Mother Theresa

~

“Imagine you’re walking through a forest.

Full of tall strong beautiful trees

Resilient against the wind and the rain

Beneath the soil

They are tied together

Intertwined

Beneath the soil

There are millions of roots

Connected

And they are better together

And when I think of these trees

I think of us

And how we try to go through life by ourselves

The times we’ve felt broken

The times we felt left

The times we’ve been hurt by someone else

We proclaim this loud and bold

But unlike the trees

We decide

To go it alone

I marvel at the pain

We can too easily shut out

I marvel at the years

We choose to lose sight

Everyday we see people’s wounds

But we never see past them

We never see through

We pick up our pace

We pick up our stones

We cross the other side of the road

We say there is no more room at our table

We love at a distance

We are only fair weather friends to weather the storms of this life

Because loving people’s imperfections is inconvenient and messy

Yet there’s no line of Scripture where Jesus commands us to seek our ease

No line where He commands that we seek our self

We look at people’s broken behaviours

ignore,

belittle

condemn

judge,

Look for quick cures but we do not see

Every broken behaviour comes from an unmet need

Behind every broken is someone who looks like our saviour

We go it alone

But alone is not what we were created for

Alone is not what the church was created to be

Isn’t it the one who cares for the poor and needy

The little and the least

Whom Christ will say come sit at my table

Come sit with me

When I hear this my immediate thought is

Where can I find a hungry

thirsty

naked

foreign

sick

imprisoned

stranger

Whom I can relieve

But In my attempts to love the needy

I discover my own poverty.

In clothing the naked,

I discover am naked of all virtue

In visiting the prisoner

I realise I am imprisoned by prideful thoughts

In visiting the sick

I learn I am sick with selfish desires.

I am who Jesus is referring to

I am the Least of These

It is not that poor guy on the street corner

Or the lonely girl in the corner,

who are the least of these.

No, it is me.

I am the least of Christ’s brethren.

I may not be poor naked sick or imprisoned in body

But I am poor naked sick and imprisoned in soul

I am starved of loving kindness

parched by lack of forgiveness

Sick with the disease of lust

Naked of compassion

Imprisoned by habits of self-indulgence.

And if I am the least,

If I really know that I am the least

Then the least that I can do

Is not go it alone

The least I can do is share my bread

When I am the one who hungers for righteousness

The least I can do is share my cup

When I am the one thirsting for Life.

The least I can do is share my stuff

When my I am so poor of anything valuable

The least I can do is sit with the lonely

When I am too lonely of the Father’s house

I have no clothes to cover my own sinful nakedness,

I have no medicine to heal my own blindness

I have no key to liberate my imprisoned soul.

Yet

He calls us His temple

Because we are pieces that come together to build and hold up one another

He calls us His body

Because we are all different parts and no purpose or function is like the other

He calls us His vine

Because we are only living when we are connected to one another

In Him

Like the trees

We were made to stand tall here

We were made to be a part of this forest here

Standing firm against all odds

Creation representing creator God

But our own fears of being hurt

Casts a shadow on the reality

That the fissures I see in my neighbour

Are the same fractures that covers me.

Wrapped tight in this fear, we act out against love.

And when we act out against love

We act out against the One Who loves us. “

“God is love.”

1 in 3

3 in 1

A community

Just as love is meaningless without something to love.

So we are meaningless without our brother

When our brother is our life

Just as one God exists as three Persons in one,

So we were created to be wholly ourselves

When we are wholly one with the other

We don’t pray my father

But our father

We are His children

Our husband

We are his bride

Our shepherd

We are His sheep

He is the one who never leaves the one behind

No one is saved alone.

Everyone’s freedom is tangled

Everyone salvation tied up

Roots beneath the soil

So there can be no fences

There can be no hedges

No neat marked out lines

Of what is yours and what is mine

Because where my life ends

Yours can begin

When we need each other to survive

So let’s close the distance between you and me

Trade in our fear for curiosity

Tear down our fences to build bridges

Open our door for those who have no place of their own

Step into each other’s darkness with kindness as a burning lantern

Love others through their brokenness

Because our brokenness makes us more alike than unlike.

The powerless, the wounded and the weak

All those who cannot speak

Come sit beside me and tell me your story

Tell me of the million and one ways a soul can bruise

And I can tell the million and one ways a soul sees the Light.

The Light loves with abandon

His wounded hands love the wounded with no bounds.

Because we were created for one another

We belong to each other

No matter the weather

Like trees in a forest

Stronger

Taller

Together”

~

“For because you did not do it the first time,  the Lord our God broke out against us, because we did not consult Him about the proper order.” 1 Chronicles 15:13

“Moreover Jehoiada the son of Paseah and Meshullam the son of Besodeiah repaired the Old Gate; they laid its beams and hung its doors, with its bolts and bars.” Nehemiah 3:6

“Thus says the Lord : ‘Stand in the ways and see, And ask for the anceint paths, where the good way is, And walk in it; Then you will find rest for your souls.'”Jeremiah 6:16

What do these seemingly dissimilar Bible verses have in common?

They all point in one way or another to Holy Tradition 

So what is Tradition?

The word tradition in Greek is paradosis – mentioned 13 times in the New Testament. The precise meaning is to hand down, along side.

Said another way, the word ‘tradition’ in Scriptures, ‘paradosis’; does not mean imitation of the past but rather delivering a deposit and receiving it. Take a look at these next couple of verses to see the word paradosis in context:

“Moreover, brethren, I declare to you the gospel which I preached to you, which also you received and in which you stand…” 1 Corinthians 15:1

“For this reason we also thank God without ceasing, because when you received the word of God which you heard from us, you welcomed it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God, which also effectively works in you who believe.” 1 Thessalonians 2:13

What does this mean?

It means we live the life of Christ in the liturgy as we actively participate!

It means we can be transformed and renewed through God’s active work in us today!

It means we can unite to God who meets us in the present moment, giving us Himself freely. We can exchange our life for His own.

How is this possible? It is because

“Paradosis is the very life of the Holy Trinity as it has been revealed by Christ Himself and testified by the Holy Spirit”
-G. Debis

This is why, while the Bible is incredibly important, it is not the foundation of our faith as Orthodox believers. Look at what some early church writers note:

“By tradition, I knew the four gospels, and that they are the true ones.” -Origen (3rd Century)

“Learn also diligently, and from the Church what are the books of the Old Testament, and what are those of the New. -Cyril of Jerusalem (4th Century)

What then is our foundation of faith?

Tradition is because it is our One Source of Revelation; the Church is “built on [this] foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief cornerstone” (Ephesians 2:20).

That is why Met Kallistos Ware defines Tradition as the following:

It means the books of the Bible; it means the Creed; it means the decrees of the ecumenical councils and the writings of the Fathers; it means the Canons, the service books,  the Holy icons – in fact he whole system of the doctrine.

Heresies occur when someone takes a verse in the Bible and interprets it himself outside of the Tradition of the Church: decrees of the Councils and the understanding of the whole Church.

We have one source of authority; the Word of God, actualized and revealed in the Person, life and works of Jesus Christ:

“And there are also many other things that Jesus did, which if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. Amen.” John 21:25

This shows that Christ didn’t come to give us a book or a written document. He came to give us Life, He came to give us Himself. In the same way parents don’t give their children a set of instructions of how to live but they lead by example.

It is by the action of the Holy Spirit that ‘the tradition of Christ’ is preserved in the Church life through the successive generation, as He always lives and acts in the Church – inspires her life and makes it a continuity of life:

However, when He, the Spirit of truth, has come, He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come. He will glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you (John 16:13-14)

This ‘you’ in the above Bible verse is the collective you of the Church and should not to be interpreted in an individual sense.

It is important to remember that the Church received the ‘word of God’ before it was written on paper therefore when the evangelists and apostles wrote Scripture by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the Church accepted it, venerated and understood it as a life she has previously practiced.

Therefore, Tradition is that which Christ Himself bestowed, the apostles proclaimed, and the Fathers safeguarded. It is “what is believed always, everywhere, by everyone” (St. Vincent of Lerins) for the first 1000 years after Christ came. It is the One Source of Revelation and the living stream of the One Life of the Church. Tradition is the Gospel of Jesus Christ interpreted, guarded and passed down through apostolic succession.

Why are there so many ‘different’ meanings of Tradition? What does any of this mean? Why does it matter?

It matters because if we don’t understand these things we will not be able to experience them – we will not be able to enjoy a life in and with the Holy Trinity. It matters because if I don’t understand my faith, how will I witness to others and lead them to the joy of being in the fullness of Christ. It matters because I want to see Him as He is and not as I imagine Him.

I pray we are able to run the race in a manner pleasing to His goodness and learn, live, and pass on the true faith to the next generation!

I retell the story once written of a woman caught in her weakness. A tale of piercing words and stones clenched in fists. Yet, there is a Man who bends low, speaks:

“He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first.” John 8:7

Stones fall like rain to the ground, every voice is silenced. My sweet sister falls too to the ground, and Mama says, “the Word has pierced her, she is humbling herself.”

“Neither do I accuse you, go and sin no more.” John 8:11

Sister wipes her tears in her shirt, cries,

“But I can’t change. I sleep with so many men. I’m 30 and I can’t have one man. My Father and mother don’t believe I can change, they call me a drunkard. So I just drink.”

We hold her close, speak softly: “we are your family, and we believe in you.”

“Really?” She stares at us, wide-eyed, in disbelief. “But how can I change, I drink. I don’t know how.”

“His power is your strength.

You are worthy.

You are loved.”

Wise Mama speaks to her of Paul on the road to Damascus, tells her the truth that no one is ever too far from grace, that there is no such thing as a lost cause.

“Nifuna, Nifuna, Nifuna” (I want, I want, I want), she pleads.

We hold hands in prayer, pleading for every chain and stronghold to break.

I marvel at the God who does not count our sin, only the number of hairs on our head. I marvel at the abundance of that love.

Sometimes those who are serving God become the hopeless, wishing that those whom they serve could change, but lacking the belief that they can actually change. Perhaps most people, if not all, have a list of “lost causes.” But maybe there is power in the faith of friends who believe in His power. Maybe hope for the hopeless starts right here, with us, when we pursue the wholeness of others by believing in the wholeness of others. Maybe our belief is everything; maybe our faith is more potent than we ever imagined. Like the paralytic man who’s healing came when his friends insisted to lay him before Christ.

When He saw their faith, He said to him, “Man, your sins are forgiven you.” Luke 5:20

Because a roof was no hindrance when the “power of the Lord was present to heal them.” (Luke 5:17) Maybe breaking rooftops is our call, and maybe the hardest rooftop to break through is our own disbelief. What if hope for the hopeless looks like a man weeping and praying in faith before a holy God on behalf of an unfaithful nation (Ezra 9), until the power of God is displayed through their repentance (Ezra 10)?

What if those around us, who are in need of change, never changed because we never faithfully believed and prayed that they could?

What if we prayed for others, genuinely believing in Gods power?

Sweet sister comes the next evening for prayers, runs up to the altar weeping on her knees. Maybe our faith in Him on behalf of others is the most we really have to offer, maybe He is more powerful than we have ever known…

When the doctor’s asked what surgery she’d had and she said with a smile that she didn’t want to talk about it, alarm bells rang like the sirens that came after her 911 call.

The doctor pushed through her silence and it shattered with the words ‘I was raped and I had an abortion.’
I felt like I had forgotten how to breathe for a moment… or the girl who had an asthma attack this morning in the clinic had stolen all the oxygen… her mother didn’t care enough to keep it controlled.

They call this place ‘the holy city’ because it’s where all the gang lines meet. And it felt like holy ground but ground that I didn’t know how to walk on. Ground that was so hot with the fire of the Holy Spirit that it was burning my feet. I watched a giggling 13 year old girl with a secret turn into a broken woman.

I tried to catch her eye in our silence. My small offering in the midst of the ashes.

They taught us at medical school that it was more about checklists than listening to stories. Everyone has a story, one we will never know if we never ask. In a culture of noise and talking, we must learn to rearrange the letters of the word ‘listen’ and make them spell ‘silent,’ because sometimes there are no words worthy of the pain. When silence is all we have to give, let us learn to sit in it. Let us recognize our calling to lament and weep with those who weep like Jesus wept for Lazarus. Let us avoid loving at a distance and learn to love like a neighbour. As Christians we must choose to challenge ourselves and take a fresh look at the notion of ‘professional detachment.’ We must realise that detachment is devoid of the connection that fosters healing. What if, with discernment, we chose to be IN the suffering instead of being on the outside looking in?

They told us at medical school to detach from other people’s pain in case we catch it like an infectious disease. But there is a pain I have coddled up to and I am intent on catching because maybe it feels like we cheat the world when we don’t share in its pain just like Christ shares in ours.

Beyond prescribing and note taking we are called to be ministers of reconciliation, using the sword of the spirit to cut down the barriers that commonly divide us; so that a privileged girl with a thick British accent can take the hand of an African American girl from the ghetto and call her sister.

“All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation;  that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.  Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”  (2 Corinthians 5:18-20)

After all of this, I am still left with the questions; How can I be a ‘christian health care provider,’ how can I be a good physician? We joke that health care providers can have ‘God complex’ – aloofness combined with blithe confidence in their powers; if that is the definition then the God being imitated is not that of the Gospels. So one thing I know is that we need doctors and caregivers who do what Jesus does, who can be present, trust in God and lament when the suffering remains.

‘Jesus wept.’
John 11:35

That One Thing

I remember finding the following verse under the heading ‘Miscellaneous Laws’  in the Pentateuch before getting married and desiring and praying to have an opportunity to live it out:

“When a man has taken a new wife, he shall not go out to war or be charged with any business; he shall be free at home one year, and bring happiness to his wife whom he has taken.” (Deuteronomy 24:5)

Well God answered my prayer in the most unusual way and taught me something in the process: In order to do something well you have to completely and unconditionally dedicate yourself to just that one thing. God moved us from familiar people, places, culture, and even language in order to have us build a strong foundation for our marriage for as many years as God gives us together.

Oneness of Purpose

When your attentions and desires are divided you will do nothing well. As Christ said, “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other.” I remember a conversation I had with a monk as I visited a monastery while here in Korea; I remember asking him, “Why are you here in the monastery, what do you hope to achieve?”

“Deification” came his concise reply. I was impressed not so much with his answer as the fact that he didn’t have to really think about it to respond. There was someone who knew what it was they wanted! He had dedicated himself to the monastic life to pursue union with God – to become by grace what Jesus Christ is by nature. Isn’t that the calling of each one of us? Shouldn’t that be our sole purpose as Christians? Of course, we all have different means of reaching the same goal but in order to reach the goal we first have to make it our one aim, our one focus. In all that we do, whether in eating or drinking, rejoicing or suffering, giving thanks to God for His goodness and provision or giving ourselves over to repentance we should have a goal: union with our God.

Oneness of Being

This concept of ‘one thing’ goes much deeper than it’s superficial appearance. To demonstrate this I want to reference how tears are valued in the spiritual life because they show that man has only one thought and desire – that of God:

in our natural fallen state, we are divided: we think one thing with our mind, we feel another with our senses, we desire yet another with our heart. However, when mind and heart are united by the grace of God, then man has only one thought–the thought of God; he has only one desire–the desire for God; and only one sensation–the noetic sensation of God. That is why repentance and tears are so much appreciated: they help us to find that healing, that state of integrity, because no human being can weep having two thoughts; we weep because of one thought that hurts us. If we are hurt by the thought that we are separated from God, that ‘salvation is far from the sinner’ (cf. Psalm 119:155) and all those things that inspire this pain in our heart, then, of course, we can cry; but if we have two thoughts, we cannot cry -Archimandrite Zacharias

St John Climacus recounts something similar about how it is important to call all of oneself to the worship of God:

Noticing that one of the brothers stood during the Psalm singing with more heartfelt feeling than many of the others. . . I asked him to explain. . . I have the habit, Father John, at the very beginning, of collecting my thoughts, my mind and my soul, and of summoning them, I cry to them: O come, let us worship and fall down before Christ, our King and God.

Blessed is the man who presents himself and worships God with his whole being united as one! Our Orthodox Church allows us to move towards this way of worship as “the Divine Liturgy acts upon the entire man… sight, hearing, smelling, feeling, taste…” (St John Kronstadt). The icons, chanting, incense, candles, kneeling, breast-beating, kissing, partaking in the Body and Blood of Christ … everything is meant to help us worship God with our entire selves. We offer all of ourselves in exchange for all of Him.

Oneness in Spirit

You can also look at doing ‘one thing’ in such a way that it does not need to be done again. There are several saints that model this idea of doing something in the power of the Spirit once and for all. For instance, it is said of St Ephraim the Syrian that he celebrated Liturgy only once and did not celebrate it again. “Once was sufficient for him because he lived the mystery in the power of the Spirit.” Imagine that! Just like the entire life of  Christ – every act that He did – was done once and for all, the saints of our Church leave us the same example.

Another such example is St. Mary of Egypt. From what we know of her story it seems as though she only partook in the Holy Eucharist once. This should change our mentality from how many times I can go to liturgy and take communion to how in His Presence can I be if even for a shorter time. How deeply and with how much of myself can I pray? How much will I let Him increase in me? How much can I become like Him?

Community Is Everything

“Our life and our death is with our neighbor.” -St. Anthony the Great

Another precious lesson that I learned while in Korea is that community is everything. I am not referring to the small talk had with acquaintances from work in coffee shops, but rather the discussions with other believers centered on the word of God and worshipping and partaking of the Word of God Himself in the Divine Liturgy.

True community, deep friendship is founded upon the mutual pursuit of the God of love. What’s more is that a genuine community is founded on persons who mutually give of themselves and receive of others. Yes, we should celebrate one another, encourage, rebuke, weep and rejoice with our brothers and sisters but we are called to much much more than that. We need to offer ourselves to the point of death for one another because there is no greater love. Oh that we would say with St. Paul that we could wish ourselves accursed from Christ for the sake of our brethren! Let us labor in love for one another till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.

Let us pray the first word of the Lord’s prayer with sincerity of heart united to our brothers in our heart.

And let us not forget the words of St. John Chrysostom:

“I do not believe that he can be saved who does not labour for the salvation of his neighbor. It profited that wretched servant nothing that he had not diminished his talent, but he perished through not increasing it and returning it twofold”

Fight Everyday

How are we to live up to the lofty calling we have received? How are we to honor the royal image that we bear? How are we to become even as He is?

We must struggle everyday

Let us not waste or lives on trivial pursuits but spend them in repentance!

The first couple of Sundays that I attended St. Nicholas Korean Orthodox Church in Seoul, South Korea the Metropolitan spoke his sermon in Greek and it was translated simultaneously into Korean and thankfully also into English. At that time I was developing the habit of taking just one main point away from the sermon and applying that to myself for that next week (see first lesson :)). Looking back, the first Sunday’s lesson was simply ‘pursue holiness’ and the second Sunday’s was ‘fight everyday.’ I put these two together and it was the general theme for the entire rest of my time there. Even in confession, His Eminence would encourage me to ‘fight everyday,’ to ‘struggle,’ to practice ‘ascesis,’ for that is the secret to the Christian life he would say – to fight everyday.

Fight to remain salty. Fight against following the crowd away from Him. Fight to give away that which you have freely received. Fight to love your wife. Fight to act on the word of God. Fight against your passions knowing that they bring about all kinds of destruction on you. Fight to help those in need. Fight to be humble as it is the foundation for true love. Fight against making excuses for yourself. Fight to cultivate within yourself a deep desire for Him. Fight to remain faithful and to persevere to the very end. Fight to have a holy marriage, to have a little church in your house. Fight to go from death to life. Fight to see the good in people. Fight to become great by keeping the gospel and obeying the commandments. Fight to be full of joy. Fight to read your Bible and go to church. Fight to pray. Fight despite your fear. Fight your self-love. Fight because the road of the cross is an exceedingly beautiful one. Fight to let Him fight for you.

Thank you to all our family at St. Nicholas for a year not soon to be forgotten.

Well, He’s dead.

In the end, they took Him and nailed him to a cross, watched Him suffocate under the weight of His own body, and then stabbed Him to make sure He was dead. Then everything seemed to go mad; the Veil of the Temple split down the middle, blasphemously revealing the Holy of Holies. The earth started shaking and the ancient dead burst from their tombs, as though strolling around Jerusalem was the most natural thing in the world after a thousand years of bodily decay. They say that if you put your ear to the ground, you can hear the whole netherworld beginning to creak and shudder; the dead are waking up, and the Devil is screaming.

It all seems a lot of fuss for one dead man. You can see Him there, moving down the path toward His tomb. He’s the bleeding bundle of cloth at the front of the group. The man holding His feet is Nicodemus; one of the wealthiest men in Jerusalem. The man holding His shoulders is Joseph of Arimathea. They’re both religious types — they’re even on an important religious council called the Sanhedrin, with sixty-nine other extremely religious men, which would definitely make them two of the seventy-one most religious men in Jerusalem.

That woman behind them, the one who can’t seem to stop crying, is called Mary. She comes from Magdala, and unlike Joseph and Nicodemus, she is not the religious type. We don’t know much about her, but we do know that when she first met her Teacher, her body was home to no less than seven spiritual parasites. They were old, terrible creatures who fed off her misery and desperation. Back then, she had had plentiful stores of both, though we don’t know precisely why. Perhaps she had done terrible things. Perhaps terrible things had been done to her. Perhaps a bit of both. At any rate, she was not what anyone would call a “pillar of respectability,” and it hadn’t helped her Teacher’s reputation to have her hanging around. But He was the one who freed her. All seven of her demonic tormentors had screamed and fled when He came along, and they never came back. Since then, she has followed Him; and she follows even now, when all that’s left to follow is a bleeding corpse.

There are others walking with them, following the blood-soaked bundle that was their Teacher. There are a couple of Mary’s present (but not the famous one), Salome, Joanna and Susanna.

Surprisingly, you are present too.

You’re part of your own procession, a larger one, invisibly leading Joseph, Nicodemus and their bloody bundle of linen towards the tomb. Your procession is headed by golden crosses on poles and at the very back, just in front of Joseph and Nicodemus, men are carrying icons of Jesus’ burial and crucifixion, being censed by bearded priests wearing golden cloaks. Although there are more people in your procession than in the ancient one behind you, yours is a good deal less serious. Where Joseph and the Mary’s are burying a brutally murdered Friend, you are attending a religious festival. The atmosphere is solemn enough, what with the icons and the incense and gold crosses on poles, but in your procession people are distracted, occasionally chatting to one another, making quick remarks about Uncle So-and-So’s chanting voice and what they’re going to eat once the service is over. They’re tired because they’ve been in Church for nine hours. Mary, Joseph and Nicodemus are tired because they’ve just spent nine hours watching their Friend asphyxiate and bleed to death.

And so the two processions make their way slowly to a new tomb in a garden; one decked in white and gold, the other wet with tears and blood. You seem to be in two places at once. On the one hand, you’re walking around your local Coptic Church holding a candle, singing “Lord have mercy” in a tune which seems deeply sad and deeply joyful at the same time (which is different, mind you, to being half sad and half joyful). On the other hand, in some mysterious way, you are also walking towards a garden in Jerusalem to put a blood-soaked corpse into a new tomb. Some would say you’re not really in the same place as Joseph and Mary and the bloody bundle; properly speaking, they would insist, you are in a Coptic Church on Good Friday. You might imagine that you’re following a group of first-century Jews to a new tomb outside Jerusalem, but imagining doesn’t make it true. That’s what some people would say. Perhaps they’re right. But those people have probably never been to a Coptic Church on Good Friday, and so we might wonder how they can be so sure.

As you walk around the Church in procession, you notice some of the tired faces around you. A few places ahead of you in the procession is the man who taught you to be a Sunday School teacher. Like Joseph and Nicodemus, he’s the religious type. He’s attended every Holy Week service so far, morning and night, and he knows more about the Church and its history than anyone you’ve ever met. He loves this kind of service. His eyes are always closed during the long hymns, not because he’s sleeping (although no-one would know the difference if he was) but because he’s contemplating the deep nuances of the ancient hymns. He’s also one of the kindest and most self-sacrificing people you’ve ever known. You can only see his back from where you are, but you’re sure that his eyes are closed now too, as often as he can manage it without crashing into anything.

The procession takes you up the back of the church, where a woman called Selena is leaning against a pillar. Selena still comes to Church for the big occasions, but she’s not really the religious type. She has a complicated history, which she doesn’t like to talk about. A combination of things she’s done and things that have been done to her have convinced her that she isn’t pious or holy enough to be a good, church-going Coptic girl. So Selena only comes on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, because the services are crowded and she can slip in the back without really being noticed. She doesn’t understand the long hymns, but she likes the processions. In the processions, Christ comes to her at the back of the Church, meaning she doesn’t need to wade through an ocean of harsh eyes and perfect people to get to Him. The priests and deacons carry Him around the whole Church, and she can even reach out and touch Him, like the bleeding woman in the Gospels. You meet her gaze as you pass her, but she looks away.

Over there in the corner is the kid you kicked out of your Sunday School class last week. You probably shouldn’t have lost your temper, but in your defence, he was being a royally arrogant little punk. He hit another kid hard across the back of the head, and when you yelled at him, he acted like he couldn’t even hear you. But you remember now that he’s Selena’s younger brother, and you don’t really know what his family is like. The one time you visited his house (your Sunday School mentor was with you that day) you noticed that his mother was limping. The father was in the house but he didn’t come out to say hello. In the car on the way back, your mentor said, “Pray for them. Especially for the father.” You didn’t ask for details. You hadn’t been thinking of that when you kicked him out. You should probably talk to him later.

As the procession takes you through the church pews, you see the faces of your friends, your teachers, your relatives, even one of your old crushes. Mostly you don’t acknowledge them; sometimes, you exchange a quick smile or nod. You have seen these faces nearly every week for years; at liturgies and fundraisers and functions, at fantastically failed church plays, at homeless drives and hospital visits, soccer competitions and youth camps. But it strikes you all of sudden, how strange it is to be here with all these people. I mean, in one sense, it’s no surprise that the usual people would turn up to Church on Good Friday, as they have done for years. But in another sense, it all seems like a strange coincidence that these people, with whom you’ve spent so much time doing such boring, normal things, should be present with you at something so important. This is no parish camp or trivia night; you’ve all come here to bury God. That bloody bundle of linen behind you contains the Firstborn over All Creation, the Word of God, the Father’s Wisdom and Power. Now that He is dead, the whole Kingdom of Death is being overthrown; angels are pouring down into Hades to join the coup. You’d expect burying God and the overthrow of Hades to be a unique and monumental occasion; something totally removed the mundane existence you carry out day by day. And yet, there is your old mentor, your punk Sunday School kid, your old crush, your friends, the woman who heads the Sunday School service, the man who runs the bookshop, the lady who makes sandwiches on Sunday mornings.

You reach the end. Joseph and Nicodemus lay down their load and let the women pour a last libation of myrrh and spices on Him. Your parish priest is with them, sprinkling rose petals as red as the blood seeping through the linen. You remember that those hands, sprinkling rose petals, are the hands with which he played volleyball at your last camp. Now, he is using them to anoint the body of God for its burial. You look around at the tired, familiar faces, watching Abouna wrapping the tiny icon in white cloth. No-one is joking now. They are either singing, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal” or saying nothing. And again, you are surprised that you should all be together here, at this place where the whole world turned upside down.

When all is done, Joseph and Nicodemus seal up the tomb, locking their Teacher in Hades to do battle with its dark prince. Abouna kisses the door of the tomb and begins to read Psalms while the ancient mourners go home to weep and ponder the spectacular disaster that had become of all their hopes and dreams. Selena slips quietly out the back. Your old Sunday School mentor stands in the sanctuary, eyes closed and arms folded. When the chanting stops, your class punk is unusually quiet in his corner seat; he is praying that God will teach his parents how to love each other. You realise that you’re glad they were all here with you, to see God die and come to rest in the earth.

It’s only as you leave that you realise who had been walking next to you in the procession. He never said a word, but He had directed your attention as you walked; He had pointed wordlessly to Selena, to your old mentor, to your Sunday School child. And He had looked back at you from inside each of them; from the peace that hung around your old mentor, from Selena’s downcast eyes, especially from your little punk Sunday School kid. When you reached the end of the procession, you watched Him wrapped in linen and sealed behind the black curtains of the sanctuary. But even then, somehow, He hadn’t left your side. He was walking beside you while He was borne behind you in burial clothes; just as He was still in the bosom of His Father even when He went to the depths of Hades. You realise now that it is no coincidence that you were all here together. You have things to do.

And He’s not dead.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Gal 3:2)

‘Do you fast? Give me proof of it by your works. If you see a poor man take pity on him..’ St John Chrysostom

As Orthodox believers are called to practice what we believe. If Orthodoxy means the ‘correct belief’ than Orthopraxy means ‘correct practice.’ This correct practice involves preaching by using our hands to serve. It means clearing the stench of economic division with the air of reconciliation. It means doing more than theorizing. It means acknowledging the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church, and walking humbly – and boldly – into the thick darkness, so that we might proclaim freedom to the captives, and demand justice for the oppressed.

The thing about social justice is that it’s not “elsewhere,” it is here and it is a part of us. It is healing the wounds that we have created in the body of Christ. It is breaking every barrier that stops us being gathered together into the arms of Christ.

“How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34)

Would you do honor to Christ’s body? Neglect Him not when naked; do not while here you honor Him with silken garments, neglect Him perishing without of cold and nakedness. For He that said, “This is my body,” and by His word confirmed the fact, This same said, “You saw me an hungered, and fed me not;” and, “Inasmuch as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.” Matthew 25:42, 45. For this indeed needs not coverings, but a pure soul; but that requires much attention.
-St. John Chrysosotom Homily 50 on Matthew

 

In the story of Lazarus and the rich man (Luke 16:19-31), the rich man saw poverty and suffering around him, but he chose apathy. Maybe, he, like the priest who passed by the man in the story of the good samaritan, was on his way to church or some service. Busying himself, he forgets to act justly. He forgets he is made for justice. Maybe in serving at the table of the Lord, we have forgotten to serve the table of the poor.

“When His table indeed is full of golden cups, but He perishes with hunger? First fill Him, being an hungered, and then abundantly deck out His table also. Do you make Him a cup of gold, while you give Him not a cup of cold water? And what is the profit? Do you furnish His table with cloths bespangled with gold, while to Himself you afford not even the necessary covering? And what good comes of it? For tell me, should you see one at a loss for necessary food, and omit appeasing his hunger, while you first overlaid his table with silver; would he indeed thank you, and not rather be indignant?” -St John Chrysostom, Homily 50 Matthew

The thing about social justice is that it is forgotten. We forget that working towards social justice is what it means to celebrate the liturgy on the streets.
When seeking the kingdom of heaven, let us remember that in the parable of the pearl, the pearl was not found in the clouds but amongst the dirt, hidden under rocks and soil (Matthew 13: 45-46). It takes getting your hands dirty to get it out; hidden behind the poor, the broken, the marginalized.

Do you desire greatness this lent, and in your spiritual life?

Jesus redefined it:

“he who is greatest among you, let him be as the younger, and he who governs as he who serves. For who is greater, he who sits at the table, or he who serves? Is it not he who sits at the table? Yet I am among you as the One who serves.” (Luke 22:26-27)

We serve a God of an upside down kingdom where the meek will inherit, where those who serve are greater than those who sit on thrones, there is strength through weakness, exaltation through humility, receiving through giving, freedom from servitude.

Is this not the fast that I have chosen:
To loose the bonds of wickedness,
To undo the heavy burdens,
To let the oppressed go free,
And that you break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry.
Isaiah 58:6

 

O Lord Jesus,
Let your upside down kingdom come
Help us fast from injustice
Keep our eyes wide open to suffering
Help us flee from apathy

this post is dedicated to a friend in Jordan

(Photo courtesy of Ondro Miklas)

In a world in which we are constantly bombarded with a need to be and to do, where we are frequently asked “what do you do? what do you want to be?” We seem to have lost a clear vision of what we are here for.

In the midst of the noise of trying to figure out who we want to be and what we must become, we hear a church bell ring, a symphony of praise, and a gathering of people like you and me. We have joined them many times but in the busyness of all the running around and our sweeping thoughts we did not notice what was happening, our senses could not be still, could not behold the great and awesome Presence before us.

Other times we were too busy all together – too busy trying to be busy – to take off our shoes, walk on holy ground, and enter into the divine place in which the Divine offers Himself. Consequently we have hindered the body we are part of from being whole and unshaken.

You see this great hostility that lies between the world and the church, as though the church were somehow pulling us away from moving forward and the world pushing us towards becoming something or someone, is a lie, it’s a lie that we have chosen to believe and commit our lives to living, but it is in striving to live that lie that we have silenced Truth. Since ‘Satan is a liar and the father of it’ (John 8:44) and ‘he who is of the devil has no part in Him’ (John 14:30) the more we pursue that lie the more we are left lifeless.

We are not here to ‘move forward’ to somehow be the masters of our destiny, or to ‘save’ the world. Indeed I cannot even help myself, let alone be of use to the world.
That is where the secret lies. The church is a gathering of people who have dared to step away from that lie and allowed themselves to be useless for a moment, a people who are not afraid to know and see that they are broken, wounded, and lifeless. They come as one body and partake of one Loaf. Here they know there is no special ‘use’ to them, you do not receive a bigger portion because you are particularly useful, no my dear you receive all that is offered, you receive the fullness of Life, you receive Him who is Life, simply because you have come. You have come with a heart open to receive and not an ego too puffed up to believe it is in need.

Pour out your entire ego O my soul that the uncontainable may find room in that small heart of yours. Come knowing that your uselessness is not despised – it is welcome! It is welcome and it is given to stand in heaven on earth, where the Angels come down and we ascend, where the heavenly and earthly unite, and we stand before the only One who was and is and is to come.

Ephesians 2:10 says we are God’s workmanship. Workmanship or masterpiece in Greek translates to poiēma or poem. We are God’s poem. What is a poem? Dare I say it – it is a useless thing! It is a beautiful, soulful, completely and utterly useless thing. In the language of today’s hustling and bustling world, things that are of no practical use are minimized and eliminated. But do you realize how much beauty we miss out on? You are God’s poem, He delights in you, he takes pleasure in you, he was thinking of you before you even came to be, He loves you and remains to adore you.

And to commune with His precious poem, to meet with you in a real and intimate way, He offers you His flesh and blood that you may have a share and inheritance with Him and his family, the saints who have pleased Him since the beginning. So that you can continue to live your life each day not believing the lie and striving to be something but living bravely and faithfully as the flesh and blood of Christ. So that the sound of that church bell ringing may be the sound we hear when you walk by reminding us we are on holy ground and so that your whole life may be a symphony of praise, that Christ may be seen in you, that pure precious temple in which he dwells.

The Church, why then does it matter? It matters because you matter; you are a beautiful useless gratuitous being who is called to make Christ incarnate in everything you do; you are the Church.

A prayer: Lord, as my heart needs infinite washing and cleansing that it may be whiter than snow so does my soul need consistent partaking of the heavenly feast of Love and banquet of joy to fill the deep hunger in me. I have come as poor and needy, I have come as one who is nothing that you may be everything. I believe that I am your beautiful poem though I see no beauty in me I know that you make all things new and can make beauty out of ashes. Deep deep down in me there you lie patiently knocking that I may open the door for to you ignite my whole heart, soul, and being with the Divine fire of your presence. Heal me that I may open, wash me that I may purify and see you, love me that I may love you.

Check out Part I

The unfolding of your words gives light. (Psalm 119:130)

We all know how important it is to read the Bible in our journey towards union with God. It’s right up there with fasting, praying, and partaking in the Eucharist. As St. Clement of Alexandria puts it, “for those who have chosen to major in holiness, there is special training in the Word.”

But what if you don’t feel like it…

You feel like you have too many things to get done to read today
You’re too tired or are feeling lazy and just want to put it off

Well St. John Chrysostom has this to say to you:

What on earth are you saying? … that’s the very reason why you need to read the Bible! The more worries you have, the more you need the Bible to keep you going! People like monks and nuns who have left the troubles of the world behind are quite safe; they are like ships sailing on a calm sea, or moored in a quiet harbor. But you are in the middle of this godless world’s stormy sea, and so you need spiritual help and sustenance far more urgently. They live far from the battlefield, out of the sound of gunfire; but you are in the front line, face to face with the enemy, and you are bound to suffer frequent blows and be severely wounded. So you need the medicine-chest close at hand.

But let’s not just focus on why we should do it… let’s also remember why we want to do it.

There are more quotes than you can believe on this topic basically saying the same thing:

Constant meditation upon the holy Scriptures will perpetually fill the soul with incomprehensible ecstasy and joy in God

-St. Isaac the Syrian

I don’t know about you but ecstasy and joy in God sound like things worth pursuing!

So we know that we should read the Scriptures and even maybe want to read them, but now let’s turn our attention to how one should read.

Pray Before

Do not approach the words of the mysteries contained in the Scriptures without prayer and without asking for God’s help. Say, “Lord, grant that I may receive an awareness of the power that is within them.” Consider prayer to be the key to the understanding of truth in Scripture, says St. Isaac the Syrian.

The Church teaches us the importance of praying before reading the Scriptures as this concept is built into the liturgy itself. Fr. Alexander Schmemann writes in his book, The Eucharist:

The celebrant reads the prayer before the gospel, in which he asks God to send down the “pure light of Your divine knowledge. Open the eyes of our mind to the understanding of Your gospel teachings.” This prayer, which is now read silently, occupies the same place in the sacrament of the word that the epiklesis, the supplication for the Father to send down His Holy Spirit, occupies in the eucharistic prayer. Like the consecration of the gifts, understanding and acceptance of the word depend not on us, not only on our desire, but above all on the sacramental transformation of the “eyes of our mind,” on the coming to us of the Holy Spirit. The blessing that the priest bestows on the deacon as he is about to read the gospel testifies to this: “May God…enable you to proclaim the glad tidings with great power, to the fulfillment of the gospel…”

Read with the Fathers

The Church believes that it has one source of revelation: the Tradition of the Church.

It is important to understand that the Scriptures were given to us as part of this One Holy Tradition. If someone were to say, “I believe in the infallibility of the Scriptures” we should respond, “me too, but as long as they are explained by the fathers and lived by the saints.”

Throughout the ages, heresies have occurred when someone interprets the Scriptures using their own mind outside of the Tradition of the Church. This is why we need to read the Scriptures with the Church Fathers, and with consensus patrum, the agreement between the Fathers as to the correct interpretation.

St. Ignatii Brianchaninov sums up the matter nicely:

You ask: Why is it necessary to read the Holy Fathers? Is it not enough to be guided by the Holy Scriptures as the pure Word of God, without any admixture of human words?

And I reply: Reading the Holy Writ, one also has to read the Holy Fathers of the Church. St. Peter says this concerning Scripture: “No prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost” (II Peter 1:20,21). So how do you wish to interpret arbitrarily the spiritual words which were uttered not from one’s own will, but as prompted by the Spirit and which, as such, prohibit any arbitrary interpretation. It is the Spirit who uttered the Scripture, and it is he alone who can interpret it. It was committed to paper by men inspired by God, the prophets and the apostles; and men inspired by God, the Holy Fathers, have interpreted it. Therefore, everyone who wished to have the true understanding of the Holy Scriptures must also read the Holy Fathers. For should you confine yourselves to reading the Scripture alone, you will try to understand and interpret it arbitrarily. And misconceptions will be unavoidable, because “the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God… neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. Even so the things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God” (I Cor. 2:14,11)… The Universal Church…has always had particular respect for the patristic writings, for they preserved the common Church tradition which had to have a commonly accepted, true and grace-giving interpretation of the Scriptures…

Read Between the Lines

The goal of reading the Bible should not be to read the Bible.

Reading the Bible should be a means to bring us into closer intimacy with Whom it is about.
We don’t worship the words of the Bible but rather the Word of God Himself.

When you read the Scriptures, do not have in mind to read page after page, but ponder over each word. When some words make you go deep into yourself, or stir you to contrition, or fill your heart with spiritual joy and love, pause on them. It means that God draws near to you.

St. Nicodemos of the Holy Mountain

Just as God became incarnate and met us where we were, God veils Himself in the different versions and languages of the Bible. There is really no ‘correct’ version or proper language in which to read the Bible (although some are preferred because they are closer to the original translation). St. John Chrysostom affirms this by saying

“As when God became man in Bethlehem the eternal Word became flesh, so in the Bible the glory of God veils itself in the fleshly garment of human thought and human language.”

What’s more is that just as we eat His flesh and drink His blood in the Holy Eucharist, we partake of Him in the same way in the reading of the Scriptures. Paul Evdokimov writes, “While reading Scripture, the Fathers read not words, but the living Christ, and Christ spoke to them. They consumed words in the manner of the Eucharistic bread and wine, and the word appeared to them in its Christ dimension.”

So let us read the Scriptures with a new desire for Him and a yearning for Him to open our understanding that we might comprehend them.

I will leave you with the following passage from Kallistos Ware’s, The Orthodox Way,

The real purpose of Bible study is…to feed our love for Christ, to kindle our hearts into prayer, and to provide us with guidance in our personal life. The study of words should give place to an immediate dialogue with the living Word himself. “Whenever you read the Gospel,” says St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, “Christ himself is speaking to you. And while you read, you are praying and talking with him.” In this way Orthodox are encouraged to practice a slow and attentive reading of the Bible, in which our study leads us directly into prayer.

Check out Part VI

(Photo courtesy of Justin Sebastian)

Many of the quotes from this post came from this book: Philokalia: The Bible Orthodox Spirituality and if you want to learn more about the One Holy Tradition of the Church I encourage you to check out St. Cyril’s Society Online Certificate in Orthodox Mission

Identity |ʌɪˈdɛntɪti|

noun (pl. identities)

the fact of being who or what a person or thing is, the characteristics determining who or what a person or thing is

“We contain multitudes,” wrote Walt Whitman. Identity is the ground in which our roots find a home. Drifting and unearthed roots will wander aimless and lost in a dream world of pseudo-freedom. And roots on thorny or rocky ground grow weak and vulnerable trees.

What is our identity? What is our frame of reference for the Truth, the paradigms that form the lens for our perception of Truth, the maps we use to find our way to Truth? Is it the shakeable ground of seeing the world as we are? Or is it the solid and firm ground of seeing through God’s living Word, by which He spoke things into being?

Our struggle with the question “Who am I?” is one we can not answer without knowing where we have come from and where our roots lie. So to ask “Who am I?” is to ask “Who is my Mother, “the pillar and the ground of truth” (1 Tim. 3:15)?”

“A man cannot have God as his Father if he does not have the Church as his Mother.”

Saint Cypria

The Church; my Mother, His bride. Late have I loved her as I ought, because late have I truly seen her and known her as “the Church without beginning, without end and eternal, just as the Triune God, her founder, is without beginning, without end and eternal” (St Porphyrios). Perhaps, humanity bends towards seeing things as they appear to be and not as they were created to be.

“She is a divine institution and in her dwells the whole fullness of divinity. She is an expression of the richly varied wisdom of God. She is the mystery of mysteries. She was concealed and was revealed in the last of times. The Church remains unshaken because she is rooted in the love and wise providence of God.”

St Porphyrios

Beyond a building, the Church is a deep mystery of Christ with us, an extension of the Incarnation. As Father Alexander Schmemman wrote, the church is “not an ‘essence’ or ‘being’ distinct, as such, from God, man, and the world, but is the very reality of Christ in us and us in Christ, a new mode of God’s presence and action in His creation, of creation’s life in God…She is union and unity, knowledge, communion and transfiguration.” God’s gift of this mystery to man is what endows the four walls of the church with all meaning and life as the manifestation of the Kingdom of God.

“Where the Church is, there is the Spirit, and where the Spirit is, there is the Church,” states St. Iranaeus. The Church is the Kingdom of life eternal where the descent of the Holy Spirit, the Giver of Life, renewed creation through restoration in Christ, in His incarnation, death, resurrection and glorification.

The “organ of Christ’s redeeming work” (Chrestos Androutsos) where the continuing presence of Pentecost exists, where creation is transfigured by Christ, sanctified by the Holy Spirit and finds not only communion and reconciliation but fulfillment in the revelation of the kingdom which is “joy and peace in the Holy Spirit” (Rom 14:7). The beauty of Pentecost is found in “diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit” (1 Cor 12:4). This is the same Spirit of freedom that unites us in our diversity in so that our life in the Church is vivid with distinct personalities rather than dull, rigid and uniform.

In the intersection between the visible and invisible, worshipping congregations and heavenly hosts of angels, divine and human, nature and grace, material and the spiritual, present age and the life to come; the Church is found and is our preparation “for a better country-a heavenly one.” (Heb 11:1). She is a triumphant passage from old into the new, from the kingdom of nature into the Kingdom of Grace. The paradox remains, though she abides in the world she is otherworldly; just as we “are dead and [our] life is hid with Christ in God” (Col 3:3); she is in pilgrimage and anticipation, in repentance and struggle. She is mission and vision of the salvation of all creation so that she may announce and witness to Christ, encompassing the totality of human history to offer, in Christ, the whole creation to God.

At the beating, pulsing heart of the sacramental Church is the Eucharist, our passover from this world into the Kingdom and partaking of His divine nature and immortal life.  “We, who are many, are one bread, one body; for we all partake of the one bread.” (1 Cor 10:17)

“The Church is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, and she must constantly fulfill herself as oneness, holiness, catholicity, and apostolicity. Her visible oneness is to be realized as the very content of the new life (“that they may be one as we are one”) and as the unity of all in God and with God. The objective holiness of her life (the gifts of grace and sanctification which pour from all her acts) is to be fulfilled and realized in the personal holiness of her members. The catholicity (the absolute fullness of the gospel she announces and the life she communicates) is to grow into the “wholeness” of the faith and life of each community, of each Christian, and of the whole Church. Her apostolicity (her identity in time and space with the pleroma of the Church manifested at Pentecost) is to be preserved whole and undistorted by every generation, always and everywhere.”

Father Alexander Schmemmen

In the dichotomy of imperfect humanity and the sinless saints in heaven, the Church exists in a tension. We may be no strangers to the ‘Church of the penitents, the Church of those who perish’ (St Ephraim the Syrian). Wounds from our mother can taint and fracture trust, but sin of man can never affect the nature of the Church which is intrinsically linked to God. The Church is inherently heavenly and taught by the Spirit and so can not sin, fail, be deceived or choose falsehood over truth. We must fight to hold fast to Truth: “Orthodoxy does not believe merely in an ideal Church, invisible and heavenly. This ‘ideal Church’ exists visibly on earth as a concrete reality.” (Bishop K. Ware)

“The mystery of the Church consists in the very fact that together sinners become something different from what they are as individuals; this “something different” is the Body of Christ.” 

John Meyendorff

To be rooted in Christ is to be rooted in His body and the dwelling place of the Spirit, the Church and the sacraments, “strengthened in the faith as you were taught and overflowing with thankfulness” (Col 2:7).

Let your roots grow deep and wide “built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone” (Eph 2:20).

Sow those roots securely in Christ Who can not be torn separate from the Church since She is ‘the living image of eternity within time’ (Vladimir Lossky)

“The love of God created us in His image and likeness. He embraced us within the Church in spite of the fact that He knew of our apostasy. He gave us everything to make us gods too through the free gift of grace. For all that, we made poor use of our freedom and lost our original beauty, our original righteousness and cut ourselves off from the Church. Outside the Church, far from the Holy Trinity, we lost Paradise, everything. But outside the Church there is no salvation, there is no life. And so the compassionate heart of God the Father did not leave us exiled from His love. He opened again for us the gates of Paradise in the last times and appeared in flesh…God in His infinite love united us again with His Church in the person of Christ. On entering into the uncreated Church, we come to Christ, we enter into the realm of the uncreated. We the faithful are called to become uncreated grace, to be come participants in the divine energies of God, to enter into the mystery of divinity, to surpass our worldly frame of mind, to die to the ‘old man’ and to become immersed in God. When we live in the Church we live in Christ. This is a very fine-drawn matter, we cannot understand it. Only the Holy Spirit can teach us it.”

St Porphyrios

Check out Part V