Love, teach us to pray

Written by Fr. Lev Gillet, also known as “A Monk of the Eastern Church,” In Thy Presence is a book of short spiritual reflections on the presence of Christ. As in the case of the quotation below, these reflections are sometimes imagined as words spoken from our Lord to the believer.

“My child, do not debate what form prayer should take. Leave to others the distinguishing of stages and techniques. But for thy part, while being grateful to those who have known how to communicate the richness, the living flame of their prayers, be wary of theories which fetter or entangle the simple impulse of love.

My child, everything is so simple! Prayer is nothing other than that impulse of love which can express infinity in a fraction of a second.

The kernel of all prayer is an act of love. Some words, very few words, one word only will suffice to direct a loving impulse toward Me.

As soon as thou hast said with thy whole soul: ‘I love Thee,’ or ‘Give me Thy Love,’ or simply: ‘I love,’ when thou hast thus united thyself with universal Love, thou hast said all.

According to the place or the circumstances, and to avoid embarrassing others, thou canst use paraphrases and discreet adaptations of this impulse of love: but it is in this impulse that the essential abides.

Infinite Love, place on my lips the word of love which is addressed to Love.”

Excerpt from In Thy Presence by Lev Gillet, St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1977, p. 66.

What does it mean to be an Apostle?

A homily delivered in the Three Hierarchs Chapel at St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary on the Feast of the Holy Apostle Onesimus of the Seventy (Wednesday, February 15, 2012).

What does it mean to be an Apostle?

What kind of person is an Apostle?

Christ and His Apostles, Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna

Being pious Orthodox we hold Apostles in high esteem. They are writers of gospels, and epistles. Their proclamation has gone out into all the earth, and their words to the ends of the universe. Their icons adorn the walls of the sanctuary. Apostles are important, and famous, and holy. And when people are regarded as important and famous and holy, we have a tendency to regard them as distant and exotic. Like famous artists or historical figures, like Bach and Beethoven, or Michelangelo, or Abraham Lincoln.

And at some level it is safer this way. Isn’t it?

If the apostles are unusual and extraordinary, then we really can’t be like them, which sort of lets us off the hook. Because being an apostle is hard work. An apostle does not get to sit around. Apostle means the one who is “sent out” If you are an apostle, Christ entrusts you with His teaching, he seals you with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and he sends you out to preach the good news, in season and out of season, to any and all people, using whatever means available, so that some might be saved. Now that’s not an easy job description, not to mention many of the apostles suffered great persecution and died as martyrs. So it is perhaps rather comforting to say to ourselves,

“I try to be a good Christian, but I’m no apostle.”

But if the apostles are exotic and distant, then the Christ who they preached becomes exotic and distant. If the apostles’ work and ministry is something remote and inaccessible, then Christ who sent them becomes remote and inaccessible. Yet we know that that is not who Christ is. He is the Son of God, who took flesh and became man, he died a painful humiliating death on the Cross, he endured three days in the tomb, and he was raised from the dead. Christ did all of that, so that we might be reconciled to God, so that we might be united to God, so that in Christ we might never, ever be alone.

So what does it mean to be an apostle?

Who were the apostles?

We know that the apostle Paul violently persecuted the Church in his younger days. And Christ chose him to be an apostle. Today we hear about the Apostle Peter who famously denied Jesus three times, publicly abandoning Christ in his darkest hour, swearing that he did not know Jesus. Yet Christ forgave Peter, and sent him out as an apostle.

Peter Denies Jesus, Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna

Today we celebrate the life of Onesimus, one of the Seventy Apostles. Onesimus was a slave in Phrygia, which is in modern day Turkey. At some point Onesimus did something to offend his master and fearing severe punishment, he fled to Rome but ended up in prison. In the Roman Empire, runaway slaves were dealt with extremely harshly. But in Rome, Onesimus met St. Paul who was also in prison. I suppose we could say that Onesimus was something of a captive audience, but in the course of their relationship Onesimus was baptized. St. Paul then wrote a letter to Onesimus’ master Philemon  and in the gentlest terms, St. Paul implores Philemon to receive Onesimus in a spirit of Christian love, not as a runaway slave, but as a brother in Christ. This letter became part of the New Testament. It is said that Philemon not only received Onesimus in love, but sent him out to serve the in the Apostolic work of St. Paul and the others.

Holy Apostle Onesimus of the Seventy, St. Petka Chapel, Belgrade

So what does it take to be an apostle?

An apostle can be a persecutor, a betrayer, and even a runaway slave. But ultimately, an apostle is a man, or a woman (we can’t forget Nina the enlightener of Georgia and equal to the apostles). An apostle is a man or woman who hears God’s call and goes to serve specific people. Christ never sends apostles to places; He sends them to serve people. Of course, in a formal sense, there are the 12 and the 70.

But in a real sense we are all apostles.

We have all heard the teaching of Christ, we have been sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and now Christ sends us out to do his work.

Where is he sending you?

Christ Multiplies the Loaves and Fish, Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna

It could be to a remote international mission field, or an old dying parish in New England, or a mission in the southwest. But none of us are going there today. Today Christ is sending us to our workplace, or to the classroom, or to our home, or to the hospital, or to the CVS, or to the grocery store. And in all of those places we will meet people with hopes and dreams and fears, and Christ sends us to them.

Today, like St. Onesimus, be an apostle to the people you meet. Bring them the love, and mercy and joy of Jesus Christ. This is what it means to be an apostle, and it is a vocation for all of us.

Fr. Sergius Halvorsen (SVOTS ’96) received his M.Div. from St. Vladimir’s Seminary and completed his doctoral dissertation at Drew University in 2002. From 2000 to 2011 he taught at Holy Apostles College and Seminary in Cromwell Connecticut, where he also served as Director of Distance Learning. He was ordained to the priesthood in February 2004, and currently serves on the faculty of SVOTS as Associate Professor of Homiletics and Rhetoric and Director of Field Education.

Lent and Love

Written by Fr. Alexander Schmemann, Great Lent is a book of spiritual reflections on the journey through Lent to Pascha. This particular excerpt is from the first chapter, entitled “Preparation for Lent.”

Christ Heals Ten Lepers, Monastery Decani. Photo credit: BLAGO Fund, Inc.

Christian love is the “possible impossibility” to see Christ in another man, whoever he is, and whom God, in His eternal and mysterious plan, has decided to introduce into my life, be it only for a few moments, not as an occasion for a “good deed” or an exercise in philanthropy, but as the beginning of an eternal companionship in God Himself. For, indeed, what is love if not that mysterious power which transcends the accidental and the external in the “other”–his physical appearance, social rank, ethnic origin, intellectual capacity–and reaches the soul, the unique and uniquely personal “root” of a human being, truly the part of God in him? If God loves every man it is because He alone knows the priceless and absolutely unique treasure, the “soul” or “person” He gave every man. Christian love then is the participation in that divine knowledge and the gift of that divine love. There is no “impersonal” love because love is the wonderful discovery of the “person” in “man,” of the personal and unique in the common and general. It is the discovery in each man of that which is “lovable” in him, of that which is from God.

Christ Heals Peter's Mother-In-Law, Monastery Decani. Photo credit: BLAGO Fund, Inc.

In this respect, Christian love is sometimes the opposite of “social activism” with which one so often identifies Christianity today. To a “social activist” the object of love is not “person” but man, an abstract unit of a not less abstract “humanity.” But for Christianity, man is “lovable” because he is person. There person is reduced to man; here man is seen only as person. The “social activist” has no interest for the personal, and easily sacrifices it to the “common interest.” Christianity may seem to be, and in some ways actual is, rather skeptical about that abstract “humanity,” but it commits a mortal sin against itself each time it gives up its concern and love for the person. Social activism is always “futuristic” in its approach; it always acts in the name of justice, order, happiness to come, to be achieved. Christianity cares little about that problematic future but puts the whole emphasis on the now–the only decisive time for love.

Christ Heals Two Demoniacs in the Land of Gadarenes, Monastery Decani. Photo credit: BLAGO Fund, Inc.

The two attitudes are not mutually exclusive, but they must not be confused. Christians, to be sure, have responsibilities toward “this world” and they must fulfill them. This is the area of “social activism” which belongs entirely to “this world.” Christian love, however, aims beyond “this world.” It is itself a ray, a manifestation of the Kingdom of God; it transcends and overcomes all limitations, all “conditions” of this world because its motivation as well as its goals and consummation is in God. And we know that even in this world which “lies in evil,” the only lasting and transforming victories are those of love. To remind man of this personal love and vocation, to fill the sinful world with this love–this is the true mission of the Church.

The Last Judgment, Monastery Decani. Photo credit: BLAGO Fund, Inc.

The parable of the Last Judgment is about Christian love. Not all of us are called to work for “humanity,” yet each one of us has received the gift and the grace of Christ’s love. We know that all men ultimately need this personal love–the recognition in them of their unique soul in which the beauty of the whole creation is reflected in a unique way. We also know that men are in prison and are sick and thirsty and hungry because that personal love has been denied them. And, finally, we know that however narrow and limited the framework of our personal existence, each one of us has been made responsible for a tiny part of the Kingdom of God, made responsible by that very gift of Christ’s love. Thus, on whether or not we have accepted this responsibility, on whether we have loved or refused to love, we shall be judged. For “inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, you have done it unto Me….”

Excerpt from Great Lent: Journey to Pascha by Alexander Schmemann, St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1969, p. 25-26.

Blind and deaf

Written by Fr. Lev Gillet, also known as “A Monk of the Eastern Church,” In Thy Presence is a book of short spiritual reflections on the presence of Christ. As in the case of the quotation below, these reflections are sometimes imagined as words spoken to our Lord from the believer.

“Lord Love, I have asked Thee to open me to others. However, Thou hast made me understand that Thy servant must be both blind and deaf, seeing but as if not seeing, hearing but as if not hearing.

Love, make me deaf. Close my ears to the accusations, to all the mockeries that I hear uttered against others.

Love, make me blind. Close my eyes to the failings of others. Of course I must reject what makes an act or a word evil, but I do not have the right to judge and to condemn the speaker or the doer. Thou only, Lord, Thou knowest. Thou knowest all things.

Thy Christ did not want to look at the woman taken in adultery while she was being accused. He only looked at her when they were alone. As long as the accusation lasted, He stooped down over the earth. He kept silent and wrote. By this attitude, He silenced the accusers. By this attitude He has forever, unto the ages of ages, silenced all accusations.”

Excerpt from In Thy Presence by Lev Gillet, St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1977, p. 57.

“Be Still”

Holy Prophet Elijah. Photo credit: The Temple Gallery.

These two words immediately call to mind a story about Elijah (1 Kings 19:11-13). We all know the story. Elijah goes up a mountain to converse with God and there’s an earthquake, fire, and what sounds like hurricane-type winds. Elijah looks for God in all of these things, but He’s not there. After all of these things, Elijah hears what is described as a “still, small voice.” That’s where we find God.

I feel I must give the following disclaimer: I am not good at practicing stillness. If I’m in the car, the radio is playing. If I’m at my desk – including the time spent writing this – I’m listening to iTunes. I know this isn’t the best way to live. I know we are supposed to be still, spend time in reflection and quiet prayer and have had many chances to hear it. I first met Dr. Al Rossi when I was working at the Antiochian Village during my summer break in college. He came and spent time with us during training week and taught us the importance of “more quiet prayer.” As I continued to encounter Dr. Rossi at retreats and later during classes at SVS, I found it was a constant theme. He would start and end all of his talks, retreats, workshops and classes with a few minutes of quiet prayer saying something like “let’s take a moment to sit in silence to recognize that we are in the holy presence of God.” I must admit, it was a form of torture to me.

Here’s my elaborate excuse as to why this was so torturous: hearing “be still” stirs up negative and even rebellious feelings for me. As a kid, I was often told to “sit still” in church, at school, at home, in the car…pretty much everywhere. Of course, it would only make me want to do the opposite: stand up and jump around. Now I’m almost 30 and, unfortunately, being told to sit still continues to have the same effect.

While at seminary, my father confessor suggested that I take five minutes a day to read one Psalm and then sit in stillness and quiet. The plan was to go through the entire book of Psalms then repeat it. I made it to Psalm 3. The bookmark is still there waiting for me to pick up where I left off. Why was that so difficult? What is it about stillness and silence that is so uncomfortable for me?

My thought is this: it’s often much easier to make excuses as to why we shut out God – like the somewhat elaborate one above – than it is to seek Him out. It is easier to live in our own universe than it is to endure the discomfort of sitting still and consciously quieting what often feels like monkeys jumping around inside my head. Some of this stems from fear. We fear encountering God in a real way and possibly finding out things we don’t want to find out or, more realistically, things we know to be true and don’t want to believe or follow. It is much more comfortable to stay hidden by the walls we construct than to face the reality that we are constantly falling short.

Our Lord Jesus Christ

Very soon we begin the Lenten period. We must go beyond our fears and move outside our comfort zone. We need to stop fearing the “still, small voice.” We need to look for it, search it out, and, having heard, follow. Let us take this time to refocus our lives, cut through our bogus excuses and focus on being in the holy presence of God.

So, all together, “let’s end as we began and recognize that right here, right now, we are in the holy presence of God.”

Greg Abdalah (SVOTS ’08) is the Director of Youth and Family Ministries at St. George Cathedral in Worcester, MA.  He graduated from SVOTS in 2008 with a Master of Divinity and currently sits on the SVOTS Alumni Board.