What Can I Do?

The Lord said to His disciples, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” -Matthew 16:24-26

My heart was heavy as I read today’s Gospel. For most Christians, this passage is a familiar one, and many of us have probably reflected on it at one time or another to some degree. We ask ourselves, what does it mean to deny myself? Six thousand miles east of the oversized, comfy chair where I’m writing this, Christians in Iraq, Palestine and Syria are answering the question in ways that most of us could never imagine. Some want to take sides in various conflicts, as if we really know what is truly going on in these regions of the world. In the midst of all of this, the human soul created in the image of God gets relegated to secondary status as it becomes about who’s right and who’s wrong. But there is so much wrong that looking for the right in all of it becomes like looking for a precious gem in a landfill.

Last night I watched a video that showed the scope of the known universe. It began with an aerial view of the Himalayas. I got tears in my eyes as the camera moved outward. The lines that separate nation from nation don’t exist. I began to think about what really does exist. The elderly Christian couple who have just been exiled from the only home they’ve ever known exists. The Christian business owner who has had everything taken away except the clothes on his back exists. The young Christian mother and father who watched as their family’s only water was cruelly poured out onto the ground before their very eyes as they face a 42-mile walk toward exile exist. The group of very young Muslim boys whose minds are being fed the lie that anyone in the world who does not conform to what their sect teaches deserves to die exists. The 1,900 Christians and Muslims seeking refuge together from shell fire in a tiny Greek Orthodox Church in Gaza exist. So many lives are being irreparably damaged right now. So many are taking up crosses that seem unbearable.

Dormition of the Theotokos

We helplessly ask ourselves, what can I do? I write this on the eve of Dormition, which begins the commemoration of the falling asleep of the Mother of God.  During this period, Orthodox Christians are called to fast from meat, dairy, wine and oil. A special prayer service, the Paraclesis (supplication), is held daily in our Churches around the world. It has always been a time of renewal and contemplation for me. For many of us, it is a difficult time of year to fast or attend Church as we are traveling or for other various reasons. However, I want to challenge you to try to commit to taking some extra time each day, for the next 15 days, to pray for our brothers and sisters suffering around the world. If you can’t attend Church, pray through the Paraclesis, which can be found here. Its words are so fitting for everything that is currently happening. In Galatians 6:2 St. Paul tells us to “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Maybe giving up that little bit of extra time each day is the cross that Christ is asking you and me to bear right now. I leave you with Psalm 142, the first Psalm which is prayed at the beginning of the Small Paraclesis. May you have a blessed fast.

“O Lord, hear my prayer, give ear to my supplications in Your truth; hear me in Your righteousness. Do not enter into judgment with Your servant, for in Your sight no one living is justified. For the enemy has persecuted my soul; he has crushed my life to the ground; he has made me dwell in darkness like those who have long been dead, and my spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is distressed. I remembered the days of old; I meditated on all Your works: I pondered on the work of Your hands. I spread out my hands to You; my soul longs for You, like a thirsty land.

 Hear me quickly, O Lord; my spirit fails. Do not turn Your face away from me, lest I be like those who go down into the pit. Cause me to hear Your mercy in the morning, for in You I have put my trust. Cause me to know, O Lord, the way in which I should walk, for I lift up my soul to you. Rescue me, Lord, from my enemies; to You have I fled for refuge. Teach me to do Your will, for you are my God. Your good Spirit shall lead me in the land of uprightness. For Your name’s sake, O Lord, you shall quicken me. In Your righteousness you shall bring my soul out of trouble, and in Your mercy, You shall utterly destroy my enemies. And You shall destroy all those who afflict my soul; for I am Your servant.”

 

 

Come Forth!

Some Reflections on Lazarus Saturday

There are so many beautiful services in the Orthodox Church during Great Lent, but there is one in particular that has pierced my heart more than any of them.  It is Lazarus Saturday, where we commemorate Christ’s raising Lazarus from the dead.  At first, I wasn’t even sure why it made me feel the way that it did.  The story from John, Chapter 11 has always been one of my favorites.  As I reflect on its history in my own life, I am beginning to understand more about how the beauty of Christ’s own humanity has made it possible for me to become fully human again.  When I say “fully human,” what I mean is that it is possible for a Christian to live a life so surrendered to Christ, that His image in them is fully realized and can be restored to what God had originally intended before the fall.  This truth of restoration, or healing of the soul, has been the teaching of Christ’s Church since its beginning.  It is unfortunate that many Christians today no longer understand this truth: that the soul’s healing is a process, and not just a “right standing” before God, which often reduces their relationship with God to a contractual agreement.  This has unfortunate consequences in the lives of those who have a deep desire to seek the fullest possible relationship with God.  In my own life it led to me feeling frustrated, like I had hit a wall when I sought to know Christ on a deeper level.

So, why does Lazarus’s story so profoundly affect my own?

The winter of 1998 was one of the darkest times I have ever experienced.  I was severely depressed.  My existance had been reduced to the entrapment of myself within the prison of my own mind.  It felt like I was living in a cold, dark cave without any purpose and no hope of escape.  I wanted to die.  I don’t remember many ‘moments’ from that period, but one does stand out.  I was riding in the car with my husband and parents.  It was dark so no one could see me.  I was crying my eyes out, thinking about Jesus, entering Bethany, calling into the darkness of Lazarus’s tomb and beckoning him to “come forth.”  Just like that, he was alive after being dead for four days.  The ache in my own soul was deep as I thought about the sweetness of Christ’s voice and what it must have sounded like to the soul of Lazarus.  What joy must have quickened that soul to unite with its lifeless, earthly body – to once again experience life in the here and now?  I wanted that!  I wanted to be drawn out from the darkness of the tomb in which I had been existing for months.  I wanted to live again.  But what I think was happening on a much deeper level was that my soul, made in the image of God, yet corrupted by sin, was crying out to be healed.

When I ponder what is going on in this story, it is truly astounding.  We learn that Mary, Lazarus’s sister, is the same Mary who anointed Christ’s feet with oil and wiped them with her hair.  Then, in John 11:5 it says “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.”   For the Apostle to point this out in his Gospel stood out poignantly to me.  Christ’s love, manifested in the lives of this family is a powerful picture of the love that He has for every one of us.  We see it illustrated also in that He was willing to go to Judea, where He knew he was in danger of being killed, to be with Mary and Martha.  When he arrives, Martha goes to Him.  Jesus proclaims the Gospel to her, that He is the Resurrection and the Life and it is clear that Martha believes in her heart this truth.  Christ then waits for Mary who, upon learning of His presence, runs to Him and falls at His feet.  When Christ sees their sorrow, He is in anguish.  Then when He is taken to Lazarus’s tomb, He weeps – God Himself – weeping for a man.  The Jews remarked, “See how He loved Him!”  Even though Christ was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, He weeps for him anyway!  Why? Because He loved  Lazarus.  He loved Lazarus’s sisters.  He wept over their sorrow.  I had to believe that He wept over my sorrow, too.

Last year was my first Lazarus Saturday service.  Great Lent has ended.  It is the day before we enter into the quiet sorrow of Holy Week, in which we remember Christ’s final days before His crucifixion.  During the Lazarus Saturday Liturgy, we sing one of the most powerful hymns ever written for the Church, “Rejoice, O Bethany!” The first time I sang it, its meaning was so heavy that it brought me to tears.  I realized that Bethany, the little village where Jesus performed one of his most beautiful miracles, is also my soul.  It is the place that contains the image of God in me.  The place yearning to be made whole again and freed from the grip of darkness – called forth by the loving voice of my Savior.  As I experienced my first Lazarus Saturday, it was like my past was finally brought to light in that present moment as I sang those powerful words…brought to life by the One Who is the Resurrection and the Life. I want to share with you the words of this hymn, as well as the music for the Koinonikon, which you can listen to here.

Rejoice, O Bethany!

Rejoice, rejoice, O Bethany!
On this day God came to thee,
And in Him the dead are made alive,
As it is right for He is the Life.

When Martha went to receive Him,
Grieving loudly with bitter tears,
She poured out the sorrow of her heart to Him
With great sadness, wailing her lament.

She at once cried out unto Him:
“My most compassionate Lord, my Lord,
At the great loss of my brother Lazarus
My heart is broken, help me.”

Jesus said to her, “Cease your weeping,
Cease your grieving and sad lament;
For your brother, My most beloved friend, Lazarus,
Very soon will live again.”

Then He, the faithful Redeemer,
Made His way unto the tomb,
Where he cried unto him who was buried four days,
Calling him forth, saying “Lazarus, arise.”

Come with haste, ye two sisters,
And behold a wondrous thing,
For your brother from the tomb has returned to life.
To the beloved Redeemer now give thanks.

To Thee, O Lord of creation,
We kneel down in reverence profound,
For all we who are dead in sin,
In Thee, O Jesus, are made alive.


–A Koinonikon for Lazarus Saturday,
Composed in Arabic by Metropolitan Athanasios Attallah of Homs, and
Translated and arranged by Bishop +BASIL (Essey)