Given the social fragmentation, the moral disorder and economic insecurity of our times, it is not difficult to explain the popularity of Edward Hicks’ painting, “The Peaceable Kingdom.”  Appropriated by more contemporary artists, it has been reproduced in its various renditions on posters, cards, gift wrap; it has even found its way into a TV advertisement for Merryl Lynch.  Hicks, a devout Quaker, took his inspiration from the prophecy of Isaiah concerning Christ’s Kingdom in the age to come, when the wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid… (Is. 11:6-9).   For most people in this secular age, less conversant with the Old Testament, it illustrates an unidentified utopia, a world of peace and harmony and love that speaks to the deepest yearnings of the heart.  And well it might, for man was created for just such a world; it is a world we once inhabited and to which we innately long to return.  The satisfaction of this longing is a principal motivation of our spiritual struggle.

Most of us will admit that our efforts in this struggle are less than inspired.  Now, it should be apparent that the degree to which we exert ourselves in satisfying a desire is proportional to the intensity of that desire.  It is also evident that we can only desire strongly something which is more than a vague notion.  It would benefit us, therefore, if we were to have a clearer image of that world, that Paradise which we lost and must now struggle to regain.

In the Book of Genesis, it is briefly stated that after God had ended His work and rested on the seventh day, He planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there He put man whom He had formed.  And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food (Gen. 2:8-9).  In the divinely-inspired church services, we read, “O precious Paradise, unsurpassed in beauty, tabernacle built by God, unending gladness and delight” (Vespers for Forgiveness Sunday).  St. Symeon the New Theologian, his mind illumined by the Holy Spirit, elaborates for us: “[The trees in Paradise bore] various fruits which never spoiled and never ceased, but were always fresh and sweet and furnished for the first-created ones great satisfaction and pleasantness.  For it was fitting to furnish also an incorruptible enjoyment for these bodies of the first-created ones, which were incorrupt.  Therefore, their life also in Paradise was not burdened with labors and not weighed down with misfortunes.  Adam . . . was placed by the Creator God as an immortal king over an incorrupt world, not only over Paradise, but also over the whole of creation which was under heaven” (Homily 45, “Adam and the First-Created World”).   How should we not desire to dwell eternally in such a blissful state? The saints, who had a foretaste of this delight while still here on earth, burned with desire for it to the exclusion of all earthly pleasures. They were able to imagine what it was like for Adam-bearing within him all of humanity-to have been expelled from his home in Paradise, where he had had such close communion with God.  In the vigil for Forgiveness Sunday, when the Church commemorates Adam’s banishment from Paradise, we hear him lament:

“Woe is me, for the serpent and the women have deprived me of my boldness before God, and through eating from the tree I have become an exile from the joy of Paradise. Woe is me!  No more can I endure the shame.  I who was once king of all God’s creatures upon earth have now become a prisoner, led astray by evil counsel.  I who was once clothed in the glory of immortality must now, as one condemned to die, wrap myself miserably in the skins of mortality.”

Elder Silouan of Mt. Athos wrote a hauntingly beautiful prose-poem called “Adam’s Lament.” He says that Adam “sorrowed less after Paradise and the beauty thereof: for he sorrowed that he was bereft of the love of God. . . . ‘And my spirit strains to God, and there is nought on earth can make me glad.’ . . . And his sorrow stretched wide as the sea.  And only the soul that has come to know the Lord and the magnitude of His love  for us can understand.”

If there by such disconsolate grief over the loss, what must be the joy in its recovery?  And what must be the love for the One Who made such recovery possible?

“Paradise,” writes St. Symeon, “is the image of the future unending life of the eternal Kingdom of Heaven.” Let us sharpen our desire for it by listening well to Adam’s lament, and by grasping more fully where sin has brought us and where repentance can take us.   May it energize our struggle that we may share with the saints a life of eternal joy with our God in His Peaceable Kingdom.

Our Life is short. When we are young, it seems to stretch out endlessly before us, and we think we have lots of time to do all the things we postpone until “tomorrow”, to fulfill our good intentions. But what certainty do we have that we shall reach tomorrow, let alone old age, and even if we do, we shall realize on looking back that our life is but a vapor when measured on the scaled of eternity. We are here to prepare ourselves for that eternity, to lay up for ourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt (Matt. 6:20). If we waste what precious time is given us, what shall we say when the Judge of all will come to reward every man according to his deeds, and our good deeds are found deficient in the balance.

This is not to say that the Orthodox Church teaches justification by works – an impression many Protestants erroneously hold. In our Morning Prayers, we pray, “O Saviour, save me by Thy grace, for if Thou shouldest save me for my works, this would not be grace or a gift, but rather a duty… Impute my faith instead of deeds, O my God, for Thou wilt find no deeds which could justify me…” In Scripture, it says plainly, By grace ye are saved (Eph. 2:5). Good deeds, however, are a necessary expression of faith, as is well documented in Scripture, particularly in the Epistle of St. James: For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also (James 2:26).

“We pride ourselves on our faith,” writes St. Tikhon of Zakonsk, “But do we do works in conformity with this faith?” It is not for want of opportunity. Our good Lord provides us with opportunities every day to lay up treasures in heaven, but too often we are blinded to them by our self-love and our preoccupation with the affairs of this world. Or perhaps we have an impulse to do good but we are too lazy to act upon it. One Holy Father wrote, “He who does not hasten to do good will not do it.”

Almsgiving is a great good which benefits both the Giver and the receiver. A classic illustration of the value of almsgiving is found in the life of the Holy Apostle Thomas, who took money from the Indian king Gundafor, promising to build him a sumptuous palace. He promptly gave all the money away to the poor and was imprisoned by the irate king. In fact, a palace  was built for the king – in Paradise. This was shown to the soul of the king’s brother just after he died. When he was miraculously restored to life, he told the king what he had seen. The king then understood the Saint’s method of “building”, He released him and was baptized.

Today’s mailboxes are fairly besieged with solicitations, and among them are some worthy causes. The fact that we cannot afford to give to all of them ought not discourage us from giving to some. In choosing which charities to support, we should keep in mind Apostle Paul’s injunction, As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of the faith (Gal. 6:10). The Orthodox community has numerous areas of need. We have waiting for available printing space appeals for the new Korean mission; for the constructing of churches in London, England, and Prince George, Canada; for the repair of the Kursk Icon Hermitage church, badly damaged by fire last winter; for building projects at St. Isaac’s Skete in Boscopel and at Christ the Saviour Monastery on Vashon Island (WA), and there are more general needs for support of monastic communities – particularly those in the Holy Land – and for needy clergy. The Orthodox Benevolent Fund is useful for channeling donations to a variety of need, including those mentioned above.

People sometimes wonder how much they should give. This should not be the primary concern. St. Tikhon of Zadonsk writes, “Do you have much? Then give much. Do you have little? Then give a little, but give from the heart. Alms are judged not by the number of what is given, but by the zeal of the giver, for God loveth a cheerful giver (II Cor. 9:7). Now you give  into the hands of the poor man and the pauper, but you will receive  a hundredfold from the hands of Christ. Then give, do not be afraid. What is given shall not be lost, for He that promised is faithful.” (Journey to Heaven).

How we give is as important as what we give. St. Seraphim of Sarov counsels, “We should do works of mercy with a good disposition of soul.. If you give to one who asks, let the joy of your countenance precede your gift, and comfort his sorrow with good words” (Little Russian Philokalia, Vol I).

Opportunities to do good are by no means limited to almsgiving. Some months ago there was a delightful article in Reader’s Digest which told of a woman who was inspired to gladden peoples’ hearts through random acts of kindness: paying the fare of the car behind her at the bridge toll, adding a coin to a stranger’s parking meter that was about to expire. These are seeming trifles, but the very habit of being on the look-out for such opportunities is good for the soul. This is especially important for children who, if trained in their formative years to do things for others, to volunteer their help, to be ready with a kind word – can hope to avoid being ruled by their personal whims and selfish interests, which overtake so many of them in later years.

In doing good we must be aware of self-righteousness, remembering that even the impulse for good comes from God. Let us value these impulses, and take care to act on them. We are given a myriad of ways to advance upon the path to salvation. Soon death will come and remove us from the field of action. Let us not depart this life leaving behind a path strewn with lost opportunities – and bitter regrets. We can do better than that.

Editorial
Hieromonk German Ciuba

In the midst of our world cares and all the problems that trouble us even in the life of the Church, there is one thing that we must always keep in mind: the love of God. It is the only thing that matters, the only thing that consoles, the only thing that justifies our life, the only thing that gives meaning to everything else. Indeed, when a certain pious woman asked the meaning of all that God had done, she was given to understand that love is His meaning.

It seems to me a bit awkward to speak so forthrightly about the love of God in an age when, as our Lord foretold, iniquity abounds and the love of many has grown cold (cf. Matt 24:12). We deserve to hear more about God’s unbending truth, His unerring justice, His impending wrath. But what we need is the miracle of faith, faith renewed in our hearts and in the hearts of those around us. And, as Saint Simeon the New Theologian said, one who cannot love God cannot believe in Him.  Even miracles cannot compel faith. The man who has hardened his heart in the dry wilderness of his soul looks at a miracle with an uncomprehending eye which is worse than blind; it is unseeing. In fact, when miracles occur, they are more likely to strengthen the faith of believers than to convert unbelievers.

Miracles cannot be ordered up like hamburgers. That was the mistake of the devil who tempted Christ in the wilderness to make bread out of stones (cf. Matt. 4:1-10). The very existence of stones and bred is a miracle to one whose eyes are open for spiritual sight. My dear old friend Father Dragoljub Sokich reminded me recently of a saying of the late great Serbian preacher and writer, Bishop Nikolai Velimirovich: The world began with a miracle, it continues to exist by a miracle, and it will come to end with a miracle.

Atheists cannot see miracles anywhere, because they do not believe in miracles. Even if miracles happen before their eyes, they will not see them, because they have excluded them from their categories of thought. If you are convinced that there is no such thing as a purple elephant, and you see one in your living room, your immediate reaction is not to admit the existence of purple elephants; you will say that they are the result of an optical illusion, a hallucination, an excess of alcohol. It is truly a miracle when an atheist is stricken with repentance and begins to believe in miracles.

For years we have been doing battle with atheistic communism using bullets, bombs, strategy and propaganda. Finally, atheistic communism, which was a kind of religion, collapsed, because it could no longer believe its own doctrines. At the same time, we see many Christian structures collapsing, because their people no longer believe their own doctrines. Now the danger comes from practical atheism, an atheism which believes nothing or everything to be true.

We must continue the battle against atheism. We cannot allow atheism to triumph, for that would be the end of the world as we know it and the beginning of a world turned into hell. As we lament the atheism of our contemporaries, however, let each of us look into his own heart and see how brightly the love of God is burning there. Is there a fire there? Is there even a spark? Or is there only dry wood, cold embers? Without a living, burning love for God, we cannot conquer atheism, for it will remain lurking within us, even as it attacks us from without. Ask yourself if you truly love God, and love Him above all things. Can you sincerely share the sentiment of the Christmas carol that declares, “And I love the Lord Jesus above everything”? If not, why not? What is it that is keeping you from the love of God? And what can you do to rekindle the flame of the love of God which the Holy Spirit lit in you at your holy baptism and chrismation? That is the most important task in your life.

In Willa Cather’s wonderful historical novel of New Mexico, Death Comes for the Archbishop – which is full of such splendid scenery that I want to go and see it, and such great characters that I want to be like them – the bishop says to his friend, Father Joseph:

“Where there is great love, there are always miracles. One might almost say that an apparition is human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are, Joseph; I see you through my affection for you. The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.”

St. Xenia Parish
Nepean, Ontario

It was an intriguing photograph: a dozen Japanese children walking through a snowstorm, dressed only in shorts and sneakers. Life magazine picked up a sotry about an experimental Japanese kindergarten in suburban Tokyo, where 375 children play and learn whatever they would at any other kindergarten, only they do so wearing nothing but shorts and shoes, indoors and out. Their parents agree with the school director, who sees that affluence can spoil children and make them weak; the idea here is to toughen them up.

The idea would be a valuable import, if Americans could be persuaded to buy into it. Although that seems unlikely. Here in America, life is geared toward the pleasure principle, towards relaxation and having fun. How many times do we hear people say, “Take it easy,” or “Don’t work too hard.” Our modern technology has brought with it all kinds of labor-saving devices – “instant,”, “Automatic,” “push-button,” “Self-cleaning” – now considered to be “essential” features of the contemporary household/office. And while there’s nothing wrong with improved efficiency, the very notion that “easier” is “better” is already dangerous.

Christianity is hard. It is the way of the Cross. Endure hardness, St. Paul counsels Timothy, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ (II Tim. 2-3). How many of us can say with the Psalmist: …for the sake of the words of Thy lips have I kept the ways that are hard (Ps. 16:4)? It is hard to struggle against our fallen nature, to choose, at every fork in the road, the way that is strait and narrow. But we must make it a habit. Fasting is difficult because we are habitually self-indulgent. Standing in church is difficult because we are too soft. We have to toughen up.

Physical laxity is directly correlated to spiritual and moral laxity. In our Morning Prayers, we pray: “Grant me, O Lord…to work for Thee without idleness…” According to the Holy Fathers, laziness is one of the three giants of the devil, together with forgetfulness and ignorance. “When the soul’s eye, the intellect has been darkened by these three,’ writes St. John of Damaskos, “the soul is dominated by all the other passions.” Among the passions of the body, the same Saint lists “general softness of living…every kind of physical luxury and gratification of the whims of the flesh (especially when the body is in good health) .. and a life of bodily ease, which by coarsening the intellect makes it cloddish and brute-like and never lets it raise itself towards God and the practice of the virtues.” (Philokalia)

For all our enviable living-standard, our American way places us at a spiritual disadvantage. When Christians in Russia still risked persecution and imprisonment, Fr. Dimitry Dudko very perceptively told believers there:

“If we compare our religiosity with that of the West, the balance will fall to our side. Why? Simply because Golgotha is here, and not there. Can an abundance of material goods bring about a religious rebirth? They say that the Catholics don’t know what to do in order to keep people in church. They have everything: books, churches. But the people, if they believe at all, do so only weakly. We have nothing. But if people believe here, they are ready to die for their faith.”

The benefits of a “hard” life, voluntary of involuntary, is evident in the life of almost any saint. St. Nicholas of Japan cam from a very poor family, and as a seminarian he was obliged each term to make the 150-mile trip back and forth to the seminary on foot. But these hardships early in his life strengthened his character and contributed to his prodigious capacity for work and his stunning achievements on the mission field. St. Innocent of Alaska, had likewise a difficult childhood: he was orphaned at an early age, and he, too, committed himself to the work of God with extraordinary energy and resourcefulness. On some of his missionary journeys he was compelled so sit for hours in a cramped kayak over frigid waters, or travel for days over frozen terrain by dogsled or caribou. All for the sake of spreading the Gospel. Indeed, it is not physical stamina which is itself a virtue. Another saint, Elder Ambrose of Optina, developed such a weak constitution in the last years of his life that he had to spend much of his time in bed. But even in this condition he expended himself out of love for God and his neighbor.

Because most of us live in relative comfort and physical well-being, we must compensate by developing an ascetic consciousness, as Fr. Dimitri says. We must embrace difficulties rather than shun them. Instead of doing what “feels good,” we must choose to do what is pleasing to God. The Church helps us by appointing certain physical disciplines, such as fasting and standing in church, which strengthen our moral and spiritual fibers. The Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force. This is no time to be soft on ourselves. If we hope to avoid turning into spiritual couch potatoes, we’d better toughen up. By making a practice of forcing ourselves on the path of virtue, we will come to see that the Saviour’s yoke is easy and His burden is light.

With the doors in the former Soviet Union now open to religious freedom, many people there are searching through a maze of different confessions for the path to God.  They are not alone.  Scores of disaffected Anglicans, Roman Catholics and Protestant Evangelicals, dismayed by the modernist drifts and shallow theologies of their respective faiths, are likewise seeking for that fullness of faith which was once for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3).  Are we doing anything to help them?

Next year the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia will glorify three hierarchs: Innocent of Moscow and Alaska, Nicholas of Japan, and John of Shanghai and San Francisco.  All three were apostles, all three drew hundreds of souls into the saving enclosure of the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.  Their success was due not only to their personal sanctity but also to their well-defined vision of the Church-her nature, her vocation and her relation to the world.

One of the most difficult dilemmas that has always faced the Church is her relations with the State, the paradox of being in the world but not of it. Through the Incarnation the Church, the Body of Christ, has a human nature, but she also has a divine nature, a spiritual ethos, for My kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36).  Sadly, the delicate and fine balance between being in the world but not of it, of rendering unto Caesar the things of Caesar and unto God the things of God (Matt. 22:21) has rarely been achieved.  We have only to think of the heretical Patriarchs of Constantinople, who signed anything the Emperor told them to; or those Russian rulers and nobles who interfered in the spiritual realm: Ivan the Terrible, Peter I (“the Great”), Catherine II (“the Great”); there is the case of the Romanian Church in the inter-war and post-war period with its State-appointed bishops and vicious persecution of  those who had another vision of the Church.  In the Donatist schism, which plagued North Africa in the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries, and among the Russian Old Believers who did not accept the seventeenth century Nikonian reforms, there were strong currents of a sectarian mentality.

There have been, however, periods of harmony or symphony between Church and State, when the State saw to the physical well-being and safety of its citizens and the Church was free to look to the spiritual well-being and safety of her flock. Thus the period of St. Constantine the Great or Sts. Justinian and Theodora, or Kievan Rus’, or Muscovite Russia before the deposition of Patriarch Nikon in the seventeenth century, or in England before the martyrdom of St. Edward in 979, or in Ireland after its conversion and for several centuries thereafter.  And there are many other examples from church history.

What is the situation today?  We see church leaders playing the “nationalist card”, turning the Orthodox Faith into a nationalist cult in order to keep “in” with a hostile or indifferent State, catering to masses who, though indifferent to religion, will still come along for an ethnic fiesta.  We see extreme Old Calendarists in Greece and certain “catacomb” groups in Russia, modern Donatists, who condemn the sacraments of all other Orthodox as without grace.  Thus contemporary Orthodoxy is dominated on the one hand by churches that are “officially recognized” but have introduced all manner of uncanonical practices, and on the other by groupings that claim to be Orthodox, are pious and persecuted, but seem never to have heard the words of St. Simeon the New Theologian: “Theology without love is the theology of the demons.”

Fortunately, this polarized view does not give the whole picture.  There are, for instance, many in the “official churches”, laity and clergy, who are sincere and pious and wish to follow the Church’s teachings whatever their bishops and “theologians” may declare at ecumenical meetings and in masonic lodges.  Similarly, there are moderate Old Calendarists in Greece, Romania and Bulgaria, and those in the Russian catacombs who simply want to be obedient to the Church, not condemning others with censorious pride.

What can be done in this situation?  Here are some observations of a parish priest of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia on what this Church can do:

1. Conserve the Orthodox Faith among the Russian emigration.   This task is complicated by the secular nature of modern life, with Orthodox of Russian origin being assimilated into the countries where they live.  The result is that in Protestant countries there is a tendency for the Orthodoxy of parts of the emigration to resemble an “eastern-rite” Protestantism or Anglicanism, and in Catholic countries, Uniatism.  At the other extreme there is the temptation to form ethnic ghettos which simply die out after a generation or two, as the memory of the “old country” fades away.  We must conserve the Faith, not merely preserve it- in whatever language it is necessary to do this.

2. Continue the missionary work of the Russian Church in which were involved such holy men as St. Tikhon, Patriarch of Moscow, and the three holy hierarchs-Innocent, Nicholas and John-whom we are soon to canonize. Make more use of the local language to attract converts, following the example these hierarchs.  Encourage more non-Russians to enter the priesthood; we should fear not de-russification but “de-orthodoxisation”.

3. Help to restore Orthodoxy in Russia. There we must witness that, although in the world, the Church is not of it.  And to do that we must in no way compromise ourselves through possible political temptations, the seductions of power, glory, pride or financial gain.  Our witness must be spiritual; only thus can our help be positive and canonical.

These threefold tasks, carried out in humility, avoiding extremes, are Trinitarian in their inner meaning. To conserve the Faith is to be faithful to the Father.  To continue our missionary tasks is to be faithful to the Incarnation of the Son.  And a spiritual witness in Russia that the Kingdom of Christ is not of this world is faith in the Holy Spirit.  And if we seek a living icon of one who did his utmost to carry out these three tasks, I can think of none so clear as Blessed John of Shanghai/Paris/ San Francisco, who embodies the very vocation of our Church: to bring all who wish to follow Her to the life and salvation in Christ, the Crucified and Resurrected Lord of all.

Priest Andrew Phillips
Church of Christ’s Resurrection, Meudon-la-forêt, France (condensed)

Gone are the days when people left theirs doors unlocked. Today we not only routinely lock the doors of our homes and our cars; we install alarm systems and time-activated lights; we rent “safe deposit boxes and buy theft insurance; we join neighborhood watch groups; before going on vacation we arrange to have someone mow the lawn and pick up our mail while we’re away. All of us take certain precautions against having our homes broken into and our possessions stolen. The more we value our property, the more elaborate measures we take to secure it. Alas, how few of us have the same concern for the safety of our spiritual wealth, and yet what value comparison is there between the smallest spiritual treasure and all the worldly possessions of the richest man alive? It is the difference between this life and eternity.

Spiritually, most of us are constantly being robbed–without so much as being aware of it. One of the most successful villains is called Distraction, and it’s time we took measures to protect ourselves.

Successful theft-prevention involves knowing the value of what is being protected, where it is vulnerable and having some knowledge of how a thief operates, being able to identify him. If we apply this to our spiritual life–and it is an analogy used not infrequently by the Holy Fathers– we see that our greatest treasure, our wealth is our union, our communion with God. This is our goal in life, the acquisition of the Holy Spirit; it is not acquired suddenly but is, for the most part, accumulated gradually, like a hard-earned fortune, through a combination of our own efforts and the grace of God. God’s grace is available to us through the Holy Mysterii3s, while our efforts center primarily on prayer, which is the basis for our communion with God, and on purifying our hearts, which enables our prayers to be fruitful. One of the greatest hindrances to true prayer and purity of heart is the multitude of distractions that so constantly beset us. Most distractions are such a part of our daily life, and so seemingly innocuous, that they escape our notice. They slip past our guard, rob us of any prayer or remembrance of God and fill our heart with all sorts of rubbish. What can we do?

Distractions are an inevitable part of life, but there are measures we can take to minimize our losses. We can begin by identifying those distractions to which we are most prone. Do we watch a lot of TV or video-movies (visual imagery powerfully stimulates the imagination, that “bridge of the devil”)? Do we read frivolous magazines, do we engage in idle talk? Are we news addicts? Are we engrossed in sports or preoccupied with our health, our looks? Are we wrapped up in our career? When we are in church or say our prayers at home, do we find it easy to focus our minds and hearts or do our minds wander, are we steered away by worldly concerns and lingering images?

For those of us who feel almost hopelessly overcome by distractions, it is a consolation to know that even the saints were beset by this problem. The patristic texts are full of advice on the subject. They provide a whole arsenal of weapons. In the Art of Prayer, Bishop Theophan the Recluse writes:

“When you enter into communication with other people or busy yourself with secular affairs, do so in such a way that you still remember the Lord at the same time. Act and speak always with the awareness that the Lord is near and directs everything according to His pleasure….It is certainly possible to acquire this habit; simply make it a rule from now on always to ad this way.

The same Holy Father says that when you cannot subdue your thoughts, which are whirling about, “like snow in winter or clouds of mosquitoes in the summer,” two swift helpers are “solitude and spiritual reading.” St. Peter Damascene writes that “stillness is of the greatest help even to the weakest and to those most subject to the passions. It enables them to live without distraction.” He also advises posting a sleepless doorkeeper at the entrance to our heart and mind, one who “repels everything that enters his heart contrary to God’s purpose, disdaining and rejecting it, so that the illumined intellect may never stop contemplating God or be empty of divine thoughts” (Philokalia). And St. John Cassian says that when his soul is crowded by countless and varied distractions and he has “no strength to check the scattering of his thoughts, he cries out:’O Lord, make haste to help me; O God, make speed to save me!’ and he suggests that others likewise make use of this “formula for piety” in order to keep the thoughts of God always in the mind.

It is, of course, quite useless to know about these various ways of combating distractions without applying them, just as a security system is useless without being activated. But none of the ways of battling distraction is as easy as turning on a switch. It is toilsome and requires much patience, and therefore we must arm ourselves with sufficient motivation to engage in this battle. The fact that we allow ourselves to be distracted so easily is an indication of our lack of love for God. (Never would we converse with a loved one as absentmindedly as we often pray to God.) We cannot generate love automatically; our love for God grows as we spiritually mature. We should, however, have some fear of God, and if we contemplate the prospect of eternity, of being cast out from the banquet hall into outer darkness because our carelessness robbed us of our wedding garment, perhaps it will provide us with the necessary motivation. ‘The prospect of death,” said Samuel Johnson, “wonderfully concentrates the mind.”

Distractions are not petty nuisances. By robbing us of our attention they stifle our spiritual progress. The means to arrest them are simple enough, and they are readily available. Are we wise enough to use them?

The greatest desire of every Christian should be to draw nearer to our Lord, God and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Many are the means provided for us to do so; among them are the sacraments, the Holy Gospel, and prayer. A special means of drawing closer to Christ is through devotion to His most pure Mother, the Ever-Virgin Mary. Our Lord dwelt in her as a babe in her womb. He was always with her, either by His physical presence, as when He lived with her in Nazareth, or spiritually, in her constant prayerful communion with God. This union was not broken by death, and she now occupies a particular place of closeness to her Son in heaven. It was through Mary that God chose to come to mankind. He made her cooperation the condition for His appearance on earth. Since our Lord came to us through Mary, it is fitting that we come to Him through her. To this end He made her our mother also. At the very moment of His supreme sacrifice, as He was dying upon the Cross for our salvation, He said to His beloved disciple, Saint John, Behold thy mother, and to His Mother, Behold thy son (John 19:26-27), thus signifying that His Mother was to be the spiritual mother of all Christians, who, in the person of Saint John, became her children.

Our Orthodox affirmation that Mary is the Mother of God (Theotokos) confesses our belief in Jesus Christ as God. All Orthodox devotion to Mary is founded upon this principle. In Orthodox iconography, Mary is almost always represented together with her Son. She is a means, a way to the goal, which is Christ. True devotion to the Mother of God brings us unfailingly to her Son Jesus Christ, our Saviour and God.

Protestants often reproach us for our veneration of the Mother of God. They say it is unscriptural, and that Christ is our sole Mediator with the Father. It’s hue, in the Bible there is little about Mary. But after all, the New Testament is primarily the story of Christ, His life and teachings, and the story of His Church, as told by His Apostles. It would have been characteristic of the most pure Virgin not to seek a prominent place in the telling of that story, preferring, in her supreme humility, to remain in the background. Then again, had the Apostles written much about the greatness and glories of Mary, it might have seemed to the pagan world in which they lived that she was some sort of goddess to be worshipped, on account of her closeness to God. Much more about Mary entered the unwritten tradition of the Church, and was passed on by word of mouth for years before it was finally recorded in works of the Holy Fathers. And yet, for those with “eyes to see”, the Holy Virgin is very much present in Scripture. In the Old Testament the Church sees her prefigured under many images and symbols, such as the burning bush and Jacob’s ladder. And in the New Testament she figures in the most important events surrounding the economy of our salvation: the Incarnation and Nativity of Christ, His redeeming Death on the Cross, the Descent of the Holy Spirit – when she was together with the Apostles at prayer in the upper room. It was at her behest that our Lord performed His first miracle – turning water into wine at the marriage feast in Cana. Without exaggeration one can say that she inaugurated the New Testament, when she heard the greeting of the archangel: “Rejoice, full of grace” and made the leap of faith and said “yes” to God, agreeing to bring His Son into the world as its Redeemer.

The poor Protestants who do not know the Mother of God are like motherless orphans. But what are we if, having such a mother, we neglect her? Orphans inspire pity, but children who neglect their mother are worthy of contempt. If we live in the spirit of the Church, we shall never neglect our mother, the Mother of God. There is not a single service of our Church that fails to invoke her name; the liturgical year is adorned with her feasts; no Orthodox church or home is without an icon of her. The prayer, “Virgin Mother of God, rejoice…” is part of our daily rule. Our whole prayer life echoes with the oft-repeated cry, “Most holy Mother of God, save us.” [Note]

While careful not to fall into the excesses of Roman theology, we can never say enough about the Mother of God. As one hymn puts it, “Every tongue is at a loss to praise thee as is due: even a spirit from the world above is filled with dizziness, when it seeks to sing thy praises, O Theotokos” (Irmos, Ninth canticle of Matins for the feast of Theophany). However, all that we say and sing concerning the Mother of God will remain pretty poetry and sweet sentiment if we do not give her a real role in our lives. We should speak to her as to our mother, with honor and love, trusting in her maternal care and affection. If we make her a part of our lives, we shall always be striving to imitate her virtues. And when we fall short, as we so often do, we can run to her for forgiveness, knowing that she is the “Surety of sinners” and their “Unexpected Joy”, reconciling us with God. We can always bring our troubles and sorrows to the Mother of God, because she who suffered so intensely together with Her Divine Son in His Passion is well able to understand our sufferings. She can give us the strength to bear our afflictions; as the “Joy of all who sorrow” she can “Assuage our sorrows.”

Today, as we struggle against the imposition of a culture where everything is tolerated but the pure truth of Jesus Christ, we desperately need the spiritual support which the Mother of God offers to those who honor her. For Orthodox Christians she is an “invincible rampart” of spiritual life, “ever watchful in her prayers.” Among human beings she is the summit of perfection. Her entire life was spent in conformity with the will of God. She, better than anyone who has ever lived, was blessed in hearing the word of God and keeping it. The more we come to know the Mother of God and appreciate her role in the whole scheme of our salvation, the more reason we will find to give thanks to God for bestowing her upon us as our mother.

Hieromonk German
Ciuba St. Xenia Parish, Nepean, Ontario

This Brave New World scenario is alarming, but it should not cause us to crawl under a pall of pessimism, for although it poses a threat, assailing us with humanist ideology and worldly values, it also offers potentially great opportunity in the field of mission. We have, then, before us the two courses of action: 1) to protect ourselves from being swept up in this accelerating apostasy, and 2) to reach out to those who seek to escape this same maelstrom. We must pursue them both.

In order to successfully persevere in our Orthodox struggle, we must strengthen our identity as “strangers and pilgrims,” and resist the temptation to conform to the ways of this world “which lies in evil.” It is interesting that among American Jews there is a growing tendency to emphasize “uniquely Jewish values that clash with American culture.” Jonathan Sarna, a Jewish scholar at Brandeis University, writes that many American Jews are “beginning to question the long-held assumption that Judaism is compatible with modernity. These Jews smile at the naïve optimism of an earlier generation that considered itself wholly at home in America; Jews in our day are more likely to consider themselves strangers at home – at once part of America and apart from it. Where the watchword a generation ago was synthesis, we prefer to speak of ‘tensions’ between assimilation and identity, and the tension between being an American and being a Jew.” (Reported in Religion Watch, Nove. 1992).

If Jews can withdraw from modernism for  the sake of their Jewishness, can we afford a lesser commitment in safeguarding our Orthodoxy? And there are those who for the sake of religious principles take an even more difficult stand: the Amish are a radical and visible example. Even the Hare Krishnas in their saffron robes and the Mormon missionaries on their bicycles set themselves apart from the world, following the requirements of their faith. We, who are in danger of losing an incomparably more precious treasure, must likewise dare to be different – and challenge our children, especially our teenagers, to do likewise. This does not mean that we have to don special uniforms or retire to the woods. It does mean that we must develop  a more acute sense of what being Orthodox requires – and to follow through with this in practice.

Fr. Seraphim (Rose) said that a true Orthodox Christian is “a scandal to the world.” The majority of us certainly don’t qualify. We have adapted ourselves to the ways of the world, satisfied with our marginal Christianity and unwilling to divorce ourselves form “the American way.” St. Symeon the New Theologian exhorts: “let us forsake all the things that turn us away from God and imperil the soul…Let us flee, brethren, from the world and the things that are in the world (I John 2:15). For what have we in common with the world and them men who are in the world?” (The Discourses). Indeed, what sympathy can we have for a culture that spawns Mutant Ninja Turtles, Terminators and brazen Madonnas? We are called to holiness. Unless we exercise our free wills to detach ourselves form the ways of this world, our Orthodoxy will be no more than a shadow.

Our withdrawel from the world should be interpreted as a protectionist and not an isolationist policy. We are not called to build fences between oursleves and our neighbor. God would that all men be saved, and in this age of spiritual confusion and experimentatin we have a special obligatin to reach out: “Come, taste and see…” Granted, one encounters a lot of religious indifference, people dulled by materialism, but the gross secularizatin of our cluture and the loss of Christian values – even withn many churches – is bringing the apostasy into focus, promting many serious souls to ask, Where is the truth?

Following the recent vote by the Church of England’s bishops to ordain women, many sincere Anglicans felt as if they’d been spiritually cast adrift. The news reported one priest as saying. “My Church died.” Some Anglican  parishes are already making plans to align themselves with the Roman Church. Others? One cannot help but feel that if the Orthodox Church had a stronger presence – in terms of quality more importantly than quantity – many of these floundering Anglicans would soon find refuge within her embrace. As it is, many converts to Orthodoxy endure a long and arduous journey in their search for the true faith.

Being Orthodox is not easy, but finding the Church should not be as difficult  as it often is. Most spiritual seekers are unaware that the historical Church founded by Jesus Christ still exists. Its witness is needed now more than ever.

Prince Charles has been quoted as saying to a closed gathering: “…we are hurtling into an abyss of depravity, profligacy, plunder, theft, complete amorality. The only place I see where there may be the beginning of some kind of regeneration is in Russia.” (Den, Sept. 1992). Clearly, he had in mind here the traditional Christian values of Russia’s Orthodox heritage, which are surfacing again after seventy years of enforced atheism, thanks to the spiritual stamina of the Russian people. As representatives of that heritage, we are called to reach out with those same values to our communities, to our neighbors, bearing in mind that such values are best communicated through our personal example.

And there are other ways of effectively making Orthodoxy better known, more accessible. We can stock our public libraries with Orthodox books and periodicals, we can make sure our parishes are listed in the Yellow pages and in the religion section of our local newspapers, we can write “letters to the editor,” commenting on issues from an Orthodox perspective and bringing the voice of Orthodoxy into the public square.

By withdrawing from the world we show our love and our obedience to God; by reaching out with the gospel of Orthodoxy we show love for our neighbor. In pursuing these two courses of action we are on the path of fulfilling “all the law and the prophets.”

A true Christian is not of this world. Here we are supposed to feel like strangers, pilgrims; we are called to be citizens of heaven. How can we weaken our attachment to this world and stimulate our longing for the next? We have become so well adapted, so integrated into the ways of this world that the image of Paradise has all but faded away; we are scarcely aware of its loss. If we would but listen to its piercing echo in Adam’s lament:

Woe is me, a sinner! What has happened to me? Alas, what was I and what have I become! What have I lost, what found? Instead of Paradise, this perishable world. Instead of God, and life in the company of angels, the devil and demons of impurity. In the place of rest, hard labor; in the place of gladness and joy, the sorrows and tribulations of this world; instead of peace and endless felicity, fear and tears of sorrow. In the place of virtue and justice, injustice and sin. Instead of goodness and dispassion, evil and passion; instead of wisdom and intimacy with God, ignorance and exile; instead of detachment and freedom, a life full of worries and the worst kind of slavery. Woe, woe is me! How, created a king, have I become in my folly a slave of passion? How can I have embraced death instead of life through my disobedience? Alas! What has happened to me, pitiful that I am, because of my thoughtlessness? What shall I do? War and confusion beset me, illness and temptation, danger and shipwreck, fear and sorrow, passion and sin, bitterness and distress. What shall I do? (St. Peter of Damascus, “The Eight Stages of Contemplation” in the Philokalia)

Expelled from Paradise, Adam and Eve spent the rest of their lives in tearful repentance. “How could they lack occasion always and constantly to weep?” writes St. Symeon the New Theologian. “They would think of the gentle Master, that unutterable delight, the unspeakable beauties of those flowers, that life free from all cares and toil, and how the angels ascended and descended to them…” The measure of their grief reflected the greatness of their loss, for God had made them a kingdom in which they should live “a life of happiness and prosperity.” St. John Damascene describes the garden of Eden as “a very storehouse of joy and gladness of heart…: it is temperate and the air that surrounds it is the rarest and purest: evergreen plants are its pride, sweet fragrances abound, it is flooded with light, and in sensuous freshness and beauty it transcends imagination: in truth the place is divine… (Exposition of the Orthodox Faith XI)

Still more grievous than their exile from the garden was the disfigurement of their souls, for man’s condition before the Fall “joined together moral purity, clarity of mind, the perfection of first-created nature, and nearness to God, with a general spiritual childlikeness.” (Orthodox Dogmatic Theology). In Paradise Adam “delighted his mind with celestial beauty. After his transgression, on the other hand, his thoughts became base and material, and the simplicity and goodness of his mind were intertwined with evil worldly concerns” (St. Macarius of Egypt).

The purpose of Christ’s advent was to restore human nature to its primal beauty and to open again the gates of paradise. Those who left this world to follow Christ, the saints, regained Adam’s blessed state in Paradise and experienced “the unspeakable bliss of them that behold the infinite goodness of [the Lord’s] countenance” (Morning Prayers). Protomartyr Stephen saw the heavens opened and beheld the glory of God (Acts 7:56); the Apostle Paul was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words (II Cor. 12:14); Blessed Augustine, having broken his youthful attachment to sin, enjoyed such sublime communion with God as to write: “all my abundance, which is not of my God, is poverty” (Confessions); St. Symeon described the ecstasy of being filled with divine Light: “It cast out every earthly care….Besides, there was poured into my soul in unutterable fashion a great spiritual joy and perception and a sweetness surpassing every taste of visible objects, together with a freedom and forgetfulness of all thoughts pertaining to this life (The Discourses). Having been lifted up into the heavenly abodes, St. Seraphim of Sarov exclaimed to his friend Motovilov, “Oh, if only you could know what joy, what sweetness await the souls of the righteous in heaven, then you would be determined in this temporal life to endure any sorrow, persecution and calumny with gratitude.” And St. John of Kronstadt, who likewise experienced the unutterable joys of heaven while still on earth, wrote in his diary, “All earthly bliss passes away, of itself, and through the vicissitudes of life; whilst the joys of heavenly bliss will never end, never pass away. Is it not then worth while to despise all the enjoyments of this transitory world, and of this still more fleeting life, in order to strive with the whole heart after spiritual and abiding joys?”

We who have little experiential sense of such heavenly delights find it painfully difficult to set our affections on things above, not on things on the earth (Col. 3:2). We have, however, the example of the saints, who have tasted the sweetness of Paradise, and they can inspire us and give us courage to detach ourselves from this present world-whose prince is satan-and to seek first the kingdom of God. For this purpose many have secluded themselves in monasteries, their progress hastened by the common and concentrated effort. Even for those of us yoked together with families and jobs, a certain detachment is necessary, a withdrawal from worldly affairs. We must streamline our lives in order to introduce a great measure of stillness wherein we can listen to God. Above all, we must constantly check the alignment of our hearts, for, as St. John of Kronstadt explains:

That to which a man turns, that which he loves-that he will find. If he loves earthly things, he will find earthly things, and these earthly things will abide in his heart, will communicate their own earthiness to him, and will find him; if he loves heavenly things, he will find heavenly things, and they will abide in his heart, and give him life.

EDITOR

Our success in many areas of life depends upon our ability to cooperate. This is a crucial ingredient in marriage and it is an essential social skill in business, in politics, in team sports, indeed, in almost every field of human endeavor. It is likewise true of Christian life- most of all in our personal relationship with God. The theological term for it is SYNERGISM, defined as “the doctrine that regeneration is effected by a combination of human will and divine grace,” from the Greek, sunergos, “working together”. Without this “working together,” there is no personal salvation.

This is not some kind of “fifty-fifty” contract with God. As Fr. Michael Pomazansky explains, “Both the spiritual birth and the future spiritual growth of a man occur through the mutual action of two principles. One of these is the grace of the Holy Spirit; the other, man’s opening of his heart for the reception of it, a thirst for it, the desire to receive it…in other words, personal effort for the reception, preservation and activity in the soul of the Divine gifts.” (Orthodox Dogmatic Theology

Many sectarians have followed Martin Luther into error by over-emphasizing the role of grace: By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves... (Eph. 2:8), conveniently glossing over numerous Scripture passages, particularly the Epistle of St. James, which stress the need also for works, without which faith is dead. There are likewise those who err in thinking to “earn” salvation through good works. St. Symeon the New Theologian teaches that vigils, fasting and other ascetic exploits or “works” “should be undertaken not so as to come into the blessed state, but in order to preserve the blessed state which we have received before through Holy Baptism, since this treasure is difficult to preserve.” (Homily 2, “The Blessed State”)

Our Lord Jesus Christ has done everything for our salvation: He has opened the door and invited us to joy in His presence at the eternal banquet. It is not up to us to merit salvation; we cannot; it’s wrong even to try. It is up to us to indicate our acceptance of this offer, our desire to be with God, our gratitude for such a gracious and undeserved gift. Being weak, we have need of the help available to us through the prayers of others and, most powerfully, in the grace-filled Sacraments of the Church. But these are aids; they are not substitutes for our personal efforts, the application of our will to do the will of God. St. Macarius pointed this out in a letter to one of his spiritual children:

Now let us assume that because of God’s grace working through the sacraments of Penance and Communion, you yourself do obtain forgiveness for the past. So far so good. But the onslaught of evil will be renewed and, if you are not to fall even more pitiably than before, your will must be keyed to heroic resistance. Therefore, I insist: if I am to help you, your will must be exerted.

God knows well our weaknesses; He does not require a superhuman effort. As one spiritual father remarked consolingly, even a fly’s wing has weight before God. St. Macarius continued:

In your letters you go on to say that even when your will is set in the right direction it is still hopelessly weak. That doesn’t matter. Let this weakness be a source of humility. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak! (Ps. 6:2) ….Steeling your own will to do His, humbly throw yourself on His mercy. If you do so, my prayers will be of the greatest help to you. (Russian Letters of Direction)

The best efforts are predicated on desire. We must ask ourselves in all honesty: How much do we really desire to be with God? Judging from our efforts, it would seem that we are preparing ourselves for a very mediocre eternity. In order to stimulate a greater desire for God we should take time daily to reflect upon His infinite goodness, His loving kindness. We should read attentively the akathist to our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is-“Unspeakable Love…Sweetness of the heart…Brightness of the mind…Pearl of great price…” The King of kings and Lord of lords has prepared a place for us in His everlasting Kingdom. It would be the height of folly and a most senseless-and irreversible-tragedy if we were to forfeit such a gift through our carelessness and lack of effort.

If these positive thoughts do not provide the necessary impetus to draw us out of our spiritual lethargy, we should heed St. Paul’s warning to the Hebrews: How shall we escape [retribution] if we neglect so great a salvation….Let us…fear lest, a promise being left us of entering into His rest, any of you should seem to come short of it (Heb. 2:2; 4:1). The Lord Himself gives us fair warning: we have the example of the guest evicted from the marriage feast because he hadn’t the proper garment; the fig tree which was cursed because, although rich in foliage, it had no fruit; the five foolish virgins shut out from the bridal chamber because they had neglected to keep filled their lamps. We are told plainly that those who do not the Lord’s commandments shall go away into everlasting punishment (Matt. 25:46), into the fire that never shall be quenched (Mark 9:43).

The world’s standards are demanding: our time and energies are occupied primarily with meeting its requirements for our families, jobs, financial security, material comfort, relaxation. An honest appraisal will show where these can be streamlined or even eliminated, in order that we might invest more effort in improving the quality of our spiritual life. We cannot afford to do otherwise.

God’s grace is more than sufficient. It is up to us to cooperate. Let us increase our personal efforts that we might reap the benefits of an “abundant life,” now-and for eternity. – Editor