The True Dance Revolution

O Isaiah dance, for the Virgin was with child; and brought to birth a Son Emmanuel, Who is both God and man; East/Orient is His name and magnifying Him, We call the Virgin blessed.

Ησαϊα χόρευε, η Παρθένος έσχεν εν γαστρί, και έτεκεν υιόν τον Εμμανουήλ, Θεόν τε και άνθρωπον, Ανατολή όνομα αυτώ, όν μεγαλύνοντες, την Παρθένον μακαρίζομεν.



Elder Porphyrios: Poetry & Humility

"Whoever wants to become a Christian must first become a poet. That's what it is! You must suffer. You must love and suffer--suffer for the one you love. Love makes effort for the loved one. She runs all through the night; she stays awake; she stains her feet with blood in order to meet her beloved. She makes sacrifices and disregards all impediments, threats, and difficulties for the sake of the loved one. Love towards Christ is something even higher, infinitely higher.

And when we say 'love', we don't mean the virtues that we will acquire, but the heart that is pervaded by love towards Christ and others. We need to turn everything in this direction. Do we see a mother with her child in her arms and bending to give the child a kiss, her heart overflowing with emotion? Do we notice how her face lights up as she holds her little angel? These things do not escape a person with love of God. He sees them and is impressed by them and he says, 'If only I had those emotions towards my God, towards my Holy Lady and our saints!' Look, that's how we must love Christ our God. You desire it, you want it, and with the grace of God you acquire it."

“Complete trust in God – that’s what holy humility is. Complete obedience to God, without protest, without reaction, even when some things seem difficult and unreasonable. Abandonment to the hands of God. The words we repeat during the Divine Liturgy say it all: ‘Let us commend our whole life to Christ our God.’ The secret prayer of the priest says the same thing: ‘We commend our whole life and hope to You, O loving Master, and we entreat You and beseech You and supplicate You…’ To you, O Lord, we leave everything. This is what trust in God is. This is holy humility. this is what transfigures a person and makes him a ‘God-man’.

The humble person is conscious of his inner state and, however unsightly it is, he does not lose his personality. He knows he is sinful and is grieved by the fact, but he does not despair and does not annihilate himself. The person who possesses holy humility does not speak at all, that is, he doesn’t react. He accepts to be criticized and rebuked by others, without getting angry and defending himself. He does not lose his equilibrium. The opposite happens with the egoist, the person who has a sense of inferiority. To begin with he seems humble, but if he is goaded a little, he immediately loses his calm and is irritated and upset.

The humble person believes that all things depend on Christ and that Christ gives His grace and in that way he makes progress. The person who possesses holy humility lives even now in the earthly uncreated Church. He always has the joy of Christ, even in the most displeasing circumstances…”

Elder Porphyrios

Therapeutic or Liturgical Ecclesiology?

Therapeutic & Liturgical Ecclesiology: The synthesis by Saint Maximus

by Metropolitan John Zizioulas

Ecclesiology  evolved smoothly in the expectations of the Jews; expectations that were shared and corroborated by Christ with His teaching, and even more so with His opus and His life.   These expectations were that the people of God – once scattered – would, “on the last day” be called to a place where they would become a unity, around the person of the Messiah, who had been described with various titles.  In Isaiah, He had been called “the child of the Lord” - the One Who would take upon Himself all the sins of the world, while elsewhere (as, for example, in apocalyptic literature, chiefly by the prophet Daniel onwards) He was referred to as “the Son of Man”.  These titles, with which the Hebrews described the Messiah, were also used by the Lord for His Person, thus relating Himself to that Messiah of end times, Who was to become the epicenter of the re-assembling of the scattered people of God.  This is why in John’s Gospel we find all these ideas extensively elaborated on, and in great depth.  At the epicenter is the idea of the Son of Man – the One Who would engulf the many within Himself, basically by offering His Flesh so that the people of God would be provided with sustenance and would also form a unity.  Furthermore, the notion of an eschatological assembly is stressed very intensely in John’s Gospel.  In the Apostle Paul, we also have similar references and thus, on the basis of the expectation that the Lord mentioned with a reference to Himself, the conviction was developed that all those who believed in Christ and became incorporated in His Body through Baptism and the Divine Eucharist, they would be the ones who would comprise the “people of God” assembled for the same purpose.  Hence, we have here the fact of the Church as an eschatological reality.

The. fact that they also believed  - chiefly after the Resurrection of Christ and even more with the Pentecost – that the “last days” had already made their entrance in History, that they were already happening within History, explains why this Messianic, eschatological community believed that the last days were a reality during their time, in every place, whenever that scattered people of God assembled in one place for the same purpose – chiefly to perform the Divine Eucharist, which was the incorporation of the many into the One Messiah, hence a realization of the eschatological community.  As already analyzed, this is the basis on which Ecclesiology is built.  This is the historical experience of God’s people, who were scattered and became united for the same purpose, around the Person of Christ, in Whom they acquired their unity.  That is how Ecclesiology commenced, and that is how it developed after the Apostolic period, mainly during the 2^nd century with Fathers such as saint Ignatius of Antioch; this was the Ecclesiology of John and Paul; this assembling of God’s people in one place for the same purpose, mainly for the Divine Eucharist, which not only was embraced but was in fact stressed very much and thus became the basis of overall Ecclesiology

Thus,. with saint Ignatius, we have the notion of the Church mainly as an assembly of the eschatological community assembled for the same purpose.  Ignatius goes on to a more detailed description of that assembly.  In the Apostle Paul, things have not yet been fully settled as to the structure of this assembly; we have but a very loose structure of the community.  For example, we notice that the community consists of those who are heads of the community and who lead the Divine Eucharist, and those who respond with “Amen”.   We had observed a basic distinction between clergy and laity with the Apostle Paul, in I Corinthians, but with Ignatius, we now have a more detailed definition, inasmuch as we don’t simply have clergy and laity; in fact, we have distinctions within the clergy, i.e., of  the one who heads the assembly (whom Ignatius calls “episkopos” (bishop*), the presbyters (priests) who accompany him, and the deacons, who connect this team of officiating clergy with the laity, which has assembled for the same purpose, around the person of the bishop.  We consequently notice here a transferal of the eschatological image of the assembly of God’s people for the same purpose around the Person of Christ, which we now observe reflected in these liturgical aspects of the Church.  This fact has ever since comprised the basis, the overall structure of the Church.  The bishop is the centre, around which the people of God unite.  “Where the bishop is, there let the crowds be gathered, so that wheresoever Christ may be, there the Overall (“catholic”) Church will be”; in other words, just as all of God’s people are united around Christ, so should the crowds be united around the bishop – all of the population, all of the members of the community

This  bishop is surrounded by the “convention” -as it is called- of the presbyters, which represents the Convention of the Apostles who, in the eschatological community, will have the position of Judge over the tribes of Israel.  “In the last days, you shall be seated on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”  In other words, at the End of Time, Christ will not be coming on His own, without being surrounded by the Twelve.  This is an extremely basic factor – that the Twelve, when they were chosen by Christ, were not chosen merely as Apostles who would be sent forth to preach the Gospel; they were chosen in the eschatological sense of the ones who would be surrounding the Person of Christ, so that during the “last days”, the judgment of Israel and the world would take place through the Apostles.  When we envisage the last days, the eschatological community, it is not enough to envisage only the Person of Christ; we must also envisage the Twelve, who, according to the revelation, are the foundations of the eschatological community.  Consequently, the Apostles are reflected in the persons of the presbyters who surround the bishop, according to Ignatius.  As for the bishop, in view of the fact that he will be judging the world in the name of the Father, of God, and not merely as Christ, this is why -according to Ignatius- it is God Who is reflected in the person of the bishop.  The bishop is “in the place or the semblance of God”.  As you can see, we have here a typological Ecclesiology, in the sense of a foretasting of the eschatological reality.  The Church – Her very being – is not, therefore, that which exists in History, but that which will be at the end of Time; in other words, She is a future reality, which presents itself as a foretaste and is experienced in every place that the Divine Liturgy is performed.  Thus, the congregating of the people is imperative, in order to reflect the eschatological community, but equally necessary is the presence of someone incarnate, representing the figure of the Father or Christ, who is surrounded by the twelve Apostles. Thisis of great importance, for the period in question (2^nd century), because Ecclesiology changes later on. (We shall see further along what turn it took).  So, on the basis of the eschatological picture, the Church clearly draws Her identity from that which will be in the future. In other words, She is a portrayal of the things to come.

We shall now proceed to the next important stage in History in order to describe the evolution of Ecclesiology, where this notion of the Church as a portrayal of the things to come slowly began to be overturned and substituted by something else. This overturning took place with the Alexandrian theologians, at the end of the 2^nd century and the beginning of the 3^rd, and also with the so-called Christian Gnostics, who appeared in the framework of the Catechist School of Alexandria. The leading representatives –as regards the topic of new perceptions that we are examining- were Clement of Alexandria and Origen. They were the ones who gave a new direction to Ecclesiology.  One could even call it something more than a change in direction: an overthrowing.  Because, as I explained, whereas on the basis of biblical data and Ignatius the Church depicts the final stage, the things to come, on the other hand with Clement of Alexandria and Origen, they signify that the Church comprises a depiction, not of the Final stage, but of the original status – the one that used to exist in the beginning. This is a characteristic of the specific school of thought, which was based on the influence of Platonism; in other words, to regard the original state of things as the state of perfection, while everything that occurred afterwards was to be regarded as a falling away from that state of perfection, and what is more, everything that is to occur in the future – the eschatological state – was to be seen as a return to the original state.  In other words, perfection was to be found in the beginning.

This is a basic, ancient Hellenic, mainly Platonic perception; i.e., the world once used to be perfect; the world of ideas is located in the beginning of things; everything that follows thereafter is a repetition of the original idea or a falling away from the original state.  Subsequently, the Church is likewise a reality - for those authors that I mentioned – that once used to be perfect, in the beginning.  And of course, perfection was visualized under that influence of Platonism, as something that is manifested in the individual logos of beings.  We have here a cosmological approach by the Church, and not an historical one, as we have in the Bible.  We are not looking at a historical community, but a perfect state of the entire world.  All beings had their roots inside the logos of beings, which existed originally, even before the creation of the world, and which logos of beings came together and comprised a unity within the one Logos of God.  Therefore the unity of the Church – the Church that we spoke of earlier – is in no way related to the unity of all beings, through their logos, in the one Logos, eternally.  Subsequently, we have here an eternal pre-existence of the Church, and consequently, we not only draw from there the identity of the Church, but also Her content and Her opus.

These all have very serious consequences, for all aspects of Ecclesiology.  You can understand from this comparison that, while Biblical and Ignatian Ecclesiology place a greater significance on the functions, on the institutions, by regarding them to be depictions of future situations, in the Ecclesiology of the Alexandrians (Origen and Clement), all these are of secondary importance, perhaps even of none.  The Logos, not the institution, now acquires a special significance, and not in a juridical sense either; the institution is not something that will count, in the future.  What does count, is the union of mankind with the Logos – the eternal and pre-eternal Logos; the union of the soul with the Logos.  Thus, a kind of mystical “Logocracy” is created.  This is not a logocracy that implies that salvation is not found in the expectation of a new world, with a new structure – a new community; it has rather to do with the uniting of the soul with the Logos and the striving for a catharsis of the soul of anything that hinders it from becoming united to the original Logos, Who is precedent to the material world.  Consequently, catharsis means cleansing oneself of matter - of everything tangible - and uniting oneself to the One who came before the creation of the material world.  Consequently, the Church is located there, at that union with the eternal Logos. In this way, an Ecclesiology is created, which does not place any extreme significance on the functions of the Church – functions, that could very well be considered supportive in the best case, which can bring us to that initial state of the soul’s union with the Logos – or, if you wish, to the state of catharsis. This is where we find the roots of numerous things that preoccupy us today.

Specifically, from within the Ecclesiology of the Alexandrians – of Clement and of Origen – sprang the perception that the most important thing in the Church – that which gives Her her identity – is that it represents an infirmary for curing passions and for catharsis of mankind, of souls, so that those souls can be joined to the Logos-God.  An entire tradition sprang forth from that perception.  To be exact, this tradition was –historically- linked to Monasticism.  In monastic circles, Origen’s texts were read incessantly, hence an Ecclesiology was cultivated among them, whereby the functions and the institutions of the Church were not considered a primary importance; instead, they viewed the Church as an infirmary for curing souls. On the other hand, however, and parallel to this course, Ignatius’ Ecclesiology was also developing within History.  It was continued by Cyprian and many other Fathers of the Church, and at times, the parallel course of the two ecclesiologies actually coincided creatively, producing an organic and uniform whole.  But, just when they began to form a whole, they would again deviate from one another; the parallel courses would separate, and quite often, they would reach the point of causing dilemmas as to which of the two courses was the more correct one, ecclesiologically.  So, what, finally, is the Church? Which is Her hypostasis?  Where do we find it? In the bishop and those surrounding him? In the structure, the assembling of the people for the performing of the Eucharist, or is it in the monastery, in the anachorite’s cell, in conjunction with the attempt to cleanse oneself of passions? This was posed as a dilemma many times throughout History.

Naturally, from a theological, dogmatic point of view, it should not be a dilemma at all; but, what something should be is one thing, and what actually occurs is another thing altogether. And it is my opinion, that this bi-polar situation in Ecclesiology is the most important problem that the Orthodox Church is faced with today, because we still haven’t been able to solve it creatively – we still haven’t overcome this bi-polarity.  Of course the problem is essentially a spiritual one. That the Church offers therapy for one’s passions is beyond any doubt; one can immediately identify the significance of the various functions and the divine Eucharist. However, to become cured of one’s passions is the most difficult thing to do, especially for those who actually struggle to be cured.  From the moment that even the slightest hint of egotism infiltrates the ones who are struggling to be cured of their passions, they are immediately overcome by an arrogance, which is linked to the common officials of the Church.  I repeat, the problem is strictly a spiritual one.  Experience has shown us that this arrogance is naturally not a characteristic of someone who has been cured of his passions.  A cured person will look upon the bishop with every due respect, without any internal concern nagging at him. But those who have even the smallest trace of a passion will readily say: “But who is this person? What do we need him for? As a spiritual person, I too can undertake the essential work of the Church” – they will thus create spiritual children of their own, which they will influence accordingly, and eventually create their own community, saying: “After all, look at the sorry state the bishops are in!!”  That is when Ecclesiology begins to disintegrate, and the bishop thereafter begins to seek juridical means (thus giving emphasis to the institutional aspect) of quashing the problem and imposing his authority on the monk.  In other words, in order to call things by their name and to not hide or be afraid of mentioning them, we have in the Church a problem of relations between bishops and monks. And the historical roots are located in the place that I have indicated. We need this historical awareness - as a kind of psychoanalysis – in order to become aware of our problems.  It is not by coincidence that the roots are located there; and it is not by coincidence that an Origen (or a Clement, to a smaller extent) finally deviated from the true Faith of the Church. Thus, one could say that it would be an incorrect beginning of Ecclesiology, for one to regard the Church either through a cosmological prism, or through a Platonic one, in the way that I mentioned earlier, i.e., by relating everything of the Church to the beginning and not to the end.

The only one, who succeeded in shaping Ecclesiology in such a way as to combine the two trends without losing balance or be led into a heresy, was Saint Maximus the Confessor.  If I have a reason for acknowledging this Father of the Church as the greatest theologian in History, it is because he was, in fact, the only one who was able to take the cosmological element and unite it with the eschatological one.  No-one else had been able to do this.  If we follow Saint Maximus, if we have him as our guide, we shall not be thrown off course.  But it is a difficult thing to do, and that is why there were so many deviations.  Maximus took Origen, and rendered him eschatological; he took his cosmology and rendered it eschatological. In this way, he ousted Platonism and struck a blow right in its heart.  This is why Western researchers could never understand Maximus; even though they were the ones who had ‘resurrected’ him and written books about him, they were nevertheless unable to grasp his spirit, because they all began with the assumption that he too belonged to the Platonizing fathers. He has a Platonic cortex and terminology, but in essence, he destroys Platonism because he takes us from that “return to the past” and about-faces us towards the future – towards the end of Time.  Thus, in the person of Saint Maximus, Ecclesiology once again becomes the eschatological community, which, unlike the Biblical and the Ignatian perception, also has its mundane dimensions – its clear-cut cosmological aspects.

Well, what then do we observe happening, when we creatively unite cosmology with eschatology – the Ecclesiology of Ignatius or Cyprian with the cosmological element?  We then arrive at Saint Maximus, who can see within the structure of the Church and the Divine Eucharist the eschatological community, and not merely the ideas and the logos that relate to the past.  One such eschatological community incorporates the logos of beings, the world, but only as realities of the future.  Consequently, we return to the ‘iconological’ Ecclesiology, where the Church portrays the future, the events of the end.  However, these end events are not simply functions and assemblies of God’s people; they constitute an event of cosmological significance, i.e., the assembling of all beings in the person of the Logos ( the already incarnated Logos, not the Logos prior to the Incarnation ), the incarnated and eschatological Adam.  Thus, Ecclesiology also takes on the form of anthropology, because the eschatological Adam also recapitulates everything in his person,  and this relieves us of the dichotomy between – let’s call it “therapeutic” - and “liturgical” Ecclesiology.  This is very sad, because in our time, in the Orthodox Church, this dilemma is still so alive.  You see some people being preoccupied by and supporting that this aspect is everything, while others are preoccupied only with liturgical or institutional Ecclesiology, and not being able to combine these two trends.  This chasm is ever widening, and it will have very serious consequences for the Orthodox Church.  You younger people are the first victims of this situation, and it will be necessary for God to arrange so that you might be hindered by someone from being led by this chasm, or from you actually leading things towards this chasm between the two Ecclesiologies.

Copied from Orthodox Outlet for Dogmatic Enquiries http://www.oodegr.com/english/dogmatiki1/F2b.htm

The God-Man

The Theanthrapos according to Saint Maximos the Confessor
By Fr. George Florovsky



The Incarnation of the Logos is the basis and goal of Revelation — its basic theme and meaning. From the beginning God the Logos appoints Incarnation for himself so that the consecration and deification of all creation, of all the world, is accomplished in the union of the God-Man.
For man is a microcosm. He stands on the border of worlds and unites in himself all planes of existence. He is called to unite and gather everything in himself, as St. Gregory of Nyssa taught. In the prospects of this universal consecration of existence, the speculative correctness of strict, precise dyophysitism is particu -larly clearly evident and comprehensible. This is not only a soteriological axiom or postulate. St. Maximus does not only show the fullness, the "perfection" of Christ’s human nature from the necessity of redemption — "what is not assumed is not healed." He does indeed repeat these words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus. For the world was created only in order that in the fulfillment of its fate God should be in everything and that everything should commune with him through the Logos Incarnate. Hence, it is understandable that in the Incarnation the whole totality of created nature — πάντα τα ημών — must be assumed by the Logos and assimilated "without any omission."
In the fallen world the Incarnation turns out to be redemption, salvation. But from time immemorial, it was willed not as a means of salvation, but as the fulfillment of created existence in general, as its justification and foundation. It is for this reason that the redemption itself is by no means exhausted by some negative factors alone — liberation from sin, condemnation, decay and death. The main thing is the very fact of inseparable union of natures — the entrance of Life into created existence. For us, however, it is easier to understand the Incarnation as the path to salvation. It is this aspect which is the most important thing of all, for we must, first of all, be redeemed in Christ and through Christ.
The mystery of God-Manhood has been active in the world from the beginning. St. Maximus distinguishes two moments and periods: the mystery of the Divine Incarnation and the "grace of human deification." The Old Testament is the still uncompleted history of the Church. The historic event of the Gospel is the focus and the division of two epochs, the summit and mystical focus of oikonomia. This is the fulfillment, the crowning of the revelations of the Logos in the world the Logos created, in the Law and Scripture the Logos gave to man.
Christ is born of a Virgin. Therefore, first of all, he is consubstantial with us — "the same in nature." But he is born not of seed, but by an immaculate Virgin Birth, a birth which was "controlled not by the law of sin but by the law of Divine truth." Therefore he is free of sin — the hereditary sin which is transmitted first of all in the "illegality" of carnal conception, echoing especially the thought of St. Gregory of Nyssa. He receives the primordial, still chaste, human nature, as it was created by God from time immemorial, as Adam had it before the fall. And with this he "renews" nature, displays it beside the sin "of which decrepitude consists." However, for the sake of our salvation the Lord primordially subordinates himself to the order of sufferings and decay. He voluntarily deigns to accept mortality and death itself, from which he could be entirely free, being beyond sin. The Lord subordinates himself to the consequences of sin, while staying not privy to sin itself. In this is his healing penance.
He becomes a man "not according to a law of nature," but according to the will of oikonomia. "Innocent and sinless, he paid the whole debt for mankind, as if he himself were guilty, and thereby returned them anew to the original grace of the kingdom. He gave himself for us at the cost of redemption and deliverance, and for our pernicious passions he gave with his life-giving suffering — the curative healing and salvation of the whole world."
Christ enters the "suffering" or "passionate" order of things, lives in it, but inwardly remains independent of it and free. He is "clothed" in our nature’s capacity for suffering — this phrase is more accurate than "passion" — through which we are attracted to sin and fall under the power of the evil one. But he remains passionless — that is, immobile or non-suffering, "non-passive," free and active as regards "reproachful" or "anti-natural" or "para-Physical" incentives. This is "imperishability of the will," "volition." Through abstinence, long-suffering, and love, Christ warded off and overcame all temptations, and displayed in his life every virtue and wisdom.
This imperishability of the will is reinforced later by the imperishability of nature — that is, the resurrection. The Lord descends even to the gates of hell, to the very region of death, and deposes or weakens it. Life proves to be stronger than death Death is conquered in resurrection, as in the abolition of any suffering, weakness and decay — that is, in a land of "transformation" of nature into immortality and imperishability. The series of stages is: existence; true existence or virtue; and eternal existence which is in God, which is "deification." At the same time there is a series of redeeming actions: union with God in the Incarnation, imperishability of will in the righteousness of life, and imperishability of nature in the resurrection.
Throughout, St. Maximus emphasizes the integrating activity of the God-Man. Christ embraced and united everything in himself. He removed the cleavages of existence. In his impassive birth he combined the male and female genders. Through his holy life he combined the universe and paradise. Through his ascension, he combined earth and heaven, the created and uncreated. And he traces and reduces everything to the proto-beginning or proto-cause. Not only because he is the Logos, and creatively embraces everything and contains it within himself but also by his human will, his human volition, which brings about God’s will, which organically coincides with it and receives it as its own inner and intimate measure or model.
After all, the fall was a volitional act, and therefore an injury to the human will, a disconnecting of human will and God’s will, and a disintegration of human will itself, among passions and subordinating external impressions or influences. Healing must penetrate to the original wound and the original ulcer of sinfulness. Healing must be the doctoring and restoration of the human will in its fullness, self-discipline, integrity, and accord with God’s will — here there is the usual antithesis: Adam’s disobedience and Christ’s obedience and submissiveness. St. Maximus extends this with his ontological interpretation.
St. Maximus speaks the language of Leontius. He opposes nature (and essence), as something general and merely conceivable — able to be contemplated with the mind — to hypostasis, as some -thing concrete and real — πραγματικώς υφιστάμενον. For him hypostasity is not exhausted in features or “peculiarities” but is first of all independent existence — καθ’ έαυτό. “Non-un-hypostasity” or reality does not unfailingly signify hypostasity; that is, independence, but can also indicate "inner-hypostasity" — that is, existence in another, and with another . Only the concrete or individual is real. As for Leontius, hypostasis is signified not so much by individualizing features as by an image of existence and life. Hypostasity is not a special and superfluous feature, but a real originality. Therefore, "non-self-hypostasity" by no means limits or decreases the fullness or "perfection" of nature. The fullness of nature is determined and described by general features, "essential" or "natural" traits — they are "tokens of perfection," of completeness or fullness.
The Incarnation of the Logos is the reception and inclusion of human nature into the unalterable hypostasis of the Logos. Christ is united, a "united hypostasis," and it is this which is the hypostasis of the Logos. It is for just this reason that it is said: the Logos became flesh, for the Logos is the subject. As St. Maximus explains, "became flesh" precisely signifies acceptance into hypostasis, and "origin" or genesis through such acceptance.
In a certain sense, through the Incarnation the hypostasis of the Logos changes from simple to complex — "compound;" συνθετος. However, this complexity merely signifies that the single hypostasis is at once and inseparably the hypostasis; that is, the personal center, for both of the two natures. The complexity is in the union of natures which remain without any change in their natural characteristics. The Incarnation is "God’s ineffable humility," his kenosis, but it is not the "impoverishing of the Godhead." And the human in the hypostasis of the Logos does not cease being "consubstantial with," "of the same essence with" us.
St. Maximus defines "hypostatic union" precisely as the union or reduction of "different essences or natures" in a unity of person — hypostasis. The natures remain different and dissimilar. Their “differentness” does not cease with union, and is also preserved in that indissoluble and unflagging inter-communion, inter-penetration — περιχώρησις eις άλλήλας, which is established by the union. "In saying that Christ is of two natures, we mean that he consists of Divinity and humanity as a whole consists of parts; and in saying that after the union he is in two natures, we believe that he abides in the Godhead and in Manhood, as a whole consists of parts. And Christ’s "parts" are his Divinity and Humanity, of which and in which he abides." What is more, he is not only "of two" or "in two" but simply "two natures." Since there is no mixing, it is necessary to count. Christ’s human nature is consubstantial with ours, but at the same time it is free of original sm — this is also connected with the immaculate conception of Christ and the virgin birth. In other words, primordial human nature is displayed and realized anew in Christ in all its chastity and purity.
And by virtue of this hypostatic nature all that is human in Christ was permeated with Divinity, deified, transformed — here the image of the red hot iron is used. Here the human is given a new and special form of existence, and this is connected with the very purpose of the coming of the Logos — after all, he "became flesh" in order to renew decayed nature, for the sake of a new form of existence. The deification of the human is not its absorption or dissolution. On the contrary, it is in this likeness to God, or likening to God, that the human genuinely becomes itself. For man is created in the image of God, and is summoned to the likeness of God. In Christ is realized the highest and utmost measure of this likening, which fortifies the human in its genuine natural originality. Deification signifies the indissoluble connection, perfect accord and unity. First of all, there is inseparability — always "in communion with one another." By virtue of hypostatic union Christ,while being God, is "incarnate but unaltered," and always acts in everything "not only as God or according to his Divinity but at the same time as a man, according to his humanity." In other words, all of Divine Life draws humanity into itself and manifests itfcelf or flows out only through it. This is a "new and ineffable form for revealing Christ’s natural actions" — in inseparable union, however, without any change or decrease in what is characteristic for each nature, "immutably."
The possibility for such a union is founded in the natural "non-non-divinity" of the human spirit which is the intermediary link in the union of the Logos with animated flesh, an idea taken from the thought of St. Gregory of Nazianzus. The form of Christ’s activity in humanity was different from ours, higher than it, and often even higher than nature, for he acted entirely freely and voluntarily, without hesitation or bifurcation, and in immutable harmony, and even union of all desires with the will of the Logos. And again, this was more the fulfillment of human measure than its abolition. God’s will, which motivates and forms human volition, is accomplished in everything. However, this did not eliminate human volition itself. It befits man to do God’s will, accepting it as his own, for God’s will reveals and builds the tastes and paths which most correspond to the goals and meaning of human life.
St. Maximus sees first of all the unity of life in the unity of person. Because this unity is realized in the two natures so fully, human nature is generally a likeness of Divine nature. Recalling man’s likeness to God makes it much easier for St. Maximus to disclose and defend Orthodox Dyophysitism. This was also an important argument against Monophysitism in general, with its anthropological self-depreciation or minimalism. In St. Maximus there was no longer that vagueness which remained in Leontius in connection with the analogy of soul and body. St. Maximus flatly rejects the possibility of mixing or of the conjunction of hypcstases for a certain time, then their new separation or restoration. Therefore he categorically denies even the logical possibility of the pre-existence of Christ’s humanity before the Incarnation. In general, he uses the comparison with the human composition with very great restraint. He always emphasizes that we are speaking of the Incarnation of the Logos, and not the deification of man. By these same motives he brusquely rejects the doctrine of the pre-existence of souls as being completely incompatible with the true hypostatic unity of each person.
In the doctrine of the two wills and two energies in Christ Orthodox Dyophysitism becomes totally complete and definite. Only an open and direct confession of natural human energy and will in Christ removes any ambiguity in the doctrine of the God-Man. The metaphysical premises of St. Maximus’ discussion of two energies can be expressed in the following way. First, will and energy are essential traits of spiritual nature — they are natural traits. Therefore, the two natures unavoidably entails a two-ness of natural energies, and any wavering in acknowledging their two-ness signifies indistinctness in the confession of the two natures. Secondly, one must clearly and precisely distinguish natural will as the basic trait or characteristic of spiritual existence — θέλημα φυσικόν — and as selective volition, volitional choice and variation between possibilities which differ in significance and quality — θέλημα γνωμικον.
St. Maximus dwells on these preliminary definitions in great detail, for it is here that the basic disagreement with the Monophysites was revealed. The Monophysites claimed a union of volition and energy in Christ, a union of personal or hypostatic will, for Christ is one, his will is one. Consequently, one volition and one will. Does not unity of person include unity of will? And does not the assumption of two volitions weaken the union of the person of the God-Man? The Monophysites’ misunderstanding revealed an authentic theological question: what can the two wills and two energies mean given the unity of the willing subject? To start with, there are essentially two questions here. The concept of hypostatic will" can also be ambiguous: it means either the absorption or disintegration of human will in the Divine dynamic unity of volition; or the assumption of some "third" will, which corresponds to a "complex hypostasis" of the God-Man, as a special principle apart from and equal to the natures being unified.
St. Maximus first of all dismisses this last supposition: the whole is not some third thing — it does not have a special existence apart from its components; the wholeness signifies only the new and special form of existence of these components, but at the same time no new source of will and energy arises or is revealed.
The unity of hypostasis in Christ determines the form of the self-disclosure of the natures, but does not create any special "third" independent reality. The hypostasis of the God-Man "has only that which is characteristic of each of his natures. What is more, the hypostasis of Christ is, after all, the hypostasis of the Logos, which is eternal and unalterable, and which became the hypostasis for the humanity it received. Consequently, unity of "hypostatic volition" can practically mean only the unity of the will of God, which absorbs human will. This would clearly damage the fullness or "perfection" of the human composition in Christ. Least of all can one speak of a temporary and "relative assimilation" of human will by the Logos in the order of oikonomic adaption. This means introducing Docetism into the mystery of the Incarnation.
Will is a trait or characteristic of reasoning nature. St. Maximus defines it as "the force of striving for what conforms to nature, a force which embraces all traits or characteristics which essentially belong to the nature." One must add: the force of a reasoning soul, a reasoning striving, which is "verbal" or "logical," and a free and "masterful striving" — κατ’ έξουσιαν. Will, as the capacity to desire and freely decide, is something innate. A "reasoning" nature cannot be anything but volitional, for reason is essentially "despotic," a "dominating" principle; that is, a principle of self-determination, the capability of being defined by one’s self and through one’s self. Here is the boundary which divides "reasoning" beings from "non-reasoning" or "non-verbal" ones, who are blindly allured by nature’s might. They objected to St. Maximus by asking: but is there really no nuance of necessity or inevitability in the very concept of "nature," which cannot be eliminated? So the concept of "natural will" includes an internal contradiction. St. Athanasius was reproached for the same thing in his day; and Theodoret reproached St. Cyril for this as well.
St. Maximus resolutely deflects this reproach. Why is nature a necessity? Does one really have to say that God is forced to be, that he is good by necessity? In created beings "nature" determines the purposes and tasks of freedom, but does not limit it. Here we arrive at a basic distinction: will and choice — γνώμη. One could say volition and desire, or willfulness, almost arbitrariness. Freedom and will are not arbitrariness at all. Freedom of choice not merely does not belong to the perfection of freedom. On the contrary, it is diminishing and a distortion of freedom. Genuine freedom is an undivided, unshakable, integral striving and attraction of the soul to Goodness. It is an integral impulse of reverence and love. "Choice" is by no means an obligatory condition of freedom. God wills and acts in perfect freedom, but he does not waver and does not choose. Choice — προαιρεσις — which is properly "preference," as St. Maximus himself observes, presupposes bifurcation and vagueness — the incompleteness and unsteadiness of the will. Only a sinful and feeble will wavers and chooses.
According to the idea of St. Maximus the fall of the will consists precisely in losing integrity and spontaneity, in the fact that the will changes from intuitive to discursive, and in the fact that volition develops into a very complex process of search, trial, and choice. In this process that which is personal and special is attendant. Thus do personal desires take shape. Here incommensurate attractions clash and struggle. But the measure of perfection and purity of will is its simplicity — that is, precisely its integrity and uniformity. This is only possible through: "Let Thy will be done!" This is the highest measure of freedom, the highest reality of freedom, which accepts the first-created will of God and therefore expresses its own genuine depths. St. Maximus always speaks of the reality and efficacy of the human will in Christ with special stress; otherwise all oikonomia would turn into a phantom. Christ, as the "new man," was a complete or "perfect" man, and accepted all that was human in order to heal it. But it was the will, the desire, which was the source of sin in the Old Adam, and therefore it was the will which demanded doctoring and healing most of all. Salvation would not have been accomplished if the will had not been accepted and healed.
However, all of human nature in Christ was sinless and viceless, for this is the nature of the Primordial one. And his will was the primordial will, which was still untouched by the breath of sin. In this is all the originality of Christ’s human will — it differs from ours only "as regards the inclination to sin." There are no waverings or contradictions. Inwardly, it is unified and inwardly it conforms to the will of the Godhead. There is no clash or struggle between the two natural wills — and there must not be! For human nature is God’s creation, God’s will realized. Therefore, in it there is nothing — and cannot be anything — contrary to or opposing God’s will. God’s will is not something external for human will, but its source and goal, its beginning and its telos. Of course, this coincidence or accord of wills is not their mixing.
In a certain sense human actions and will in Christ were higher than nature or above it. "For through hypostatic union it was entirely deified, for which reason it was also completely not privy to sin." Through hypostatic union with the Logos everything human in Christ was strengthened and transformed. This transformation is proclaimed first of all in perfect freedom. Human nature in Christ is taken out from under the power of natural necessity, under which it found itself only by virtue of sin. If it remains within the bounds of the natural order, that is not so under compulsion but voluntarily and competently. The Savior voluntarily and freely takes upon himself all the weaknesses and sufferings of man in order to free him from them — like fire melts wax, or the sun drives away the fog.
St. Maximus distinguishes a dual assumption — the same distinction appears later in St. John of Damascus. First, there is natural or essential assumption. The Logos accepts the entire fullness of human nature in its primordial innocence and guiltlessness, but in that feeble condition into which it fell through sin, with all the weaknesses and flaws which are the consequences of sin or even retribution for sin but are themselves not anything sinful — the so-called "unreproachable passions" such as hunger and thirst, fear, fatigue. At the same time, though, the acceptance of weaknesses and disparagement are acts of free subordination, for in incorrupt nature there is no need to be feeble or under someone’s power. It is especially necessary to observe that St. Maximus directly ascribes omniscience to Christ through humanity as well. Indeed, as he understands it, "ignorance" was one of the most shameful flaws of human nature in sin. Secondly, there is relative or oikonomic assumption — acceptance in love and compassion. Thus the Savior accepted sin and man’s guilt, his sinful and guilty feebleness. In the portrayal by St. Maximus Christ’s human nature proves to be particularly active, efficacious, and free. This concerns the redemptive sufferings more than anything else. This was free passion, the free acceptance and fulfillment of the will of God. In the Savior’s chaste life the restoration of the image of God in man was accomplished — through human will. And by his free acceptance of cleansing — not punitive — suffering, Christ destroyed the power of the Old Adam’s free desire and sin. This was not retribution or punishment for sin, but the movement of saving Love.
St. Maximus explains Christ’s redeeming work as the restoration, the healing, the gathering of all creation in ontological, not moral, terms. But it is Love which is the moving force of salvation. The Love displayed on the Cross most of all. Christ’s work will be fulfilled in the Second Coming. The Gospels lead to this, to the "spiritual" appearance of the Logos, the God-Man, just as the Old Testament led to the Logos Incarnate. Here St. Maximus follows Origen’s motif.



The Byzantine Fathers
Of the Sixth to Eighth Century

Georges Florovsky

Dostoevsky: Lord, Thy Kingdom Come

"And then Christ will say to us, 'you too come forth. Come forth, you drunkards, come forth, you weak ones, come forth you children of shame!’...  And He will say to us, 'you are swine, made in the image of the beast and with his mark; but come yet also.'  And the wise ones and those of understanding will say, 'Lord, why dost Thou receive these men?'  And He will say, 'This is why I receive these O ye wise; this is why I receive them, O ye of understanding, that not one of them believed them to be worthy of this.'  And He will hold out His hands to us and we shall fall down before Him... and we shall understand all things... Lord, Thy Kingdom come!"

- Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

Humility & Thanksgiving

A brother prayed for a thunderbolt, a difficulty or some illness to make him fear God all the time. He could not believe he would ever be pardoned. In great fear, he wanted his share (Luke 15.12) of punishment here. He denied himself any rest, always lamenting (Mtt. 5.4.) Then he had a vision of a smiling Christ who raised him up and put his hand on his head and assured him of forgiveness. "Would I who gave my blood for you not give you mercy ?" The monk returned to himself with great joy in his heart, which led to great humility and thanksgiving.



Glory to God for All!

When in truth we appreciate the gifts which God gives us, we don't have time to seek anything else. We run to say thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We see a person ... thank you. We see a flower ... thank you. We see a glass of milk ... thank you. For everything ... thank you. And such a joy comes into our life, that many do not understand even if they are close to us; What is all this! They said to me once in England: "What's happening? Why are you so cheerful?" "Because I am alive and I see you!" Have a good day!
Gerontissa Gavriella

For Christ and the Poor

Peter was an immensely rich tax-gatherer in the Thebaid who gave nothing either to God or to the poor. The brothers brought a blind man to his door who charged Peter to give thanks to God for his good fortune; all he received was a pittance and a dismissal. But by night Peter had a vision of Christ carrying the pittance he had given the blind man and he realised that whatever a man does for the poor, he does it for God.  Going to the tax-house he saw one about to be choked for a debt of forty pieces of gold, which he supplied. Then, newly widowed, he went out into the square and saw a naked man. Taking off his under-garment (valued at one hundred pieces of gold) he gave it to him, and in his sleep he saw Christ wearing it. Now he resigned his post, giving many gifts to charitable causes and freeing all but his chief slave. With him he went to Jerusalem where he charged the slave to sell him into slavery. This he did, for forty pieces of gold - which were then given to him, together with his liberty. The former tax-gatherer served his new master, an ργυρoπράτης, as a faithful slave for about eighteen years, as his major-domo. Then some guests from Thebes came to the house who recognised him. He rewarded the dumb gate-keeper with the gift of speech for letting him slip away -- to become a monk, in which capacity he attained a high standard both as ascetic and as healer.

"Her hour's repentance is accepted for the long time of her sinfulness"

Paesia [Παησία,] orphaned of her rich parents, turned her home into a hostel [ξεvoδoχεov] for monks, but she was reduced to poverty and then to prostitution. John went to visit her but the old woman at the door would have turned him away. He finally gained entrance because the woman was persuaded that he had found a pearl by the Red Sea. She received him lying in bed; he wept, for he could see Satan playing in her face. She repented and followed him, without even making any arangements for her house. That night, John prepared a bed for each of them in the sand. About midnight, he saw a path of light between her and heaven with angels bearing her soul on high. He got up and kicked her, only to find she was dead, so he praised God.



The Valley of the Shadow of Death

The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Chapter I of Collected Works of Georges Florovsky, Vol. III: Creation and Redemption

"O YE DRY BONES"... Ezekiel 37

A GLORIOUS VISION was granted to the Prophet. By the hand of the Lord the prophet Ezekiel was taken to the valley of death, a valley of despair and desolation. There was nothing alive there. There was nothing but dry bones, and very dry they were indeed. This was all that had been left of those who were once living. Life was gone. And a question was put to the Prophet: "Can these dry bones live again? Can life come back once more?" The human answer to this question would have been obviously, no. Life never comes back. What is once dead, is dead forever. Life cannot come out of dust and ashes. "For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again" (2 Sam. 14:14). Death is an ultimate ending, a complete frustration of human hopes and prospects. Death comes from sin, from the original Fall. It was not divinely instituted. Human death did not belong to the Divine order of creation. It was not normal or natural for man to die. It was an abnormal estrangement from God, who is man’s Maker and Master— even physical death; i.e. the separation of soul and body. Man’s mortality is the stigma or "the wages" of sin (Rom. 6:23).
Many Christians today have lost this Biblical conception of death and mortality and regard death rather as a release, a release of an immortal soul out of the bondage of the body. As widely spread as this conception of death may actually be, it is utterly alien to the Scriptures. In fact, it is a Greek, a gentile conception. Death is not a release, it is a catastrophe. "Death is a mystery indeed: for the soul is by violence severed from the body, is separated from the natural connection and composition, by the Divine will. O marvel. Why have we been given over unto corruption, and why have we been wedded unto death?" (St. John of Damascus in the "Burial office"). A dead man is no man any more. For man is not a bodiless spirit. Body and soul belong together, and their separation is a decomposition of the human being. A discarnate soul is but a ghost. A soulless body is but a corpse. "For in death there is no remembrance of Thee, in the grave who shall give Thee thanks" (Ps. 6:5). Or again: "Wilt Thou shew wonders to the dead? shall the dead arise and praise Thee? shall Thy lovingkindness be declared in the grave? Or Thy faithfulness in destruction? shall Thy wonders be known in the dark? and Thy righteousness in the land of forgetfulness" (Ps. 88:10-12). And the Psalmist was perfectly sure: "and they are cut off from Thy hand" (v. 5). Death is hopeless. And thus the only reasonable answer could be given, from the human point of view, to the quest about the dry bones: No, the dry bones will never live again.
But the Divine reply was very different from that. And it was not just an answer in words, but a mighty deed of God. And even the Word of God is creative: "for He spake, and it was done; He commanded, and it stood fast" (Ps. 33:9). And now God speaks again and acts. He sends His Spirit and renews the face of the earth (Ps. 104:30). The Spirit of God is the Giver of Life. And the Prophet could witness a marvelous restoration. By the power of God the dry bones were brought again together, and linked, and shaped, and covered over again with a living flesh, and the breath of life came back into the bodies. And they stood up again, in full strength, "an exceedingly great congregation." Life came back, death was overcome.
The explanation of this vision goes along with the vision itself. Those bones were the house of Israel, the chosen People of God. She was dead, by her sins and apostasy, and has fallen into the ditch which she made herself, was defeated and rejected, lost her glory, and freedom, and strength. Israel, the People of Divine Love and adoption, the obstinate, rebellious and stiffnecked people, and yet still the Chosen People . . . And God brings her out of the valley of the shadow of death back to the green pastures, out of the snare of death, of many waters, of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay.
The prophecy has been accomplished. The promised deliverance came one day. The promised Deliverer, or Redeemer, the Messiah, came in the due time, and His name was Jesus: "for He shall save His people from their sins" (Matt. 1:21). He was "a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel."
And then something incredible and paradoxical happened. He was not recognized or "received" by His people, was rejected and reviled, was condemned and put to death, as a false prophet, even as a liar or "deceiver." For the fleshly conception of the deliverance held by the people was very different from that which was in God’s own design. Instead of a mighty earthly Prince expected by the Jews, Jesus of Nazareth came, "meek and lowly in heart." The King of Heaven, the King of Kings Himself, came down, the King of Glory, yet under the form of a Servant. And not to dominate, but to serve all those "that labor and are heavy laden," and to give them rest. Instead of a charter of political freedom and independence, He brought to His people, and to all men indeed, a charter of Salvation, the Gospel of Eternal Life. Instead of political liberation He brought freedom from sin and death, the forgiveness of sins and Life Everlasting. He came unto His own and was not "received." He was put to death, to shameful death, and "was numbered with the transgressors." Life put to death, Life Divine sentenced to death by men-this is the mystery of the Crucifixion.
Once more God has acted. "Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain; Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death: because it was not possible that He should be holden of it" (Acts 2:23-24, the words of St. Peter). Once more Life came out of the grave. Christ is risen, He came forth out of His grave, as a Bridegroom out of his chamber. And with Him the whole human race, all men indeed, was raised. He is the first fruits of them that slept, and all are to follow Him in their own order (I Cor. 15:20, 23). "That as sin hath reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord" (Rom. 5:21).
The prophecy of Ezekiel is read in the Orthodox Church at Matins on Great Saturday, at that glorious office at which believers are invited to keep a watch at the grave of the Lord, at that Sacred and Holy Grave out of which Life sprung abundantly for all creation. In the beautiful hymns and anthems, appointed for the day, the "encomia"— one of the most precious creations of devotional poetry— this tremendous mystery is depicted and adored: Life laid down in the grave, Life shining forth out of the grave. "For lo, He who dwelleth on high is numbered among the dead and is lodged in the narrow grave" (The Canon, Ode 8, Irmos). The faithful are called to contemplate and to adore this mystery of the Life-bearing and Life-bringing tomb.
And yet, the old prophecy is still a prophecy, or rather both a prophecy and a witness. Life came forth from the grave, but the fulness of life is still to come. The human race, even the redeemed, even the Church itself, are still in the valley of the shadow of death.
The house of the New Israel of God is again very much like dry bones. There is so little true life in all of us. The historical path of man is still tragic and insecure. All of us have been, in recent years, driven back into the valley of death. Every one, who had to walk on the ruins of once flourishing cities, realizes the terrible power of death and destruction. Man is still spreading death and desolation. One may expect even worse things to come. For the root of death is sin. No wonder that there is, in many and diverse quarters, a growing understanding of the seriousness of sin. The old saying of St. Augustine finds anew echoes in the human soul: Nondum considerasti quanti ponderis sit peccatum, "you never understand of what weight is sin." The power of death is broken indeed. Christ is risen indeed. "The Prince of Life, who died, reigns immortal." The spirit of God, the Comforter, the Giver of Life, has been sent upon the earth to seal the victory of Christ, and abides in the Church, since Pentecost. The gift of life, of the true life, has been given to men, and is being given to them constantly, and abundantly, and increasingly. It is given, but not always readily "received." For in order to be truly quickened one has to overcome one’s fleshly desires, "to put aside all worldly cares," pride and prejudice, hatred and selfishness, and self-complacency, and even to renounce one’s self. Otherwise one would quench the Spirit. God knocks perpetually at the gate of human hearts, but it is man himself who can unlock them.
God never breaks in by violence. He respects, in the phrase of St. Irenaeus of Lyons, "the ancient law of human freedom," once chartered by Himself. Surely, without Him, Without Christ, man can do nothing. Yet, there is one thing that can be done only by man— it is to respond to the Divine call and to "receive" Christ. And this so many fail to do.
We are living in a grim and nervous age. The sense of historical security has been lost long ago. It seems that our traditional civilization may collapse altogether and fall to pieces. The sense of direction is also confused. There is no way out of this predicament and impasse unless a radical change takes place. Unless... In the Christian language it reads— unless we repent, unless we ask for a gift of repentance... Life is given abundantly to all men, and yet we are still dead. "Repent, and turn yourselves from all your transgressions; so iniquity shall not be your ruin. Cast away from you all your transgressions, whereby you have transgressed; and make you a new heart and a new spirit: for why will ye die, O house of Israel? For I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God: wherefore turn yourselves, and live ye" (Ezekiel 18:30-32).
There are two ways. "See, I have set before thee this day life and good, and death and evil... I call heaven and earth to record this day against you that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life (Deuter. 30:15, 19).
Let us choose life... First, we have to dedicate all our life to God, and to "receive" or accept Him as our only Lord and Master, and this not only in the spirit of formal obedience, but in the spirit of love. For He is more than our Lord, He is our Father. To love Him means also to serve Him, to make His purpose our own, to share His designs and aims. "Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I heard of my Father I have made known unto you" (John 15:15).
Our Lord left to us His own work to carry on and to accomplish. We have to enter into the very spirit of His redeeming work. And we are given power to do this. We are given power to be the sons of God. Even the Prodigal son was not allowed to lose his privilege of birth and to be counted among the hirelings. And even more, we are members of Christ, in the Church, which is His Body. His life is indwelt unto us by the Holy Spirit.
Thus, secondly, we have to draw closer together and search in all our life for that unity which was in the mind of our Blessed Lord on His last day, before the Passion and the Cross: that all may be one— in faith and love, one-in Him.
The world is utterly divided still. There is too much strife and division even among those who claim to be of Christ. The peace among nations and above all the unity among Christians, this is the common bound duty, this is the most urgent task of the day. And surely the ultimate destiny of man is decided not on the battlefields, nor by the deliberations of the clever men. The destiny of man is decided in human hearts. Will they be locked up even at the knocking of the Heavenly Father? Or will man succeed in unlocking them in response to the call of Divine Love?
Even in our gloomy days there are signs of hope. There is not only "darkness at noon," but also lights in the night. There is a growing search for unity. But true unity is only found in the Truth, in the fulness of Truth. "Make schisms to cease in the Church. Quench the ragings of the nations. Speedily destroy, by the might of the Holy Spirit, all uprisings of heresies" (The Liturgy of St. Basil). Life is given abundantly.
We have to watch— not to miss the day of our visitation, as the Israel of old had missed hers. "How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not" (Matt. 23:37). Let us choose life, in the knowledge of the Father and His only Son, our Lord, in the power of the Holy Spirit. And then the glory of the Cross and Resurrection will be revealed in our own lives. And the glorious prophecy of old will once more come true. "Behold, O my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel... Then shall you know that I the Lord have spoken it, and performed it, saith the Lord" (Ezekiel, 37:12, 14).

St. Markos Evgenikos: The Work of the Holy

The vision and enjoyment of the saints is incomplete since, taking thought for their brethren, they are turned toward the physical world and spend most of their time with us, working miracles through their sacred relics and being present to each one who prays to them. It is not possible for them to be active and sympathetically present with the faithful and at the same time to enjoy the pure vision of God.

Saint Nicholas Kavasilas: The Mysteries and the Age to Come

Ἡ ἐν Χριστῷ ζωὴ φύεται μὲν ἐν τῷδε τῷ βίῳ καὶ τὰς
ἀρχὰς ἐντεῦθεν λαμβάνει· τελειοῦται δὲ ἐπὶ τοῦ μέλλοντος,
ἐπειδὰν εἰς ἐκείνην ἀφικώμεθα τὴν ἡμέραν. Καὶ οὔτε ὁ βίος
οὗτος τελείως δύναται ταύτην ἐνθεῖναι ταῖς τῶν ἀνθρώπων
ψυχαῖς, οὔτε ὁ μέλλων μὴ τὰς ἀρχὰς ἐντεῦθεν λαβών. Ἐπὶ
μὲν γὰρ τοῦ παρόντος, τὸ σαρκίον ἐπισκοτεῖ, καὶ ἡ ἐκεῖθεν
νεφέλη καὶ φθορά, «μὴ δυναμένη τὴν ἀφθαρσίαν κληρονο-
μεῖν»· ὅθεν ὁ Παῦλος τὸ ἀναλῦσαι πρὸς τὸ συνεῖναι
Χριστῷ καὶ μάλα ἐνόμισε φέρειν· «ἀναλῦσαι γάρ, φησί, καὶ
σὺν Χριστῷ εἶναι, πολλῷ μᾶλλον κρεῖσσον.» Ὅ τε μέλλων
οὓς ἂν μὴ τὰς δυνάμεις καὶ τὰς αἰσθήσεις ὧν ἂν δέοι πρὸς
τὸν βίον ἐκεῖνον ἔχοντας λάβοι, τούτοις οὐδὲν ἔσται πλέον
εἰς εὐδαιμονίαν, ἀλλὰ νεκροὶ καὶ ἄθλιοι τὸν μακάριον
ἐκεῖνον καὶ ἀθάνατον οἰκήσουσι κόσμον. Ὁ δὲ λόγος ὅτι τὸ
μὲν φῶς ἀνατέλλει, καὶ ὁ ἥλιος καθαρὰν τὴν ἀκτῖνα παρέχει,
ὀφθαλμὸν δὲ οὐκ ἔνι τηνικαῦτα πλασθῆναι· καὶ ἡ μὲν τοῦ
Πνεύματος εὐωδία δαψιλῶς ἐκχεῖται καὶ τὰ πάντα κατέχει,
ὄσφρησιν δὲ οὐκ ἄν τις λάβοι μὴ ἔχων.

Καὶ τῶν μὲν μυστηρίων ἔξεστι κοινωνῆσαι τῷ Υἱῷ
τοῦ Θεοῦ τοὺς «φίλους» κατὰ τὴν ἡμέραν ἐκείνην, καὶ «ἃ
ἤκουσε παρὰ τοῦ Πατρὸς» ἐκεῖνος παρ᾿ ἐκείνου μαθεῖν
αὐτούς, ἀνάγκη δὲ φίλους ὄντας αὐτοῦ καὶ «ὦτα ἔχοντας»
ἀφικέσθαι. Οὐ γὰρ ἔστιν ἐνταῦθα φιλίαν συστῆναι καὶ οὖς
ἀνοιγῆναι καὶ ἱμάτιον νυμφικὸν κατασκευασθῆναι καὶ τἄλλα
ἑτοιμασθῆναι ὧν ἐκείνῳ δεῖ τῷ νυμφῶνι, ἀλλὰ τούτων
ἁπάντων ἐργαστήριον οὗτος ὁ βίος· καὶ οἷς οὐκ ἐγένετο
ἁπάντων ἐργαστήριον οὗτος ὁ βίος· καὶ οἷς οὐκ ἐγένετο
ταῦτα πρὶν ἀπελθεῖν, κοινὸν οὐδὲν εἰς ἐκείνην ἐστὶ τὴν ζωήν.
Καὶ μάρτυρες αἱ πέντε παρθένοι καὶ ὁ εἰς τὸν γάμον
κληθείς, ἐπεὶ μὴ ἔχοντες ἦλθον, μὴ κτήσασθαι δυνηθέντες
μήτε ἔλαιον μήτε ἱμάτιον.

The Tragedy of Man by Elder Sophrony

The tragedy of our times lies in our almost complete unawareness, or unmindfulness, that there are two kingdoms, the temporal and the eternal. We would build the Kingdom of Heaven on earth, rejecting all idea of resurrection or eternity. Resurrection is a myth.

God is dead.

Let us go back to Biblical revelation, to the creation of Adam and Eve and the problem of original sin. ‘God is light, and in him is no darkness at all’ (1 John 1.5). The commandment given to the first-called in Paradise indicates this and at the same time conveys that, although Adam possessed absolute freedom of choice, to choose to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil would entail a break with God as the sole source of life. By opting for knowledge of evil, by savouring evil- Adam inevitably broke with God, Who can in no way be joined with evil (cf. 2 Cor. 6.14-15). In breaking with God, Adam dies. ‘In the day that thou eatest thereof’, thus parting company with me, rejecting my love, my word, my will, ‘thou shalt surely die’ (Gen. 2.17). Exactly how Adam ‘tasted’ the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is not important. His sin was to doubt God, to seek to determine his own life independently of God, even apart from Him, after the pattern of Lucifer. Herein lies the essence of Adam’s sin- it was a movement towards self-divinization. Adam could naturally wish for deification- he had been created after the likeness of God- but he sinned in seeking this divinization not through unity with God but through rupture. The serpent beguiled Eve, the helpmeet God had made for Adam, by suggesting that God was introducing a prohibition which would restrict their freedom to seek divine plenitude of knowledge- that God was unwilling for them to ‘be as gods knowing good and evil’ (Gen. 3.5).

I first met with the notion of tragedy, not in life but in literature. The seeds of tragedy, it seemed to me in my youth, are sown when a man finds himself wholly captivated by some ideal. To attain this ideal he is ready to risk any sacrifice, any suffering, even life itself. But if he happens to achieve the object of his striving, it proves to be an impudent chimera: the reality does not correspond to what he had in mind. This sad discovery leads to profound despair, a wounded spirit, a monstrous death.

Different people have different ideals. There is the ambition for power, as with Boris Godounov. In pursuit of his aim he did not stop at bloodshed. Successful, he found that he had not got what he expected. ‘I have reached the height of power but my soul knows no happiness.’ Though the concerns of the spirit prompt a nobler quest, the genius in the realm of science or the arts sooner or later realizes his inability to consummate his initial vision. Again, the logical denouement is death.

The fate of the world troubled me profoundly. Human life at whatever stage was unavoidably interlinked with suffering. Even love was full of contradictions and bitter crises. The seal of destruction lay everywhere.

I was still a young man when the tragedy of historical events far outdid anything that I had read in books. (I refer to the outbreak of the First World War, soon to be followed by the Revolution in Russia.) My youthful hopes and dreams collapsed. But at the same time a new vision of the world and its meaning opened before me. Side by side with devastation I contemplated rebirth. I saw that there was no tragedy in God. Tragedy is to be found solely in the fortunes of the man whose gaze has not gone beyond the confines of this earth. Christ Himself by no means typifies tragedy. Nor are His all-cosmic sufferings of a tragic nature. And the Christian who has received the gift of the love of Christ, for all his awareness that it is not yet complete, escapes the nightmare of all-consuming death. Christ’s love, during the whole time that He abode with us here, was acute suffering. ‘O faithless and perverse generation,’ He cried. ‘How long shall I suffer you?’ (Matt. 17.17). He wept for Lazarus and his sisters (cf. John 11.35). He grieved over the hard-heartedness of the Jews who slew the prophets (cf. Matt. 23.37). In Gethsemane his soul was ‘exceeding sorrowful, even unto death’ and ‘his sweat was as it were drops of blood falling down to the ground’ (Matt. 26.38; Luke 22.44). He lived the tragedy of all mankind; but in Himself there was no tragedy. This is obvious from the words He spoke to His disciples perhaps only a short while before His redemptive prayer for all mankind in the Garden: ‘My peace I give unto you’ (John 14.27). And a little further on: ‘I am not alone, because the Father is with me. These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world’ (John 16.32, 33). This is how it is with the Christian: for all his deep compassion, his tears and prayers for the world, there is none of the despair that destroys. Aware of the breath of the Holy Spirit, he is assured of the inevitable victory of Light. The love of Christ, even in the most acute stress of suffering (which I would call the ‘hell of loving’), because it is eternal is free of passion. Until we achieve supreme freedom from the passions on this earth suffering and pity may wear out the body but it will only be the body that dies. ‘Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul’ (Matt. 10.28).

We may say that even today mankind as a whole has not grown up to Christianity and continues to drag out an almost brutish existence. In refusing to accept Christ as Eternal Man and, more importantly, as True God and our Saviour- whatever the form the refusal takes, and whatever the pretext- we lose the light of life eternal. ‘Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me: for thou lovest me before the foundation of the world’ (John 17.24). There, in the Kingdom of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, must our mind dwell. We must hunger and thirst to enter into this wondrous Kingdom. Then we shall overcome in ourselves the sin of refusing the Father’s love as revealed to us through the Son (cf. John 8.24). When we choose Christ we are carried beyond time and space, beyond the reach of what is termed ‘tragedy’.

The moment the Holy Spirit grants us to know the hypostatic form of prayer we can begin to break the fetters that shackle us. Emerging from the prison cell of selfish individualism into the wide expanse of life in the image of Christ, we perceive the nature of the personalism of the Gospel. Let us pause for a moment to examine the difference between these two theological concepts: the individual and the persona. It is a recognized fact that the ego is the weapon in the struggle for existence of the individual who refuses Christ’s call to open our hearts to total, universal love. The persona, by contrast, is inconceivable without all-embracing love either in the Divine Being or in the human being. Prolonged and far from easy ascetic effort can open our eyes to the love that Christ taught, and we can apprehend the whole world through ourselves, through our own sufferings and searchings. We become like a world-wide radio receiver and can identify ourselves with the tragic element, not only in the lives of individual people but of the world at large, and we pray for the world as for our own selves. In this kind of prayer the spirit beholds the depths of evil, the sombre result of having eaten of the ‘tree of the knowledge of good and evil’. But it is not only evil that we see- we make contact, too, with Absolute Good, with God, Who translates our prayer into a vision of Uncreated Light. The soul may then forget the world for whom she was praying, and cease to be aware of the body. The prayer of divine love becomes our very being, our body.

The soul may return to this world. But the spirit of man, having experienced his resurrection and come near existentially to eternity, is even further persuaded that tragedy and death are the consequence of sin and that there is no other way to salvation than through Christ.

Archimandrite Sophrony Sakharov (2001) (2nd ed.) His Life is Mine. Chapter 4: The Tragedy of Man. New York: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press.

All Saints had Love for Christ and the Other



IN THOSE DAYS there was a man who was called Moses. As child he received two gifts in his heart: love of God and love for his brethren. Therefore, we pious Christians also must have these two loves. This is the commandment of the Lord: This is my commandment, that you love each other just as I have loved you.
Do you hear, my brethren, what Christ says? "Just as I was cursed, beaten, [as I] hungered, thirsted, and was crucified, and shed my blood for your love, to free you from the hands of the devil, so must you also love God and your brethren. And if the need should arise, [you must] shed your blood for the love of God and your brother."

Perfect love is to sell all your possessions and to give alms, and even to sell yourself as a slave, and whatever you get to give in alms.

In the East there was a bishop from whose province a hundred slaves were taken captive. He sold all of his possessions and ransomed them. Only a child of a widow remained enslaved. What did the bishop do? He shaved off his beard and went and begged the master who held the child to free it and to keep him in its place. And so it happened.

The bishop lived a life of great hardship, but because of his patience God found him worthy of performing miracles. Later his master freed him and he returned to his episcopal duties. It is this kind of love that God wants us also to have. Is there anyone here who has this kind of love? No! Don't sell yourself, sell only your possessions and give alms. You can't do this? Give half, a third, a fourth. You can't even do this? [Then] don't take your brother's bread, don't persecute him, don't slander him.

How do we expect to be saved, my brethren? One thing seems too much for us, the other too bitter. It's true, God is compassionate, but he's also just. He also has an iron rod. So if we want to be saved, we should have love for God and for our brethren.

-Saint Kosmas Aitolos