In His Love and in His Pity

So He became their savior.  In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the angel of His presence saved them; in His love and in His pity He redeemed them, and He bore them and carried them all the days of old.  Isaiah 63:8-9 Thursday, of course, is the Feast of the Ascension for us Orthodox.  It has been forty days since Pascha, and a little judicious counting on fingers and toes will tell us when Pentecost will arrive.  That is still in the future though.  First, we have the Ascension to think about. Other than the yearly fish fry at Ascension Monastery in Georgia, what does this day mean?  It is little celebrated among Protestants, and thus among most Americans.  Indeed, the overwhelming sense of the day is that it marks Jesus absconding, as it were, to heaven to prepare for the really big event at the end.  It produces almost a sense of disappointment.  It is as if Superman saves everyone from a burning building, only to deposit them on a sinking ship.  “My work here is done,” says Superman, as he flies off to a little well earned R&R.  No one will admit it, but there is a palpable sense of disappointment, of frustration.  “Finish the job, for Pete’s sake,” might be the theme. Do I overstate this?  I would suggest not.  The reason is that western theology is fixated on the end.  In the east, we fixate on the journey, because the nature and quality of the journey determines the end.  Thus, in the west, once Jesus ascends, there is nothing to look forward to except His return.  In the meantime, having made the salvific decision, there is really little to do but buttonhole heathens, preferably in distant yet scenic places, and read books about that blessed, glorious day when Christ returns and deals a swift knock-out punch to all of those people who are misbehaving. Of course, it is true that He will return, and, yes, there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth, but here’s a revolutionary thought:  The return is not what is important for you and me. Christ did not come to earth to appease an out of control Father with anger issues.  He came to earth to release us from slavery, from bondage to sin and death.   He came to re-open the gates of paradise,  to “become man so that we might become god”, as St. Athanasius put it.  He came to heal, not to destroy.  He came to release, not to imprison.  He came to complete us, to fix our brokenness. In the Ascension, Christ did not flee, but rather cleared the way for the Holy Spirit.  He also did something very important.  When Jesus ascended to heaven, he took His humanity with him, He took His flesh with him.  Body and soul, he ascended.  This act tells us that we can follow; that it is possible for men and women to be human and to have a hope of seeing God.  So on this Feast, it is appropriate to meditate on the path before us.  Metropolitan Hierotheus quotes St. Gregory Palamas to make the point: So by the feast of the Ascension we are celebrating the enthronement of our nature in heaven.  By the Resurrection and the Ascension of human nature we are at the same time also celebrating the beginning of the resurrection and ascension of every believer.  Therefore, when a person takes part in Christ’s Ascension, he is no longer a man of the earth, like the first man, but a man of heaven, like the second man, Christ. The road is before us.  The way is clear.  We are limited only by our capacity, aided immeasurably by the Holy Spirit, to love, to sacrifice, to join battle against our passions.  The path is clear.  In His Ascension, Jesus invites us to follow.

Too busy to be contemplative

Today the Church commemorates Martha and Mary, sisters of Lazarus and friends of the Lord.  Much is said about the women in all manner of churches.   Some Protestant commentators find lessons concerning feminism in the story of the women.  More commonly, Mary is praised for her absorption in Jesus’ message.  She does not work and bustle about in His presence, instead preferring to listen, to learn and to worship.  Martha, of course, is more active.  She is intent on fixing dinner, in making sure everything and everyone is taken care of.  Jesus Himself remarks that Mary has chosen the best part.

I thought about this story last night as I was reading more about the Desert Fathers and Mothers.  In some respects, Martha and Mary can be taken as types of the worldly and contemplative lives, a sort of proto-monasticism if you will.  In a sense, this is probably a reasonable conclusion to draw.  But it raises a question:  how do we balance things of the world with a heartfelt desire to contemplate and to worship?

The story I read last night helped shed a little light on the matter, at least for me.  Paesius and Isaiah were brothers, the sons of a rich merchant.  When their father died, each became enormously wealthy.  They talked about what they should do.  Each had the same goal:  “Let us come to the way of the truth, and let us acquire the life and conversation of the Christians, whereby we shall both keep the benefit of what our father has left us, and get possession of our soul.”  One of the brothers took his inheritance, and distributed it entirely among churches and monasteries, the poor and the sick.  He then learned a handicraft with which he could support himself, and spent all of his time in prayer and fasting.  The other brother did not give away his  possessions, but built a monastery for himself and some other monks, and provided for strangers and the poor, the aged and the sick.  He fed them and cared for their needs.

The two brothers died, and many wondered which of them was the more righteous.  The brethern, therefore, went to Abba Pambo, and asked the question of him.  He replied:  “They are both perfect.  One man made manifest the work of Abraham by his hospitality, and the other the self-denial of Elijah.”  The brethren were not satisfied; each thought that one or the other brother was more virtuous.  Abba Pambo said:

Unless the one had fasted he would not have been worthy of the goodness and compassion of the other, and again, the other in relieving the wants of strangers also lightened his own load, for although a man may think that he hath trouble in receiving them, yet he also gains rest of the body.  But tarry ye here a few days so that I may learn the answer from God, and come ye back to me and I will declare it unto you.

A few days later they returned, and Abba Pambos said “I have seen them both standing in the Paradise of Eden, as it were in the presence of God.”

Despite His approving comments about Mary, scripture tells us that Jesus also loved Martha, and if our cares are heavy and our burden overwhelming, we can take heart.  For even if we cannot be contemplatives as our hearts may desire, we can be beloved of Christ even in our busy-ness.  It is the heart that counts.  When we can, we must be still and listen to God.  If we cannot be still, if life and care keep us from pure contemplation and prayer, we must make sure that our love is also busy.