Taking Others at their Word

One morning, oh, about 10 or 11 years ago, I was running a bit late for work. I left in such a hurry, I forgot that I had taken my debit card out of my wallet. There was no cash in there either, but that was par for the course.

Anyway, after I got into my Jeep and had driven down the driveway, I noticed an index card someone had put under my windshield wiper: some kind of note, I guess. But, as I say, I was in a hurry, so I decided to just leave it there and drive on. I’d see what it was when I got to work.

Then, when I got to the outskirts of downtown Indianapolis, it suddenly began to rain. And I mean buckets of rain – a real deluge. So, I set my windshield wipers to full speed and they were barely keeping up. This, of course, dislodged the index card, which then became stuck to the windshield directly in my line of sight.

Some mornings everything goes wrong.

As a result of these distractions, I failed to immediately notice the traffic ahead of me slowing to a stop. When I did notice, I slammed on the brakes of course, but the road was slick from the rain and I slammed – ever so gently – into the car in front of me.

The car pulled into a parking lot just ahead and I followed. We exchanged insurance information and waited for the police, who came and made a report. That was the end of that. (Except for when they sued me two years later, but that’s another story). I never did discover what, if anything, was written on the index card.

When all was said and done, I noticed that one of my tires was mostly flat. To this day I don’t understand the physics behind that. There was no puncture. Anyway, I was right next to a gas station, with an air pump, so I got it over there. The machine took quarters.

I had no quarters – no cash, no debit card, no cell phone. And I’m late for work. I can’t risk driving the Jeep with such low tire pressure. I have no way to work. No way to get home. No way to let my boss know why I’m late and getting later. The rain and the distress of the morning have turned me into a disheveled sight.

So, there I am, transformed in an instant from an employed husband and father of two with a house and a mortgage, into a bum with a ridiculous sob story begging for change from passersby at a gas station.

un mendiant – Pencil –  Gavarni P.

I felt rather a fool telling my story and begging for change only to be ignored by everyone I asked both in and out of the gas station. Most ignored me completely – not even making eye contact. One to whom I did manage to speak gave me quite a look of incredulity, actually rolling his eyes. I was not believed and I was not helped. For me, they could not spare a dime, as they purchased their coffees and gasoline.

Realizing I was making something of a nuisance of myself, I decided to go elsewhere to beg. Across the street was a bar just opening up. I walked in. And there, I was listened to. The bartender opened up the till and gave me some quarters, and all was well. Thus ended my career as a beggar.

One thing to learn from all this is that, if we’re going somewhere together, you may want to offer to drive. But another thing to learn is to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and to “give without expecting repayment” (Luke 6:31, 35a).

Do you want to be taken at your word? Then take others at their word, even if your suspicions are aroused. In Christ, we may become as guileless as children – as innocent as doves, even while we are at the same time as cunning as serpents (Matt 10:16).

You might need others to take you at your word quite suddenly, as I learned from experience – even if they don’t know you and have no reason to trust you – even regarding an unbelievable situation.

That’s another thing, just because you don’t believe a beggar’s story (and I’ve certainly heard some whoppers) doesn’t mean you can’t offer to help. “The Most High is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish” (Luke 6:35b). We can be kind to the unbelievable, to the liar and the thief, to the drug addict and the prostitute.

We might be surprised to find that it’s unexpected folks who are kind to us in our time of need. I was quite struck by the fact that the straitlaced types buying gas at the gas station wouldn’t help me, but the folks at the bar, thought by some to be of less moral quality, were the ones who helped me. They gave without expecting anything in return.

Let’s let go of the question of what’s in it for us. God doesn’t show us kindness, mercy, and love for his sake, but for ours. And he commands us to do the same. Far from limiting our loving-kindness to those who can give us something in return, Jesus teaches us to love even our enemies. Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you, give to everyone who asks, give even to the thief, give without expecting anything in return (Luke 6:27-30, 35).

“Be merciful,” he commands us, “even as your Father is merciful.”  And this is the point, really. He is commanding us to be like God, which we become by his grace. God is kind to the unkind and loving to the unloving. He is kind and loving to us. Let us be kind and loving to each other, also to our enemies, real and imagined. Only when there is not one excluded from our love are we in Christ.

Weeding our own Garden - or - Don't Garden Drunk

To be honest, most of us have had the experience of having too much to drink. Many people have experienced this, of course. It's a rather common phenomenon for a person who has never had alcohol before – and who doesn't yet understand how it affects people – to drink a bit too much at first and to become drunk.

Well, Noah was apparently the first person to ever drink wine. He was the first to plant a vineyard (Gen 9:20) and when he drank the wine, he became drunk and lay uncovered in his tent (9:21). Given his inexperience and the inexperience of the whole human race at this point, this is really an unsurprising and predictable result.

Nonetheless, it is a shameful and embarrassing situation for a father to be discovered drunk and naked by his son and this is what happened to Noah when Ham walks in (9:22). Further unspeakable indecencies may be hinted at by some Hebrew euphemisms in the text but the situation is difficult enough without all that. And, regardless, if we have ears to hear, I think this story teaches us both the importance of sobriety and the proper way to regard others in their sins.

Deliberately getting drunk is a sin. As Catholics, and therefore as adversaries of teetotalers and Puritans, we may not say this often enough for fear of being lumped in with them, so I'll say it again: deliberately getting drunk is a sin. Alcoholism is a disease. Accidentally getting drunk is an involuntary sin or an infirmity.

In each case, we stand in need of healing. Our Lord, who alone can heal us, offers us this healing both directly and through one another, through our prayer and support for one another, through the Holy Mysteries of repentance, of anointing, and of communion in his holy body and blood.

Sobriety, however, does not only refer to the moderation of our use of alcohol. First of all, there are many other addictions. I think almost everyone is addicted to something: to alcohol or drugs, to pornography or sex, to food or sugar, to video games or social media, or to our countless passions. All these things offer us a momentary release or escape from our pain. Those who suffer less are less susceptible to addictions, by the way. There's always a pain at the root of an addiction. So, we addicts stand in need of a healing of the root.

Yet, the way to healing and to life shown to us by Jesus Christ is counterintuitive – it is the way of the cross. We're more inclined to run to our addictions and away from our pain, but the way out is through. This is the only real way out to where we want to go – to "a place of light, joy, and peace where there is no pain, sorrow, nor mourning" – through the cross. We must deny ourselves and embrace the very thing that hurts us – as Jesus embraces his cross (Mark 8:34). Usually, this means loving and forgiving an enemy, just as Jesus forgave those who were crucifying him, even as they were driving the nails into his hands and feet (Matt 5:44; Luke 23:34). He did not wait for them to apologize. This is the way of the cross – the way to healing and everlasting life. Unforgiveness, on the other hand, is a kind of drunkenness of the soul.

Sobriety is a spiritual condition. In the spiritual life, sobriety is also known as "watchfulness" or "νῆψις". This is the opposite of a drunken stupor. We must stay awake, be alert, vigilant, and watchful over our own hearts, lest we get drunk on our passions.

When the weed of unforgiveness or resentment, or anger (like the anger of Noah when he knew what his youngest son had done to him) begins to take root in our hearts, we must pluck it out before it has time to grow deep roots (Gen 9:24-27). If, for example, we wait for someone to apologize before we will forgive them, we may find that, even if they do eventually apologize, our resentment will have by then grown too strong for us to overcome – its roots too deep for us to dig up. If we are drunk like Noah was drunk – that is, if we are deeply imbued in our passions and addictions – we will lack the careful attention needed to weed the garden of our hearts without uprooting the herbs and vegetables and flowers of holiness and virtue and goodness which the Lord has planted in us.

We must always keep careful watch over our own gardens, but it is not our business to go rooting around in someone else's garden. "Yes, O Lord and King, let me see my own sins and not judge my brothers and sisters" (The Prayer of St. Ephrem). Ham looked upon the nakedness and drunkenness of his father and he told his two brothers about it – instead of keeping his mouth shut (Gen 9:22).

"A prudent man conceals his knowledge,

           but fools proclaim their folly...

He who guards his mouth preserves his life;

            he who opens wide his lips comes to ruin" (Prov 12:23;13:3).

"Lord and Master of my life, spare me from... idle chatter" (The Prayer of St. Ephrem).

Shem and Japheth, on the other hand, acted rightly and with respect for their father. They "took a garment, laid it upon both their shoulders, and walked backward and covered the nakedness of their father; their faces were turned away, and they did not see their father's nakedness" (Gen 9:23). We must never look greedily upon the sins or weaknesses or infirmities of others, whether it is to laugh at them or to puff ourselves up – saying like the Pharisee "Thank God I am not like this sinner" (Luke 18:11). Rather, like Shem and Japheth, let us avert our eyes from the sins of others and focus on repenting for our own sins.

This is not to say that there is never a time to lovingly admonish the sinner or correct the wayward, but these actions are always taken for the good of the other and never for exalting the self by comparison. That is how we can discern whether or not we should say something.   

Two kinds of enemies

On Matt 6:14-21

Cheesefare Sunday

There are two kinds of enemies we must keep in mind as we fast. There are the enemies we must forgive – and there are the enemies we must destroy.

First, there is the enemy we must love and forgive. Today our Lord Jesus teaches us how to fast, and he begins his teaching with talk of forgiveness. A true fast must begin with forgiveness. We Byzantines take this literally – tonight we begin our Great Fast with Forgiveness Vespers, confessing and forgiving all the wrongs that we have done.  

Just before our Lord teaches us how to fast, he teaches us how to pray (Matt 6:5-13). He teaches us the Lord’s Prayer, which we pray many times daily – and in which we pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

                         

And today he elaborates on the meaning of this prayer, saying, “If you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but” – and this is a terrifying conjunction – “if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt 6:14-15).

Our Father’s forgiveness is not exactly unconditional – though he makes it always available to us, and no sin of ours can cut us off irredeemably from his mercy. But Jesus himself reveals the condition of our Father’s forgiveness – that is, we must forgive others. We must put aside all our enmity and hate and resentment over wrongs.

St Maximus the Confessor writes, “Strive as hard as you can to love everyone. If you cannot yet do this, at least do not hate anybody. But even this is beyond your power unless you scorn worldly things.”[i] Fasting rightly will teach us scorn of worldly things, which will help us put aside our hate for others. This is necessary because we are not to be an enemy to anyone.

Just because you have an enemy, doesn’t mean that you have to be an enemy. There is probably someone who hates you and opposes the good that you are and the good that you do – a person who makes himself your enemy.

We will have enemies, whether or not we create them by our own evil doing. Jesus assures us that if we follow him, we will be hated, as he has been hated (cf. Matt 10:22; John 15:18). Christ himself has enemies and so, if we become like Christ, we will be like him also in this. Furthermore, he commands us to love our enemies, which presupposes that we will have enemies to love (cf. Matt 5:44).

So, how do I stop being an enemy of my enemies? I forgive and seek reconciliation. I make restitution for any wrongs. If my enemy will not reconcile with me, I can still remain open to the one whose heart is closed to me. I can love and forgive the one who hates and hurts me. I can pray for those who persecute me. All this in imitation of the supreme example of Christ Jesus on the cross, who cries out, “Father forgive them.” And really, it is this cross that gives us the power to forgive. Only in Christ and in his cross can we truly offer forgiveness.

Forgiveness isn’t something entirely within our own power. When the Pharisees say, “Who can forgive sins but God alone,” they have a point (though they fail to see that they are making their point to God himself). But if you’ve ever felt like you couldn’t forgive someone because they have hurt you so deeply or because their crime is so heinous, in a way, you’re right. That is, you can’t forgive them of your own individual power, by your own unaided will. You can’t do it, but Christ can, and in Christ, you can forgive.

Forgiveness is a grace – a participation in the life of God. As they say, to forgive is divine. Only by the grace of God can we find the power to forgive, to release those whose crimes against us have bound them to death, to abandon them utterly to God’s good graces, to seek every good on their behalf.

The process of theosis – our dynamic ascent into ever greater union with God – precedes forgiveness, accompanies forgiveness, and results from forgiveness. In forgiving, we become more like God, who forgives. We are forgiven as we forgive. Forgiving and being forgiven are one action of God in us.

As we enter the Great Fast, let this be our approach and God’s approach in us and between us toward all. Let us invoke blessings and not curses upon our enemies.

St. John Chrysostom points out that “praying against one’s personal enemies is a transgression of law.”[ii] Yet, anyone who prays the psalms will soon notice that they are filled with curses against enemies. So what does this mean for us?

It means that there is another kind of enemy – one with whom we must never be reconciled. In another place, St. John Chrysostom says, “We are commanded to have only one enemy, the devil. With him never be reconciled! But with a brother, never be at enmity in your heart.”[iii]

As an exorcist of demons, Jesus teaches us who our enemies really are. Our enemies are not each other or other parties or other nations, but the demons and the evil that is in our own hearts. It is toward these enemies that we must direct the curses of the psalms and it is against these enemies that we must strive by our fasting.

Just as our fast is entered and sustained in the spirit of forgiveness and patience with others’ faults, so it is also an act of war against our true enemies – the devil and his demons and our own passions. How shall we wage this war?

St. John the Dwarf writes,

“If a king wanted to take possession of his enemy's city, he would begin by cutting off the water and the food and so his enemy, dying of hunger, would submit to him. It is the same with the passions of the flesh: if a man goes about fasting and hungry, the enemies of his soul grow weak and can be conquered thereby.”

We begin the fast by forgiving our pretended enemies – our neighbors and fellow humans – so that then, free from the distraction of focusing our energies on waging a campaign against them, we can turn that power instead against our true enemies: the demons and our own passions.

Against these enemies, let us pray with the Psalmist,

      O Lord, plead my cause against my foes;

fight those who fight me.

Take up your buckler and shield; arise to help me.

Take up the javelin and the spear against those who pursue me.

       O Lord, say to my soul: “I am your salvation.”

Let those who seek my life be shamed and disgraced.

Let those who plan evil against me be routed in confusion.

Let them be like chaff before the wind;

let God’s angel scatter them.

Let their path be slippery and dark;

let God’s angel pursue them.

They have hidden a net for me wantonly;

they have dug a pit.

Let ruin fall upon them and take them by surprise.

Let them be caught in the net they have hidden;

let them fall into their pit.

But my soul shall be joyful in the Lord and rejoice in his salvation (Psalm 34:1-9).

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[i] Fourth Century on Love, 82

[ii] Against Publishing the Errors of the Brethren, 10.

[iii] Homily 20