Tongue Speaker

Published
by
frjohn
on June 30, 2008
in Uncategorized
. 0 Comments


“Though I speak in the tongues of men and of angels…”- I Corinthians 13

I was only a boy about six, maybe seven years old. I sat in amazement and with a bit of fear as I watched my pentecostal grandparents and the rest of the congregation go through the “glory fits” (This is what they called the times when the “spirit” would descend upon them and they would speak in tongues and dance and shiver and shake).The wildest moment occured when they would get “slain in the spirit,” and they would fall to the ground and seem to lose consciousness (and yes, they would roll sometimes). What was interesting to me was that this was the same grandmother that had been in bed all day. When we went into her bedroom, we found her propped up on pillows, her bed surrounded with small tables where every inch of table space was covered with some kind of medicine bottle or ointment. Most days, we would find her in the same place. The odd thing was that she believed firmly in divine healing and in every service, she raised her hands in the air and was slain in the spirit and would proclaim her healing. The other odd thing was that as I grew older, I came to know some of the people in that church. Despite all the hand raising and tongue speaking, there were a lot of hard and mean people sitting in those pews.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve known some wonderful pentecostal people. Still, thank God, I’m Orthodox.

It’s a wonderful idea to think that the Lord never gives us a command without giving us the means to fulfill that command. Christ told the Apostles to go out into the world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature. This is tough to do when all you speak is some Aramaic, and maybe a little Greek or Latin. On the day of Pentecost, the early Church received the grace to fulfill the command of Christ. When the Holy Spirit fell upon the Mothers and Fathers in the upper room, they spoke in tongues. No, I don’t mean the babbling of charismatics or modern day Pentecostals. I mean that the early Church was given the grace to fulfill the Lord’s command, and on that first day of Pentecost, those gathered from all parts of the earth heard the Gospel proclaimed in their own language.

One of the most enduring symbols of the Holy Spirit is a cluster of grapes. From grapes we get wine, and wine can alter our sense of reality and put us in touch with a lot of passions (I do speak from a good bit of personal experience). When drunk, we are either filled with rage or overcome with giddiness and foolishness. It might seem odd to us that the grace of the Spirit should be compared to drunkenness, but this means that Pentecost is about being filled with Holy Passion and aflame with love to the point of intoxication. In fact, there is nothing worse than an Orthodox Christian with no passion. It makes you want to spit! (Revelation)

But wait, doesn’t Orthodoxy teach us that we are to flee from passions? Yes, but I’m talking about Passion, not passions. Holy passion drives monks to fast and fast and fast. Holy passion keeps priests up at night praying for their people and struggling with their own sinfulness. Holy passion helps us to continue on despite our persistent sinfulness and failings. Holy passion caused St. John of Shanghai to walk the streets of San Francisco at night sprinkling holy water and praying over a city that hardly knew him or cared to know him.

I must become a tongue speaker - to speak in the tongues of angels - so that I too can proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I need the Spirit to help me speak words of faith, hope, encouragement, love, and grace. These words save souls, makes disciples, and establish the church. With these words I can speak to a Boston sophisticate or a Georgia redneck or a California hippie. This is how St. Paul said it: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom: teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. ”That is holy passion!

Sadly, I speak in the tongues of men. I speak not with Holy Passion, but with my passions. My words are words of faithlessness, despair, judgment, anger, narrow-mindedness, worldliness, insincerity, and complaining. These words do not build lives or strengthen hearts. These words only tear down and destroy. I am just like those Pentecostal people in my grandmother’s church. I was given the Spirit, and blessed in so many ways, but I am mean and hard and sinful.

Lord, I am Orthodox; now make me a charismatic – one who has received a gift and lives in it. You gave me the Spirit in baptism; now slay me in the Spirit - give me the grace of Holy Passion that I too might speak in tongues and proclaim your Gospel to the whole world. In the Vesper service of Pentecost, I will kneel and ask for it. By the prayers of St. Seraphim, may it be so.

Feed the Mule!

Published
by
frjohn
on June 30, 2008
in Orthodox Life and Relationships
. 0 Comments


A farmer once had a mule that was the hardest working mule that any farmer ever had. All of the farmers in the area would marvel at the strength and stamina of this mule, and what amazed them the most is that no matter how hard the farmer worked him, the mule never seemed to balk or complain like most mules. Clearly, the wealth and success of the farmer rested on the back of this faithful animal.

One day, while working in the barn, the farmer got to thinking of his success and wondered how he might increase his profits. The land was producing all it could, so what else could be done? Then he thought, “What if I reduced the amount of grain that I give to the mule; I wonder what would happen?” So, the next morning he cut the amount of feed by one quarter. Sure enough, the mule worked just as hard and didn’t complain. Then a week later, he cut the grain by a third and again, the mule continued to work. The following week, he cut the grain in half. The mule seemed to go a little slower, but all in all, the work was good. The farmer became pleased with his plan since he saved a bit of money on the feed. This went on for a quite a while.

Finally, the miserly farmer cut the feed by three-fourths. The mule struggled and labored but refused to give up and would not complain or balk at the yoke. Then, one morning, the farmer came out to yoke the mule, and found him dead in the stall.

The moral is simple: feed the mule.

You would think that such a thing would be a no-brainer: take care of what is most important. Yet, I have witnessed the tragedy of “cutting the feed” to the important things of life. I’ve seen it happen in families, in churches and in the hearts of Orthodox men and women.

Romance is a wonderful thing and couples start their life together with so much hope. They feed each other with love and affection, ideas, hopes and dreams. It seems that the future will always be bright. Then over time, something begins to happen. There is less romance, less affection, and less communication. He doesn’t bring flowers like he used to; she doesn’t make his favorite foods; he spends a lot of time in front of the TV; she is always too tired to be affectionate; he always finding fault; she’s always nagging; they rarely pray together. Well, after all, life is filled with work and demands and there just isn’t time for all of that romance stuff.

In the beginning, he truly wanted to love her as Christ loves the church, to serve her and to give his life for her. Now, he’s always angry and sullen and non-communicative because she just doesn’t give him what he believes he wants and needs. She always meant to his partner, to stand by his side and to be his helpmate, lover and friend. Now she’s lives in continual frustration because what she needs most is to talk and to share, but he just won’t talk to her and tells her to stop nagging him.

It’s so easy to console yourself with the thought that there’s no need to worry because, after all, you have a good Orthodox marriage and so the commitment is there. While it’s precious to have an Orthodox marriage, it’s easy to fool ourselves with platitudes. Certainly, true love is more than romance, but let’s not fool ourselves. Look, I buy an automobile because I believe that it is a good automobile, yet what keeps it good is maintenance. I have to change the oil, get a tune up, rotate the tires, fill the tank, wash the outside, clean the inside, and have it inspected yearly if my good automobile is to remain good. Without regular maintenance, the good car will not remain good for very long. In the same way, a good marriage will only remain good with regular maintenance. Its funny – we understand the necessity of feeding the machines, but we do not feed the people we are supposed to love. We fail to feed the mule.

People begin their life in the Orthodox Church with so much hope. They feed on the love and affection of God, the beauty of the liturgies, and the warmth of fellowship. They discover new ideas, share hopes and dreams, and communicate their enthusiasm with everyone. The future looks bright indeed. They have every intention of going the distance with the Lord. Then, over time, something begins to happen. You don’t see them at Vigil anymore. Confession becomes an irregular thing, and when they do confess, you hear of how they don’t pray as they use to pray, don’t fast as they use to fast, and don’t read as they use to read. You begin to see less joy on their faces, and they talk of boredom and spiritual dryness. Finally, the day comes when you don’t see them at all. What happened? Usually the answer is that they starved their soul, but not all at once. They cut the feed slowly-a little here, a little there. In the end, the mule died from neglect.

Have you fed the parish mule? People love their priest and they will tell you that their priest is the greatest. They marvel at the hours he spends in ministry. Yet, I wonder if you ever thought that the priest and his family must also be fed, just as they try to feed you?

I have had the privilege of hearing the confessions of some priests and I wonder at the pain in their hearts. They mostly confess how unworthy they feel to be a priest, but often part of the pain is that their congregations don’t feed them. You see, it’s easy to enjoy the fruits of the labors and struggles of the “parish mule,” but when was the last time you fed the mule? How can you do this? First, words of encouragement are like bread to priests. Most priests I know would be profoundly shocked if someone came up and said, “Father, I’m praying for you and Matushka, and I want you to know that I’m here to help.” Preparation is like bread to priests. Many priests would be delightfully shocked if they discovered that those in attendance at a Liturgy had taken the time to read the Bible texts before the service and had studied the saints who would be commemorated. Regular attendance is like bread to priests. Does a priest need a full church to feel good about priesthood? No, but I can’t begin to tell you how poor attendance begins to wound the heart of a priest.

On a practical basis, I know of priests who have a very low salary, and even worse, they haven’t had a pay raise in five years even though the cost of living has greatly increased. Most priests I know are not covetous or money hungry, but when congregations make it possible for a priest to meet the needs of his family, it’s like bread to the soul of the priest.

Despite the cut in feed, the priestly mule continues to work, often without complaint. Yet, if this continues, will we someday find that the mule has died? St. Paul put it this way: “Don’t muzzle the ox that treads the corn.” (I Corinthians 9:9) Therefore, if you love your priest and his family, tell them. Let them know of your prayers for them, and show them you care by your presence, gifts, and service. These things will feed your priest far more than simply praising him for his good work. It will keep the mule strong for the work ahead.

I am guilty of cutting the feed to my mule. I have a soul that has served me well for almost 60 years. There was a time when my soul was fat and my body was thin. Over time, I began to cut the feed to my soul – less time in prayer, less time in Church, less time in study, less time serving others, and so on. Oh, I made sure that I fed my body well. Now my body’s fat and my soul is thin. So I wonder - will the mule be able to pull the plow when the ground gets hard? Will I have any strength of soul when the testing comes? My soul may be weak, but it’s not dead yet. What should I do?

Foolish man! It’s so simple. Feed the mule!

IN THE TUMBLER: or how I attain salvation (Thanks alot, St. John of the Ladder)

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle and Saints
. 0 Comments

There used to be a saying: “He is a well-rounded person.” This was a compliment and meant that a person had many good qualities and a lot of knowledge and experience. Basically, you didn’t detect any “rough edges” on them, like ignorance, or crudeness, rudeness, or prejudice.

I tend to think of salvation as a matter of losing my rough edges. God knows I’ve had many of them. In fact, most of them I honed myself into razor sharpness. My dad often told me that to make it in this world, a man had to be sharp. But instead of making a success of myself because of my sharpness, I often cut people, even people that I love.

Sin creates many rough and sharp edges. Pride, ego, lust, fear, anxiety-all of these sinful passions erode my soul. Unchecked, these passions would turn me into a rock- a hardheaded and hardhearted man with many rough and sharp edges.

How then do we attain salvation? How do we become well rounded? Believe it or not, but an ancient monastic, St. John of the Ladder, knows the way.

St. John said that life is like stones placed in a tumbler. The stones may be hard and have sharp edges, but as the tumbler is turned, the stones became smoother and rounder as they tumble and bump into each other.

Oh no! Tell me you don’t mean it, Saint John!

If this is true, then my entire life is the tumbler and God has placed me in it with a bunch of rocks. This means that it’s in the rough and tumble of life that God will save me, smoothing out my rough edges. Family, Church, work – everywhere I go, I’m going to be in the tumbler.

This is how God is going to save me? Really? I had something more dramatic in mind. You know-queue the background music (a piece by John Williams would be good); bring the cameras in for a closeup of me as I stand on  a rock on top of the mountain obviously emaciated from months if not years of prayer and fasting; the sun breaks through the clouds and a beam hits me as I suddenly come into full enlightenment. Ah…yes.!  (I’m sorry, St. Seraphim. I’m not worthy to even tie your shoes.)

Well, then, I need to get a different perspective about the so-called hassles in my life. Bumping into other rocks is not about being punished, but about being saved. So, there will be hassles: stop lights and taxes and flat tires and dead batteries, and burnt toast. There will be hassles from people: mean bosses and obnoxious church members and inconsiderate spouses and indifferent priests. Yes, it’s a real tumble in here.

Does God really expect me enjoy the tumble? Probably not, but I’ve got to quit railing against the rocks. Does the stoplight change when I yell at it for catching me once again? No, it doesn’t seem to hear me, but in fact seems to stay red just a little longer than before. And what about the people who just seemed determined to bump me? Well, they are rocks just like me. They are in the tumbler with me being saved. When we bump, its forgiveness and humility that will smooth the edges.

Maybe this is why the saints were so peaceful in the tumbler of life. They didn’t see their hassles as random and meaningless (or as the Bard said, “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”) They saw it all is God’s attempt to save them.

Bishop Nikolai Velimirovic was a man who had been in the tumbler. Listen to his words!

“Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

Enemies have driven me into Your embrace more than friends have. friends have bound me to earth, enemies have loosed me from earth and have demolished all my aspirations in the world.

Enemies have made me a stranger in worldly realms and an extraneous inhabitant of the world. Just as a hunted animal finds safer shelter than an unhunted animal does, so have I, persecuted by enemies, found the safest sanctuary, having ensconced myself beneath Your tabernacle, where neither friends nor enemies can slay my soul.

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

They, rather than I, have confessed my sins before the world. They have punished me, whenever I have hesitated to punish myself. They have tormented me, whenever I have tried flee torments. They have scolded me, whenever I have flattered myself They have spat upon me, whenever I have filled myself with arrogance.

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

Whenever I have made myself wise, they have called me foolish. Whenever I have made myself mighty, they have mocked me as though I were a dwarf. Whenever I have wanted to lead people, they have shoved me in to the background. Whenever I have rushed to enrich myself, they have prevented me with an iron hand. Whenever I thought that I would sleep peacefully, they have wakened me from sleep. Whenever I have tried to build a home for a long and tranquil life, they have demolished it and driven me out. Truly, enemies have cut me loose from the world and have stretched out my hands to the hem of Your garment.

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.

Bless them and multiply them; multiply them and make them even more bitterly against me: so that my fleeing to You may have no return; so that all hope in men may be scattered like cobwebs; so that absolute serenity may begin to reign in my soul; so that my heart may become the grave of my two evil twins: arrogance and anger, so that I might amass all my treasure in heaven; so that I may for once be freed from self-deception, which has entangled me in the dreadful web of illusory life.

Enemies have taught me to know what hardly anyone knows, that a person has no enemies in the world except himself. One hates his enemies only when he fails to realize that they are not enemies, but cruel friends. It is truly difficult for me to say who has done me more good and who has done me more evil in the world: friends or enemies.

Therefore bless, O Lord, both my friends and my enemies. A slave curses enemies, for he does not understand. But a son blesses them, for he understands. For a son knows that his enemies cannot touch his life. Therefore he lively steps among them and prays to God for them.

Bless my enemies, O Lord. Even I bless them and do not curse them.”

Now that’s a well-rounded man!

Smoking or non-smoking

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle and Relationships
. 0 Comments

Some time ago, I heard a protestant minister talk about the Old Testament story of the three youths who were cast into the furnace. I had read the story many times, but this minister pointed to something that I had never considered.

Shadrach, Mesach, and Abednego came out of the furnace and the Bible says that they were not even singed by the fire. Even more, they did not smell of smoke.

The protestant minister pointed out that we all go into the furnace of tribulation This story teaches us that the Son of God will be there in the midst of the fire to protect us from destruction.

Yet, even with this wonderful experience of Gods help and protection, many of us come out of the furnace reeking of smoke. In other words, we come out of trials and tribulations with the stink of bitterness, resentment, irritation, and a remembrance of wrongs.

Well, we understand how this can happen. It seems most natural that we would respond in this way. After all, in most cases, we feel that the tribulation was uncalled for, we didnt deserve it, what purpose did it really serve, etc. As the Bard says, we feel that we have suffered “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” Where is God in that?

Beyond this bit of self-pity, we need to consider the impact of bitterness and resentment on our spiritual life, upon others, and upon the Church. Older readers will remember the song that includes the line “smoke gets in your eyes.” Forgive my shameless use the idea.

The problem with smoke is that it causes tears and blurs your vision. And so it is with those who come through tribulation and reek with the smoke of bitterness and resentment. They cannot see anything very clearly. For example, those who stink of bitterness cant see that they repel people who truly want to love them. They dont know that it is their own bitterness that is causing their isolation and loneliness.

Above all, bitter and resentful people cant see God clearly. Even though He met them in the midst of their trials, bitterness and resentment now make them question if God was ever with them. They begin to think of God as hard, cruel, vindictive, and capricious.

We also need to consider what a spirit of bitterness and resentment does to the fellowship of the Church. Simply, it creates small currents of discontent that eventually swell up like a tidal wave that can destroy us all. Instead of “building up one another in love”, our bitterness, remembrance of wrongs, and petty resentments only tear down and destroy. People drawn to the Faith will come to visit, but the smell of “smoke” (not incense), will be apparent to them. If they have any sense, they will not return.

While I will have much to answer for when I stand before the judgment seat of Christ, I determined that I would do my best to build up the Church. I prayed that I would never have to answer for schism or for dividing the Body of Christ. That meant, above other things, that I would have to come out of any trials or tribulations free of smoke.

Sometimes, tribulations came by my own foolishness. Sometimes, trials came from family. Often, tribulation came from someone in the Church that I loved and had tried to serve. My first human response was to be bitter. How I longed to go over and “tell them off” so that I could avenge my “honor” and demonstrate how right I had been in the matter (a wrong assumption, most times). But the Lord constantly reminded me of my promise to put His Church and His honor above my own. And so by His Grace, I wiped the smoke from my eyes.

How are you doing? Are you a smoke-free Orthodox Christian? One way to tell is to observe if others smell it when you are around. Ive never been a smoker, but most of my family smoked tobacco. I never realized the pervasive odor of smoke until I would be away from home for a while. When I returned home, the house would literally stink. I would try to explain it, but the smokers would always deny it. They just couldnt smell it. In later years, when I would send the wife and kids home to visit, upon their return, their clothes and suitcases reeked of smoke.

Smelling the smoke is an important piece of self-discovery. I am sure that you dont want to answer for it when you stand before the Lord. Being free of smoke is both a gift of God and an act of will. Which is greater, the honor of God or your honor; your being “right”, or the peace of the Church; your vengeance, or the well being of your brother/sister in Christ?

Smoking, or non-smoking?

(A little side note - when someone asks if I smoke, I now say, “only in church!” Its an inside Orthodox joke!)

Here’s Mud in your Eye

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

“Heres mud in your eye” is a drinking toast. I know that having been in a pub a few times. But where did this phrase come from? Like a a good “scholar,” I went to the Internet and checked on Google.

Some sources claimed that its a farming phrase, a way of wishing your neighbor a good and prosperous year. After all, plow horses could kick up a bit of mud. I found a few references that said that the phrase comes from the Gospel of John and from the story of the man born blind. Some years ago, at a church picnic, a Frisbee hit me in the eye. After going to the doctor, I found that I had an abrasion on my cornea. For several days, I had to sit in a dark room. I couldn’t stand any light at all. The smallest glow would cause me pain. Later that week, when I went to church to hold a service, I had to go blindfolded with my wife leading me by the hand.  

Temporary blindness is terrible thing, but imagine being born blind. Imagine never seeing light once in your entire life, never seeing color, or the image of anything. Of course, spiritually speaking, we are all “born blind,” and we demonstrate it in the way we live.

We set up habits of the heart that keeps in the dark. We have so much pride that we are basically unteachable. We are lazy and will hardly open a book, even though the salvation of our soul depends on it. Even religion can blind us because we would rather follow a form or ritual than try to truly know God. Now, I’m an Orthodox priest, so I believe in the power of ritual to open our eyes to God. Yet, we can all become Orthodox Pharisees who have the form, but deny the power. 

So, Jesus spit on the ground and made mud and put on the blind man’s eyes. Isn’t this odd? How many times did Jesus heal with a touch or even by simply speaking a word? Why mud?  Well, given that this story is in the Gospel of John, the most mystical and sacramental of the Gospels, we know that there are deeper meanings present in the story.  

To be Orthodox in the fullest sense of the word, you must become a sacramental person. In Christ, God became man, so that man can become God.  Human clay has been mixed with the divine essence.  This means that God can and will use anything to save us. I found this following list on the Orthodox England site:  

“Clay cannot heal the blind and yet with the breath of God, it becomes the container for the healing grace of God.                         

 Water cannot heal and yet the water of baptism heals because the blessed water bears the Holy Spirit.                                                                                    

 Oil cannot heal and yet the oil of chrismation and unction heal because they are filled with  the grace of God.                                                                              

A piece of cloth cannot heal and yet a priests stole can heal through the grace of Christ at the sincere confession of sins and the repentant intention not to sin again.                  

 Bread and wine cannot heal and yet bread and wine transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ heal through the Holy Spirit.                                                          

 Wood and paint cannot heal and yet icons can heal by the Holy Spirit Who penetrates into their material essence and radiates grace from them.                                                

 Smoke cannot heal and yet incense burnt brings healing through the blessing of Christ.        

Christ teaches us then that all things can be used for our healing and benefit and salvation, but that they must first be touched by His grace.”  (http://orthodoxengland.org.uk/sermombb.htm) 

We learn this lesson in Church and it is here that the mud of Christ is applied to our eyes. And gaining our sight, we can then go out into the world where we can see God in all things. Yet, to be honest, I see very little of God when I step outside of the Church. And so I wonder that if the Lord has put the mud in my eyes, why am I still so blind?    

Jesus told the blind man to go to a particular pool and wash. This was harder to do than it seems. After all, he was blind and there would be many obstacles in the way. It would take quite an effort to get to this exact pool. Why not stop at a pool closer by?  I mean water is water, right?  And if he had made excuses because of his infirmity, would the blind man have been healed if he had taken the easy way?   

Obedience turns simple things like water, oil, and even mud into a means of God’s grace.

Taking the easier road of disobedience, I wonder why there has been no miracle for me, no healing of my sight. I continue to stumble around in the haze and complain that God must not really love me, or that He is incapable of healing me. 

How did people become saints? Was special grace given to them?  Did they have some kind of religious genius? Maybe they were just born that way? No, they were sinners just like me and they needed mud in their eyes to gain their sight. The difference between them and me is that they were obedient and washed where they were told. I make excuses and do what is convenient.

Samuel said to King Saul, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.”

 Well then, here’s mud your eye. What you do about it is your decision.

 

Sky Cap

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

Sometimes, an invention meant to bring comfort and ease to life can have unforeseen consequences. I remember reading a article on how the culture of the South had changed. Among the many influences, the author listed air-conditioning close to the top of the list. He stated that in former times, people would sit on the porch and greet neighbors as they passed by. Now, everyone had moved indoors to his or her private air-conditioned entertainment centers. They now drove to work alone in their air-conditioned cars to sit alone at their desks in air-conditioned cubicles.

Technology can do more than make life easier. It can also impact the way that we think about ourselves and relate to others. I got to thinking about this because I noticed how another invention was having an impact.

Anyone who travels on airplanes appreciates having luggage with wheels. I can remember the old days of hauling luggage through an airport without wheels. What a drag it was. Of course, the airport had Sky Caps, men who for a fee would take your luggage at the curb and see that it was checked to your plane. I rarely used them because I was too tight to give them five dollars for their efforts.

Now, because of the convenience of wheeled luggage, there are few Sky Caps left. Those that remain seem to stand around waiting for work. You can spot them around the baggage claim. They often wear colored caps and hold an empty luggage cart.

I’ve never learned the lesson that you should travel light, so when I became older, I used a Sky Cap once or twice. It certainly was a pleasure to hand that heavy luggage over to them. I felt light on my feet and travel seemed less of a chore. I could go get a diet coke and check out the magazines and relax until boarding time.

Spiritually speaking, I never learned to travel light. I carry a lot of emotional baggage. It’s a heavy load but over the years, I learned to put wheels on it. Even so, there are times when I wonder if my strength will give out. Do I really have to carry this stuff until I die?

Photini was just like me. She carried a lot of baggage to the well that day. One big weight was her inability to have a successful relationship. She had been through five marriages and now was, as we say in the south, “shacking up.” Apparently, this resulted in another burden: she had no friends. She came to well at the sixth hour. That wasnt the time when all of the other women of the village would come to get water. Photini was shunned and so she came when the other women wouldn’t be there. Being a Samaritan, she was shunned by the Jews as unclean. Soon she would learn that she carried the burden of some bad theology.

Photini found it impossible to travel light. She needed someone to take her baggage. What she needed was a Sky Cap. She went to the well that day and met one who took away all of her baggage. From that day forward, she traveled light and free. In fact, freed from her baggage, she became such an evangelist for Christ that the Church called her “Equal to the Apostles.”

 Though I am weary of my baggage, I refuse to give it to the Sky Cap. I’d rather put wheels on it and continue to carry it myself. Because of this, I may never be an effective Orthodox Christian. Certainly, I will never be called “equal to the Apostles.” It isn’t a matter of unworthiness. To be an Apostle, you have to be able to travel light. I’m too weighed down for that.

The Lord said once, “Cast your cares and burdens on me”. He wants my baggage so that I can travel light and free. And if I do, then I too can become a Sky Cap. Without my own baggage, I can carry the burdens of others. St. Paul said that if I do this, I will “fulfill the law of Christ.”

The Sky Cap stands and waits patiently for me to give him all of my baggage. It must make him sad to see me struggle so. I can continue to travel weary and heavy-laden, or I can travel light and free.

So, the Sky Cap asks, “May I check you luggage?”

Its my choice.

Mountaintop

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

I live close to the Blue Ridge Parkway, a two-lane road that goes along the top of the mountains from my hometown, Waynesboro, to the Cherokee Indian Reservation in North Carolina. One of my favorite spots on the Parkway is Humpback Rocks. From the parking lot, it’s a two mile trek to the top. At the top, the Blue Ridge Mountain range and the Shenandoah Valley spreads before you and what a view it is.

I use to go up there on a regular basis. I was a young man then and in much better shape. There was a time when I began to be pleased with how quickly I could go up to the top without stopping. Well, pride goes before a fall. One day I was going along at a nice pace when I heard a sound behind me. A soft voice said, “Pardon me, sonny.” I turned around and a little gray haired lady with a walking stick passed by me like I was in walking in reverse. Even worse, she was carrying a nicely loaded backpack.  Watching her move off down the trail, I found a bench and sat down. Obviously, this was one girl who was dedicated to walking the path. That was almost 40 years ago. I imagine shes up there still.  

Living in the mountains, spiritual life has always seemed like traveling to the top of Humpback Rocks.  It takes a lot of effort to reach the top. Since it takes effort, I’m usually content to just admire from the bottom of the mountain.

At almost every liturgy, we read or make reference to the Beatitudes. We love to hear about things like meekness, and purity. But what we see is a path that leads to the top of the mountain, and knowing the effort required, we are loathe to begin the journey.  

How I admire the saints. But I can only admire them. It seems to me that it takes too much effort to get to where they are. Obviously, they had something that I just don’t have. They must have been religious geniuses or spiritual athletes and there’s no way that I can ever be like them. 

Some years ago, there was a pop christian song out called “Grand Canyon.” The lyrics proposed that when looking at the Lord, its like standing at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and looking one mile up to someone at the top of the ridge. Well, I dont need to try to look for the Lord at the top, I just look at  my patron, St. John Maximovitch. Theres a grand canyon between us and hes at the top. So, the saints just must have had something special.

 Actually no!  They simply refused to stop repenting until they reached the top of the mountain. Once on the path, they would not stop climbing.  I climb a little and get out of breath. I repent a little and then give up. So, it’s become so much easier to just to admire the saints than try to be like them.

There are different kinds of saints. It seems to me that in our culture and with our mindset, about the only kind of sainthood we could aim for would be that of Confessor. A confessor is someone who is dedicated to God. A confessor never denies Christ in any situation.  It doesn’t matter if the confessor is alone or in a crowd, in the presence of his enemies, or among family and friends. To a confessor, the Holy Spirit is “everywhere present and fills all things.” Therefore, a confessor never stops climbing or repenting.

Although many levels of sainthood will never be available to most of us, surely we can become confessors. I know that it’s easier to admire the top while sitting down in the parking lot, but the problem is that hanging around at the bottom of the mountain just won’t save you. Even using a pair of binoculars just won’t cut it.  The only hope is that maybe looking at the top might give us the desire to begin to tread the path.

Though your leg muscles may strain and you find yourself out of breath, walk the path. Even if you must walk slowly and occasionally stop to catch your breath, don’t give up.  It’s enough that you are on the path. As the book of Hebrews says, God loves a “pilgrim people.”  Pilgrims are people who haven’t arrived yet, but are dedicated to the journey. They are confessors.

Let me remind you that if you’ve been walking the path to holiness and your feeling pretty fit, don’t be surprised if you find yourself being passed by a sweet old girl with a backpack. Don’t give up; keep going because when you reach the top  - man, what a view! Then you can have a nice chat and a cup of  tea with the sweet old lady!

Singleness

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is single, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in you is darkness, how great is that darkness! No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.  Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life” (Matthew 6)

If you take time to think about, vision is a remarkable thing. It is a difficult thing to be born blind, but how terrible it must be to have had sight and then lose it. Jesus said it- if the eye is bad then there is darkness and how great and terrible is that darkness.

The animal world is filled with all kind of vision. From insects to fish to man, the arrangement of eyes is remarkable. We humans have stereoscopic vision: that is we have two eyes, but because they are placed as they are, we experience vision as if we had one eye. If fact, if we lose one eye, our experience of vision is still the same as before. The stereoscopic nature of our vision allows us many advantages like depth perception and peripheral vision. As I said, it is truly remarkable.

But what happens if we cross our eyes, or if due to a physical ailment or accident, our eyes wander. Suddenly our vision is double or blurred. It is so distracting and troublesome that we try desperately to get back to singleness of vision.

St. John said that Christ is the true light and Jesus spoke of himself as the light of the world.  To see this uncreated light, our vision must be single. The Fathers tell us that the eye that Jesus is referring to is not our physical eyes, but our inner eye, that is the soul. The soul can see God with absolute clarity, or it can become warped so that no light passes through it.

St. Paul spoke of “singleness of heart” and warned us that a “double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” Double-mindedness is a blurring of spiritual vision, and when the eye of the soul is blurred, how terrible is the darkness that follows.

Why do we have so little singleness of heart? What is it that blurs our vision and makes us so cross-eyed? The Master speaks about it.

“You cannot serve two masters.” Serving two masters makes you cross-eyed. A slave has to watch to be ready to respond when called. How can you keep an eye on two people at once?  Of course, the way life is today, we feel fortunate if we only have two masters. With so many commitments and demands, it’s hard to know where our priorities and commitments truly rest. We have to keep an anxious eye on everything. If we had a hundred eyes, like a fly, we still couldn’t keep an eye on everything that concerns us.

Jesus names these two masters as God and mammon.  The word “mammon” is used in the Bible to describe riches, avarice, and worldly gain. I know this idea makes us anxious, but I have said many times that Jesus knows that we must work and need money to get by. It was God who said that we must earn our living “by the sweat of our brow.” Remember, its not money that’s the root of all evil, it’s the LOVE of money that is the problem. When the desire for security and comfort dominate life, then we become slaves to it. God is jealous God, and we find ourselves between two masters. Our eyes cross and the light of soul begins to dim.

I think I can honestly say that I have no intention to get rich nor do I strive for it. All I want are the basics. But wait a minute. No so fast! Its so easy for my wants to quickly become my needs. My basics get more complicated every day. So though I am not rich, I  strive like a slave for things. I am such easy prey for Master Mammon. 

There is a hook that mammon uses to catch us.  Jesus said, “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life.” Worry and anxiety lead us to slavery. Well, really, how can I keep from not worrying? I mean have you seen the price of gasoline? Who can afford to buy a steak anymore? Will I have enough money to retire?  What about the medical bills? Will there be any social security when I finally hit retirement age?  Oh, the list or worries just goes on and on! You may insert your own worries to the list.

Actually, these fears speak to legitimate concerns and God knows that we must deal with them. But its the power of the fear behind these concerns that binds us with shackles of iron. Fear and anxiety blur my vision and I am filled with darkness. 

If I made God my only master, all these things, for which I am so anxious, would be given to me. Sounds nice, but 2hat proof do we have of this? Jesus tells us to consider the lilies of the field or the birds of the air. The point isn’t that we will live like birds or flowers. The point is whether we can trust God or not. Trust and fear do not exist together, and trust restores vision to unity and singleness.

Even with a clear eye, problems will continue. The cost of living will only go up. There will be tribulations and sorrows. Yet with trust and hope, these things will not bind us through fear to another master.  Listen again to the words of St. Paul:  “rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but glory in tribulations, because tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope never disappoints because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5)

Singleness of heart is a gift, and it transforms life because it keeps the eye of the soul single so that light will pour into our being.  With this light, we know that nothing will separate us from God and nothing will be able to destroy us.

It is good to live without fear, but this can only happen when light fills the body. And light only fills the body when the eye is single. Strive, my friends for singleness of heart.

I bear false witness

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.   -Romans 10:10

I am sure that many of you have met a certain type of human being that we refer to as “professor.”  There are many types: math professors, history professors, science professors, and so on.  I’ve known many professors in my long educational career, but some of the ones that I have found most curious are religion professors.

While some religion professors confessed some kind of faith, there were some that puzzled me. I wanted to ask them, “Well, you are a professor, but what do you profess?” From the way they taught, I couldn’t tell what their “profession” was, despite the fact that they might be teaching the New Testament, church history, or Christian Theology. Perhaps they were experts in their field, but what they professed in class, they never seemed to confess in life.  I often longed for the moment when they would confess that what they professed was not the truth at all.

I have to ask myself the same question: Is my profession the same as my confession?

I’ve noticed quite often, and with great sadness, that what I profess is I rarely what I confess. Most of the time, I bear false witness about myself. The words of St. Ephraim the Syrian describe me so well:

“I am worthless, but think much of myself. I lie constantly but get angry with liars. I condemn those who fall, but myself fall constantly. I condemn slanderers and thieves, but am myself both a thief and a slanderer. I walk with bright countenance, although I am altogether impure. In churches and at banquets I always want to take the place of honor. I see hermits and act dignified; I see monks and I become pompous.  I strive to appear pleasing to women, dignified to strangers, intelligent and reasonable to my neighbors, superior to intellectuals. I do not want to know those who are higher than I, and I scorn those who are lower. If I refrain from eating, I drown in pride and arrogance. If I am wakeful in prayer, I am vanquished by irritability and wrath. To all appearances I am wise in humility, but in my soul I am haughty. I seem not to be acquisitive, but in reality I suffer from a mania for possessions. I appear to have forsaken the world, but if fact I still think about worldly things all the time. Such is my life! With what vileness do I obstruct my own salvation!”

I’m such a liar about myself. I put up such a front to everyone. I truly bear false witness about who I am.

St. Paul spoke of both heart and mouth and I prefer his order of sequence. The inner reality comes before the outward reality. With the heart we believe unto righteousness and then we confess unto salvation. What we believe must come right from the core of our being and it must be the truth. How truth or untruth lives in us will determine if we live in righteousness or unrighteousness.

In other words, what we confess, that is, what we truly believe will determine what we profess, that is, how we live.  When I look at my actions and behavior, it is clear that I have not “believed unto righteousness” and therefore my profession is a lie. Of course, rather than fix this problem, it is so much easier to put on a front.

The only answer is repentance. In fact, repentance must be my only confession. I should become a professor of confession and an expert in repentance. The Fathers always said that a true theologian is one who prays and one who prays is a true theologian.  What I should pray for is a heart that believes unto righteousness so that the mouth will confess unto salvation.

Let me end with the words of St. Ephraim:

“Awesome indeed is the miracle! How the Lord has tolerated my sins! How is it that He has not conveyed me who am miserable to the depths of hell while still alive!   Without doubt, thou, O Lady, hast granted me life by thine intercessions. Thou seekest my repentance- O All-good Virgin, give it to me, Thy servant – for thou art my wall, my harbor and my rampart.”

I bear false witness. Lord, I repent. Help Thou my unrepentant heart.

 

NOTE: The quotes are excerpts from A Spiritual Psalter, from the works of our Holy Father, Ephraim the Syrian, translated by Br. Isaac E. Lambertson, published by the St. John of Kronstadt Press, 1997, Liberty, Tennessee.

Rebel without a clue

Published
by
frjohn
on May 23, 2008
in Podvig - Spiritual Struggle
. 0 Comments

Land of the free?

For just as you presented your members as slaves of uncleanness, and of lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves of righteousness for holiness. (Romans 6)

The year was 1964.  I lived in a small Virginia town, and like all children, I was filled with all of angst that plagues that age. The fact that I came from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t help. I didn’t excel in sports; I didn’t excel in my studies; I certainly didn’t excel in fashion. And, like you find in most schools, there was a group of kids who seemed to have it all; they didn’t swim in the city pool but at the country club, and they wore the best clothes, ran the fastest race, played tennis and rode horses, and seemed to have the brightest futures. I wasn’t sure about where I fit in to this social hierarchy. Frankly, I didn’t have a clue and it worried me.

Then, a new cultural wave hit us. It was a wave of youthful rebellion with new music, new styles, new clothes, and new art. This revolution formed around four young men from Liverpool, England, and it felt like liberation. These four lads weren’t athletes or scholars, but they became our heroes because they gave many of us who didn’t fit in a new sense of empowerment. We grew our hair, and wore new clothes, and played the music. We struggled with parents and principals and local authorities. Add to that the dissent against the Vietnam War, and it was counter-cultural and revolutionary chic. Even some of the kids from the right side of the track began to copy us.

We were rebels, but I must say again that we really didn’t have a clue. We didn’t know that our attitude about freedom was very immature. We didn’t know that lawlessness only leads to more lawlessness. We were tired of people telling us what to do, how to act, and how to dress. However, as time passed, the downward spiral to death and destruction become more powerful. It became more and more difficult to feel or look unique. So, ever more outlandish behavior was needed to stay chic. We began to smoke and drink and practice a “liberated” morality. The mantra was “sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”

In the end, we became slaves to the dark side of rebellion. Some paid a heavy price early on, but for the rest of us, it fixed in us an immature attitude that has remained with us even to this day. We still don’t like anyone telling us what to do. We believe that we are free and slaves to no one, not even God.

After all, doesn’t the Bible say that Christ came to set us free? Why then should we submit to any religion or discipline that impinges on our freedom?  We agree with St. Paul that we don’t want to be slaves to sin because we know it will kill us, but we don’t want to be slaves to righteousness either. Slavery is slavery no matter who the master is. 

Years ago, Bob Dylan sang the following verse:  “It might the devil, or it might be the Lord, but you gotta serve somebody.”  It is difficult for us rebellious children to hear the truth that you cannot live in this world without serving something.  We are fooling ourselves if we think otherwise. If we look closely, we see that our neutral ground is not neutral at all.

Believing ourselves to be free, we have become slaves. Need proof? How often do you confess the same sins? Our sins have become habits and our habits have become our master. We avoid confession because we might have to admit to the priest and to ourselves that we are in fact slaves to sin, and not as free as we think. We are like smokers who justify their bondage to tobacco by saying, “Well, I can quit anytime I want.” The fact is that they are slaves and couldn’t quit if they tried. We too believe in our basic goodness and that we can be change “anytime we want to.” What we have are not sins unto death, but “personality quirks.” We commit minor “picadillos”, not mortal sins. Mourn for our sins? Hardly.

If you read St. Paul carefully, you will notice that while sin pays a wage-death-eternal life is not a wage but a gift. Slavery to God is in fact true freedom, Jesus spoke of yokes and that we all labor under them. Yet, he said that his yoke was easy and his burden was light. He said that he came to give life and in abundance. He said that He came so that our joy might be full.

Sounds good, so why don’t we take up His yoke? Well, we “free people” don’t need any yoke at all. What Jesus proposes seems more like slavery than freedom. Attending church is fine, but I don’t want anyone telling me that I have to come. The same applies to all those disciplines like fasting and prayer and study. I’ll certainly do them when and if I feel like I need to. But my time is my time, and I don’t want anyone telling me how to spend it. And you can forget charity because I don’t want anyone telling me what to do with my money.

So, to the Lord’s offer of His yoke, we politely refuse. We continue under our own heavy yoke; but that doesn’t bother us because believing ourselves to be free, we don’t feel the weight of it. Tragically,  we miss the chance to be truly free and someday the wage of our foolishness will be paid.

We truly are rebels without a clue.