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His Strength in my Weakness

His Strength in my Weakness

Translated from a sermon by HH Pope Shenouda III

Our God is the God of the weak. The weak have a special importance in the eyes of our Lord. The weak are given special privileges that the strong would not get, for very simple reasons.

God was with Jacob, the weaker brother, of Esau, known for his strength. Jacob was frightened of his brother, Esau. When it came time for him to return home, he was fearful to the point of death from his brother. He was scared for not only his life, but the lives of his wife and children, too. God stood by Jacob and not the powerful Esau.

Another example is the Pharisee and the tax collector that both stood in the Temple. The Pharisee was proud of his power and prestige. It was spiritual strength that he relied on.

God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess
Luke 18:11-12

He trusted in his own power, and for that reason, his prayers were not received. He depended on his power, and he was proud of his power, even in front of God.

As for the tax collector, who was weak and confessed of his weakness. He felt the weight of his weakness and sin.

And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’
Luke 18:13

The mighty Pharisees and Sadducees quoted Moses’ law when a certain woman was caught in adultery. They told Christ that her punishment must be stoning. They shamed her, but God did not stand by them but the woman, to life her up from her weakness. He rescued her from their grasp.

When He revealed all their sins, He said to her, where are your accusers? Since none remained, He said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.” Why did He do this? He saw that she was weak, she was sick, she was tired, she was ashamed, and that she had been wronged.

She did not ask for God’s protection, or His help, or mercy, or even protection. She did not call on God. Don’t think that God waits to be asked. God doesn’t answer what we ask of Him. He answers in His compassion to our feelings when we are put down.

God will always protect the weak, even before they ask. He will always protect the poor and needy. If you stand strong in front of yourself, in front of others, then God can never stand with you.

God stood with Saint Anthony, the father of the monks. He would say to the demons, “Why are you sending your most powerful to fight someone so weak?” God stood by St Anthony and saved him from all the demons and their devices.

This is how God has always been. God chose Moses who had a stutter and was afraid to speak before Pharaoh. Yet God chose this weak man to speak on His behalf. Moses could voice God’s command to His people without any of his personal opinions. He was a representative of the house of God.

If a person trusts in their own strength, they will also give credit to themselves. God seeks the heart of the one that attributes all their strength to God. Everything is for the glory of God’s Holy Name.

This is why God chooses the weak. God chose Isaiah the Prophet and appeared to him with the holy Seraphim (Isaiah 8). He was a man that knew his weakness. In the presence of the Lord, Isaiah says:

“Woe is me, for I am undone!
Because I am a man of unclean lips”

He did not take pride in himself, but gives glory to God.

When David felt weak, God lifted him up. When David felt his own power, God stood against him. He punished him and said that he could not build the temple because his hands were unclean.

God does not like to depend on people who think they are powerful. Thinking of one’s self as powerful goes against God’s own nature that is full of humility. When we empty ourselves, just as Christ emptied Himself on the Cross for the sake of humanity, then God will be our source of strength.

Glory be to God, Amen.

Restless

Transcribed St Luke’s sermon by Fr Daniel Fanous

The gospel that we read today is a short Gospel placed between 2 of the most remarkable events that occur in the Gospels.

The multiplication miracle
Christ talking about the Eucharist and how we should eat His body and blood

So, this Gospel is sandwiched between these two events, and if not read in this context it won’t make too much sense. Once the people have seen the multiplication miracle, they remember Moses when he gave the manna when they were starving. As a result, they try to make Jesus King. It then says that once they did so that Jesus departed alone to the mountain. Afterwards, the disciples waited till later that evening to start crossing the sea of Galilee, and after having rowed 4 miles(7km) they saw that Jesus came walking to them saying to them “it is I, do not be afraid”.

The next morning, the few thousand people who were on the other side of Galilee got in boats and crossed the sea. When they get there they see that there’s only one boat, then they remembered that Jesus wasn’t on that boat. So they were confused as to how He got there, so they asked him a question (which is the centre of this Gospel); “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Basically asking in a nice way, How did you possibly come here?!

Jesus answers and says, “Most assuredly I say to you, you seek me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled.”

But notice that they have forgotten something. They just wanted to make Him king of Israel and now they’ve forgotten. Just yesterday, He had performed a miracle that had convinced them utterly that this Man should be the King of Israel, the Messiah, the Redeemer, the one sent to deliver Israel. And then within hours they’ve completely forgotten. So Christ tells them, You’re only following, not because you saw the signs, but because I fed you.

St John Chrysostom, one of the early church fathers, says, “they forgot about making Him king, that’s how fickle humanity is. Now they just want more food.”

This is the story not only of these few thousand people but of all humanity. This is our entire lives, we chase after satisfaction without looking to the one who satisfies. That is the nature of all lust and desire, you keep chasing it but not seeing that it’s a sign of something else, it points to someone else, it points to a higher union.Every desire, if not looked at our own hearts, is an attempt to be satisfied. Whether its lust, sex, food, pride or vanity. All of these are a yearning to be satisfied, and all of these sins are a state of restlessness, agitation, an attempt to be satisfied but you can’t quite get there.

St Augustine was somebody who did this for some time. But even when he did try to seek a respectable marriage and left all these women he’s been with and even left his concubine/lover he says that he tried to chase women after women to find satisfaction but he just couldn’t. In his confessions he writes the most stunning line;

“Our hearts were created for God, and so they remain restless until they rest in Him.”Restless being a state of anxiety, agitation and annoyance.

This is specifically our hearts; We are in a state of agitation, seeking a higher union, but we just don’t see this. There’s this infinite hole in our hearts and we try to fill it with finite things, things that are limited and cannot satisfy. Then we wonder why we remain anxious, unsatisfied, yearning and addicted. Because what were trying to do is satisfy ourselves infinitely with something that is limited. That is why we must have mercy on those who separate themselves from God, those who sin, those who behave agitatedly. Because this happens in trying to fulfill their desires that are not corrupt or evil, they’re just weak. They’re searching for the one who gives the sign, but they’re stuck on the sign, and they keep going back to the sign, not understanding it and just trying to be satisfied by the sign alone. They forgot to seek God and just try to still that infinite restlessness until they rest in God;

“Most assuredly I say to you, you seek me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled.”

Jesus’ words are a response to the agitation of these people; they are a response to us. We have chased the sign and have forgotten the one to whom the sign points to.

St Augustine says a beautiful line; “How many seek Jesus for no other objective than to gain some kind of temporal benefit?” One has a business that they need help in so they ask for the intercessions of the clergy. Another is oppressed by one that is more superior to them and so they seek God for help to have influence on someone to whom he himself has little influence. Each person wants something.The Church is filled with people like this.

Jesus is scarcely sought after for His own sake.

Even Christ infers that we seek Him not for Him but for something else. And all of these things are signs; something that points to something else. And yet, we can’t see that, were just stuck on the sign. What we think are our goals- Satisfying lust, pride, ambition, glory and love- are in fact just pointers.

It’s almost as if you make a journey to Niagara Falls. And as you’re walking you see a sign pointing in the direction towards the falls. Then you start taking photos with the sign, you stare at it, you spend time around it and then you go home. Inside you know that there’s something left unsatisfied from the day. Was that what I was really aiming for?

Is that what we were really created for?

This is how we remain unsatisfied and restless. Yet were not sure why. We want something but we don’t even know what. I’ll never forget that when I was a young medical student I was in surgery with one of the top urologists in Australia, and he said to me, ‘Ive chased my entire life to because the number 1 urologist in the number 1 hospital in Australia. I chased it until I became the head of the department, and now I’m 50 years old and I’ve stopped. Yet I can’t stop thinking, what am I doing?’ He was in a state of agitation, always yearning, but not too sure what for. These things leave us empty and don’t actually achieve what they’re mean to achieve.

St John Chrysostom says from the perspective of Christ;

“I fed your bodies so that after this you may seek the food that endures, which nourishes the soul. But you run right back to the food that is temporal. Therfore you do not understand that I lead you, not to this imperfect food, but to that which nourishes not the body but the soul.”

This material satisfaction is supposed to point us to Him, it Is in itself good, there’s nothing bad with is. Love, intimacy, fear; all of these things are good but they’re only signs pointing to Him. Even today on Valentine’s Day, we should never forget the words of St Paul;

“But I speak of a greater mystery, that of Christ and the church.”

Even our marriages and our love points to Christ and the church, the laying down of His life for the church and the churches response to that.

So let us then lift up our eyes to Christ, the one to whom our hearts were created for. The one whom our hearts are restless for, so that we can say with St Augustine “our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

What’s remarkable is that at the end of that passage in St Augustine’s confession he ends with this conclusion;

“Through Your own merciful dealings with me my Lord and God, tell me what You are to me, say to my soul ‘I am your salvation’, say it so that I can hear it. My heart is listening Lord. Open the ears of my heart and say to my soul, ‘I am your salvation.’ Let me run towards this voice and cease hold of You. Do not hide Your face from me, let me die so that I may see it, for not to see it would be death to me indeed.”

Not seeing the Lord is death.

Glory be to God forevermore, Amen

That They May Be Saved, Even if I Perish

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Daniel Fanous

Passage: Mark 10:17-31

Perhaps the most famous words in this gospel are the words that Christ teaches. He says, “For with God, nothing will be impossible.” But these words are misplaced, misinterpreted, taken out of context, and then used for everyone to put on the walls. I remember when I was studying for my HSC, my mum put these words all over my desk: with God, all things are possible – as if God’s intent and purpose was for me to get the highest possible mark. People say it when they’re going through tough times: with God, all things are possible. And even though it’s beautiful, the problem is that Christ is speaking those words in a very particular context.

Laying down my life for others – that is impossible. It is possible, perhaps, to lay down your life for friends and family, but for people you don’t know, even enemies, it is impossible. That is the context of Christ saying that with God all things are possible. And it’s really important we understand it like that. This entire gospel is a response to a question – a man who is wealthy comes to our Lord and asks: “what shall I do that I might inherit eternal life?” After Christ tells him the commandments, the man says: “all these things I’ve done since my youth” – I have done everything commanded of me. I’ve obeyed the scriptures. But Christ says there is one thing he lacks – Christ says “take up your cross and follow me”. And it says that he was sad and sorrowful… because he couldn’t lay down his life for others. He couldn’t follow Christ to the cross. All that he was doing was good and righteous. But unless it was tied and directed to that last command, it is fruitless.

Christ says to take up your cross and follow Him. Follow him there to lay down His life for others, for us. And unless I have that feeling in my heart that my life is worthless in comparison to those around me, and I am willing to lay it down for others, everything else I do has no purpose, and no fruit. It’s as St Paul says: even if we give our bodies to be burnt, martyred, and I don’t have love, it is fruitless. It us useless. It is senseless noise, like a clanging cymbal, making noise with no direction. (1 Corinthians 13:1). Christ said to us: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you.” (John 13:34)

There’s nothing new in the commandment to love one another. This was taught in the Old Testament. The difference here is to “love one another; as I have loved you”, by laying down my life for you. Even those who I don’t know, who aren’t family or friends, for those who abuse me – I lay down my life for them.

So when Christ says that with God things all things are possible, He means to love and lay down ones life. There’s a remarkable story of the desert fathers in the fourth century, about St Anthony the Great (who was called this not only because he was one of the first, but because he was considered the greatest one). When monks and other people would see him, they’d all go silent, and say that the great one was among them – someone who was transfigured with the light of Christ. When people would see him, the monks would see him they would all go silent. And they would say the great one is among them, someone that was transfigured with the light of Christ. St Anthony therefore prayed to God and said, “Lord, I love you to such a degree that I cannot imagine that anyone would love you as much as I do.”

God then directed St Anthony to a certain cobbler living in Alexandria. St Anthony left the desert to find this cobbler and asks: are you the one the Lord showed me when I prayed asking if anyone loved the Lord more than I did? I expected a monk, an ascetic, a hermit, but he showed me a cobbler. What is it that you do?” The man then explained that there was nothing he did particularly: he gave a third of his income to the church, a third to the poor, and a third he kept. St Anthony looked at him and laughed. This man had sacrificed some, St Anthony had sacrificed everything to go live in poverty in the desert. Surely there was more to it. So he asked the cobbler again: “what do you do in your heart?”

The man responded with these words: “I do nothing special. Only as I work, I look at those who pass by me and and pray that they may be saved and that only I will perish.” That was it. Not a feeling or emotional reaction or empty words. They were the prayers of his heart each and every day. Let these pagans who don’t know God be saved, and let me perish.

Jesus says: “One thing you lack: take up your cross and follow me.” He says: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

For the cobbler, that lead his heart in one direction, to pray that everyone around him would be saved, even if that would mean that he would perish. It was that which made him greater than St Anthony, the greatest ascetic who gave up everything to live in the middle of the desert, in celibacy, in poverty, in obedience and in daily struggle. Because his heart became like Christ’s heart, aching with the love that Christ’s heart aches with for those around us, that he was ready to lay down his life for those he didn’t even know.

This is not something foreign to us. Moses prays when the Lord was about to destroy his people (Exodus 32). He says: “Yet now, if You will forgive their sin—but if not, I pray, blot me out of Your book which You have written.” (verse 32) He begs the Lord to blot out the sins of the people around him, and if not, to take his name out of the Book of Life.

St Paul writes to the Romans: “For I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my countrymen according to the flesh” (Romans 9:3). St Paul’s whole life was for Christ, but even then, he was willing to be cursed and separated from Christ for his brethren to be saved. Their hearts, like the hearts of the cobbler, ached with the love of Christ for everyone, even the haters, the abusers and the spiteful. This is what Christ meant when He said that with God all things are possible.

Metropolitan Anthony Bloom, who was a an incredible Russian Bishop in England, some years ago once told this story: after World War Two, in the Jewish concentration camps, a piece of paper was found. It had a man’s last words, before seeing his friends and family die and dying himself, which said:

Lord, when you come to this earth to judge, do not condemn the people that have done these atrocities to us. Do not hold against them the cruelty of our suffering and the violence in our despair. But look at the fruits which we have borne: patience, humility, fortitude, forgiveness, loyalty, solidarity. May these fruits be accounted in their salvation.

He doesn’t asked the Lord to remember how they harmed and killed and murdered for no reason but their ethnicity. He says, look at our fruits and account that to them. It’s a remarkable attitude. I don’t know who wrote that piece of paper, whether they were a Jew or not, but it was someone regardless in whom Christ dwelt, because this is the heart of Christ – that He lays down his life for all. He says like the cobbler: “that they may be saved, let me perish”. He says like Moses: “if you can’t save them, blot me out from the Book of Life.” He says like Paul: “let me be accursed from Christ if only my countrymen would come to know Him”.

Jesus says: “One thing you lack: take up your cross and follow me.” He says: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you.” This feeling must be mine if I follow Christ. I must lay down my life for those around me, even those who pass me by and my enemies. This is the thing that weighs my heart. If I care only for my family, only for my friends, only for my own, in my heart is not Christ’s heart.

So let us turn to Him in our hearts that we may feel His love for the world. That is the centre of prayers in our religion, the centre of the Eucharist in the Orthodox Church. During the institution in the mass, we say: “He instituted for us this great mystery of godliness – the Eucharist – being determined to give Himself up to death for the life of the world.” May we give ourselves to the life of the world. Glory be to God forever, Amen.

Listen to the sermon here!

Discipleship through words

St Luke’s transcribed sermon by Anthony Sharkawi.

One of the major themes of today’s Gospel is discipleship as the Lord said;

“Whoever of who does not forsake all that he has, cannot be My disciple.”

Discipleship, very simply, just means to be a follower of someone. Over time, discipleship has been done in different ways over time. One example is Pope Kyrillos; Pope Kyrillos was a disciple in a unique way to a man who lives centuries before he did, St Isaac the Syrian. Pope Kyrillos would do this by reading his teachings and absorbing them daily.
Recently, upon talking to a servant at St Mark’s, she was telling me how she was a disciple. The way she did it was through listening to a certain priest’s sermons while in the car. In a way, by absorbing the teachings of this priest, she becomes his disciple.

Another way that people become disciples is by physically following them, and this was the way it was done in Jesus’ time. Jesus was physically followed by the twelve, and that is how they became His disciples. One of the modern ways this is done is with the army. Just like Jesus says, “Whoever of who does not forsake all that he has, cannot be My disciple”, the people in the army actually do that. They leave their family and go follow a commander who essentially tells them what to do.

There is a very interesting account from WW2, where a certain group was told what to do that really could have got them killed but did it anyway. They were known as ‘the ghost army’ and their assignment in the war was to hold a line of battle with inflatable toys. They had inflatable tanks and inflatable soldiers to deceive enemies regarding the number of people they have. This is discipleship in an extreme way because they listened to something that didn’t make any sense, but in the end, it worked out.

The one common thread between all these disciples though, is that they heeded word. Whether it was Pope Kyrillos that heeded St Isaac’s word, the servant at St Mark’s listening to the priest’s word, or a person at the army listening to the commander’s words. So, words are a big way in which we can become disciples.

Take notice of something in all these verses;

“Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God”

“The word of God is truth who effectively works in those who believe.”

“For the word of God is living and powerful.”

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.”

So, the word of God is a weapon for when Satan attacks us. So, when I feel down, I use the word of God to bring me back up, remembering that Jesus came to save the world and all sinners of whom I am chief. Then we are told that the word of God effectively works in those who believe, so it does something in us. Then in Hebrews it says that it is living and powerful, so it’s not like a book that we open, and it has no effect on our lives. Then Colossians tells us to use the word of in us, telling us to let it dwell in us.

When we were children, in Sunday school we had to learn a verse from the bible before we leave the lesson that day. We may think that this is childish, but the truth is that we are the kids if we think this is too childish for us. When was the last time that we deliberately took this sword, this effective, living, and powerful thing, and let it dwell in our minds?

Recently, I had a lot of work to do and generally, my wife noticed that I’d fall sometimes asleep while we pray together at night. And so, she told me that whatever I got to do I could do it just make sure you pray first then do it. Generally, we go through the midnight prayer from the Agbeya together. So, I listened, and I really learned this;

I discovered what the secret was to David’s prayers. In the midnight prayer, the longest psalm, 119, is there and it’s broken into 22 parts. I just want you to focus on what David mentions in every single part of this Psalm;

Part 1;

“Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord.”

Part 2;

“How can a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed according to Your word.”

Part 3;

“Deal bountifully with Your servant, that I may live and keep Your word.”

Part 4;

“My soul clings to the dust; Revive me according to Your word.”

Part 5;

“Establish Your word to Your servant, who is devoted to fearing You.”

Part 6;

“Let Your mercies come also to me, O Lord – Your salvation according to Your word.”

Part 7;

“Remember the word to Your servant, Upon which You have caused me to hope.”

Part 8;

“You are my portion, O Lord; I have said that I would keep Your words.”

Part 9;

“You have dealt well with Your servant, O Lord, according to Your word.”

Part 10;

“Those who fear You will be glad when they see me Because I have hoped in Your word.”

Part 11;

“My soul faints for Your salvation, But I hope in Your word.”

Every single part of that Psalm that isn’t even written in parts has to refer to the word of God. And something even scarier is that every single sentence has reference to the word of God. This is seen in part 22;

“Let my cry come before You, O Lord;
Give me understanding according to Your word.
Let my supplication come before You;
Deliver me according to Your word.
My lips shall utter praise,
For You teach me Your statutes.
My tongue shall speak of Your word,
For all Your commandments are righteousness.
Let Your hand become my help,
For I have chosen Your precepts.
I long for Your salvation, O Lord,
And Your law is my delight.
Let my soul live, and it shall praise You;
And let Your judgments help me.
I have gone astray like a lost sheep;
Seek Your servant,
For I do not forget Your commandments.”

Imagine writing something and every single word is based on the word of God. The bottom line is that discipleship can really be done by words. In every single sentence, Kind David somehow speaks about precepts, judgments, statutes, law, or word of God. Practically for us, sometimes we ignore the most powerful thing God has given us; His word. A lot of times, circumstances bring us down but how often do we let the word of God bring us back up?

This is King David’s secret, he used to word of God every day.

I remember something that Abouna Anthony from the monastery taught me. When King David says in the Psalms the “all day I meditate on Your word”, this does not just mean that he would just meditate or think on God’s word but rather he would repeat the word through the day. How beautiful if we opened the word of God every morning and took a promise from God every day and repeat it throughout the day.

So, just to finish; discipleship we learn through words. In these words, we find salvation and we find our hope, our peace, our life, and our joy.

Glory be to God forever. Amen.

Abomination of Desolation

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Daniel Fanous

Passage: Matthew 24:3-35

The gospel this week is quite similar to the gospel from last week. That’s because the church takes a number of weeks for preparation. The church recognises that it takes a while for messages to enter into hearts. So in these weeks leading up to the feast of the New Year in the Orthodox Church on September 12, the Church reminds us that the Year is coming to an end, our lives will come to an end, and that the world will also eventually come to its end.

And because this is something we don’t want to hear, the Church repeats it to us several times. We don’t want to hear that our lives will come to an end. We know that family members suddenly become sick or pass away, that accidents happen, every day, every minute every second. So the church reminds us of this.

It’s also fortuitous that on this day also, it is Father’s Day. This is also a reminder for us fathers – both biological and priestly – of the words that Christ speaks to us. The gospel today says:

“Now as He sat on the Mount of Olives, the disciples came to Him privately, saying, “Tell us, when will these things be? And what will be the sign of Your coming, and of the end of the age?”

Christ then gives us a catalogue of signs and indications of the end of times. That’s what we’ve just heard in this long gospel: hearing about things that will happen on the earth, wars, rumours, persecution. And one of the warnings or the signs that he gives to us is quite striking, he says, “Therefore when you see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place,” Matthew adds his own commentary in parentheses: “(whoever reads, let him understand)” then continues, “then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let him who is on the housetop not go down to take anything out of his house.”

Be radical, because things are upon you. And these words are really strange. This abomination of desolation. It comes from Daniel 9:27 in the Old Testament where he speaks about an abomination of desolation.

And most likely, he’s speaking about a very concrete historical event. There was a figure by the name of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. His last name means the “manifestation of God” because this is who he thought he was. He was the head of the Seleucids, and they came and overtook Israel in about 70 BC. When he overtook the place, he realised that the Jews held the temple of God as the most sacred space, and as the core of their being.

He then took an altar of Zeus, one of the Greek gods, and put that in the Holy of Holies, where only God was supposed to be.

It was so horrific that that event was burnt into the times, the people, the history, that this was the symbol of how things have totally been desecrated. That the place of God has now become the place of a Greek god.

So after that, you get Christ speaking about it in this passage, most likely talking about an event that would happen with the Romans, only a few decades later, which is why Matthew wrote, “whoever reads, let him understand”. He tells us to pay attention, we know what he’s talking about. And that’s because one of the Roman emperors, Caligula, proposed to set up his own image in the temple in about 40 AD.

St Paul in Thessalonians talks again about this abomination of desolation. When something takes the rightful place of God, when the Holiest of Holies has been desecrated, when instead of being the centre, the core of where God’s presence is manifested, there is something else that takes place. But we shouldn’t think that this will help us determine when the abomination is. Christ isn’t trying to give us a timeline.

And it’s quite strange that when you actually read from the fathers, what you find when they talk about these passages, they’re very disinterested in trying to put a time on it, trying to do calculations and figure out when the end of the world will be. Instead, they understand that to be about themselves – that they themselves need to be watchful.

St. Gregory the Great says this:

“And let us keep in mind that these present afflictions are as far below the last tribulations, as is the person of the herald below the majesty of the judge he precedes.”

He is saying that what is happening to us right now is nothing compared to what will be at the end. But then he says: “Reflect with all your mind upon this day”. As in now. Not the end of times, now. “My dearest Brethren. Remedy what is now defective in your present life. Amend your ways. Conquer evil temptations by standing firm against them. Repent with tears of the sins you have committed. For the more you make ready against the severity of His justice by serving Him in fear, the more serenely shall you behold the Coming of that Eternal Judge.”

So what he’s saying is, don’t worry about the time course. Don’t worry about when this will be. Worry about you yourself being watchful and ready.

And so when Christ then says to us, “when you see the abomination of desolation,” and especially on Father’s Day, both biological and priestly, we must consider where the abomination of desolation could be. It can be in the altar of the church and can be in the altar of my heart. That’s where the abomination of desolation is. The early church fathers are very clear in the way they interpret scripture. As St. Paul said, “these things happened to them as types and were written for our admonition”. These things were written for me.

And so then when Christ says, “When you see the abomination of desolation”, He’s saying, look in your hearts and see – the place is called to be the Holiest of Holies, what do you find? What do you see?

St. Paul tells the Corinthians, “Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own?” (1 Corinthians 6:19) That is a very misunderstood passage because people believe it to mean that he’s talking about individuals, and that you shouldn’t harm your body by doing something like smoking, for example.

But he actually says it in the plural. The word “you” there is in the plural in Greek. He says, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God?”

And then Origen, looking at that, says,

“but each of us is a stone of that temple.”

So each of us individuals is a temple. But at the same time, each of us is a stone of the greater Temple of the body of Christ.

And that means, as Christ says to us, when you see the abomination of desolation, flee. Be radical in your action. Don’t tolerate it. We are a temple. We were fashioned by God so that we could be indwelt by him. That we could become a sanctuary of his presence. That on the altar of our hearts, we can offer gifts to him.

And so, if we look at the altar of our hearts, and here I speak more to the Father than anyone else: what is in the altar of your heart? What is in the Holiest of Holies? Look deep within – is there anything there besides Christ?

Any lust, money, pride, ambition, desire, whatever it is – what stands in the altar of your heart?

Christ tells us to take radical action. “Therefore when you see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place”(whoever reads, let him understand), “then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let him who is on the housetop not go down to take anything out of his house.” Flee. Take radical action. Don’t tolerate having the abomination of desolation in your heart, the rightful place of Christ.

And there’s no action more radical than turning to Christ. In Romans 7, St. Paul says: “I find then a law, that evil is present with me, the one who wills to do good. For I delight in the law of God according to the inward man. But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.” He says, When I look at my own heart, that which I don’t want to do, I do. That which I want to do, I can’t do. And therefore I see that there is something in me, I’m being indwelt. He says, “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

St. Paul feels as we should all feel: that we are made to be a temple. We are made to be indwelt, but just as we can be indwelt by Christ, we can be indwelt by many other things.

So then, let us look at our hearts, and I speak to myself first – do we not know that we are the temple of God? So how then do we tolerate something to be in the rightful place of Christ in our hearts? How do we tolerate there’s an abomination of desolation, which is anything which takes the place of Christ in the Holiest of Holies? Let us then beg our Lord Jesus Christ, that He is ever present on the altar of our hearts. And as we read in the Matins gospel, and I say to you again, let us be forever watchful that nothing and no one takes the place of Christ in our hearts. And if anything does, we are radical, we flee, we take action. Glory be to God forevermore.

? Full sermon ?

Sensitivity For Others

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Samuel Fanous

Passage: Luke 9:10-17

The words of the Gospel today from Luke 9 begin with a realisation about something that’s happened. The disciples had been travelling with Jesus and multitudes had been following to hear him speak. And then it says, “when the day began to wear away” – when the people were exhausted and the day had come to its close, the disciples said to Christ, “Send the multitude away, that they may go into the surrounding towns and country, and lodge and get provisions; for we are in a deserted place here.”

You hear those words – “send them away” – and they can sound arrogant. It almost sounds as if the disciples are annoyed – that they’ve had it with these people that they’ve been with for an entire day, even days perhaps, following them, serving them, caring for them. So in annoyance, they say: “send them away”.

But one of the most remarkable this is that this is not how the early church read these words. St Cyril of Alexandria in the fourth century spent almost an entire homily talking about these words, “send them away”. He said

“[the disciples] seized with love toward the multitudes, and beginning to have a concern for the people…”

They were beginning to have concern for them.

When they say, “send them away”, they aren’t doing it out of annoyance or frustration or arrogance – they’re doing it because they’re starting to feel people. They’re starting to become sensitive to the needs of people. So they ask the Lord to send them away to the surrounding towns before it gets dark so that they can go and eat and sleep – because this is a deserted place. It’s likely the multitude themselves hadn’t realised it – it had just started to get dark, and perhaps they were distracted, unaware of their needs that would come in just a few hours. So the disciples start to become very sensitive – St Cyril is very specific that they “seized with love… beginning to have a concern for the people”.

St Cyril goes on to say,

“for to draw near, and make supplication on the people’s behalf, is an act becoming to the saints”.

To be sensitive to people and their needs is the beginning and act of becoming to the saints. So from here, Christ commands the disciples: “You give them something to eat”. Christ could feed the multitude, but he wanted the disciples to share in that. They told Him that they had no more than five loaves and two fish, so He takes those, blesses them and gives them out to people in groups of 50, to feed perhaps 50,000 people – an event which we call the Blessing of Multiplication or the Blessing of the Little – a remarkable miracle which would’ve reminded people of the days of Moses when Manna would come from heaven and the people would eat from it.

All of this comes first in the beginning of sensitivity. Sensitivity to others, and not myself. It creates the space in which God can work, can heal and can love through us. But that sensitivity requires me first to move out of myself. It means I have to move out for my own lusts, desires, ambitions – I have to see others.

If we do not see others, we cannot be sensitive to them. We can’t feel them or their needs. If we see ourselves, we only care for ourselves. This is actually where the word “narcissism” comes from – it’s a word that we painfully throw around at others who are quite self-absorbed – but actually, the word “narcissism” comes from one of the Greek gods in mythology, Narcissus, a handsome young Greek man who was being chased by a woman, the nymph Echo, and rejected her.

He didn’t want to be loved or to love somebody else. She wasn’t beautiful enough for him. One day after hunting he came before a pool of water, and he sat down in front of the pool, as he went down to drink, he saw himself. He looked at that image, and couldn’t stop looking at it because it was so beautiful. Eventually, after hours of staring at his own image in the water, he realised he couldn’t consummate his love. He couldn’t embrace the person. And so after gazing, enraptured in his own image, he killed himself – because he couldn’t attain the object of his desire. And that’s where we get the word narcissism – somebody that was so self-absorbed, all they could see was themselves.

Yet Christ is the exact opposite. Something that always strikes me in the gospels is that if you pay attention to the words carefully you see how many times Christ sees people. How many times, the evangelists stop to make a point that He looks and sees somebody.

“And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brothers” (Matt. 4:18). He saw Nathaniel, and said, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” (John 1:48). With the paralytic man, it says, “When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?”” (John 5:6). In Matthew, Jesus “saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion for them, because they were weary and scattered, like sheep having no shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). When Christ sees the rich young man and is asked how he can be saved, it says, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him” (Mark 10:21). When Jesus looks up at Zacchaeus, it’s up in the sycamore tree, and he is hiding because he is so embarrassed as a tax collector to be seen by people. It says, “when Jesus came to the place, He looked up and saw him, and said to him, “Zacchaeus, make haste and come down, for today I must stay at your house.” (Luke 19:5).

These are just a few examples – the gospels are littered with them. Christ sees us. He is sensitive to our needs. He feels our needs. He looks beyond himself, He sees others, and so He is sensitive to our needs. Sensitivity to others is the beginning of saintliness. It is the beginning of drawing near to Christ and becoming like Him.

Many years ago, perhaps when I was in my first year of university, I didn’t attend university very much. I was a very poor student – I was probably attending about half an hour a week – so I had nothing to do and took up many hobbies that no 18-year-olds do.

One priest had asked me to help him – so I used to pray one liturgy every Thursday morning from 5-7 a.m., and afterwards I would drive around this elderly priest to help him give people communion, sometimes for four or five hours, sometimes until 2 p.m.

And every time after we’d finished the liturgy, I would watch this priest take the Eucharist and put on his head, and I’ve never seen anyone do what he does. He would refuse to drive – he let me drive – and he would sit in the car with the Eucharist on top of his head for five hours, going from place to place with incredible reverence. Often I would drive in silence for hours because I didn’t want to disturb him, until we’d visit the very last person receiving communion, after which, I would try to go to the drivers seat but he would refuse to give me the keys and let me drive, and say the exact same words: “before you drove because you were driving Christ. But now it is Yohanna, and I cannot allow you to drive Yohanna.” He would refuse to let me drive him, ever – but I could drive when Christ was on top of his head. This went on for a year, every Thursday, until one Thursday we came to the last communion. He told me to park the car and stay in the car, because the person he was visiting had a personal issue that he didn’t want anyone to know about except for his priest.

So as I went to park the car, I went straight into a brick wall and knocked off the bumper bar. So I sat there for a nervous half an hour trying to find the way to bring the bumper bar up, so the priest wouldn’t notice that I knocked off his bumper bar, until eventually, the priest came after the last communion as I was down on the ground trying to fix it, and in just one glance, he saw what the situation was and he looked away. I opened my mouth to begin to apologise – but he just laughed and said, “it’s nothing”. He went into his pocket and threw me the keys, and said “quick, let’s drive”.

For a year, he refused to ever let him drive him after communion, because I couldn’t drive Yohanna, I could only drive the Eucharist. But after I crashed his car with the bumper bar hanging off, he threw me the keys just so I wouldn’t be upset.

He was sensitive. Because he feared that I would become upset or feel guilt or shame because I crashed his car, he gave me the keys and let me drive him. In that moment, I possibly receive the greatest lesson of my life.

To become sensitive to others. To feel them. And that means, forgive me, we need to look very carefully at ourselves. Do I see others or do I see myself only?

How many times each day do I see others? Do I feel for others? Do I live for others? How many times a day, if at all?

And yet if I don’t go out of myself – beyond my desires, needs and ambitions, and I cannot see or feel others, I cannot be sensitive to their needs or feel for them. And if I don’t live for them, I don’t live for Him.

But if I see others, if I feel their needs much more deeply than they themselves feel their own needs, and I live for them, then I live for Christ. And that is why St Cyril of Alexandria says, being sensitive to others is an act of becoming of the saints. It was the entire beginning of the Blessing of the Multiplication story, with the disciples becoming sensitive to others.

So let us all, as one church, especially in the coming weeks, let us train ourselves to become sensitive to others. To see others and to feel their needs. To look beyond ourselves and our needs, but to see others.

Glory be to God Amen.

The Feast of Pentecost

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Sam Fanous

Passage: John 15:26 – 16:15

Today is the beautiful Feast of Pentecost – the Feast where the apostles and disciples went out and converted the whole world. If you look at the whole history of humanity within the Bible, you can see that it is a process of God teaching humanity. In ancient civilisations, the world was pretty barbaric – humanity behaved in a way that was very depraved in many instances. In those times, they behaved in that way often in service to the gods they worshipped. Some offered up their sons and daughters, and burned them in an act of worship to their gods.

Throughout the Old Testament, God told these people that, though they were primitive, this was not the way to behave. So He revealed himself to them as God the Father, the one God. In those days, the concept of one God was alien to them – there were hundreds of gods. Each tribal group had their own group. He revealed himself to the Jews firstly to teach them the most important lesson: there is only one God. The other gods were idols. But the God of the Jews was the only one to be worshipped.

And even though he said this to Abraham and Moses, it took about a thousand years for this idea to sink in. Initially, they thought that this was their God who was stronger than all the other gods. But after thousands of years that concept became ingrained that the other gods weren’t real, and were simply works of man. The God of the Jews was the only God. He revealed that He was the transcendent, unknowable, eternal God.

This is why in the Old Testament the people would question “how can I have seen God’s face?”. They believed that if they saw God’s face they would be immediately killed. But throughout the whole Old Testament there are snippets of revelation that somehow God is further than we could ever imagine, yet somehow close to us. We see Moses in the Burning Bush – the angel of the Lord walks on the earth. But who is the angel of the Lord?

So somehow, throughout the Old Testament, you get the indication that there may be more to the story than this one, eternal, unknowable God. And finally, when we get to the gospels, we discover a new level of truth: God, the word, the second person, became man.

He was the angel of the Lord. He was the one who spoke to Moses through the Burning Bush. In the fullness of time, through St Mary, He became man.

And this movement of revelation from God the unknowable coming towards us moves to another level now. Now, Jesus walks with us. We can listen, touch, hold and see Him. He is there.

But the movement of God towards us is not finished there. Jesus’ death and resurrection is only the second stage. The next stage is today – Pentecost – when the disciples were gathered together in the upper room, waiting for the Holy Spirit to descend on them. This is the final revelation.

In the Old Testament, we have the eternal God unknowable to us – and that is still true. God the Father cannot be known by us. We cannot put Him in our brains – He is far above us.

But now, we know Him as Jesus Christ. He is close to us.

But the final stage of the revelation is the outpouring of the Holy Spirit within us. God is not only beyond everything, He is not only someone we can see, He is someone deep within us, closer to us than we are to ourselves.

As one theologian puts it,

“God is beyond all things we could think or express, yet closer to us than our own heart”.

This is God’s revelation to humanity – and we are the heirs of this revelation. We have received the Holy Spirit in baptism and chrismation. God has moved from His eternal throne all the way into our souls, even though we don’t deserve it.

And now God is fully revealed to the world. There is nothing left for God to teach us from an external perspective. The only thing we have to do is find him. And we cannot say “you’re too far away” or “we don’t know you”. The disciples and Jews saw Jesus walking on earth, but He is closer to us than He was to the disciples because He is within our soul through the Holy Spirit.

It is the Trinity: God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit that works within us for our salvation. It’s the Spirit within us that pushes us to pray and convicts us when we sin. And when we pray, we pray by the Spirit, through the Son, to the Father. The Holy Trinity, altogether, is working for our salvation.

So today we have to be filled with the Holy Spirit. Every action and word must be infused with the Holy Spirit. If you are not sowing the Spirit to the people around you, you are giving them emptiness. If you’re a servant in the church, and are empty of the Holy Spirit, your service is futile.

You may do good things for people and help them. Many people help those who are sick, which is a good thing. But what are you doing to make a change eternally? You may ease their pain for a short period of time, but are you easing their eternal pain? Are you giving them eternal glory? Are you giving them anything with substance or meaning?

If you don’t have the Holy Spirit, whatever good you do will never be eternal. It will only ever be temporary.

Think about it like a drinking vessel. You could have a drinking vessel that is beautiful and ornaments your house, but when you come to drink from it, it’s empty. Or you could have an ugly jug, cracked, hardly holding itself together, and when you drink from that drinking vessel, it has an outcome. It gives you something.

This is what we have to remember. If we are empty of the Holy Spirit, no matter how good we look, no matter how much we do, we are giving emptiness. We are giving from our own deficiency.

Without the Holy Spirit guiding our actions, we are like zombies. We can move and do things but there’s no life within us.

It’s not just in our service. Think about your actions when you raise your own children. When you raise them, you have to raise them with the Spirit. In everything you do, give them the Spirit. Every time you speak to them, when you pray together, when you discipline them, feed them the Spirit.

We spend so much time making sure we have enough food or clothing so we can provide for them materially, but that doesn’t mean anything. They will only remember if you fed them the Spirit when they looked at you and saw that you had something special, eternal and transmitted it to them.

St Seraphim of Sarov said,

“Acquire the Spirit of Peace and a thousand souls around you will be saved.”

Just one person can acquire the Holy Spirit and thousands will be saved. With the Holy Spirit, twelve uneducated fishermen changed an entire empire without lifting a sword. With the Holy Spirit, a poor young virgin gave birth to the Saviour of the world.

This is the purpose of our lives – to be filled with the Holy Spirit. Any church that is not filled with the Holy Spirit is dead. You can do all the services you want, but it is a dead church. And being filled with the Holy Spirit doesn’t start with the priest or the hierarchy. If every member of the church was filled and overflowing with the Holy Spirit, then the whole country would be changed just from that church. If every single person made that their goal in life, the whole world would be changed.

So this day of Pentecost, let’s not forget our purpose on this earth – to be filled with the Holy Spirit so that it overflows. Let’s follow the example of the disciples. First, they gathered together in the upper room, waiting patiently for the Spirit to descend upon them. We need to drink daily, hourly, minutely, from the Holy Spirit.

Every time we lift up our eyes to heaven or bow down on our knees to pray, this is us drinking daily. When we fill ourselves up and then interact with the people around us, it’ll naturally be transmitted to them. Even without words, as St Francis of Assisi said:

“Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.”

We don’t always need to use words to preach God – we just need to be filled with the Spirit.

Together, in this season of Pentecost now, remember that God, who is beyond our comprehension and above anything we can begin to imagine is also deep within our souls – our whole purpose in life is to discover and find him there. Glory be to God forever Amen.

Full Sermon Here

The Proposal of Christ

The Proposal of Christ

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Mark Basily

One of the most unforgettable days in someone’s life is the day they either proposed or were proposed to. Whether good or bad, yes or no, it’s still unforgettable. The words used on the day are ingrained in your mind.

The reason why it is such a significant day is that it is a transitionary point in your life. It marks the official transition from a relationship heading preparation for a wedding and on to marriage.

On that day, there is so much love, so much hope for what it will become, and so much faith in each other.

The Jews had a different process, they didn’t get down on one knee. The process would begin when the man would bring a gift to the girl which would mark the covenant. If she accepted the gift, it was done. He then says, “I’m going to go prepare a place for you. When it’s ready I will come back and take you with me to that place and we will be there together.”

After he said this, he would leave to build an extension to his father’s house for him and his new bride. This would take approximately one year to prepare and build. The father would then determine the right time and he would go in a procession to bring his bride back to his father’s home.

What we read in the gospel of John in the last supper discourse sounds, Christ frames His departure in very similar fashion;

“In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know” – John 14:2-3.

In essence, this was a Jewish proposal – a transition point in the relationship of Christ and the disciples. This was now heading toward a marriage.

He stays on earth for 40 days after His resurrection, until the Ascension. The ascension we celebrate this coming week. The Ascension is major event that gets overlooked midweek, between the Resurrection and the Pentecost.

Why did Christ stay for 40 days? Why this particular number of days, why couldn’t He remain of Earth forever? If you read through scripture, every time the number 40 is used, it is a transitionary moment.

During the time of Noah, they remained in the Arc for 40 days and 40 nights. When Moses takes the Israelites out of Egypt, they wonder in the desert for 40 years searching for the Promised Land. A transitionary point in the history of Israel from being in the bondage of slavery to being heirs of God’s people in their own land.

Before Jesus begins His ministry, He spends 40 days and 40 nights in the desert where He was tempted by the devil. A transitionary point from which He would begin His public ministry and miracles.

Here, we have the Ascension that takes place 40 days after the Crucifixion. This was a transitionary moment for the disciples. From fear to courage, from not understanding who Christ was or what He was saying to being able to fully comprehend His divinity and preparing for the marriage feast that was to come.

After His ascension, we read, “And they worshiped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy” (Luke 24:52)

This is a strange reaction to a loved one leaving. If you really loved someone, you would not be joyful at their departure. Why were the disciples so joyful at the ascension of Christ? Because the proposal is now coming into effect.

They remembered the words of Christ, I will go to prepare a place and when it’s ready, I will take you with Me.

They were joyful to see Him leave so that when He returned, they would be going with Him. Just like the bride is joyful when her groom leaves to prepare a place for her, the disciples can say goodbye to Christ with joy. It was joy in anticipation of what is to come. They spend the next nine days waiting for the Holy Spirit to come upon them. How did they spend those nine days?

“These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication” – Acts 1:14

In prayer and supplication, they waited for the coming of the Holy Spirit.

We today, hear these words of Christ as though Christ is on one knee proposing to you, and saying, “I am going to My Father house to prepare a place for you and then I will come again and receive you to Myself that where I am, you may be also.”

On the day of Ascension, we celebrate the day He leaves to prepare that place as a transitionary moment in our lives, looking toward eternity. We ought to return to our lives with joy for we wait in hope of His return when we will be with Him. We live joyful in prayer, preparing for wedding that is to come. We live in this hope, in this faith, and in this love.

? Full sermon ?

He Blessed, He Broke, He Gave

He Blessed, He Broke, He Gave

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Mark Basily

This is the First Sunday after the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. After the resurrection of Christ, our Lord appeared to many of His disciples and to others many times. If you read through the Gospels and in the book of Acts, you’ll be able to see at least twelve documented times that Jesus appeared after His resurrection. There probably may have been more that were not documented.

In one of these appearances He appeared to over 500 people at one time. St Paul says this in Corinthians, “He was seen by Caiaphas then by the twelve and after that He was seen by over 500 brethren at once of whom the greater part remain to the present but some have fallen asleep. After that He was seen by James then by the Apostles, then last of all He was seen by me as by one born out of due time.” An undeniable proof of the resurrection is the appearance to many eyewitnesses and as St Paul says at one point it was to over 500 people at the same time.

In today’s Gospel, we are presented with two of those appearances. The first is on the same evening of the resurrection – He enters into the closed doors where the Apostles were gathered and he enters with “peace be with you” in the upper room. The second appearance we read today is that Thomas was not present and He struggled to believe that Christ had risen and appeared to them. So Christ appears again, a second time eight days later, which would be the following Sunday. This time Thomas was gathered with them and our Lord demonstrates and shows the wounds in His hands and His side. These are some of the appearances of Christ.

What about His disappearances? We know that Christ appearing to them will give them tremendous joy and peace, but what about his disappearance? When He would leave them – how would that leave them? Remember as a child whenever we would have guests over our house and it would come time for them to leave, there would be always be this sad feeling. When they come there’s joy – family is coming over, friends are coming over, but when they come to leave you feel this sense of sadness and emptiness. We see here Christ appearing, but what about when He comes to disappear? It is always joyful and happy to say hello and welcome, but very difficult to say goodbye.

Another appearance that took place just before the appearance we read in today’s Gospel in the Upper Room, is a very beautiful appearance that happened with two disciples who were travelling on the road to Emmaus. St Luke presents to us this story on the day of the resurrection, on the Sunday. They leave Jerusalem and head seven miles a way to a village called Emmaus. As they were travelling on their way to Emmaus, they were talking. As they were talking, Christ appears and joins them. They did not know it was Him because their eyes were restrained. The Lord asked, “what conversation is this that you have with one another?” One of them named Cleopus answered and said, “are you the only stranger in Jerusalem and have you not known the things which happened there these days?” Christ entertains the question and says, “what things?”

They then said to Him,

“The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a Prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how the chief priests and our rulers delivered Him to be condemned to death and crucified Him. But we were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel.” (Luke 24:19-21)

You see here that the disciples had some loss of faith, they referred to Christ as the prophet, not the son of God. They said that they were hoping that it would be Him who would redeem Israel, as if now their hope have somewhat been dashed. Christ responds to them and says,

““Oh foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe in all that the prophets have spoken! Ought not the Christ to have suffered these things and to enter into His glory?” And beginning at Moses and all the Prophets, He expounded to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.” (Luke 24:25-27)

Essentially Christ walks with them and gives them the greatest Bible study in the history of mankind. He explains the starting from Moses and Genesis and throughout the prophets, and explains how all of these point to the crucified One – to Christ. When they had gotten near to Emmaus, which probably had felt like five minutes when walking with Christ, it was now time to say goodbye. Christ would continue His journey, and the two would go to their home. It was at this point they were meant to say goodbye. What actually happened was they constrained Him saying “…for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” They clung to Christ and said don’t leave us, stay with us, come into our home, have a meal. The Lord went to stay with them, however it did not last very long. He sat with them at the table and He took bread, blessed it, broke it and gave it to them. This action of Christ is unique to Him – the same action in the last supper and the same action in the feeding of the multitude of the five thousand. It was a trademark of Jesus. It was then their eyes were opened and they knew Him and He vanished from their sight – disappeared.

These days we are focusing on Christ’s appearances, but I would like us to think of his disappearances, like how He vanished from their sight. After He vanished, they said to one another, ““did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?”So they rose up that very hour and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together,saying, “The Lord is risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” And they told about the things that had happened on the road, and how He was known to them in the breaking of bread.”

Why did He disappear, why at that particular moment at the breaking of the bread? The reason is profound but simple. Jesus was pointing them to the way that He would remain present with them. When they begged Him saying stay with us, this was the way that He would stay with them – through the Eucharist. This is how He would remain with them. After His crucifixion and death, He appeared in different glorified forms, but now He is saying this is the way He will remain with you – the breaking of the bread, the eucharist, He is with us.

There is a story that came out of Russia during communism when the Priests and Bishops were thrown into prison and they could no longer celebrate the Eucharist. When they were sitting in the cell, they thought, ‘well they are giving us bread and cranberry juice, why don’t we pray the liturgy with the bread and cranberry juice.’ One of them said, “but we do not have an alter, not even a table,” they cannot put the offering and the Eucharist on the floor. So one of the priests lied down with his back on the floor, and they prayed the liturgy on the chest of the priest. Christ was present with them even in the prison cell. This is the extent that is taken to have Christ stays with us. In every liturgy, our Lord is answering this request of those two disciples who begged Him to “stay with us.” In every liturgy He is saying I am with you in the breaking of the bread, and he says to us I am with you always even to the end of time.

Glory be to God forever Amen.

Those who Mourn

The Beatitudes Series: Part 2

Blessed are the those who mourn for they shall be comforted

by Bethany Kaldas

Pain is nature’s way of telling us something is wrong. That’s generally how we see it.

Truer these days than ever before, suffering and discomfort are seen as some of the greatest enemies to humanity. In popular media we are constantly encouraged to be strong, be brave—they tell us we can beat the pain and injustice if we just try hard enough. If you do your best, you’ll win in the end.

To many people, in many instances, this is a comforting thought. Believing in yourself and having confidence in your own abilities can be the key to success in plenty of occasions. It’s why we tell our students to study hard and tell each other to persist in working for our dreams.

But the discomfort of, for example, not being promoted before your colleagues is one thing. The pain of losing a loved one is something else. The heartache of a broken family, the physical suffering of illness, the loneliness of rejection, the mental torture of anxiety or depression—these are not small wounds. These are deep fractures of heart, mind and body, and no amount of self-actualisation or personal determination is enough to heal them.

That’s a cheery message, right?

I’m not even being sarcastic (never try to be sarcastic in writing, it rarely comes through the way you intended). The inevitability of pain and suffering that we are inherently unable to conquer by our own will and power is something that our society fights tooth and nail. The majority of heroic tales displayed in media are dedicated to inspiring us against such pain.

But does God tell us the same thing?

In the Bible, there are plenty of instances of suffering—plenty. For now, let’s just take a look at one: the ‘thorn’ in Paul’s flesh. I’m not entirely sure what exactly this ‘thorn’ was, but whatever it was, it could not have been pleasant (he describes it as being something sent to him by Satan!). How does Paul react to this suffering? Well, he does what every Christian usually does when faced with something we don’t like: he asks God to take it away. Not once—three times. And how did God—the all-powerful, all-loving God—respond?

‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ (2 Corinthians 12:9)

God doesn’t rescue Paul from his anguish. He doesn’t give Paul the power to save himself and tear this ‘thorn’ from his hurting flesh. He doesn’t even tell Paul that he can do it, that it’ll just be a bit longer, that if he just keeps trying, he can win over the pain. He tells him something we never like to admit when we’re suffering, and something we certainly don’t like to be told. He told Paul that he was weak. Paul—Saint Paul, the one whom the people stoned so badly they thought he was dead, but got back up again to keep preaching—the same Paul we all admire even to this day—was called weak.

And I hate to say it, but I honestly believe that God would tell each of us the same thing. We hate to admit it—to anyone, including ourselves. It is often when we tread the deepest regions of the valley of death that we refuse to tell anyone where we are.

‘Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.’
C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

It’s time we faced the facts. You’re not strong enough. You can’t do this. I know I’m killing the mantras of every Disney movie ever produced, but the consequences of not doing so, of not simply admitting that you aren’t capable of brute-forcing your way through your problems, that you can’t simply will your hardship away, are more dangerous than you might think. No, it’s time we realised that we were never strong enough to fight the pain away.

But it can’t stop there. Never stop there. Stagnating at an admission of weakness will only mire you in despair. But the truth is deeper than that. Because you’re not strong enough, it’s true. And you can’t do this, no doubt. But He can. And you were never alone, not for a single beat of your broken heart.

The perfect image of this is seen in the Crucifixion, and Kallistos Ware describes the relationship between our pain and that of Christ beautifully:

‘Christ’s suffering and death have, then, an objective value: he has done for us something we should be altogether incapable of doing without him. At the same time, we should not say that Christ has suffered “instead of us”, but rather that he has suffered on our behalf. The Son of God suffered “unto death”, not that we might exempt from suffering, but that our suffering might be like his. Christ has offered us, not a way round suffering, but a way through it; not substitution, but saving companionship.’
The Orthodox Way, Kallistos Ware

He is strong enough. He can do this. And sometimes it is only when we are broken, when we are forced to our knees, that we finally realise that we were never meant to do this alone. That is finally when we realise that our weakness is our greatest weapon. When we are weak, when we finally let down our guard and call out for aid from the only One who can, that is when He can work in us.

Don’t misunderstand me, though. I am not telling you that the solution to all your problems is ‘fast and pray.’ I don’t know how to solve your problem. I don’t even know that your problem can be solved, not in the way we might like. But these periods of suffering, however long they may be, should never be occasions for despair. Our weakness is not our downfall, it is not a tragedy forced upon us. It is an opportunity. The pain of His children is when they can be most like Him, when we most resemble the suffering God, bleeding out on a lonely cross. And that cross was not defeat—it was the greatest victory of all time.

It is in these moments, when we are hurting, when we are lonely, when we are broken, that we can truly say with Saint Paul:

‘Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am stron.’ (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).