Spiritual Disciplines

"God will not judge us about psalmody, nor for the neglect of prayer, but because by abandoning them we have opened our door to the demons." -- St. Isaac the Syrian

The Church has taught us to discipline ourselves through prayer, fasting and almsgiving. These three are really categories of disciplines that the Church recommends to us as means to “acquire the Holy Spirit”; that is, to be continually full of the Life of God. Any particular practice may be more or less helpful depending on our personalities, maturity, and circumstances in life (it’s pretty hard to chant akathist hymns while cooking and cleaning and minding several small children). The important thing to remember is that all such practices are not ends in themselves. As St. Isaac says, God will not judge you on whether or not you did or didn’t do your prayers, etc. Prayer, fasting and almsgiving are exercises—you might even say weapons—by which we close the door to demonic delusion in our lives and through which we begin to see Reality more clearly. Consequently, by means of the disciplines we are able to repent, to change, to cease following the “old man” of the flesh and passions, and come to let the “New Man” reign in our hearts and minds. It is this transformation that is important.

Since it is repentance (i.e. transformation) that Christ has called us to and the spiritual disciplines help us to repent, spiritual disciplines are very important. However, repentance does not mean feeling sad (although sometimes sadness can lead to repentance). Repentance means change, change from all the many forms of selfishness, pride and egoism, to the Life in the Spirit, manifested by certain qualities: love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, kindness, meekness and self control. Spiritual discipline that does not produce this fruit of the Spirit but rather is accompanied by frustration, anger, or self satisfaction (a sense of accomplishment), is probably evidence that you are practicing a discipline that is not right for you (at least at this point in your life) and that you need guidance in your spiritual life. For most of us, growing in the fruit of the Spirit can be likened to a city dweller’s first attempt at a garden: without advice we are likely to kill the plant before it actually starts to bear fruit. There are just so many variations of plants and their needs for various amounts of water, sun and soil nutrients. The spiritual life is similar; there are many disciplines, but only one goal: the fruit of the Spirit.

Prayer includes the whole array of techniques (or better yet, opportunities) to commune and develop communion with God. On the most basic level, prayer includes “just saying the prayers,” whether in Church or at home. It includes disciplines such as morning and evening prayers, repetitive prayer such as the Jesus Prayer or just the repetition of “Lord have mercy,” and long chanted prayers such as akathist hymns or canons. Prayer includes the misty mountain top experiences of “prayer of the heart” or wordless prayer—experiences that most of us may only glimpse from the valley of our beleaguered lives, but which our spiritual athletes, the monks, may come to experience often, even normally. Prayer also includes the reading of spiritual books, most importantly the Bible, but also the writings and the lives of holy men and women whose words open a window in our hearts and mind to the heavenly Reality. Prayer includes contemplation on these words and confession of our shortcomings (first to ourselves and then also in the Mystery of Confession) and participation in all of the Divine Mysteries offered in the Church.

Prayer in any of its forms, however, requires our attention; and this is where fasting comes in. Fasting is the voluntary limiting or focusing of ourselves and our actions. It is the practice of saying “no” to our selves. On the most obvious level, fasting includes not eating what we want to eat. And so that fasting does not become an exercise of self will—as in, “I think I will give up liver for Lent”—the Church provides guidelines for when and how to fast. It is important to remember that these are guidelines, not laws (Church fasting is not a revived form of the Old Testament dietary codes). Each person, under the guidance of a spiritual father and within the general framework of the Church’s calendar, must find a level of fasting that works for him or her. But fasting is about much more than food. In fact, you might even say that food is merely the icon: in fasting from food we learn to fast from needless speaking, from coarse jesting, from time-wasting and often sin-enticing entertainments. Abstaining from food manifests outwardly an inner abstention from selfish thoughts, fantasies, self pity, and the judging of others. Fasting can also include temporary abstinence in marriage (for a season of prayer; see 1 Cor. 7:5) and any other way we may limit our comforts and pleasures such as sleeping on a hard surface or wearing uncomfortable clothing or standing, kneeling or prostrating for long periods in prayer. All of these are kinds of fasting. It must be remembered, however, that the purpose of fasting is the same as any spiritual discipline: to produce the fruit of the Spirit in our lives. If such practices do not produce Life and Grace and the fruit of the Spirit, but frustration and friction in your mind and in your relationships with others, then you need to reevaluate your practice in consultation with a spiritual father.

A word here about spiritual fathers. Unless you are a monk in a monastery—and even then, many monastic fathers warn one to be careful and discerning in submitting to a spiritual guide even in a monastic context (see, for example St. Iganatius Brianchaninov The Arena pp. 43-47)—you should never blindly obey your spiritual father. We go to our spiritual father with our eyes wide open. Our spiritual father (or mother) is a human being subject to passions and delusion and misunderstanding just as we are. Not everything our spiritual fathers advise us will be as helpful as everything else. Sometimes his insight will be bang on and his recommendations “work” for us—that is, we are able to put them into practice and they produce the fruit of the Spirit, not frustration, anger or friction in our relationships. However, sometimes our spiritual father misses the mark. Maybe he’s having a bad day, or maybe it’s a matter that requires a more experienced spiritual guide, or maybe it is a matter that requires more perseverance on our own part. Whatever the case, if you think you need to speak to someone else about your spiritual life, you are free to do so. You do not have to ask permission first. It is like finding a medical doctor who is able actually to help you get better. Some doctors are good at general practice, some are better at certain areas of specialty. Common courtesy, however, requires that you tell your current spiritual father what you are doing. Especially if he is your parish priest, he needs to know that you are being cared for spiritually.

The third area of spiritual discipline is almsgiving. Most obviously, this involves giving money to those who need it. This includes giving money to poor people (or organizations that support poor people), but it also includes supporting the Church. Almsgiving, however, is about much more than money; it is about giving our selves away to others. Hospitality, volunteering, tutoring, encouraging, cooking, cleaning and all of the ways we find to take care of the needs and support the weaknesses of others can be thought of as kinds of almsgiving. Often, almsgiving is done in secret without making a big deal of it—seeing a job that needs to be done and doing it, seeing a need that needs to be met and meeting it. Here, as in the other spiritual disciplines, not every form of giving produces the same spiritual fruit in everyone. Each must find a way to give that brings Life; however, all must serve, all must give alms. Furthermore, it should be pointed out that just because one finds Life in one particular kind of service (let’s say teaching Sunday school), does not mean that he is off the hook when it comes time to wash the dishes. Work is a part of life, even work we don’t like; but when it comes to going the extra mile or giving beyond what is expected, this is where we find Grace and the fruit of the Spirit in serving in ways that bless others and manifest joy and peace in our own lives.

Before I wrap up, a few words on tithing are in order. Under the Old Covenant, there was a system of tithes (totaling about 30% if you add it all together, not counting freewill offerings), but under the New Covenant, tithing is superseded with the New Commandment that we “sell all and follow.” Just as the law forbidding adultery and murder were superseded with the New Commandments that we not even look on a woman to lust after her or even be angry with a brother (see Matt. 6), so tithing has been replaced with a commandment to give it all away. Now God has given each of us different callings. Some of us “give it all away” up front by entering a monastic community. Others “give it all away” by managing their resources as stewards for the Master. However, just as the New Commandments “do not look at a woman to lust after her” and “do not be angry with your brother” include the Old Commandments “thou shall not commit adultery” or “thou shall not murder,” so giving it all away includes tithing. It has often been said, and it has been my experience, that sometimes the most spiritually engaging exercise (discipline or ascetic practice) that people encounter in a month is writing their tithe check. Holding the pen in my hand I must ask myself again who owns the resources that I manage. The tithe, like the prostration in prayer or even scrubbing of floor in the kitchen of the fellowship hall, is the concrete way I manifest a spiritual reality: that all the things and wealth and resources that I manage really don’t belong to me but to God.

But we must never forget that God will not judge us based on our tithing or lack thereof (or any spiritual discipline for that matter). God will judge us by our repentance, by the Life of God within us, the acquisition of the Holy Spirit, by the fruit of holiness and love of God and neighbor that is produced in our lives. Tithing is a tool: it destroys the delusion that we have given everything to God when in fact we cannot even let go of ten percent of our income. It closes the door to the demons of greed and love of luxury. Prayer, fasting and almsgiving are our weapons to acquire the Life of God and destroy the demons’ strengthless presumption. They are how we actually put on Christ.

Spiritual Interpretations

In the epistle for this Sunday, (I Cor. 9:2-12), St. Paul asks the rhetorical question: “Who works as a soldier at his own expense?” That is, he asserts the obligation of a community to financially support those who “sow spiritual good” among them, an obligation that St. Paul had not pressed upon them, “rather than put an obstacle in the way of the Gospel of Christ.” On the one hand the Corinthians were obligated to provide “material benefits” to St. Paul and his fellow “plowmen”; but on the other hand he and Barnabas rather worked to support themselves while they ministered to the Corinthians so that the Gospel of Christ might face fewer obstacles. May God grant that all clergy would learn from St. Paul’s example and all laity from his illustration: “Don’t muzzle an ox when it is treading out the grain.”

St. Paul quotes from Deuteronomy 25:4, a verse which in its context is clearly referring to literal oxen grinding out literal grain; yet St. Paul says that it is not at all the oxen that God is concerned about. Rather, this verse speaks “entirely for our sake.” In typical Christian fashion (at least typical for the holy Fathers of the Church), St. Paul takes what has literal, material meaning under the Old Covenant, passes it through the prism of Christ, and provides a new, deeper, spiritual meaning for the Church. The oxen are the ministers of Christ who are to eat freely (but moderately following St. Paul’s example) of the grain that they are transforming into flour.

This exegetical principle of finding deeper meaning is crucial if one is to understand the teaching of Jesus. Jesus has some pretty harsh words to say about wealth and rich men, yet about half of his parables deal with wise use of money or other forms of wealth. This is not a contradiction, if we read the parables of Christ with the mind of the Church rather than with the mind of business men. Jesus is no more concerned about money and wealth than God in the Law of Moses was concerned about oxen. But just as a law commanding kindness to animals has a deeper meaning, so Christ’s parables about wealth and money have a deeper meaning too.

Please note that I could say “spiritual” meaning (instead of “deeper” meaning), but I don’t. Unfortunately for most English speaking people, “spiritual” implies “nonmaterial.” This is a grave problem in our language and cultures. Spirituality often has almost nothing to do with how Americans, Canadians and Europeans live their material lives. However, consider for a moment St. Paul’s “spiritualization” of the Law of Moses. He moves from cattle to apostles and from grain to “material benefits.” A spiritual interpretation for St. Paul (or for any holy Father of the Church) is not nonmaterial, it is more than material. Once we accept Christ’s teaching that man’s behavior comes from what is inside him, then we can begin to grasp the hermeneutical principle of spiritual interpretation. Spiritual interpretation takes the matter deeper: from the material and outward behavior to the “thoughts and intents of the heart,” that which produces the material. Far from being nonmaterial, true spiritual life and understanding is more than material: it is material-plus.

And of course, this is the point of Jesus’ parable of wicked servant who would not forgive his fellow servant a debt (Matthew 18:23-35). Forgiving our brothers and sisters their relatively small trespasses against us means nothing if it is merely a mental matter. If we say that we forgive, yet act in ways that “imprison” our brother, we are not rightly understanding Christ’s teaching. The “spiritual” interpretation of forgiving a debt as forgiving any offence does not stop in our minds. It must also be reflected in our actions.

I am the first to admit that real forgiveness, forgiveness that translates into behavior, is very difficult. It may take years of work in the heart before the triumphs of letting go of resentments and past injuries trickles out in behavior. And the reverse is also true. I may force myself to act kindly and as though I had completely forgiven someone even though the work in my heart is going slowly. That is, sometimes I must just do what is right and good, I must love my enemies, even though I don’t feel like it. Both are necessary, both are the “spiritual” teaching of Christ’s parable.

Making Solomon King, Twice

In 1 Chronicles 29:22b-24, we read: “And they made Solomon the son of David King a second time…and all Israel listened to him. All the leaders and the mighty men as well as all the sons of King David his father, were subject to him.” A second time? Why had I never seen that before? The note in the OSB says that the two enthronements prefigure the two comings of Christ. What are these two enthronements?

The first enthronement is reported in 3 Kingdoms (aka 1 Kings) 1: 38-40. This enthronement follows the civil war incited by the rebellion of Absalom and David’s subsequent return to the throne, and takes place while another of David’s sons, Adonijah, is making a go for the kingdom. Adonijah gets Joab, the commander of the Army, and Abiathar the priest to conspire with him to throw a party (“sacrificed sheep, calves, and lambs by the stone of the Serpent” v. 9) and invites “all his brothers, the king’s sons, and all the men of Judah,” and together they proclaim him king (“’long live King Adonijah’” v.25).

A few are not invited to the party, Nathan the prophet, Benaiah, David’s counselor and commander of the Cherethites and Pelethites (Philistine forces loyal to David) and Solomon. When David finds out about this, he sends Zadok the priest, Nathan and Benaiah along with the Cherethites and the Pelethites to anoint Solomon and proclaim him king. Zadok anoints Solomon at a spring named Gihon (just outside the eastern wall of Jerusalem) and they lead Solomon into the city riding on the king’s mule. The people of the city rejoice, but the kings sons (or “sons of the kingdom,” see Matthew 8:2) and most of the religious and political leaders are not there to see it. They are eating the feast of the false king, sacrificed at the Serpent’s stone (BTW, that is the only mention of such a place in the Bible). Missing the coronation of the real king, the guests of the false king have no recourse but to melt away in fear (v.49).

Like the first coming of Christ our Saviour, the king’s sons (the Jews) by in large missed it. The religious and political leaders, except for a few (Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea and others [see John 12:43]), missed out, beguiled by the serpent. Jesus is proclaimed God’s beloved Son at the water of the Jordon, and similarly Solomon is anointed at the spring of Gihon. And as the poor of the city of Jerusalem rejoiced when Solomon (riding on a mule) is proclaimed king, so the children and the poor rejoiced as the King of Glory enters Jerusalem, meek and riding on a donkey. Just as David was betrayed by close friends (Joab and Abiathar), so is Jesus betrayed by a disciple. Just as Solomon was proclaimed king by the foreigners (the Cherethites and Pelethites), so Christ’s first coming is proclaimed by the Gentiles.

The second time Solomon is made king is not recorded in the history of the books of the Kingdoms. It is recorded in the Chronicles which, while telling us that this is the second time Solomon is made king, do not mention the first time. The second time Solomon is made king is nothing like the first. It takes place just before King David’s death, in the context of passing on to Solomon the plans and all of the materials for the temple that David had planned to build for the Lord. The context (chs. 28 and 29) reads like the apocalyptic passages of Ezekiel and Revelation which talk of the heavenly temple. Huge amounts of gold and silver and precious stones of various colors and building materials of all kinds are mentioned. Details of rooms and serving utensils and of the Ark and of the cherubim and more gold and more silver are mentioned. It is in this “heavenly” setting that Solomon is made king a second time. Here “all the leaders and mighty men as well as the sons of King David his father are subject to him.” Here he receives “the glory of a king” (29:25).

When Christ comes again with glory, no one will be left out. Unlike the first coming in humility and hidden glory, the second coming will be such that no one can deny His lordship (“every knee will bow”). The heavens will open and the heavenly Temple will be manifest, the Bride of Christ, His Body, the Place where Christ dwells.

50 Years And Not Much Like a Saint

Today is my birthday—big 5-0. Am I an adult yet?

Bonnie and I were talking this morning over oatmeal and blueberries (the blueberries this year are awesome) about the bishops and the scandals and the various responses. She said, “I wonder what St. Nektarios would do?” That was a word to my heart. St. Nektarios didn’t fight, he bore and prayed—and became holy. May God grant us wisdom to speak our conscience, but not to fight. May we, through the prayers of St. Nektarios, learn how to bear and pray and become holy.

Me and Elder Prophyrios

No, I have never physically met Elder Prophyrios. My relationship with the Elder began the first time his book, Wounded by Love came into my house. Everyone, it seemed, was talking about it, so I got a copy. I jumped right in when my copy arrived and was quickly disturbed by what I read.

Obedience is the theme of the Elder’s monastic training, and I found that disturbing. It was disturbing not because God uses obedience to free us from ourselves (of which, Elder Prophyrios is an excellent example). It was disturbing because I have had not a little trouble in my life trying to understand and apply obedience. The first few pages of Wounded by Love brought many confusing thoughts and unpleasant memories to mind. I quickly lent the book to someone else who wanted to read it and haven’t seen it since.

That was about a year ago. Recently, several people whom I respect have suggested that I read it. They did not know about my first attempt. Nevertheless, “out of the mouth of two or three witnesses…” I decided to give it a go again. And behold, what should appear in the mail today, even before I had a chance to order a copy? My beloved oldest daughter sent Bonnie and me a copy of Wounded by Love as an anniversary gift (30^th on Tuesday!).

I began reading again, and this time read far enough to come to this passage: “I can’t give you an example of what real obedience is. It’s not that we have a discussion about the virtue of obedience and then I say to you, ‘go and do a somersault,’ and you obey. That’s not obedience. You need to be entirely carefree and not thinking at all about the matter of obedience, and then suddenly you are asked to do something and you are ready to do it joyfully” (p.19).

Well, if that is obedience, I have not tasted much of it. In my early days of learning about obedience, it was much like what Elder Prophyrios says it’s not. We would talk about obedience, then an opportunity to obey would come along (usually in the form of a confrontation of some sort). Then, in the light of the teaching about obedience, I would chose to obey, believing that the act of my will to obey would somehow demonstrate that I loved God and would release Grace. Today when I think about it, that sounds almost like magic; but the truth is that despite my convoluted understanding of obedience, God did pour out quite a lot of Grace on our community: enough Grace to lead us to the Holy Orthodox Church.

But where I went wrong, I think, was that I reduced love to obedience. For Elder Prophyrios, love preceded obedience. Love was the foundation, or you might even say the fountain head out of which proceeded joy and freedom and obedience. Obedience, for the Elder, was not something to talk about because it flowed naturally out of his love for his elders.

I loved my spiritual father, certainly I did, though it was nothing like the love Elder Prophyrios describes. And therein, perhaps, was the source of my problems. Because of my inability to love with joy and freedom, my attempts at obedience were encumbered with fears and doubts and a good deal of confusion. But here is an amazing thing, in spite of my weaknesses and the weaknesses of our community, God was able to bring us into the Church, and lead us to the Saints (both glorified and still in the flesh) who show us what healthy human beings look like. Through Elder Prophyrios I can see what a healthy relationship with a spiritual father looks like: a “carefree” love full of joy. Although we may, for convenience, talk about obedience (or any virtue) as a distinct virtue, it cannot be experienced in isolation. Love, eros, is the fountain out of which virtue flows. We may force ourselves to do good, to obey or be kind or be generous, and certainly this is a start, an approximation. But in the life of Elder Prophyrios and other saints, we see that the transformative power of virtue is fully at work only when those virtues flow naturally out of a loving relationship.

I want to add here at the end that I do not regret my past approximations of obedience. We spend our lives trying our best to become who we are called to be. We see through a glass darkly, sometimes very darkly. We try and fail, sometimes totally, sometimes only partially. We are hurt by those who try to love and help us, and in turn we hurt those we are trying to love and help. In fits and starts we approximate ourselves closer to our goal, forgiving those who injure us along the way and begging forgiveness of those whom we injure.

“And above all things have fervent love for one another, for ‘love will cover a multitude of sins.’”