The 14,000 Holy Innocents

Tags

Abortion, Christmas, death, suffering

As a way to wrap up this annual exercise of spending time with one of the Church Fathers in preparation for the Nativity, I would like to follow up on yesterday’s post with a reminder that St. Gregory isn’t the only one who brings up suffering and death at Christmas time. On December 26th, the day after Christmas, the Orthodox Church reads the story of Herod’s anger and his slaughtering of all the male children two years and younger in the environs of Bethlehem. Three days later, on December 29th, the Orthodox Church officially commemorates these victims with the Feast for the 14,000 Holy Innocents.

It is a reminder that though we are called to leap for joy, sing praises to God and stand in awe of all that will be accomplished by Christ through His Nativity, the world continues to be filled with suffering and death. There are those who are today slaughtered by their fellow man for no good reason what so ever. Every year we have far more than 14,000 innocents who succumb to a death brought about by their fellow human beings.

Thus, in the midst of all this joy and all this celebration — for we Orthodox Christians do not stop celebrating Christmas on the morning of December 25th — we must remember all of those who died before ever knowing Christ. Remember all of those who died before they really ever had a chance to live. Remember all those whose lives that were cut short through the selfishness and cruelty of fallen humanity.

This is our burden and also our hope. During the liturgy, the priest says these seemingly innocuous words:

Remember also, Lord, those whom each of us calls to mind and all your people.

Then, as the priest is placing all of the crumbs that are left from the Body of Christ on the paten into the Cup he prays:

Wash away, Lord, by Your holy Blood, the sins of all those commemorated through the intercessions of the Theotokos and all Your saints. Amen.

By these two prayers, and our active participation in them we have the opportunity to ask God to not only remember but to forgive and grant everything that He gives us, His children, to those whom we bring to mind. Thus, the Church lifts up to God all those babes killed by Herod before they ever had a chance to live life or to know Christ. In turn, she invites us to lift up to God all of the innocents who have been killed throughout the ages.

May God, through our prayers, be as loving and merciful as we dare to hope. Indeed, may He marvelously exceed all of our expectations. Amen.

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Victory

Tags

Christmas, death, Oration 38, St. Gregory the Theologian, suffering

Section 18 is the last in St. Gregory the Theologian’s Oration 38. Despite the challenges posed by the polemics of Sections 14 & 15, this last part of St. Gregory’s homily on Christmas may very well be the most provocative, especially for those of us who live in the relative luxury of 21st century America. St. Gregory exhorts us to intimately identify ourselves with Christ. That in and of itself isn’t very shocking; however, the kind of intimacy he demands is.

Be stoned? Get interrogated by authorities who might kill us? Seek torture? Taste gall? Seek spittings? Accept beatings? Get crowned with thorns? Get crucified and die? At first glance, St. Gregory sounds as if he wants us all to turn into suicidal masochists.

For those of us who live in societies that are relatively tolerant of Christianity, St. Gregory’s words are metaphor. The proof of this is when he asks us to “be crowned with thorns through the harshness of a life in accord with God.” Though he might be speaking of the ascetical practices of Orthodox Christianity, the sacrifices we must make in our time and treasure for a life in Christ as well as the hardship that accompanies trying to do the right thing, here is a dirty little secret: life is harsh whether you are a practicing Orthodox Christian or not.

We are all doomed to tragedy, decay and death. We will be assaulted by natural disaster, emotional turmoil and disappointment. We will all see the dreams of our youth fade into the harsh realities of adulthood and old age (that is, if we aren’t molested by some disease or accident which makes old age look like a luxury).

Thus, St. Gregory really isn’t asking us to seek trials and tribulations because we are going to have to go through them whether we like it or not. Rather, St. Gregory is asking us to go through all of our pain and suffering with Christ at our side. He does so with this litany of sufferings that Christ went through Himself to demonstrate that Christ is intimately familiar with our suffering. We do not have to go through the harshness of life alone. We do not have to shoulder all of this pain on our own.

Christ tells us His burden is light, because He has the strength to shoulder all of the pain and all of the suffering that humanity has ever, will ever and is going through. If we allow ourselves to identify with the suffering Christ went through for us, we, with Christ not only at our side but within us, can power through even the most horrendous of tribulations. Witness the martyrs.

In the end, all the pain, the suffering and the death that world can throw at us are powerless in the face of of the resurrection. This is our hope, this is our strength, this is our victory and it is all made possible because Christ is Born! Glorify Him!

The Illusion of Progress

Tags

Christmas, death, Oration 38, St. Gregory the Theologian

One of the most difficult lessons I have ever had to learn in my life I learned from Thucydides, the ancient Greek who is regarded as the grandfather of historians. His record of the Peloponnesian War is the first known to be an attempt at an objective record of an historical event.

The Cold War was still going on when I began reading his history, and I was stunned at how little had changed in twenty-three centuries. Substitute “U.S.S.R.” for Sparta and “U.S.A” for Athens and one would be hard pressed to tell the difference between A.D. 1986 and 431 B.C. The axiom that more things change the more they stay the same came to life on those pages. The idea that humanity progresses is an illusion.

For further proof, one need not look further than Section 5 of St. Gregory the Theologian’s Oration 38. In it, he describes with stunning accuracy the way that 21st century secular America celebrates Christmas:

• Wreaths on front doors
• Street decorations
• Parties with music, alcohol, dancing, gourmet foods and desserts
• Fashion that has as its main feature inutility
• Pursuit of gifts, luxury and comfort
• Not to mention that there are still those who are in hunger and want

Modern man likes to fool himself that because we have technologies that allow us to accomplish amazing tasks (like posting on a blog that can be read by anyone in the world, or instantly talking to people who are miles away virtually anywhere on the globe) that we are better than all those other humans who didn’t have the internet or cell phones.

I will grant that context and technology change but consider this for a moment: do we know how the pyramids were built or the Moai of Easter Island were moved or how the Nazca Lines were made? We might have our guesses, but the reality is that these technologies are lost to us. The knowledge that we have today may be affected by the knowledge of the past, but it isn’t built upon it. Why else would we need to guess at how these ancient marvels were accomplished?

At a very fundamental level, humanity is as it has always been: we are vessels of clay. The fundamental problems of 21st century Americans are no different that 4th century Greeks. We all suffer. We all age. We all die. Our pursuit of luxury, comfort, riches, power and technology may very well delay the inevitable suffering and death, but we all suffer and die in the end.

Thus, deluding ourselves that technology makes us superior to all of those fellow vessels of clay who suffered and died before us is an illusion. As a result, we spend much of our lives trying to deny the reality of death.

St. Gregory the Theologian, therefore, is calling out through the centuries to every generation that we no longer have to delude ourselves and try to avoid the fact that we are vessels of clay doomed to break and die. A child has been given that defeats death and removes its sting. We no longer need fear. We no longer need to maintain illusions to fool ourselves that suffering does not exist. We can stand up and face the realities of the fallen world head-on. We can look upon the suffering of our fellow human beings and encourage them that they, too, no longer have to fear.

Christ is born. Glorify Him.

The Ambiguous

Tags

death, Psalm 1, Sin, St. Hilary

St. Hilary continues his examination of John 3:18-19:

He that believes, says Christ, is not judged. And is there any need to judge a believer? Judgment arises out of ambiguity, and where ambiguity ceases, there is no call for trial and judgment. Hence not even unbelievers need be judged, because there is no doubt about their being unbelievers; but after exempting believers and unbelievers alike from judgment, the Lord added a case for judgment and human agents upon whom it must be exercised. For some there are who stand midway between the godly and the ungodly, having affinities to both, but strictly belonging to neither class, because they have come to be what they are by a combination of the two. They may not be assigned to the ranks of belief, because there is in them a certain infusion of unbelief; they may not be ranged with unbelief, because they are not without a certain portion of belief. For many are kept within the pale of the church by the fear of God; yet they are tempted all the while to worldly faults by the allurements of the world. They pray, because they are afraid; they sin, because it is their will. The fair hope of future life makes them call themselves Christians; the allurements of present pleasure make them act like heathen. They do not abide in ungodliness, because they hold the name of God in honour; they are not godly because they follow after things contrary to godliness. And they cannot help loving those things best which can never enable them to be what they call themselves, because their desire to do such works is stronger than their desire to be true to their name. And this is why the Lord, after saying that believers would not be judged and that unbelievers had been judged already, added that This is the judgment, that the light is come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the light.

So, judgement is appropriate for cases of ambiguity — for those who do not find themselves firmly in the camp of the righteous or in the camp of the ungodly. Unfortunately, the ambiguity that St. Hilary describes applies to the vast majority of us.

We give honor to God and try to place Him at the center of our lives, but are in love with the allurements of the world that draw us away from God. This why gathering as the Church as often as possible was the norm in the ancient world — drawing near to God helps us overcome our failings, encourages us to allow God to give us strength to overcome and to rely on our fellow Christians to pick us up when we fall. Most importantly, it allows us to see the overwhelming love of God and His Church as a hospital where we go to be healed.

Note St. Hilary describes the ambiguous: they are afraid. It is akin to those of us who are ill with something serious, but we don’t know what it is. The symptoms are not quite what we should expect from normal colds or flus. Something tells us that this time it is serious. Yet, we are afraid to tell our doctor for fear of hearing how bad it really is. We will go for regular check-ups, for the routine illnesses, but we don’t tell our doctor about the symptom that really matters.

The irony is that knowing is so much better than not knowing — even when the news is really bad. I’ve seen this in cancer patients all the time — especially with things like aggressive brain cancer. Yes, the news is bad. Yes, the disease is likely going to kill you (sometimes in months or weeks). However, the knowledge of what it is allows the cancer patient to decide what to do next. Instead of being reactive — worrying about what this strange symptom is — the cancer patient can be pro-active. They get to focus on what is next and they get to choose on how to proceed: chemo? hospice? travel while there is still strength? take care of all the little things left undone? repair relationships left fallow for years? The knowledge of having cancer is actually empowering.

So, too, is it with a relationship with God. When we come to understand the affliction that we are under — sin and death — and come to terms with it, it empowers us to be proactive. God offers us the tools with which to fight the affliction, to give us the strength to power through and (ultimately) to overcome.

Cancer patients (even those who refuse treatment) learn to live in hope. They hope for one more day to see and do all the things that they need to do. So, too, can we the ambiguous. What is wonderful is that our hope is Christ.

Change

Tags

death, Psalm 1, Science, Scientism, St. Hilary

St. Hilary now begins to meditate upon what awaits the ungodly:

The next point after the prophet had set forth the man’s perfect happiness was for him to declare what punishment remained for the ungodly. Thus there ensues: The ungodly are not so, but are like the dust which the wind driveth away from the face of the earth. The ungodly have no possible hope of having the image of the happy tree applied to them; the only lot that awaits them is one of wandering and winnowing, crushing, dispersion and unrest; shaken out of the solid framework of their bodily condition, they must be swept away to punishment in dust, a plaything of the wind. They shall not be dissolved into nothing, for punishment must find in them some stuff to work on, but ground into particles, imponderable, unsubstantial, dry, they shall be tossed to and fro, and make sport for the punishment that gives them never rest. Their punishment is recorded by the same Prophet in another place where he says: I will beat them small as the dust before the wind, like the mire of the streets I will destroy them (Ps 17[18]:42).

Both the Prophet and St. Hilary are playing with contrast. One of the characteristics of God is that He does not change — He has no beginning and no end. Humanity, on the other hand, is changeable — we have a beginning (conception) and an end (death).

This understanding of humanity comes to vivid life when we look at ourselves through the lens of science. At a molecular level we are in constant flux. The very chemistry of our blood can change day to day based upon what we have eaten. We are always shedding skin and hair and both will have a different make-up depending upon the environment we have been in while that hair and skin was being formed. If we look at ourselves right now, there is nothing left of the building materials that were initially used to bring us into this world. From top to bottom every protein, every cell, every chemical that is our present form has changed countless times over the course of our life.

This ability to change is both a strength and a weakness. It is a strength because we can change to become like the tree at the rills of the water — we can choose to allow God to share His eternity with us. The weakness is that we and the world world around us are always in flux — and we can allow this reality to overwhelm our faith in the unchangeability of God.

One of the terrifying consequences of the modern incarnation of the ungodly — those that embrace to one degree or another Scientism (the false belief that science can answer questions that can only be addressed by theology and philosophy) is its total embrace of change. They claim that science is the answer to everything. Proper science clearly demonstrates that the world is constantly changing (as I pointed out above). Thus, Scientism must necessarily embrace this constant flux.

Unfortunately, those who cling to Scientism are actually seeking a permanent answer to the consequences to the very change that they cling to. Thus, when the world changes in unexpected and uncontrollable ways (as it always does), the one answer that is most temping is to try to grasp at more control. As we saw in the totalitarian regimes of the twentieth century, such grasping at control can end up embracing change in a disastrous way — embracing death on a massive scale.

The ungodly, in other words, are doomed to being in constant flux, always changing — being like the dust and chaff blown by the wind. Those who embrace change for the sake of change, instead of change for the sake of becoming like God, are actually embracing the ultimate outcome of change — death.

Hope

Tags

death, illness, Psalm 1, St. Hilary

St. Hilary now begins his discussion about the metaphor of the tree next to the waters:

But now that the man has found perfect happiness by keeping aloof from the counsel of the ungodly and the way of sinners and the seat of pestilence, and by gladly meditating in the Law of God by day and by night, we are next to be shewn the rich fruit that this happiness he has won will yield him. Now the anticipation of happiness contains the germ of future happiness. For the next verse runs: ‘And he shall be like a tree planted beside the rills of water, which shall yield its fruit in its own season, whose leaf also shall not fall off.’ This may perhaps be deemed an absurd and inappropriate comparison, in which are extolled a planted tree, rills of water, the yielding of fruit, its own time, and the leaf that falls not. All this may appear trivial enough to the judgment of the world. But let us examine the teaching of the Prophet and see the beauty that lies in the objects and words used to illustrate happiness.

Note how St. Hilary admits that the happiness of the blessed man involves hope for a future happiness. Even when we manage to make life a living prayer and meditate upon the Law day and night, trial and tribulation will still come our way.

One of the consequences of living in the fallen world is that decay, disease and death are every day occurrences. As a result, we all face these consequences every day. We or our loved ones get sick, have accidents and have tragedy enter into our lives.

Thus, the happiness of the blessed man must necessarily involve hope of a future where such tragedy cannot touch him. In the meantime, the blessed man has allowed God to enter into every moment of his life. In this way, all the trials and tribulations of the fallen world cease to be insurmountable obstacles, but rather challenges that are overcome by relying on the strength of God.

This reality can be ours. We hope in the coming Kingdom and we can rely upon God to give us His strength to get us through those trials, tribulations and even tragedies that otherwise could consume us. We can be blessed and even happy during these darkest of hours because we are with God and hope in His Kingdom.

Bible Study Notes: The Prodigal Son

Tags

Abortion, death, Environmentalism

I must apologize for not maintaining this blog for quite a while. Due to weather, my own health and a conflict in scheduling, I have been unable to do Bible Study for a couple of weeks. Fortunately, we are back to a normal around here and were able to have a small study for this upcoming Sunday — the Prodigal Son.

I must preface this (as I prefaced the study) with the confession that I look forward to preaching on this parable every year, but not without a little trepidation. This is one of the most beautiful, beloved and bountiful pericopes in all of Scripture. It is so deep and so wide that it is intimidating to try and narrow one’s focus enough to do this passage justice in a sermon. The flip side of this coin, of course, is that I do not foresee a time when I run out of things to focus on.

We began our evening by briefly touching on the Epistle (1 Corinthians 6:12-20)

• St. Paul doesn’t pull any punches. He reminds us that we are members of the Body of Christ and that to commit adultery is to join Christ (ourselves as members of the Body) to prostitutes.
• This calls to mind the reality that the Prodigal Son finds himself in — he was a child of God the Father and united himself to “wasteful living.”
• There was some confusion over verse 13, where St. Paul reminds us that both food and our stomachs will be destroyed by God (in reminding us that eating anything we want is lawful, but not necessarily helpful, he reminds us of the usefulness of the Fast that we are about to undertake in the coming weeks). God will destroy both in that He will renew all of creation. The fallenness of the food and our bodies will be destroyed.

We spent the rest of the evening focusing on the Gospel Reading (Luke 15:11-32)

• We prefaced this study with the knowledge that the hymns of the Church very clearly identify us with the Prodigal Son.
• We briefly touched on the importance of the Prodigal coming to himself. We are not created to be separated from God. Our proper place is to be with God — even as a servant.
• We also noted that while the Father killed the fatted calf (something that takes time to prepare — it must be nurtured, cared for, fed and protected), the elder son asks for a young goat — something that takes little time to prepare in comparison to the fatted calf. Even when we are in the arms of the Father, we can still be tempted by the instant gratification that drew the Prodigal away from the Father.

We spent a lot of time with the image of the Prodigal working in the fields with swine.

• As a Jew, working to raise and feed swine is a fool’s errand. He cannot eat the food he is caring for.
• This is a natural outcome of a life separated from God. Everything we try to do sans God will eventually decay, collapse and disappear from the world. We may have some apparently good times, but the famine will eventually come.
• The Prodigal finds himself in a situation where the pigs are of more value than he is — though he would be willing to eat pig slop, no one gives him any. There are many places in our own culture where animals, objects and lifestyles are valued more than human life. There are strains of environmentalism that place the life of an animal above a human being. Much of the pro-choice movement is predicated on valuing a type of lifestyle for women over the life of the unborn.

We also spent some time mediating on the words of the Father, “your brother was dead, and is alive.”

• It is possible to be dead, though we live. Expending the kind of time and energy that the Prodigal does in fruitless labor (caring for swine) is a kind of living death. Where do we invest our time, our treasure and our talents? If we are busying ourselves with selfish things, we are living in the pig sty with the Prodigal. We are busying ourselves with a living death. Rather, we should be investing in the Kingdom, endeavoring to see that our time, treasure and talents are aimed at doing those things God wants us to do and be.
• God is the Giver of Life. When we separate ourselves from Him, we embrace death.
• The Father wants us to live. He is constantly watching out for our return. There is no watchmen at the gate. There is no messenger looking for the Prodigal to ask him to come back. It is the Father Himself  looking towards the horizon.
• When the Father sees his son, he runs. In the Middle East it is shameful for old men to run, yet the Father does. This calls to mind the shame of the Cross. This is how far God is willing to go in order to give us life.
• The Prodigal comes to the Father in humility, asking only to be a servant. The reward for this humility is a seat at the table where a feast with a fatted calf is prepared. In context of our own life, the banquet prepared for us is the liturgy, and the fatted calf is the Body and Blood of Christ.