the relevant passages of St. Maximus: the eschatology of the Divine Liturgy, like that of Sunday, is not a Platonic type of representation of a heavenly state, but a movement and progression toward the future. Maximus and Basil concur on this point.

It is noteworthy, again, that St. Basil refers to praying toward the east. For the east was not only the place of the original paradise, but also the direction from which the Lord is expected to appear at His Second Coming. As St. John of Damascus says, summarizing the reasons for praying toward the east:[4] there are many reasons, and they include the future coming of the Son of Man from the east according to the Gospel passage (Matt. 24:27): as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the “west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.” So after quoting this passage, Damascene concludes, “Waiting for Him with longing, we worship toward the east”: in other words, because we are awaiting Christ’s final coming in glory, we pray facing east.

This resurrectional and eschatological character of the Eucharist has another consequence, too: during the Eucharist, the Church is bathed in light and adorned with all available splendor. A Eucharist in dimly-lit churches, ostensibly for the sake of devout concentration, is antithetical to its very nature. Unfortunately, the pietism which has crept into our consciousness and our worship has misled us into the mistaken idea that richness in vestments and in the decoration of churches is a bad thing. Just one simple observation shows how alien to the Orthodox tradition this idea is: the richest and most splendid vestments in our Church are to be found in our monasteries, and particularly on the Holy Mountain, the most important and authoritative monastic center for Orthodoxy. Why, then, does the genuine Orthodox monk, who according to the Sayings of the Fathers should wear such a shoddy and threadbare riason that he could hang it outside his cell door in the certainty that no one would be tempted to steal it—why during the Liturgy does this same man, as celebrant, put on the most splendid vestments, yet without being scandalized or scandalizing anyone else? Quite simply, because the eschatological character of the Eucharist remains vivid in his consciousness: in the Eucharist, we move within the space of the age to come, of the Kingdom. There we experience “the day which knows no end or evening, and no successor, that age which does not end or grow old,” in the words of St. Basil. We have every possibility for practicing our humility outside the Liturgy. We do not have the right to turn the Eucharist into an opportunity to show off our humility, or a means to psychological experiences of compunction. Besides, “He who offers and He who is offered,” the real celebrant, is Christ, and indeed the risen Christ as He will come in His glory on the last day, and those who celebrate the Liturgy are nothing more than icons of this eschatological Christ. And of course “the honor paid to the icon passes to the prototype.”

Thus, once again, much depends on whether in the Eucharist we simply refer back to the past, or whether we look to the last times, to the future.

How resolutely the Church refused to link the Eucharist with sorrow and compunction is shown by the fact that even on the days when the martyrs are commemorated, when she recalls their martyrdom, she celebrates the Divine Eucharist with the same splendor as on Sundays. It is known that from the first centuries it became the practice to celebrate the Eucharist on the feastdays of the martyrs,[5] and subsequently of all the saints. What is often overlooked is the fact that from the beginning the martyrdom of the saints was seen not just as a repetition of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, but as a revelation of the glory of His Kingdom. Already the description of the martyrdom of Stephen in the Acts of the Apostles (7:55ff.) makes clear the eschatological character that the Church recognizes in it: “he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God; and he said, Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” (The reference to the “Son of Man,” who is considered an eschatological figure in Scripture, is characteristic.) The same goes for the “Acts”—the martyrologies—of all the martyrs of the early Church.[6] The celebration of the Eucharist on saints’ days cannot be separated from the eschatological character of the Eucharist, which for that reason is always celebrated with particular splendor and involves the lifting of the fast.

[1] See, for example: Ignatius, Magnesians 9; Epistle of Barnabas 15:811.; Justin, First Apology 67, Dialogue 41 and 138; Tertullian, On Prayer 23; Eusebius, Church History 111.27:5; Apostolic Constitutions 11.59, V.20, 19, etc.

[2] Justin, Dialogue 138.

[3] The prohibition of kneeling on Sunday goes back to ancient times, as Irenaeus testifies in his lost work On the Pascha. See fragment 6 in the series Library of the Greek Fathers, published by the Apostoliki Diakonia, Volume 5, page 174.

[4] Exposition of the Orthodox Faith 13 (PG 94:1136).

[5] A. Fytrakis, Relics and Tombs of the Martyrs in the First Three Centuries (in Greek) (Athens, 1955), pp. 77ff.

[6] A moving passage, and one that reveals the eschatological character both of martyrdom and of the Eucharist, is the following extract from the martyrdom of Saint Agathonike, published by Harnack, “Die Akten des Karpus, des Papylus und der Agathonike,” in Texte und Untersuchungen, III, 3/4 (Leipzig, 1888), pp. 451f.: “A certain Agathonike was standing beside them (during the martyrdom of Papylus and Carpus); and seeing the glory of the Lord which Carpus said that he saw, and contemplating the heavenly invitation, at once she lifted up her voice: ‘For me too is this supper (τὸ ‘ἄριστον’, or ‘dinner’) prepared. And I too must eat my share of this glorious meal’.” The association between martyrdom and the Eucharist is clear, as is the eschatological character of both.

---

The Liturgy: The Sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb

Metropolitan John Zizioulas

The Divine Eucharist is а sacrifice. The patristic tradition in both East and West lays great stress on this aspect of the Eucharist. So, for instance: Cyril of Jerusalem (Catechesis 23:8, 9), Gregory the Theologian (Orations 2:95 and 4:52), Cyril of Alexandria (On the Mystical Supper 5) and John Chrysostom (On the Epistle to the Hebrews 17:3),[1] as well as the Divine Liturgies of St. John Chrysostom and of St. Basil the Great which are celebrated in the Orthodox Church, call the Eucharist a sacrifice which is “unbloody,” “reasonable,” etc. This sacrifice is none other than the death on the Cross of Christ, whose Body and Blood are offered “for many” (Mark 14:24, Matt. 26:28); in other words, they have the effect of deliverance from sins, which are “forgiven” thanks to this sacrifice and the “communion” of the “many” in it, which is the fount of “eternal life.”

This sacrificial character of the Divine Eucharist is indisputable both in biblical consciousness and theology, and in that of the Fathers and the Liturgy, The point that we often tend to overlook or underestimate is the connection and relationship between this sacrificial character of the Eucharist and the coming of the Kingdom of God, the “last times.” The Eucharist is indisputably the very sacrifice of the Lord upon the Cross. But what is the relationship of this sacrifice with the coming of the Kingdom? This question is of vital importance for theology, and also for the way in which we as believers experience this great mystery of the Church.

All the indications from the story of the Last Supper, handed down to us by the Gospels and the Apostle Paul, testify that with the words “this is My Body” and “this is My Blood” Christ was referring to Himself as the Paschal Lamb (cf. 1 Cor. 5:7ff., “for Christ our paschal lamb has been sacrificed for us”). This identification of Christ with the paschal lamb was so widespread in the early Church that it was repeated without elucidation, not only by the Apostle Paul but also by other texts from the apostolic age, such as 1 Peter (1:19), Revelation (5:6, 12 and 12:11), St. John’s Gospel (1:29, 36), et al. So it is not by chance that in the language of the Church’s liturgy, the portion of the eucharistic bread which is changed into the Body of Christ at the Divine Eucharist came to be called the Lamb.

The sacrifice of the paschal lamb has its roots in the exodus of Israel from Egypt, as described in the Book of Exodus (12:6). In the case of the Last Supper, however, it is clear that we have not merely a remembrance and repetition of the sacrifice of the Lamb in Exodus, such as took place at every celebration of the Jewish Passover, but the sacrifice of the perfect, eschatological paschal Lamb. This is borne out by many elements in the story of the Last Supper in the Gospels, as also by the liturgical practice of the early Church. Let us refer to some of these as examples.

We have already underlined, at the beginning of this study, the fact that the Lord clearly links the Last Supper with the Kingdom of God, according to the account given us by the Gospels. What we must note here is the connection of the sacrifice to which Christ refers there with the New Covenant. It has already been observed by biblical scholars that the term “Covenant” should be regarded as equivalent to the term “Kingdom of heaven.”[2] The sacrifice of Christ as the Paschal Lamb is the fulfillment of the eschatological purpose of the sacrifice both of the original paschal Lamb in Exodus, and of all the subsequent sacrifices performed by the Jews in imitation of the sacrifice of that lamb. So when Christ says at the Last Supper, and the Church repeats in the course of the Eucharist, that “this is My Blood, the Blood of the New Covenant,” our thoughts are directed toward the coming and establishment of the Kingdom of God, and not simply toward an event which took place in the past. The sacrifice of the Lord upon the Cross cannot be isolated from its eschatological significance. Remission of sins is itself linked in the New Testament with the coming of the Kingdom (Matt. 6:12; Luke 11:4; John 30:23, etc.), and this surely applies especially to the remission of sins which stems from the sacrifice of Christ as Paschal Lamb.

Things are still clearer in the book of Revelation, which without a doubt contains elements or fragments of ancient eucharistic liturgy.[3] In this book the description of Christ as the Lamb occurs repeatedly, and, without any doubt, in connection with the paschal lamb of Exodus 12:6. The eschatological significance that Revelation gives to the Lamb comes across clearly from the following remarks, which are of profound significance:

(a) The “lamb that was slain” has the authority to open the book with seven seals, the contents and meaning of which are revealed only at the end of history.

(b) The sacrifice of the Lamb does not concern only the people of Israel, but people “from every tribe and tongue and people and nation” (5:9). The universal character of this salvation suggests the end of history and the dawning of the “day of the Lord” (1 Cor. 1:8; 1 Thess. 5:2, etc.). It is characteristic that the Apostle Paul, who awaits the Second Coming of Christ imminently, regards as its “first fruits” the return of the gentiles and their grafting into the trunk of Israel (2 Thess. 2:13).

Thus the fact that the blood of the Lamb is shed “for all” refers us to the “Servant” of God in the book of Isaiah (chapters 52 and 53) who “bore the sin of many and was given up for their sins” (53:12, LXX), but who also in the last times will bring together the scattered Israel and will be “a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth” (49:6), because “many nations will wonder at Him . . . for they that have been told of Him shall see, and they that have not heard shall understand” (52:15, LXX).

(c) In particular, we should note the connection in the Book of Revelation between the Lamb that was slain and the “new song,” the “alleluia” which is repeated three times by a great multitude and by the whole of creation (“like the sound of many waters”) in the context of the marriage of the Lamb and the worship of Him (19:1-8).

The fact that this “alleluia” is an eschatological hymn is made clear by the reason given for it in the text itself, “For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns” (19:6): in other words, the Kingdom of God has been established. This is also why, despite the fact that the lamb has been slain, the prevailing tone is one of joy: “let us rejoice and be glad” (19:7), recalling the “in gladness” of Acts (2:46) in connection with the celebration of the Eucharist by the first Christians.

These observations take on even greater interest if this hymn is connected with the Last Supper itself. The Gospels note (Matt. 26:30, Mark 14:26) that immediately after the supper and the words of Christ, which connect it with the Kingdom, “when [Christ and the Disciples] had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” As expert scholars indicate, this refers to the hallel which followed the Jewish paschal meal, in other words the singing of Psalms 114-118 (113-117) antiphonally, with one of the group reading the text aloud while the others (cf. the “multitude” or the “people” in Revelation) would respond with “alleluia” after the middle of each verse. Already in Christ’s time these psalms had an eschatological-messianic meaning for the Jews. But does not the same apply to us Orthodox, who preserve faithfully the liturgical tradition of the ancient Church, which carries on the worship of the first Church? The verses which end Psalm 118 (117)—“This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it”—are clearly eschatological in Orthodox worship, since “this day” for us is the day of the Resurrection. The final verses of that psalm (“Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord . . . the Lord is God and has appeared unto us,” etc.) have the same eschatological character.

Conclusion: the Last Supper and the Lamb slain for our salvation cannot be understood without reference to the “last day,” the “day of the Lord,” the Parousia and the establishment of the Kingdom of God. In the words of St. Cyril of Alexandria, the Eucharist is not simply “the performance of the dread sacrifice” but “the gift of immortality and a pledge of life without end.”[4]

This conclusion is reinforced and confirmed by another observation; the ancient Church never celebrated its Mystical Supper, the Divine Eucharist, on the same day as the Lord’s death, but after it. It is known from history that Christians in Asia Minor in the second century celebrated Easter on the fourteenth of Nissan, the same day as the Jewish Passover. It is significant, however, that they did not celebrate the Eucharist except at dawn the next day, in other words after the Jews’ paschal meal, during which the Christians fasted. The fact that even today the Orthodox Church, following the ancient tradition, waits for the Jewish Passover to pass and only then celebrates its own Passover (Easter) is not simply due, as is often held, to an anti-Jewish stance on its part; apart from anything else, it is due to the fact that the Passover of the Church, which is associated with joy and gladness, cannot precede the moment in time at which, historically, the Last Supper took place and the Crucifixion followed. That time is a time of fasting, while Easter is a time of festivity.

Have we ever seriously thought why the Church dissociated not only its Passover, but also its Eucharist, from fasting, and linked it with the radiance of the Resurrection? It is significant, as we noted earlier, that celebration of the Eucharist on fast days was forbidden by the Church. (The exception of the Exaltation of the Cross and the commemoration of the Forerunner does not negate the rule.) This has been confined, of course, to the period of Great Lent,[5] but the sense remains: the Eucharist is an eschatological event and cannot be other than festive, joyful and radiant. Its sacrificial character is transformed into the joy of the Resurrection, which means eschatological joy. In Christ there is no such thing as sacrifice without deliverance. And deliverance does not just mean remission of personal sins, in accordance with the Western spirit, Latin and Protestant, but the ultimate transfiguration of the world, the overcoming of corruption and death. This is what we celebrate when we perform the Eucharist: a sacrifice on the Cross which takes its meaning from the Resurrection, as the first realization in history of the Kingdom which is to come.

[1] Chrysostom insists particularly on this aspect of the Eucharist, which he connects with the Last Supper and the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, and also with heavenly worship and the Kingdom. See On Hebrews 11:2,3and 14:1-2; On the Priesthood 3:4, and elsewhere. As to Latin Fathers, see for instance Ambrose (On the Duties of the Clergy 1:248; On Faith 4:124, and elsewhere), and Augustine (Confessions 9:32; Enchiridion 110; On Psalms 21 and 33; City of God 10:20, etc.).

[2] See J. Behm, “Diatheke,” in G. Kittel, Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, vol. 2 (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1935).

[3] See P. Prigent, Apocalypse et Liturgie (Neuchatel: Delachaux et Niestlé, 1964). On the influence of this book on the Orthodox Liturgy, see P. Bratsiotis, “L’Apocalypse de saint Jean dans le culte de l’Église greque orthodoxe.” Revue d’Histoire et Philosophie religieuses 42 (1962): pp. 116-121.

[4] PG 77:1028.

[5] According to the testimony of the historians Socrates (Church History 5:22) and Sozomen (Church History 7:19), in the early Church, at least in Alexandria, the Eucharist was not celebrated on any fast day throughout the year, and not just during Lent.

---