So much of what we do is like chaff that will be burned away on the last day because of its non-essential character. I would venture to say that this Scriptural idea not only concerns the pointless aspects of our lives, such as when we are sitting aimlessly on the couch; it is also a reminder that those of our activities which by the name of it seem "good" or even "Christian" will all-too-easily be obliterated with time unless they possess a concrete foundation in Jesus Christ [cf. I Cor 3.10–15]. What is this foundation, more practically speaking? Perhaps it is a mature theological knowledge of Christ. Perhaps it is a motivation behind our actions which draws its power from the contemplation of the activity of God himself, nothing less, albeit in a small measure. But how can we in any sense be attuned to this divine motivational power if we have only vague and worldly notions concerning goodness, concerning meaningfulness, concerning beauty, concerning the divine?
My intentions in pursuing another cycle of studies in theology at St Vladimir's were perhaps a bit less "practical" than those of many of my fellow classmates. Through the mercy of God, things have already fallen into place concerning my vocation in life—that of iconographer and instructor. On the surface of it, I don't particularly need another degree. But I keep realizing that despite my religious occupation, despite four years of theological education at the Saint Sergius Institute in Paris (not to speak of the earlier years at college pursuing a BA in classics), my attention is seldom focused on Christ and his invisible working in an adequate, focused way. Despite being called men and women of the Church, most of us are still more or less beating around the spiritual bush. What is lacking is the convincing "measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ" [Eph 4.13].
This is not to imply that a spiritual maturity will be guaranteed by theological education. At seminary, we are simply working through things, training the muscle which is our mind (as our Dean suggests). We remember that the "mind" is a key term in the anthropology of many of the Fathers. To "hold the mind in check" when stray thoughts attempt to seduce it, but also to train the "mind's eye" to be attentive to the manifestations of the divine Word—this is the path of Christian spiritual progress in a nutshell. What I will primarily take away from my studies at St Vladimir's is the discovery that these two rules apply just as much to the classroom and to readings as to personal ascetic discipline.
Simply put, an active sobriety of the mind is indispensible in the pursuit of theology. As facets of this idea, at St. Vladimir's, I have learned to read authors very closely, with sensitivity towards the original intentions and particular genius of each, to be attentive, on a basic level, to the way a written piece is organized, for example. I have learned to what extent considerations of context and literary style play a part in every single writing of the Church, including the gospels. I have begun to realize just how important a part rhetoric plays in the majority of ancient writings and even in the liturgical art of the Church. What my professors have offered are valuable insights concerning methodology, not ready-made dogmatic formulas for memorization.
My original intention in coming to the Seminary was simply to spend more time with the teachers and teachings of the Church. I come away with something perhaps even more important: cultivating the organ for perceiving these teachings is half the battle. Perhaps with the training of this faculty on all its levels our faith will have the chance of reaching a token of maturity that will be, in some respect at least, impressive.
Nikita Andrejev is a second-year MA Student at St. Vladimir's. He started on the path of icon painting with his father and has been painting and teaching for the past twenty years in the US and Europe. His wife Marrit is Estonian and a free-lance conference interpreter. They have three children and make their permanent home near Tallinn, Estonia, despite frequent travels.
At the beginning of 2015, two of us from St. Vladimir's Seminary joined students from three other Orthodox seminaries, to participate in a home building effort in New Orleans, Louisiana. Sponsored by the International Orthodox Christian Charities (IOCC) in conjunction with Habitat for Humanity, the humanitarian project addressed the ongoing need for housing rehabilitation in the city still recovering from the devastation of Hurricane Katrina in 2005.
Most of our days were spent working on home construction and rehab, but we also were able to take a trip to see the Ninth Ward, a section of New Orleans that had been especially impacted by the hurricane. A decade after Katrina, there is still a lot of work to be done in rebuilding New Orleans.
This is the second year that IOCC has enlisted a team of seminarians to assist in the building and repair of homes; several students from St. Vladimir's participated in a similar project in 2014. In fact, since 2005, nearly 1,000 volunteers on IOCC Orthodox Action Teams have donated over 33,000 man-hours to repair 193 family homes across the United States damaged by natural disasters.
These past three years, I have been in the classrooms, the library, and the chapel at St. Vladimir's, studying and praying. However, soon it will be time to graduate and leave this behind, and I then will begin to apply the theology I have studied. The home build with IOCC reminded each of us seminarians that the universe is our parish, and that our Church is without borders. If we are to lead, we must first learn how to serve.
A third-year seminarian, Fr. Mark was ordained to the priesthood on the Feast of the Holy Cross this past year at Holy Cross Antiochian Orthodox Church in Linthicum, Maryland. His wife, Kh. Vasilia, is a clinical social worker who works at an outpatient counseling center with youth and their families in the Bronx, NY. They welcomed their first child, daughter Catherine, into this world on November 8, 2014. Father Mark will serve in the Self-Ruled Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America upon graduation; he is looking forward to fulfilling his vocation through Christian service and ministry.
By Djakonitsa Adrienne Soper, wife of Deacon Larry Soper, 1st-year M.Div. Seminarian
Clergy wives have to navigate the complex issues of parish life, and sometimes knowing exactly what do in each situation can be difficult. This was the topic chosen by His Grace Bishop John (Abdalah) of Worcester and New England (Antiochian Orthodox Archdiocese of North America), as guest speaker at the March 6, 2017 meeting of the St. Juliana Society—our women’s fellowship at St. Vladimir’s Seminary.
His Grace, spoke to us wives of seminarians about parish dynamics, offering advice gleaned from his own experience, both as a widowed bishop and as a married priest.
“It is important,” he noted, “that clergy couples need to remain strong in their bond of marriage, by making time for one another and carefully crafting and scheduling time away from parish duties.”
Borrowing from St. Paul’s admonitions to married couples (Ephesians 5), he said that wives could be supportive of their husband’s ministry by being respectful of their husbands—and added that husbands must cherish their wives.
“Essentially,” he reminded us, “the couple must preserve their bond as a couple, as oftentimes parish life can be demanding, and it is easy to become consumed by it.”
We women of the St. Juliana Society were able to ask questions on His Grace’s chosen theme and then to receive feedback from him, as well as from our peers. At the end of this wonderful exchange, we realized we had received a treasure trove of wisdom to guide us as we accompany our spouses in their priestly vocations.
His Grace the Right Reverend Bishop John is an alumnus of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, and is an auxiliary bishop of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, overseeing the Diocese of Worcester and New England.
On Monday, the St. Juliana Society (SJS) welcomed to campus His Beatitude the Most Blessed Tikhon, archbishop of Washington, metropolitan of All America and Canada, and chair of St. Vladimir’s Seminary.
His Beatitude met with the group, comprised of women seminarians and wives of seminarians, at the home of Archpriest Chad and Matushka Thekla Hatfield. Matushka Thekla coordinates SJS. Metropolitan Tikhon discussed a number of topics proposed by the group, including his own journey from childhood to primate of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA), his mother, the role of youth in the OCA, the March for Life, and humility.
The Wives’ Program on campus was formalized in 2007 to help strengthen the formation of clergy families. In 2010, the fellowship took the name of the St. Juliana Society. Women’s fellowship events and programs on campus also include women seminarians.
On Monday evening, the Seminary’s St. Juliana Society (SJS) welcomed Mother Christophora, who spoke to women of the Seminary community about Great Lent.
“Mother Christophora shared with us that humility is knowing yourself and knowing God, and she encouraged us as women and mothers to be ourselves,” said Kh. Anna Fields, whose husband, Fr. Herman Fields, is in his third year at Seminary. “She gave us a lot of practical advice about navigating fasting and long church services for those of us with young children.”
“Her talk was refreshing…” added Seminarian Asha Mathai, who said Mother Christophora reminded priest wives and mothers not to feel guilty if they can’t follow the practices of a fast as strictly as others. “She reminded us that these practices were created by single young monastics in the desert. She told us of her mother who couldn't prostrate after injury. She reminded her mother that her pain is her prostration.”
Mother Christophora also shared with the group that wives of clergy are the priests of their family while the husband attends to needs of his parish. While the father is away, the mother teaches a child how to cross oneself and pray. Additionally, the wife of a priest cares for her husband, who will be giving so much of himself to his parish.
The Wives’ Program on campus was formalized in 2007 to help strengthen the formation of clergy families. In 2010, the fellowship took the name of the St. Juliana Society. Women’s fellowship events and programs on campus also include women seminarians.
With faith in Christ and hope in the resurrection, we share news of the repose of Protopresbyter Daniel Hubiak, former Chancellor of the Orthodox Church in America (1973-1988) and former OCA Representative to the Moscow Patriarchate (1992-2001). Father Daniel fell asleep in the Lord Friday, February 5, at the age of 94.
Father Daniel Hubiak was born on December 29, 1926 in Akron, OH to Archpriest Afanasy and Susan (Wanchisen) Hubiak, where his father was the founding pastor of St. Nicholas Church. After serving in the US Army, he graduated from Columbia University and St. Vladimir’s Seminary (then in New York City) in 1951. On September 16, 1951, he married Evdokia (Dunia) Martynuk of Brooklyn, NY. Metropolitan Leonty (Turkevich), Primate of the Russian Orthodox Greek Catholic Church of North America (informally known as the Metropolia and precursor to the Orthodox Church in America) ordained Fr. Daniel to the Holy Diaconate on September 21, 1952 and to the Holy Priesthood on September 27, 1952. He was then assigned as assistant pastor at Holy Trinity Church in Detroit, MI until June of the following year, when he was transferred to Holy Assumption Church in Marblehead, OH, where he would serve as pastor for more than two years. On July 17, 1956, he was assigned as assistant pastor at Holy Transfiguration Church in Brooklyn, NY, where he would remain for another two years. Subsequently, on June 1, 1958, he was appointed pastor of Holy Trinity Church in East Meadow on Long Island, NY. There, during his more than a decade-long pastorate, he would lead the community in the construction of its new church building.
With the creation of the positions of chancellor, secretary, and treasurer for the Metropolia at the 11th All-American Sobor in 1963, Fr. Daniel was invited to become the treasurer for the Church while continuing his pastoral work as rector of the East Meadow parish. This work required his frequent presence at the chancery offices, then located at Holy Virgin Protection Cathedral in Manhattan. Father Daniel exerted much effort to make the finances stable and to provide accountability to the Church. In May 1970, he was named to the seven-member delegation assigned to travel to Moscow to receive the Tomos of Autocephaly for the Orthodox Church in America. In August of that year, he participated in the glorification services in Kodiak of St. Herman of Alaska, North America’s first Orthodox saint. Finally, in October 1970, he was a delegate to the historic 1st All-American Council of the new autocephalous Church.
After the Council, Fr. Daniel was asked to take on additional responsibilities within the Church administration by serving as secretary. At this point, after twelve years in East Meadow, he relinquished his parish responsibilities to devote his energies fully to labors in two of the three officer positions of the OCA. Effective December 1, 1970, he was assigned to St. Sergius Chapel at the Metropolitan’s Residence, located in Syosset, NY. When he was not traveling in fulfillment of his chancery responsibilities, Fr. Daniel would provide pastoral care for members of the chancery staff and other faithful attending services there for nearly two decades. He would continue as secretary-treasurer for the Church for three years, until he was named OCA chancellor in November 1973 to succeed Protopresbyter Joseph Pishtey, who had reposed a year earlier. Father Daniel was the only person to hold at some point each of the three officer positions of the OCA since their establishment in 1963. In fact, during the late 1970s, Fr. Daniel managed the duties of all three offices simultaneously, as the positions of secretary and treasurer were vacant for several years. In his role as chancellor, Fr. Daniel was the key assistant for Metropolitans Ireney (Bekish) and Theodosius (Lazor), especially in facilitating the smooth functioning of the Holy Synod, the All-American Councils, and the Metropolitan Council as well as the growing number of various Church departments and commissions and the chancery offices. In 1974, he oversaw the transfer of the Chancery offices from Holy Virgin Protection Cathedral in New York City to Syosset, NY.
In 1988, Fr. Daniel and Matushka Dunia returned to parish ministry when he left his position as chancellor and was assigned to succeed his late friend, Fr. John Skvir, who had reposed unexpectedly, as pastor of Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Jersey City, NJ.
At this time, perestroika and glasnost were rapidly changing the life of the Church in the Soviet Union, and it became possible for the Orthodox Church in America to realize its long-held vision to establish a representation church in Moscow, alongside the representation of several other autocephalous churches. The idea of establishing a representation church of the North American Diocese in Russia was first conceived in the early twentieth century. With his vast experience in church administration, understanding of the Russian Church through his contacts with its leaders and travels there, along with his pastoral and language skills, Fr. Daniel possessed the requisite qualities to become the representative, a kind of ecclesiastical ambassador, for the OCA in Moscow. Therefore, effective January 1, 1992, Fr. Daniel and Matushka Dunia were assigned to serve in Moscow. Initially, Fr. Daniel conducted services at a chapel within the Danilov Monastery, gathering a flock of Americans and other English-speaking Orthodox stationed in Moscow, along with locals who also joined the community. As this community grew, it became apparent that the American representation could indeed become a permanent fixture in Moscow. Patriarch Aleksy II of Moscow and All Rus offered the OCA a choice of several churches in central Moscow to house its representation. The Church of St. Catherine in the Fields on Bolshaya Ordynka Street was chosen. On December 7, 1994, the feast of St. Catherine, Patriarch Aleksy and OCA Primate Metropolitan Theodosius concelebrated a festive prayer service at the church to officially inaugurate its functioning as the OCA Representation Church. Father Daniel worked tirelessly to restore the church buildings that had been used for secular purposes during Soviet times. He built up the parish community and made the OCA a visible presence in Moscow in both ecclesiastical and secular circles. Through the labors of Fr. Daniel, the altar of St. Catherine’s Church was readied for its solemn consecration by Patriarch Aleksy and Metropolitan Theodosius on June 11, 1999. Many hierarchs and clergy concelebrated and numerous pilgrims from the United States attended the festive occasion.
After nearly a decade of ministry in Moscow, Fr. Daniel and Matushka Dunia returned to the United States in 1999 and settled permanently in their home in coastal Maryland. He started a new mission community, Christ the Savior, which has now progressed to parish status in Berlin, MD. After the assignment of Fr. John Parsells as parish rector in 2006, Fr. Daniel was able, at the age of 80, to relinquish his pastoral responsibilities, although he and Matushka remained an active presence in the parish until the end of his life. In his later years, he was also active in the management of Sts. Cosmas and Damian Adult Home in Staten Island, NY and spoke at various events reflecting on the historical events he had witnessed in church life. Father Daniel and Matushka Dunia were also able to visit Russia again several times in the two decades since they left. They were always warmly welcomed back, especially at St. Catherine’s Church where they had labored so energetically. Most recently, Fr. Daniel participated in the celebrations marking the twenty-fifth anniversary of the inauguration of St. Catherine’s Church as the OCA Representation that took place in Moscow in December 2019, where he was acknowledged by Patriarch Kirill of Moscow.
Father Daniel was honored with many awards throughout his long ministry. Most notably, he was elevated in 1997 to the rank of protopresbyter, a rare honor for clergy who serve with great distinction. He was also awarded the St. Innocent Award (gold class) and the right to wear the mitre.
He is survived by Matushka Dunia, his beloved spouse of sixty-nine years; daughters, Larice Nescott and her husband Gregg, an attorney and prominent Orthodox layman who was a longtime member of the Metropolitan Council, and Matushka Annice, wife of Archpriest Joseph Oleynik, recently retired pastor of St. John the Baptist Church of Canonsburg, PA; and several grandchildren and their families.
His passing truly marks the end of an era. From Fr. Daniel’s connection through his father to the Church in North America in the early twentieth century to the multitude of major historical events he personally experienced and significant church figures he knew through most of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first. He will be missed by many who were touched by his multifaceted priestly ministry in both America and Russia.
In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to Christ the Savior Church, Berlin, MD; Wounded Warriors; or St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.
The schedule of services for F. Daniel’s funeral is as follows:
Wednesday, February 10
9 a.m. Vesting of the Body at Funeral home in Salisbury, MD (with diocesan clergy invited)
2 p.m. Viewing at Christ the Savior Church, Berlin, MD
3 p.m. Memorial
7 p.m. Funeral
Thursday, February 11
9 a.m. Divine Liturgy, followed by travel to St. Tikhon’s Monastery, South Canaan, PA
Very Rev. Dr. J. Sergius Halvorsen is director of St. Vladimir’s Seminary’s Doctor of Ministry Program and assistant professor of homiletics and rhetoric. He delivered this sermon at the Seminary’s Three Hierarchs Chapel on July 15, 2019, the Feast of Holy & Great Prince Vladimir.
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In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Every single one of us is called to ministry—to build up the Body of Christ; to serve and love and care for our neighbor; to obey God’s commandments.
We are all called to ministry.
But Christian ministry is hard, isn’t it? Yes, there are moments of radiant glory, like this morning’s celebration. But glory is such a tiny part of ministry. Most of ministry is hard, unglamorous work, just like the hard, unglamorous work of shepherds in Jesus’ day.
Today, Jesus reminds us that ministry is like being a shepherd.
Being a shepherd is common, hard, unglamorous work. Being a shepherd is not the kind of work that one does from the safety of a great city, surrounded by walls and soldiers. It is dangerous work that takes you out into wild places, where the flocks can find pasture.
Christian Ministry is hard.
So today, as we remember the heavenly patron of our seminary, St. Prince Vladimir, Equal to the Apostles—whose personal conversion led not only to the baptism of Kievan Rus, but to the birth of the Russian Orthodox Church and her many spiritual children throughout the world—as we remember our holy prince Vladimir, it’s only natural to be awestruck by his ministry.
According to legend, on the night before the people of Kiev were to be baptized, St. Vladimir declared throughout the city, “If anyone does not go into the river tomorrow, be they rich or poor, beggar or slave, that one shall be my enemy.”
And the sacred wish of the holy prince was fulfilled without a murmur: and “all the land glorified Christ with the Father and the Holy Spirit at the same time.”
Wow!
Imagine a ministry where your wish is fulfilled without a murmur. Wouldn’t THAT be something?
Of course, this is a holy legend, but even if there were actually a few murmurs among the people, I’m still awestruck by the glory and power of St. Vladimir’s ministry.
And then I think about my own ministry…
What has my ministry accomplished? How am I making a difference? How many people are coming to faith in Jesus Christ through my witness?
Then I start to think, “Maybe I’d be more successful if I was more like St. Vladimir. If I was wealthier, then I could fund great works to glorify God. If I had more power I could accomplish so much more. If I were more famous, if more people listened to me, then my ministry could be great.”
But this kind of thinking is actually the work of the devil, because even if I manage to increase my wealth, or power, or fame, there’s always someone wealthier, or more powerful, or more famous. And before long, wealth and power and fame become more important than Jesus Christ.
Then, trapped in the chains of envy and despair, fantasizing about the ministry that I want, the ministry I think I deserve, I’m not doing God’s ministry right now, here, today.
God warned us of this temptation in the commandment He gave to Moses: “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house, nor your neighbor’s spouse…”
And we could add, “You shall not covet your neighbor’s ministry.”
Because Christian ministry is ultimately not about being great, or wealthy or powerful, or famous. Christian ministry is about being faithful to Jesus Christ, and serving Christ through serving my neighbor; using whatever God has given me, no matter how great or how small, to serve the flock—to serve the people that have been entrusted to me today.
In Jesus’ time, being a shepherd was a family business. Your flock was entrusted to you by your father, and your job was to be faithful to those placed in your care. The shepherd lives with the sheep, cares for them, leads them beside still waters and into green pastures. And in times of danger, the shepherd protects the sheep with his life. At night, when the sheep had been led into their enclosure, the shepherd would literally lie down at the entrance, so if a wild beast came for the sheep the shepherd was the first one to be attacked.
This is what Jesus is talking about when he says, “I am the door of the sheep…If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture.” Jesus places himself in harm’s way, so that we may know God’s love and God’s faithfulness.
As Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
Through His death on the Cross, when the Son of Man is lifted up in glory, we see just how much the Good Shepherd loves every one of us.
Once, when I was in the Holy Land, near the river Jordan, I saw a young boy, barely older than fifteen, leading sheep down to the river to drink. The flock was small, but for this family it must have been tremendously valuable.
This boy’s father had entrusted him with a great responsibility.
His job was to care for those sheep, and ensure their wellbeing. That young shepherd was using everything God had given him to do the will of his father.
Today, our Heavenly Father has entrusted us with a great responsibility: to use everything God has given us, to care for the people in our lives.
So, if you are the shepherd of a very large flock, like St. Vladimir; or if you are somewhere out in the wilderness with a ragtag flock of disciples, inquirers, and penitents like St. John the Baptist; or if your flock is as small, say just one tiny infant, like Mary the Theotokos caring for the infant Jesus, be faithful in ministry, be faithful in service. Care for those who are hard to care for. Serve those who are hard to serve. And love those who are hard to love.
For this is Christ’s work.
Now, if you are thinking to yourself, “Lord, I’m not sure about this.
I don’t think I’m good enough. I have doubts and temptations. I’m not sure I can do this on my own”—if you’re thinking this, don’t be afraid. Because Christian ministry is not our work, it is Christ working through us.
So, today, acknowledging our weakness, falling down in humility before Christ the Good Shepherd, God cares for us, just like he cared for his people in the wilderness. Like them, we are a tribe of broken, sinful shepherds on our way to God’s Promised Land. And just like the manna in the wilderness, God gives us this day our daily bread, providing us strength and courage and compassion to care for the flock entrusted to us today.
Very Rev. Dr. J. Sergius Halvorsen is director of St. Vladimir’s Seminary’s Doctor of Ministry Program and assistant professor of homiletics and rhetoric. He delivered this sermon on the Sunday of the Paralytic, May 19, 2019.
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Christ is Risen!
Picture yourself driving down a country road…at a moderate speed
It is a beautiful, bright spring day, the sky is clear, no traffic at all, just clear easy driving.
And up in the distance, you see a squirrel hop out onto the side of the road.
He twitches his bushy tail a few times and then…he darts across the road.
No problem, so you slow down a bit, to give him a chance to make it across the road safely.
He’s got plenty of time, no crisis, all he needs to do is just run across the road and jump into the bushes.
Everything looks fine…but…just before he makes it across the road to safety he hears you coming,
And what does he do?
Of course, he STOPS…in the road.
He only needs to go a few more feet and he’d be safe and clear,
But no, he’s stopped in the road, looking up at this big giant thing zooming straight at him.
When I’m the one driving the car, sometimes I actually start talking to the squirrel,
“Dude, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there, you’re so close, keep going, get out of the road.
No…no…don’t turn around and go back…OK, fine, but just keep going, just get off the road
WHAT?!? No. Don’t turn around again? Will you just make up your mind and get off of the road!?!”
In moments like this, we know exactly what the squirrel needs to do, it is so obvious.
But for some reason the squirrel just can’t do the right thing.
He’s paralyzed with fear, in the middle of the road.
I imagine that inside of that little squirrel brain, barely as big as a grape, there’s a furious conversation going on:
Somehow, in that moment, events have overwhelmed the tiny squirrel mind, and this leads to some very bad decision making—or, to complete paralysis.
Both options can lead to a very bad outcome.
Now I must confess, that even though I am a human being, and I possess a brain that is vastly larger than the tiny creature on the road, I find myself in similar situations of being overwhelmed, making bad decisions, or feeling like I’m totally paralyzed.
Sometimes I know exactly what I should do, but I can think up all sorts of reasons not to do it. Maybe I do something, or say something to someone in the heat of the moment. And then afterward I say to myself, “Why in the world did I do that? Why did I SAY that?”
“Oh, no, what does he thing about me? Is he angry? Maybe he’s REALLY angry. Oh, no, is he going to talk to other people? Is this going to lead to some big crisis?”
“But, wait a minute, I wasn’t entirely in the wrong, something had to be said, someone needed to put his foot down…”
“But…did I have to say it in just that way? Oh, man, I really could have said it better…”
“Maybe I should just go and apologize and ask forgiveness…BUT…what if he didn’t even notice…that could turn it into an even bigger deal…”
“OK, I’ll just say nothing, and let it pass…BUT…what if he’s really angry?”
“What am I saying? I’m a Christian! I should just ask for forgiveness…”
“Ahhh…but what if he sees that as a sign of weakness, and uses it against me…”
This is the human equivalent of being the squirrel in the road.
Asking for forgiveness is the obvious decision, I know it is the right thing to do.
Jesus says, that if I have offended someone, then I should stop what I’m doing, go and make amends with that person. But yet, it is so easy to get balled up in all sorts of reasons, and counter reasons, and arguments and counter arguments, and before I know it I’m like that squirrel that runs, then stops, then jumps back, turns…and then just freezes, paralyzed in the road in the face of danger.
Today we hear about a man who is paralyzed, lying near a pool that is supposed to have healing properties, but only if you are able to get into the water at just the right time.
Seems kind of like a cruel joke doesn’t it?
The man is suffering from paralysis, and in order to be healed he has to MOVE at just the right time. He’s in a real crisis. The one thing that he needs to do in order to get better, to get on with his life, is EXACTLY the one thing that is the most difficult.
In his mind, he thinks that the problem is that he doesn’t have anyone to get him into the pool at the right time. He might have been saying to himself, “If I just had the right kind of friends, the right kind of family, not the small, timid kind, but a the big burly, strong, loud tough kind, the kind who could hold everyone else back, and lift me up, and carry me into that water at just the right time—Ah, then I could be cured! Then I could get on with my life!“
This man is certainly not the first person to find himself in this kind of situation.
Many, many years before, the people of Israel were traveling in the wilderness, and God commanded them to enter a new country, a place where they could be safe and healthy, and prosper.
So they sent scouts to see what they land was like, and the scouts brought back word that the people who lived there were big, and powerful, and frightening.
God said to them, “Don’t be afraid, I will be with you. Enter the land, I will protect you, just like I protected you when you left Egypt. Everything will be fine.”
But the people said, “Well, we’re not so sure. Maybe we should just stay here and play it safe.”
And they did nothing. They stayed right where they were, out in the wilderness.
But after a while, the people said, “OK. We’re not quite sure if God is going to be with us, but we’ve got a plan of our own. Now we’ve got it figured out, now we can do this.”
So off they went, armed with their own plans and their own cleverness…but things turned out very badly. There was a great conflict and the people were chased away and they were forced to stay out in the wilderness for a long time, a very long time. They were stuck there for thirty-eight years. (Deut 2.14)
Sound familiar? Remember our man who’s paralyzed, lying by the pool with all of the reasons for why he can’t be healed?
Yes, he’s been there for THIRTY-EIGHT years, just like the people of Israel who had imagined that they could somehow solve their own problems through their own cleverness.
Now, to be clear, it is a blessing to have a mind, and to be intelligent, and to be able to think about the world and life, and make informed, thoughtful decisions. But the danger is that our thoughts can become the primary obstacle to doing God’s will.
On one hand, we may think that we can figure it all out, and like the people of Israel in the wilderness, decide that we can work outside of God’s plan. This can lead to disaster and being stuck in the wilderness.
Or on the other hand, we can find ourselves completely paralyzed by our own thoughts, immobilized by all the powerful reasons why we haven’t got the right family or friends or colleagues, or opportunities, and we’re stuck, paralyzed, so close to the healing pool, but yet so far away.
Today Jesus comes to that man at the pool, physically infirm and paralyzed by his own rationalization, and Jesus comes to us, and He asks,
“Do you want to be healed?”
The man starts into this classic explanation for why he’s there, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the water at the right time and other people get into the water before me.”
And here, it is like Jesus says, “Uh-uh, stop talking. I got it. You’re stuck, you’re clueless. Rise, take up your bed and walk.”
Rise, take up your bed and walk.
And that’s it.
Jesus did not interrogate the man, “Do you want to be healed? Do you REALLLY want to be healed? If I heal you, are you willing to do what I tell you to do? Do you promise?”
Of course not, Jesus knows that the man is broken: his body is broken, his mind is broken, and his heart is broken.
Jesus knows that the man is paralyzed in his body, and paralyzed in his soul, so of course Jesus is not going to demand that the guy make some demonstration of his cleverness and clear thinking.
Jeus says, “Arise, take up your bed and walk.”
And the man is healed.
This is how God works in our lives.
The Son of God came into the world in the form of a servant, lived among us, taught and preached, healed the sick and cast out demons.
And when the powerful and clever and self-righteous rejected him, he allowed them to humiliate and torture and kill him on the Cross.
And then God raised Jesus from the dead, so that we would know that the hatred and evil and sin of man, is powerless in the face of God’s love.
And God did not do any of this because we deserved it, or because we had pleased him, or because we had made sufficient promises to guarantee that we would be obedient. Because, that is not love, that is a legal business transaction.
God did what God did, and God does what God does, not because we have done anything to deserve it. God did what God did, and God does what God does because he loves us, and because he wants us to be whole, and because he wants us to find true and everlasting life in him.
Today Jesus heals the man at the pool as a gift, a free gift of mercy and grace. And today, Jesus heals us as a free gift of mercy and grace.
How does Christ heal us? Our Lord heals us through his Resurrection, because in the Resurrection we know that suffering and death are not the end of the story. In the Resurrection we see that through suffering and death, through the Cross is the way to life.
Christ did not come into the world to eliminate the pain of life, He took on the pain of life to show us how to truly live as God created us to live—how to live in the midst of suffering and death in a way that brings life and love and hope to others.
In Christ, in the Risen Lord, suffering and tragedy is no longer a dead end.
When Christ was placed into the tomb, it appeared that it was the end, that it was all over.
But it was not, for the tomb is empty, and Christ is risen.
I was once talking with wise friend, and he asked me why I had not done something, a good work that I knew I should do. And I told him all of the good reasons that I had not to do it all of the great excuses I had for not doing God’s will, for not using the gifts that God gave me.
And this friend patiently listened to all of my reasons, just like God patiently listens to all of our reasons, and then after I finished talking, he looked at me with this gentle smile.
And there was a moment of silence, and with a twinkle in his eye he said, “Do it scared.”
Do it scared.
This is what it means to live in the Resurrection of Christ.
We see the challenges and dangers of the world, we do not live a blind faith, but we are obedient to Christ’s commands, we do what the Lord commands us to do, and sometimes we do it scared, not because we are clever or tough or strong, but because Christ is risen. Because the love of God is more powerful than our fear.
This is why a parent doesn’t hesitate to go into harm’s way to save a child. Because of love.
This is why a spouse will run into a burning building to save the one they love. Because of love.
This is even why a soldier who has finished his tour of duty will volunteer to go back to war, in order to help keep his fellow soldiers safe. Because of love.
When God commands us to do what is difficult and frightening, motivated by love—by divine love—we do it scared.
This is how a frightened fisherman like St. Peter, a man so timid and confused that he publicly—PUBLICLY—denied Christ, could go on to become the chief of the apostles. In Christ’s resurrection Peter’s fears and worries and personal clever agendas were no longer a dead end, but became a way to new life.
For us, the greatest miracle of Christ’s resurrection happens in our hearts.
So, today, in our suffering, we do God’s will confessing Christ is risen. In our brokenness, we do God’s will confessing Christ is risen. In our confusion, we do God’s will confessing Christ is risen.
Deacon Basil Crivella is a 3rd-year Seminarian in St. Vladimir’s Seminary’s Master of Divinity (M.Div.) program. He belongs to the Orthodox Church in America’s Diocese of the Midwest. Deacon Basil prepared this sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Great Lent, the Sunday of St. John Climacus.
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In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen!
Today we hear the story of a man who is at the end of his wits. He is totally desperate. His son, whom he loves, is severely afflicted. And this man, this father, is doing everything he can think of to help.
Imagine how much he has spent on trying to get help. How many people has he gone to see? How many healers? How many specialists? How many doctors and pharmacists? And picture how hard he works to pay for the treatments: the long hours and blisters on his hands. All of it so he can scrounge the money to pay for the help; pay for the medicine; pay for the special equipment.
Imagine how, after working the extra hours, he comes home to his son, even though he is exhausted. Even though his back is killing him, and his eyes are heavy with the need for sleep, he stays with his son.
The father strokes his hair. The father helps to dress him and feed him. The father watches over him, lest the poor afflicted boy throws himself into the fireplace, or drowns himself in the nearby stream, or tries to hurt himself in some other way.
Imagine how this father feels when nothing that is supposed to help his son works—the grinding despair.
His hopes rise. A new treatment. A new person who might be able to help. This will finally be it. This will finally bring relief to his beloved son.
And then, the hopes are smashed into pieces on the ground. The medicine doesn’t work. The treatment doesn’t help. The experts are all confounded.
Even the Apostles seem to be powerless.
Brothers and sisters, as most of you probably know, this gospel reading really cuts close to my heart. I have a lot in common with this father.
But it’s not just the affliction of our loved ones that brings us to hopelessness like this father. Sometimes we ourselves are the afflicted one, desperately looking for a cure. For help. All of us come to moments where we’re hurting, where things are totally messed up, and it feels like there’s no one there that can help us; like no matter what we do, we can’t find a way out of the mess life has put us into; that there is no hope.
This is the great lie that the fallen world whispers to us in these moments.
The demons say, “Your relationship with your family, your friend, or your neighbor is ruined. Don’t even bother trying to love them. There’s no hope.”
The demons say, “Your health, or the health of your loved one is just wrecked. It’s going to be nothing but pain and misery forever. Don’t even bother trying to get help. There’s no hope.”
The demons say, “That situation with your schoolwork and grades, or your job and making ends meet—Don’t even bother with those. Nothing is ever going to change. There’s no hope.”
The prince of lies tells us in our deepest sufferings that there’s no hope, especially when we cry out and seek for help, and nothing seems to be working.
The evil one tells us, “There’s no hope, because God doesn’t really care!”
It’s like the Tom Waits song: “God’s away, God’s away, God’s away on business.”
Business! You’re not important to Him!
But God isn’t away! He’s not off being too busy with something else. Christ is in our midst! God sees you when you’re struggling. God hears you when you cry out to Him! God is present with you in your pain. Even in your darkest moments, when you feel like everything is falling apart, you can turn to Him. Like the man who has suffered so much, we can come to Christ! We can pour our heart and our sufferings out to Christ.
The man who kneels before Christ cries, “If you can do anything, have pity on us! Help us!”
Christ tells us, “All things are possible to him who believes!”
The one who believes has their sufferings transfigured by Christ.
The pain, the despair, and the uncertainty no longer lead them to lash out; to look for someone or something to blame; to yell at the family and neighbors who visit or try to help; to get angry with the doctors or professionals when the results aren’t what we want or need; to just throw up our hands in despair and not care anymore.
Instead, our own sufferings become our opportunity to show Christ to others—to be like Christ when He suffers; Christ who shows love to the world despite the sufferings we inflict on Him, despite the pain He endures: the love that doesn’t look for someone to blame but carries the cross up the hill; the love that doesn’t show anger or outrage but endures with patience; the love that doesn’t give up or quit, but continues on; the love that opens our heart to the suffering and pain of others.
What I’ve learned more than anything from the suffering and sorrow of my own life, of my own situation, is that EVERYONE suffers. And even though the situations I suffer through are mine—the pain, the frustration, the fear, the sadness—they’re the same.
For me. For you. For the father in the story. For the person sitting next to you. For everybody.
And the love that Christ has is the love that He shows during His own suffering, the love that leads Him to carry His cross all the way up to Golgotha and die on it for us.
That love that doesn’t judge. That love is patient. That love is kind, even to the end and despite the suffering.
We can show that same love, and in the same way—even during our own sufferings.
To me. To you. To someone like the father in the story. To the person sitting next to you. To everybody.
And we show that love every time, despite our own pain and our own sorrows, and our own problems; we seek out someone else that we know is hurting. And we spend a little time with them. And we listen to them. And we pray for them. And we try to be like Christ to them. And when someone who sees us hurting and comes to us, we spend time with them, too. And we listen to them. And we pray for them. And we try to be like Christ to them.
The love that God has that will raise us up on the last day to a place where pain, sickness, sorrow, and even sighing have fled away!
And God gives us that love even now. And even during our greatest sufferings, we can share it with others.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen!
Archpriest Sergius Halvorsen is director of the Doctor of Ministry Program and assistant professor of Homiletics and Rhetoric at St. Vladimir’s Seminary. He delivered this sermon on November 8, 2018 on the Feast of the Synaxis of Archangel Michael and the Other Bodiless Powers at the Seminary’s Three Hierarchs Chapel.
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In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today the disciples are excited. Jesus sent them out two by two, telling them to heal the sick and proclaim that the Kingdom of God is near. And now the disciples return, and they are excited.
They say, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!”
And Jesus says, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.”
“I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you.”
This must have made the disciples even more excited.
I know it makes me excited, to think about the power that God gives to his followers.
But then, Jesus does the strangest thing. Just as I start to get excited about my power, Jesus says, “Don’t rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
Wait a minute.
Sure, having my name written in heaven is nice, but having power over demons, now that is something to be proud of. That is impressive!
And this is probably exactly what the disciples were thinking: “Hey, look what we can do in the name of Jesus. This is impressive. We really have power.”
So when Jesus says, “I saw Satan fall like lightening from heaven,” perhaps it’s a warning—a warning against the pride that was Satan’s tragic downfall. Perhaps it was a reminder that “God has shown strength with his arm, he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree (Lk 1.51-2).”
Instead of glorifying God, the evil one chose to glorify himself, and this was his undoing. Satan fell like lightning from heaven, because he was proud, because he tried to use God’s gifts to glorify himself.
And how tempting is it for us to use our God-given talents to make ourselves look good?
“Look at my power.” “Look at my ability.” “Look at me.”
How easy is it to make the same mistake as the evil one—the mistake of thinking that I always know best, that my gifts and talents make me better than everyone else?
On the last day the books will be opened and the deeds will be tried. All my power, my status and my strength will be stripped away and my secret sins of pride will be revealed: all the times I used my God-given talents to make myself look good; all the times I put down my neighbor to exalt myself; all the times I expected others to serve me instead of, “Bearing my brother’s burden and fulfilling the law of Christ” (Gal 6.2).
God’s judgment comes upon the proud ones of the earth.
And this judgment begins today, for the way of pride is the road to hell. Because pride is more addictive and more toxic than the strongest narcotic. Pride gives you a fleeting moment of intoxication. You feel great about yourself, but like a flash of lightning, it is gone. And then I’m left in agony, craving praise, desperately looking for the next injection of self-glory. And even if we somehow manage a prolonged intoxication of vanity, we live in constant fear that other people are more popular and more well-liked; the hard work and success of others is not cause for joy, but a threat to my reputation, a threat to my glory.
There is no peace in pride, only the torment of the addicted. Slavery to self-glory is a living hell.
Yet our merciful Lord does not allow us to languish in sin and death. Christ rescues us from our pride through his extreme humility; through his humiliating death on the Cross, Christ shows us the humble path of salvation.
Today we celebrate Archangel Michael and the bodiless powers who show us the way of humility.
In all their angelic power, in all their spiritual splendor, in all their heavenly magnificence, the bodiless powers ceaselessly glorify God and do His will—in humility. It was the angel Gabriel that announced to the Virgin Mary that she would bear the Son of God. It was an angel who told the shepherds the good news of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. It was an angel who rolled back the stone from the tomb, and said to the women disciples, “Do not be afraid; for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has risen, as he said….go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead.”
The name “angel” means messenger, and this is why we aspire to the angelic life, to be God’s humble servants, God’s humble messengers, using our God-given talents to glorify God.
But how, as flesh and blood human beings, do we glorify the invisible God?
St. John reminds us that, “If any one says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1Jn 4.20).
So, if I don’t lovethe neighbor whom I see, how can I lovethe unseen God? If I don’t honorthe neighbor whom I see, how can I honorthe unseen God? And if I don’t thankthe neighbor whom I see, how can I thankthe unseen God?
Our path of humility begins by honoring the people who love us and care for us, and help us in so many ways. Honor and affirm your patient and longsuffering family. Honor and affirm your faithful friends. Honor and affirm the people who work tirelessly on your behalf. Thank the generous benefactors who support your ministry. Thank the people who do their job faithfully day in and day out. Thank the strangers whose unsung service makes our life easier.
By loving, and honoring and thanking the neighbor, we follow Christ on the life-giving path of humility. And as we follow Christ to the Cross, we are escorted by angelic hosts who are arrayed in battle formation around us, protecting us from the fiery darts of the evil one.
With fear and love we draw near to the holy of holies to give thanks and glorify the almighty God, around whom stand thousands of archangels and hosts of angels, the Cherubim and the Seraphim, six-winged, many-eyed, who soar aloft borne on their pinions, singing the triumphant hymn: Holy, Holy, Holy! Together with these blessed angelic powers, we join in that angelic song, saying, “Holy art thou, O God, who so loved the world that you gave your only begotten son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have life everlasting.”
