The way there

  • And just like that, Lent starts again. We hear the cries of Adam in Orthros:

    Woe is me; I can­not bear the dis­grace, I who was for­merly king over all earthly crea­tures. Behold, I am now cap­tive because of a coun­sel aside from the law.

    We hear Christ telling his dis­ci­ples how to fast and how not to fast:

    And when you fast, do not look dis­mal, like the hyp­ocrites, for they dis­fig­ure their faces that their fast­ing may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. (Matt. 6:15)

    We exchange an embrace at For­give­ness Ves­pers, ask­ing for­give­ness and giv­ing for­give­ness to each other. And it’s time to set out.

    For some rea­son, it’s on my mind to pass along a pas­sage from St. Theo­phan the Recluse that made a pro­found impact on me when I first read it 15 years ago or so. It was some of the most impor­tant advice about Lent that I ever got, and I try every year to live it out a lit­tle more.

    It’s so easy to stay busy with dietary restric­tions and extra prayer ser­vices and miss the whole point of Lent. In the book “Spir­i­tual War­fare” (turned into an excel­lent three-book series by Fr. Jack Sparks), Saint Theo­phan tells us what the Lenten duties are, but also — this was the impor­tant part for me — what they’re NOT:

    …We must first learn what con­sti­tutes Chris­t­ian per­fec­tion. If we have not learned this les­son, we may turn away from the right path and go off in a dif­fer­ent direc­tion, think­ing all the while that we are pro­gress­ing toward perfection. …

    Some peo­ple — those who judge by appear­ances — say the per­fect Chris­t­ian life con­sists in car­ry­ing out fasts, vig­ils, pros­tra­tions, sleep­ing on bare earth, and sim­i­lar sever­i­ties of the body. Oth­ers will say it con­sists in say­ing many prayers at home and attend­ing long ser­vices in church. Still oth­ers think per­fec­tion con­sists entirely of men­tal prayer, soli­tude, iso­la­tion and silence. …

    But all the virtues men­tioned above do not, in and of them­selves, con­sti­tute the Chris­t­ian per­fec­tion we are seek­ing. They are only means and meth­ods designed to help us acquire it — and they may or may not do so.

    There is, of course, no doubt these things do help some peo­ple to attain per­fec­tion in the Chris­t­ian life. There are vir­tu­ous peo­ple who prac­tice these virtues as they should, to acquire strength and power against their own sin­ful ten­den­cies. Through these prac­tices, they gain courage to with­stand the temp­ta­tions and seduc­tions of our three main ene­mies: the world, the flesh and the devil. By using these means prop­erly, and at the right time, they gain the spir­tual sup­port so nec­es­sary to all ser­vants of God, and espe­cially to beginners.

    On the other hand, these same activ­i­ties may do more harm than good to those who take them as the sole basis of their life and their hope. It is also dan­ger­ous to under­take them inde­pen­dently or inap­pro­pri­ately, with­out the direc­tion of a spir­i­tual father or guide. The harm can come, not from the nature of the deeds, but through the fault of those who use them improp­erly — giv­ing atten­tion only to the exter­nal prac­tice, allow­ing their hearts to be moved only by their own will and the will of the devil. In their case the devil, see­ing that they have left the right path, glee­fully refrains from inter­fer­ing with their activ­i­ties, even allow­ing them to increase and mul­ti­ply their efforts in obe­di­ence to their vain ideas.

    As a rule, peo­ple who rely on their right­eous deeds as their sole basis of life and hope dis­play cer­tain dis­cernible characteristics:

    • They always wish to be con­sid­ered bet­ter and more impor­tant than other people.
    • They want their own way and are stub­born in their decisions.
    • They are blind in every­thing con­cern­ing them­selves, but are very clear­sighted when it comes to exam­in­ing the words and actions of others.

    If some­one else is held by oth­ers in the same esteem these peo­ple think they enjoy (or should enjoy), they can­not bear it and become openly hos­tile to that per­son. And if any­one interef­eres with them in their pious activ­i­ties, God for­bid! They imme­di­ately become indig­nant, boil over with anger, and become quite unlike what they are believed to be.

    If, desir­ing to bring them to a knowl­edge of them­selves and to lead them on the right path to per­fec­tion, God sends them afflic­tions and sick­ness — or allows them to be per­se­cuted, the means by which He ordi­nar­ily tests His true and real ser­vants — this test imme­di­ately shows what is hid­den in their hearts and how deeply they are cor­rupted by pride. For what­ever afflic­tion comes upon them, they refuse to bend their necks to the yoke of God’s will and to trust in His secret and right­eous judgments.

    Now, hav­ing seen clearly and def­i­nitely that spir­i­tual life and per­fec­tion do not con­sist in these vis­i­ble virtues of which we have writ­ten, we must learn in what they do con­sist: in com­ing near to God and dwelling in union with Him…

    Do you now see what all this means, broth­ers and sis­ters? Like most sin­cere Chris­tians, you are prob­a­bly already express­ing your readi­ness and are long­ing to reach the height of such per­fec­tion. Blessed by your zeal! But pre­pare your­self for labor, sweat, and strug­gle, begin­ning with your very first steps on the path. You must sac­ri­fice every­thing to God and do only His will. You will meet within your­self a mul­ti­tude of desires, all clam­or­ing for sat­is­fac­tion, whether or not it agrees with the will of God. Nor can you reach per­fec­tion all at once — some­times a life­time is required.

    Just to re-state, if the fasts and prayers and extra ser­vices are not the goals but only the means of achiev­ing the goal, what is it we’re really striv­ing for?

    Here is the truth we must absorb: The great­est and most per­fect thing a human being can ever desire to achieve is to come near to God and dwell in union with Him.

    Or, for those who are up for a lengthy read, go HERE and read how St. Seraphim of Sarov put it to a hum­ble ques­tioner on a snowy day in 1831. It may take a while to get you there, but — like Lent — it’s worth the trip.


    Related posts:

    1. The “Russ­ian Priest”: On self-denial
    2. Unseen War­fare tril­ogy, by Jack Sparks
    3. Spir­i­tual obedience …
    4. Got a favorite Lenten book?
    5. Sheep, wolves and spir­i­tual fathers

    March 9th, 2008 | Grace | 2 Comments |

2 Responses and Counting...

  • Mimi 03.09.2008

    Wow. Thank you! That was very good.

    For­give me, my sis­ter for my offenses.

  • Grace

    I for­give. God for­gives all.
    For­give me also.

Leave a Reply

* Name, Email, and Comment are Required