Why is God Punishing me?

Why is God Punishing me?

Adapted from a sermon by Fr David Shehata

John 9:1-41

The Gospel of John was written after the other three gospels. John did not aim to write a narrative of Jesus’ life but to reflect on the seven signs He performed that revealed His divinity. The sixth of the seven signs was the healing of the man born blind.

While walking with His disciples, they ask Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2). They didn’t wait to ask Him privately, but in front of the man born blind who could clearly hear what they were saying.

In first century Palestine, there was a close association between sin and suffering. If someone sins, there will be punishment. This was the Judaic mentality and it went unquestioned, up until this moment. If this man was blind, it had to be the result of sin. If he was born this way, then it was clearly a sin of his parents that was passed on to their offspring.

While this may seem absurd to us now, it is possible that we share a similar logic. How many times have people speculated that the coronavirus pandemic is God punishing the world? How many times have people inferred that this must be the result of God’s anger and wrath? Even on a personal level, when faced with tribulation many of us will question, “God, why are You punishing me?” We will reason and speculate that every bad thing I have done in my life is what has caused my tribulation, that my sin has triggered God’s wrath.

Jesus, in this story, gives us a third alternative. It’s not punishment, it’s not sin, “but that the works of God should be revealed in him” (John 9:3).

Christ’s response is for our benefit also. There is a different purpose to tribulation. Maybe God wants us to learn something new from this experience that we wouldn’t be able to learn in any other way. Maybe God knows the nature of my heart and knows the best way to reveal His glory in my life.

In Orthodoxy, we argue that always – in any trial, in any tribulation – there is always a bigger purpose. There is always a hidden blessing that will come from my struggles, if we choose to dig a little deeper. The very best is coming, and we won’t know the full extent of it until we have reached eternal life. This is especially difficult to see while the tribulation is unfolding before us.

In the case of the man born blind, he was about 35-40 years old, we don’t know his exact age. Why would God allow so much time to pass before revealing the purpose of his blindness? Does that not seem like an unnecessarily excessive period?

In all their affliction He was afflicted,
And the Angel of His Presence saved them;
In His love and in His pity He redeemed them; – Isaiah 63:9

In Isaiah, we are given divine reassurance. Make no mistake. Every single bit of suffering and discomfort, the Lord shares in all our suffering. He doesn’t just watch over us as a distant observer. This could never be the case. He bestows compassion and mercy upon us during our times of suffering, every step of the way.

In the Gospel of Temptation, the Lord underwent every temptation that we can face. Every bit of suffering, He has endured too. The difference being that He overcame every temptation. He never bowed down nor fell, and that is our source of strength.

Fr Daoud Lamei puts forth the image of the Lord that does everything for our own benefit and our ultimate salvation. Imagine if we could go to the man born blind in heaven and ask him about what he endured on earth. If he was asked the question, “If you could go back, would you prefer to have your eye sight from day one?” This man would turn around, surrounded by God, the angels, the saints and the congregation of heaven, seeing where he is compared to the mere 40 years of suffering and the one encounter he had with the Lord that led to his place in heaven and say with full assurance, “I would not change one thing, this is what led to my edification and salvation. If I had my eyesight, I wouldn’t have encountered Christ in this way. My heart wouldn’t have been changed. My heart wouldn’t have been moved in a way that granted me salvation. It wouldn’t have been worth the risk.”

The lesson for us to learn is to stop focusing on who or what is to blame for our situation. The early church fathers argue that the Lord’s voice is clearer in our lives through tribulation.

HH Pope Shenouda III used to say that during tribulation, we hear the voice of the Lord and learn more than if we listened to 1000 sermons.

It is during this time that we no longer focus on who to blame or what to do but we look to God. When we turn to the Lord, He lifts the conversation to Heaven. This is how He responded to His disciples when they questioned whose sin was responsible for the man’s blindness. He told them to stop looking for who to blame and look to the glory that will come from his healing.

The questions we should be asking are, how is the healing going to come? How will his life change and How will this tribulation lead him to heaven?

In our tribulations, the questions we should be asking are, Lord, what can I benefit? What do you want me to learn?

When our focus shifts, we learn to walk by faith and not by sight, just as the blind man did. He didn’t know that the Man that spat on the ground before him, then put dirt where his eyes should be was doing this for his benefit. But he walked by faith, not questioning Christ. This was pivotal to his healing. We must walk with eyes focused on the Lord, looking for the lessons Christ is teaching us that will ultimately bring us to His glory.

A Fox Named Fear

By: Avi Ibrahim

Original post by Becoming Fully Alive blog site

“NOW IT occurred that while the people pressed upon Jesus to hear the message of God, He was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret (Sea of Galilee).
And He saw two boats drawn up by the lake, but the fishermen had gone down from them and were washing their nets.
And getting into one of the boats, [the one] that belonged to Simon (Peter), He requested him to draw away a little from the shore. Then He sat down and continued to teach the crowd [of people] from the boat.
When He had stopped speaking, He said to Simon (Peter), Put out into the deep [water], and lower your nets for a haul.
And Simon (Peter) answered, Master, we toiled all night [exhaustingly] and caught nothing [in our nets]. But on the ground of Your word, I will lower the nets [again].
And when they had done this, they caught a great number of fish; and as their nets were [at the point of] breaking.
They signalled to their partners in the other boat to come and take hold with them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink.
But when Simon Peter saw this, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

Luke 5:1-8

Upon reading this passage, so many thoughts came to mind towards Peter and his state.  I mean, Peter, you just witnessed an incredible miracle. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know the secret behind what this man just did so you can try to repeat it and enjoy early retirement? You allowed Him on your boat before He showed His awesomeness, and now you want Him to depart?

And it kind of hit me. I’m not too far from that reaction when presented with something Holy and Good. There’s a small sense of worry poking its way with its snout into the heart of that moment.

“This really shouldn’t happen to me. He must have entered the wrong boat! Perhaps, He doesn’t fully know the extent of my sins. It’s only a matter of time before I ruin this?”

It initially smells like the incense of humility but it’s quite the opposite. If it succeeds, I find myself getting out of that boat immediately and walking away. And I would walk away missing that moment when Christ calls me by my name and affirms me by telling me “Fear not! I am entrusting you with this.”

I’d fail to realize that the smell of sweet incense was coming from Christ, humbly entering into my boat. It’s fear that lurks in, welcomed openly by pride, that causes me to reject the gift of His presence. I’d think of my own condition. I’d glance at my calloused hands and the dirt in my nails, ignoring His gentle embrace. Consumed with my state, I can never enjoy His warmth and feel the fullness of joy in that moment. I entered my boat broken but I’d leave it broken, hopeless, and alone.

A few verses down from that passage you’ll find how Matthew (Levi) responds to meeting Christ; sinful Matthew makes a great banquet for Christ in his own sinful house and invites all the sinful tax collector friends he can gather (Luke 5:29). Wow!!! It’s not like Matthew was unaware of his state. He was a tax collector, that title was a scarlet letter he wore around. But he entered into the grace of that invite with celebration, looking onto Christ and not his brokenness.

Why let pride welcome it’s pesky friend, fear, so that we remain friendless? Why let that fox steal an opportunity to have a party, celebrating His presence? Why let it steal my Joy?

Later in scripture, Peter will be proven right countless times as to how sinful he is (and some of these moments are very public) but I guess that’s what it takes for him to ask for Christ to draw near to him as opposed to depart.

“Draw near to me, for I am a sinful man O Lord!”

And in the moment that He does draw near, his identity is transformed. “I the sinful” becomes “I the loved”, “I the embraced”, “I the joyous”.

There is a great song by John Mayer that describes a man talking to his love saying “If my past is any sign of your future, you should be warned before I let you inside.” In its essence, it’s saying “I have full confidence in myself messing this up, and I have a proven record in doing so. My fears are preventing me from experiencing the goodness we have to offer.” The song is called “I don’t trust myself with loving you”, and the title is rightly stated but there would be no hope for this man if the song is left as it is. His trust in himself and his sense of value would cause an endless cycle of failure; the relationships he’s failed in would fail to bring in any new ones. Although the person in this song may have every right not to trust in himself, he may have toiled all night on his miserable boat with no reward, he would be foolish not to trust, love, and enjoy the person who comes into his failed state and accepts him.

But aren’t we all foolish sometimes, our pride casts a verdict on ourselves keeping us behind imaginary prison bars when we should really be celebrating our freedom. So let’s put up the party banners and send the invitations! Let’s be more like Matthew!

Original blog found at- http://becomingfullyalive.com/a-fox-named-fear/

The Reality of Our Faith

The Reality of Our Faith

by Mirette Ibrahim

If we need a physical building in order to pray, we’re doing something wrong.
If we can’t speak to our Maker, without being surrounded by our loved ones, we’re doing something wrong.
If we can’t taste and see our Creator’s goodness in the confines of our own rooms, we’re doing something wrong.
If we need to be spoken to by our leaders in order to feel like we’re hearing our Lord’s voice, we’re doing something wrong.
If we can abstain from food but can’t abstain from seeing our friends, we’re doing something wrong.
If we can’t feel our God’s grace being poured on us outside of the church walls, we’re doing something wrong.

If I think my Father’s voice is only found in the crowds and not the stillness, I’m doing something wrong.
If I have limited the Unlimited to a physical space, I’m doing something wrong.
If I have confined the Almighty to a single place of existence, I’m doing something wrong.
If I’ve put my Master into a box and made Him my God according to my own preferences and criteria, I’m doing something wrong.
If I’ve failed to see my neighbor struggling while I selfishly stock my shelves and offer them my prayers, I’m doing something wrong.
If I can’t see the blessing disguised in this time of solitude that some can only dream of, I’m doing something wrong.
If I can’t call on my Saviour during this time of mass drowning, but have time to sit behind my screen and condemn the leaders for their obedience and guidance, I’m doing something wrong.

So…

Let’s pray in the stillness.
Let’s contemplate in the solitude.
Let’s experience Him in the silence.
Let’s hear Him in the quiet.
Let’s be filled with Him in our abstinence.
Let’s feel Him reaching out to us.
Let’s know Him in our obedience.
Let’s be there for each other.
Let’s help out our brother.
Let’s lay down our lives for our neighbors.

Let’s do Lent and life right.

Silence: The Loudest Sound

Silence: The Loudest Sound

by Veronia
Original post by Becoming Fully Alive blog site

In a world that is so noisy, silence has become such an alien.

Noise shadows our thoughts, suffocates our senses and shuts up our hearts.

I am no longer able to live in the present moment. I am no longer able to know reality, to live my reality.

Noise imprisons us in a cave where we are left alone, with nothing and no one to accompany us.

People pay thousands of dollars for an ideal ‘getaway’ from the noise and busyness of everyday life.

What if I told you, you don’t have to spend thousands of dollars to get away from it all? What if I told you, that silence is within you…

The most central part of us isn’t our brain but our heart: the part that tells us who we really are, who we ought to become, what we long for, our hurts, our fears.

When I choose noise, when I choose to be constantly surrounded by the noise of the television, music, people… but worst of all, when I choose to be surrounded by the noise of my mobile phone.

Yes we can turn our phones to silent, where we can’t ‘hear’ it but there’s a deafening noise our phones make that we aren’t aware of.

I recently discovered this when I made the decision to switch my phone off for a whole entire week in order to practice silence.

Wow.

What a difference.

I realised the constant checking of my phone, that constant ‘go to’ when I have some down time was causing such a disturbance even into the depth of my soul. We have created an entire world through these small devices. We’ve been fooled into the notion that being connected to everyone I know and connected to the rest of the world means I am not living in isolation. We think if we didn’t have our phones we would be completely lost, not knowing what’s going on with our dear ones or what the news is telling us to ‘pray’ for.

I recognised my phone made some sort of internal noise; a screeching noise that deafened my internal ears and my inner heart. I was tricked into thinking that I was living in the present moment, as I would browse through the ‘current’ events. In reality I was living in a trapped world, where there was no past, present or future. The present moment, the now was slipping away from me, blinding me from who I am and suffocating my ability to interact with my environment and grow.

I was no longer aware of what was before me; the present moment that testifies to my being was gone.

I was disabled.

I was unable to love who was with me in that present moment. I was unable to engage in the nature around me. I was unable to grow to a fountain of life.

This deep piercing noise caused a division between my mind and my heart. It muted the ache in my heart and I became numb to what was truly hurting and tormenting me. I did not know what my heart was yelling out to me. I knew my heart was sick, but how sick? What was causing my heart to ache?

What is the remedy for this?

Silence.

Silence is the absence of noise that surrounds us along with an interior state, which takes us to the presence of God.

Silence leads us towards the centre, the human heart; the throne of God.

Silence liberates us from the enslavement of the past and the future.

Even when I am not occupied with something physical in my hand, half of the time I am either thinking of the past and the other half I am thinking about the future.

Silence cannot merely be read or talked about, but it is to be experienced.

It is lived.

It is a way of life.

When words are forsaken, a new awareness is welcomed.

It is not just simply an ending to words but it makes sense to all that is both spoken and unspoken.

Silence is fullness, not emptiness.

It is not absence, but the awareness of a Presence.

Silence is a way of watching and listening intently to what is happening within us and around us.

It is stopping interiorly and digging into the cellars of the heart.

Silence is a challenge and when we refuse to take up this challenge, we deny ourselves of what we ought to know about ourselves. As a result we live a life less than we are truly called to be. The ultimate sin is not pride; it is the forgetfulness of who we are. This is a great catastrophe.

Do not miss the opportunities of silence that are given to us each new day; a silent moment alone, a walk alone, when we are stuck in traffic, waiting for the bus, a silent moment in the presence of a dear friend. We should be so willing to enter in those times of silence and fathom them.

We are what we do with the silence that is given to us.

At the same time, silence needs to be cultivated.

Silence needs to be given it’s proper time and place in our day. It needs to be practiced.

Silence is almost a paradox in our time as it is perceived as something negative: that quiet person in the corner who doesn’t want to socialise, an ‘awkward’ silence with someone we don’t know very well, or the absence of God’s voice.

But it is in silence where God created.

It is the ambiance and the environment.

The sacred space into which God speaks His Divine Words, both to create the world and to save it from death and corruption.

God spoke life in silence.

God wants to speak in silence today, now, in my very own silence.

I challenge you this week, the holiest week of the year, to put away that which steals your inner silence. Be silent before the Holy One that you may receive His Life, His Power, His Glory, His Blessings and His Majesty.

He has become our Salvation.

Original blog found at – http://becomingfullyalive.com/silence-the-loudest-sound/

The Meek

The Beatitudes Series Part 3

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth

by Rebecca Kozman

Picture this.

You’re sitting on a hill in the middle of a little village overlooking the Sea of Galilee, looking up at Christ on a mountain preaching something called the Beatitudes. You live in a time where there is no understanding of weakness or meekness. No, this is a time where there is more of an understanding of power, a world ruled over by Caesar’s. A world where armies made the people subject to their sheer force. This is a world that turns on the tables of power. This is a world where the powerful were the ones that “inherited the earth.”

So if you’re a villager, living in a time that only cares about power and authority, why should you even bother to care about Christ’s preaching? Why should you care about inheriting the earth if it only goes to the powerful? The message Christ shares regarding this beatitude is preached within a context. He’s not preaching to the rich and powerful, He’s not preaching to the people that had the ability to make a phone call to make something happen. He is preaching to villagers, a simple class of people.

Christ is saying to the simpletons, ‘If you’re a meek person, not only will you be happy, but you’ll have the type of life, the type of power, that transcends that of Caesar.’ Every time Jesus preaches a sermon, He’s not just preaching to our life in this world, He’s preaching to something greater. I don’t know about you, but I’m convinced that those who inherit the earth are sometimes those whose stories are never known on the earth. One day, when we’re standing in Heaven, don’t be surprised to find out that the little person sitting on the hill was the unlikely character God used to change history. 

So it all sounds nice and dandy to be meek so we can inherit the earth, but what does being ‘meek’ even look like? The Cambridge English Dictionary defines ‘meek’ as being quiet, gentle, without resentment. The Biblical understanding of being meek is best defined in Psalm 37. Let’s put together a portrait of a meek person using this allusive psalm;

Verse 5 tells us that a meek person puts their trust in God, trusting He will work for them when others oppose them with their authority.

Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him,
And He shall bring it to pass.
6 He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,
And your justice as the noonday.

Going into verse 7 we find that a meek person is still before God and waits patiently for Him.

7 Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him;
Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,
Because of the man who brings wicked schemes to pass.

Not only that, but they don’t fret themselves over the wicked who get in their way and they refrain from anger.
8 Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;
Do not fret—it only causes harm.

9For evildoers shall be cut off;
But those who wait on the Lord,
They shall inherit the earth.

And finally, King David says, “The meek shall inherit the earth, and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace” (sound familiar?). If we backtrack and take a look at verse 9 it says, “Those who wait for the Lord shall possess the land.” The portrait of meekness begins by trusting God. Then it commits its way to the Lord in His confidence, and it waits patiently and quietly, not giving way to anger when faced with opposition and power.

With this in mind, what effect does Jesus want this promise to have on the followers? He wants the promise to give them strength to continue in their meekness, that what is seen as weakness by the world is strength in the Lord. The promise of the inheritance of the earth to the meek was intended to strengthen the meek to endure when times get tough. The natural human inclination is to defend one’s self; fight for your rights. But there is blessing (i.e. beatitude) in the one that meekly refrains.

All things are yours, “whether Paul of Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future, all are yours; and you are Christ’s; and Christ is God’s” (1 Cor. 18-23). You don’t need the vain pleasures of this world because God has already made you an heir of the world. The quietness and openness and vulnerability of meekness is a very beautiful yet painful concept. It goes against all that we are by our sinful nature. It requires supernatural help. And that help is available, thank God!

Christ is Our Man

Christ is Our Man

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Daniel Fanous

John 5:1-18

“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)

Christ stood there observing the paralytic man. He observed his helplessness, his condition, his loneliness. Therefore, He approaches him and says, “Do you want to be made well?” This is one of the healing miracles in the gospel of John where Christ takes the initiative. He doesn’t wait to be asked.

The man responds, “I have no man to put me in the water.” St John Chrysostom contemplates on this says, “What can be more pitiable than these words? What more sad than these circumstances? Do you see a heart crushed through long sickness? Do you see all violence subdued?”

This paralytic man has no one. He doesn’t have a single person to help him; no friends or family. He stands on the edge of the pool knowing that if he enters when the angel stirs the pool, he will be made well. We don’t know how long he was by the pool but we know that he had been a paralytic for 38 years.

He was surrounded by a multitude of people, many that could have been touching him, yet he had no one. He belonged to no one. It was likely his own family abandoned him, otherwise they would have waited beside him and took him down to the water. If he was paralytic for 38 years, it was probably a congenital disease and thus, rejected from a young age.

Truly when he says, “I have no man,” it was a reflection of the 38 years he spent alone. Fr. Alexander Schmemann contemplates saying;

“This truly is the cry of someone who has come to know the terrible power of human selfishness, narcissism. Every man for himself. Looking out for number one. All of them, all that great multitude of blind, sick, paralyzed, are all “waiting for the troubling of the waters,” in other words, waiting for help, concern, healing, comfort. But…each waits by himself, for himself. And when the waters are troubled, each throws himself forward and forgets about the others… From the gospel’s point of view, this pool is of course an image of the world, an image of human society, a symbol of the very organization of human consciousness.

But even when someone has apparently overcome personal selfishness, he is still held prisoner by the category “his.” He may have overcome bondage to himself as an individual, but then it is “his” family, and for “his” family, since “charity begins at home.” If not family, then “his” ethnic group or country. If not this, then “his” social class, “his” political party. His, always his! And this “his” is invariably opposed to someone else’s, which by definition becomes alien and hostile. We’re told that this is how the world works, what can you do? But is this really true, is this really the ultimate, objective, and scientific truth about the person and human life?

Listening to these words, “I have no man,” is a cry of a feeling of everyone looking to themselves, or their own family, or their own friends. One thing I have noticed about this current crisis is that people look to themselves. People are concerned over amenities and supplies for themselves or their own home, family, businesses. People are hoarding and barricading themselves, creating borders between them and everyone else. Even nations are looking out for only their own.

In almost every phone call, every confession, every thought, the focus is on ourselves and our own. This is understandable because the nature of this disease is contact, we want to avoid touching others. We are fearful to protect our own. This is also a challenge for us, a chance to understand the words, “I have no man.” For each of us is concerned for our own – our own family, our own friends, and not anyone else.

He cries out, “I have no man,” and yet Christ saw him. We read, “He observed him” – He thought about him, He wondered about him. For 38 years no one saw him, and maybe just as remarkable; “I have no man.” In Greek, “I have no Anthropos,” which translates, “I have no human being.” No one around him acted as a human being. Each looked to themselves or their own.

These words are the exact same words Pontius Pilate when he presents Jesus before the people. He puts Christ before them and says, “Behold, the man;” “the Anthropos.” Christ is the One True Human Being. He is the One that sees beyond Himself. He is the One Man that sees beyond His own. None of us – just as no one around the paralytic was a human being – each of us sees ourselves or at best, our own. But Christ is that Man that sees beyond Himself. He sees him, and He is the Man for the paralytic.

He says to him, “I am your Man, I live, I breath, I move and have become flesh for you. You are my people, you are my concern. You have no one and yet you have Me.”

Christ enters his suffering and bears his suffering. He not only sees him but He is present with him. As followers of Christ – Christians – we are called to become human beings to the world that cries out, “I have no man.”

St Dionyius, bishop of Alexandria in 250-260 AD, wrote of an epidemic that decimated the population after the war. 60 years before this there was outbreak of a disease that was most likely small pox that killed one third of the population. He writes of the pagans;

“At the first onset of the disease, they pushed the sufferers away and fled from their dearest, throwing them into the roads before they were dead and treating unburied corpses as dirt, hoping thereby to avert the spread and contagion of the fatal disease; but do what they might, they found it difficult to escape.”

He contrasts, “Most of our brother-Christians showed unbounded love and loyalty, never sparing themselves and thinking only of one another. Heedless of the danger, they took charge of the sick, attending to their every need and ministering to them in Christ, and with them departed this life serenely happy; Many, in nursing and curing others, transferred their death to themselves and died in their stead. The best of our brothers lost their lives in this manner, a number of presbyters, deacons, and laymen winning high commendation, so that death in this form, the result of great piety and strong faith, seems in every way the equal of martyrdom.”

The focus was not on how unfair this epidemic was, no on the lost family, or lost business. Their focus was the chance to give themselves to those around them. Like Christ, we observe and see others. Like Christ, we are there for those that are not our own, especially for those that cry out, “I have no man.”

One historian contemplates on this event and infers that this was the reason that many Romans became Christian; not because of miracles, preaching or political influence, but the response of the Christians to those in need. The irresistible love for the world.

This is very hard for us all, especially when caring for others may mean that we contract the disease. While we should not be reckless concerning these things, our eyes should always be on others. When shopping, who are we buying food for? Why not our elderly neighbour?

As things become worse, we don’t further barricade ourselves. We become more radical in caring for others. St Anthony the Great says, “Our life and our death is with our neighbour. If we gain our brother, we have gained God, but if we scandalise our brother, we have sinned against Christ.” How we treat our neighbours is our life and death. This discerns Christians from non-Christians. Our concern, our care and love for those that are not our own. Let us look beyond ourselves, our own cares, our own families, our own churches even.

Let us be Christ to those that say, “I have no man,” see them, love them, just as Christ did. Even in the depths of our suffering, Christ is that Man and we should likewise be that man for others.

Best Friends Forever

Best Friends Forever

By Demiana Salib

“Come on, Abanoub, it’s time to go.” I watch this priest finish tying up his shoes and walk out of the church of the Holy Sepulchre… alone. Was he talking to Abanoub, as in THE Saint Abanoub? Was I looking into things too much because I was expecting to see miracles being in Jerusalem? Very likely. But how cool would it be? Chilling in Jerusalem, the holiest of lands, with Saint Abanoub as your guide?

This isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds, but it does take effort. We read about the blessed friendships that existed between Tamav Ereeny and Abu Sefain or Pope Kyrillos VI and St Mina. The ones that seemed destined for sainthood even while still on earth.  

But what about us? Why would a saint want to be friends with me? I have nothing to offer a great saint. Our typically friendships are based on a healthy give/take balance. With the saints, there is nothing I feel that I can give to them. Despite this, there is something about our human states, that makes the saints want to befriend us, similar to a mentor or older sibling.

Throughout the history of time, we see the heavenly guiding those on earth. When Isaiah stood in the presence of God, he was immediately drawn to repentance. Not because of his sins, but because of whose presence he was in. It was at this moment that the Holy Spirit implored him to uncover his sinfulness before the Almighty. He says;

“Woe is me, for I am undone! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips;

For my eyes have seen the King, The Lord of hosts.”

The awareness of his sinful state did not draw him to despair but to joy at the grace and mercy that comes to the repentant. He goes on to say;

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth with it, and said:

“Behold, this has touched your lips;

Your iniquity is taken away,

And your sin purged.”

Through repentance, the heavenly hosts came to him to lift him up from his sin. For in any trials or tribulations that are given over to God, the heavenly come to the aid of us all. Prayer is not a quick fix to all our problems, but when praying with a repentant and contrite heart, we are elevated about all worldly concerns. The heavenly look upon this state with joy at the return of another one of Christ’s beloved children. When in communion with the heavenly, things are put into perspective; we look to the eternal and not the temporal. Isaiah was therefore, made clean and in turn, a vessel for God’s light to the nations. He goes on to say;

 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:

“Whom shall I send,

And who will go for Us?”

Then I said, “Here am I! Send me.”

For Isaiah, the strength that was given through the Seraphim that touched his lips gave him assurance he needed to commence his quest. The spiritual path is not one that we could ever do alone. We were meant to be in communion with those around us, especially the heavenly.

Father Lazarus El Antony says,

“Your prayers, your calling on the name of God, of Jesus, of St Mary, of St Anthony, of any saint, the saint which is closest to you – they will help you. The holy ones will help you. 

We are not alone, this is not an empty place. How can I live here by myself on my own power? I cannot. Before I became a monk I was used to a sedentary life: I was a lecturer in university, I was never going outside of my car and my office and my house and here I am living in the mountain – how can this be? Not by my power, but by the help of the witnesses who are around me, the holy ones who help me to support me…these falls remind me, that I am in the hands of the holy ones. 

And I advise all Christian youth, to put their lives in the hands of the holy ones who are around them; to hold them up, to support them.” 

The best thing about friendship with the saints is that they choose you. They want to know you. They see something in you. The saints see your struggle, they understand and they want nothing more than to bring you back to Christ in repentance. A great way to figure out who your saint is, is to start reading some of their stories. Read the Synaxarium, find your saint!

There is a humility in pursuing a friendship with someone on a higher spiritual level, similar to our own spiritual guides. While humility is a complex thing, the saints would keep us grounded. They give something to strive for every day. For every time you think you did okay, the saints did better. For every time you didn’t do well, they were born the same and they had the same struggles. They overcame so that they could guide us to the means of repentance. In a world full of doubt and uncertainty, a friendship with the saints can relieve the associated anxiety. Your only quest now is to choose from the multitude of amazing saints…

See more: https://subspla.sh/43fbf85

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).

Do You Want Coronavirus to Go Away?

Do You Want Coronavirus to Go Away?

Adapted from a sermon by Fr Mark Basily

John 5:1-18

Take a moment to think about this question – do you want coronavirus to go away? You may be thinking, “what a silly question, of course we want it to go away. Isn’t it obvious?”

We witness a scene of devastation in the gospel reading of the paralytic man; similar to what we see in the world today. St John describes it as, “a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed” (Jonh 5:3). They’re all lying there by a pool which is situated next to the gate.

The gate was the sheep gate where the sheep would enter on the way to be slaughtered for the Passover. By the gate was a pool so that they could be washed before they were taken to the Temple for slaughter. Because there was a direct link between the pool and the Temple, it was considered to be holy water.

The people thought they would be healed when it was stirred and given power.

We have a scene set around a multitude of sick people but then the story hones in on one person, a man paralysed for 38 years. He was probably in the worst state, all the more reason for Christ to focus on him.

Christ approaches him, a man that had been paralysed for 38 years, and asks him a question; “do you want to be made well?”

What a silly question, of course he wants to be made well. Why ask a question like that?

The gospels are not just historical stories or events, the gospel is for our lives. Our own personal encounters with Christ. The gospel takes these stories and puts them in the midst of our lives. So the question we can take from this is – do you want coronavirus to go away? This is the question that Christ asks the paralytic man.

We know that Christ would not ask a silly question. Everything He did had a profound purpose. Why did Christ ask this question?

When I was ordained a priest, I had to go to Egypt for my ordination. When I arrived in Egypt, I met Anba Bakhomious just before the liturgy began for the ordination and he looked me in eyes and asked, “are you prepared to be a priest?”

I replied, “Yes, Your Grace, by your prayers.”

He raised his voice and asked again, “are you prepared to be a priest?”

Again I said, “umm yes, by your prayers.”

Then he became visibly angry and he shouted, “Are you prepared to be a priest? Yes or no?”

So I said, “yes.”

And he replied, “good.”

It seemed like an obvious question. I’ve resigned, I’m here, I travelled from Australia to Egypt, so I was prepared. But he was asking in the sense of – Do you realise the consequence of what you are entering?

Do you realise what will be required of you?

Do you realise the sacrifices necessary?

Do you realise that you will lay down your life to others?

Do you realise what you are embarking on?

Are you ready?

It is for that reason that Christ asks the question, “do you want to be made well?”

Are you ready to be made well? No longer will you lie here. No longer will you rely on others to feed you. Are you ready to stand, to walk to carry your bed, to work? Are you ready for the consequences and responsibilities of healing?

The climax is when Christ finds him again and says, “See, you have been made well. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you.”

We see the link that Christ puts between disease and sin. It’s not clear whether this man’s sin led to his disease or if it were the other way around. What is clear is that there was a link between disease and sin and part of his physical healing was to sin no more, and restore his spiritual health.

“For since for the most part when the soul is diseased we feel no pain, if the body receive though but a little hurt, we use every exertion to free it from infirmity, because we are sensible of the infirmity, therefore God oftentimes punishes the body for the transgressions of the soul, so that by means of the scourging of the inferior part, the better part also may receive some healing.”

St John Chrysostom

Christ after healing the paralytic finds him again so that he can complete the healing, the spiritual healing. In the NKJV, we read, “see you have been made well.” In the other translations, it reads, “see you have been made whole.”

You are now complete, physically and spiritually whole. We see the ultimate responsibility of healing – repentance.

Do you want coronavirus to go away? There are many ways that the world is responding to coronavirus; social distancing, closures, lockdowns, self-isolation, closing borders. They’re all good measures.

Other measures include prayer. Even the prime minister said his prayer knees were getting a good workout. There is another measure beyond this that some people are putting in place. I believe this is the most effective measure. The measure of repentance. Do you want to be made well? Do you want coronavirus to go away? Let us repent. Let us sin no more. If God sees us all repenting what would He do?

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”

2 Chronicles 7:14

We implore God’s mercy to heal our land, to heal our world by giving Him our repentance.

The scariest thing about corona is that our actions affect everybody else. If we are infected and we don’t self-isolate, it effects everyone around us through the ripple effect. Our actions affect others. If a virus can do that, repentance can do the same, more even. My repentance has a ripple effect on the world and on God’s heart.

What did I do?

What did I do?

by Marcus Mikhail

What did I do, Lord to deserve Your grace?

To earn Your favour and know that You are preparing a resting place

What did I do, Lord? I’m so undeserving

But thanks to Your Son, You have made me worthy and given me Your word unswerving

 

What did I do, Lord to deserve Your love;

That You would shower me with gifts from above?

I love You, Lord because You loved me first I cannot contain it,

I feel like I will burst!

 

What did I do, Lord to deserve Your salvation?

To be in an everlasting relationship with You because of Your incarnation

As the deer pants for the water, so my soul longs after You

You love me so much dear Lord, nothing can undo

 

What did I do Lord to deserve your heavenly gifts?

Even though I’m prone to wander and my love for You drifts

My cup runs over; it’s truly amazing

To see my life unfold with Your special blessing

 

What did I do, Lord to deserve Your protection?

You are our shield, our defender because of Your affection

You care about us so much indeed this is true

No wonder You asked us to cast our cares upon You

 

Your word is so powerful sharper than any double-edged sword

We understand Your mind through it; it draws us closer to thee, sweet Lord

It has the power to change us, to mould us into the image of Your Son

It lifts us up when we feel like we are overrun

 

In prayer, we praise and thank You and put before You our hearts desire

It brings us closer to You and sets our hearts on fire

We can come to You at any place and at any time

You are always listening to us and Your presence makes us shine

 

You are so faithful, Lord; Your promises have never failed

Even when I was the one who bailed

Time and time again you have proven your faithfulness

You’ve helped me throughout my whole life in failure and success

 

Help me to hold onto You, You are worthy of all glory and praise

Draw us closer to you so we are in tune with you always

I truly don’t deserve You, Lord

I’ve failed You time and again

But with You I have nothing to lose and all to gain