Thank you for this wonderful Lenten meditation. Meditating on the points you made, I just had a couple thoughts. The first comes from Unseen Warfare (the Eastern Orthodox edit), where the basic rule he essentially sets out for spiritual warfare which leads to theosis and deification, is for me to realize and completely absorb I cannot do what is necessary to fight this fight and to be healed, and secondly, to thus put all my trust in God to do this for me (of course while I'm conducting basic ascetic or practical disciplines and prayer). The author than goes on to say that if I fail to keep the commandments, if I sin, if my spiritual life gets lax, whatever, that for me to despair over this or even to give into sorrow, shows that I have pride in my own abilities rather than trust in God. The pain of a wounded ego is really just God's medicine. The other thought I had was of Gregory of Nyssa in his Life of Moses, where he essentially says, progress is perfection. It is in the act of following God ever beyond ourselves, ever beyond us, that we are perfected. In any given moment perfection is not being a super hero per se, but rather not falling out of the process of following God up the mountain into the the Divine Darkness or Uncreated Light or whatever.
I know I'm babbling here, but one other thing came to mind. It's quite humurous I think actually. A spiritual son of St. Sophrony of Essex came to visit him one day at the Monastery he established in the UK and looking at him, he couldn't help but sit in awe. This is a saint, he thought. He's really a saint! (He'd been known for miracles and clairvoyance, etc...). And St. Sophrony sensing what this man was thinking punched him in the face (I don't think hard) until finally the person thought--this man is definitely not a saint and Sophrony told the man, he's just a man. To think I can do wonders or rather do them on my own or that I am a saint is deadly--we lose grace. But also to think that because I fail, I am beyond aid, is also pride and we lose grace because inevitably, it always comes down to the fact that, I need God and Grace and faith in his power for I can't do it myself, only he can.
Yes: "What do you have that you have not received?" Even our reception is his reception, since Christ receives his own Father, in the Spirit, in me. He distributes himself to become me, but this means simultaneously that the "me" I am is always also his self-gift. The Christ born through our lives is the very one who gives us the power to birth him. It's a reciprocal, perichoretic relationship all the way down.
I picked up the Sayings of the Desert Fathers years ago (the Penguin with the image you used here in the cover) and it is a book always worth returning to. The stories are extraordinary, but the headings make clear that they are teaching the most ordinary lessons of Christian life.
Thank you for this wonderful Lenten meditation. Meditating on the points you made, I just had a couple thoughts. The first comes from Unseen Warfare (the Eastern Orthodox edit), where the basic rule he essentially sets out for spiritual warfare which leads to theosis and deification, is for me to realize and completely absorb I cannot do what is necessary to fight this fight and to be healed, and secondly, to thus put all my trust in God to do this for me (of course while I'm conducting basic ascetic or practical disciplines and prayer). The author than goes on to say that if I fail to keep the commandments, if I sin, if my spiritual life gets lax, whatever, that for me to despair over this or even to give into sorrow, shows that I have pride in my own abilities rather than trust in God. The pain of a wounded ego is really just God's medicine. The other thought I had was of Gregory of Nyssa in his Life of Moses, where he essentially says, progress is perfection. It is in the act of following God ever beyond ourselves, ever beyond us, that we are perfected. In any given moment perfection is not being a super hero per se, but rather not falling out of the process of following God up the mountain into the the Divine Darkness or Uncreated Light or whatever.
I know I'm babbling here, but one other thing came to mind. It's quite humurous I think actually. A spiritual son of St. Sophrony of Essex came to visit him one day at the Monastery he established in the UK and looking at him, he couldn't help but sit in awe. This is a saint, he thought. He's really a saint! (He'd been known for miracles and clairvoyance, etc...). And St. Sophrony sensing what this man was thinking punched him in the face (I don't think hard) until finally the person thought--this man is definitely not a saint and Sophrony told the man, he's just a man. To think I can do wonders or rather do them on my own or that I am a saint is deadly--we lose grace. But also to think that because I fail, I am beyond aid, is also pride and we lose grace because inevitably, it always comes down to the fact that, I need God and Grace and faith in his power for I can't do it myself, only he can.
Yes: "What do you have that you have not received?" Even our reception is his reception, since Christ receives his own Father, in the Spirit, in me. He distributes himself to become me, but this means simultaneously that the "me" I am is always also his self-gift. The Christ born through our lives is the very one who gives us the power to birth him. It's a reciprocal, perichoretic relationship all the way down.
nice reflection, truly.
thanks.
john behr would have us remember though, that while it's been 1700 years since then,
the same Holy Spirit who accomplished all this in all them,
is at the door,
should
you
brother,
but knock.
love has grown cold in the world, 'tis true. but set your sights on heavenly things alone, and you too might become as all flame.
together with you in repentance and prayer this lent;
-mark basil
I picked up the Sayings of the Desert Fathers years ago (the Penguin with the image you used here in the cover) and it is a book always worth returning to. The stories are extraordinary, but the headings make clear that they are teaching the most ordinary lessons of Christian life.
I just began reading Henry Nouwen’s The Way of The Heart: The Spirituality of the desert Fathers and Mothers.
I will read Thomas Merton next.
I am thankful Henry, Thomas, and you mediate and help us understand the project of the desert fathers and mothers.
A beautiful reflection. So good. Thank you.