Praying In The Rain

Self-importance is a tricky disease to diagnose, not in others, but in oneself. The problem lies in the fact that often (but not always) those who suffer from the spiritual sickness of self-importance are in positions that are actually important. Those of us who teach and/or lead in the Church or in politics or in education or in medicine or in business are indeed in positions of importance. However, it’s not the fact that we are in positions of importance that causes us to suffer from self-importance, but being in such a position does make it much harder for us to diagnose our disease.

I want to make clear to everyone that we will not be asking anyone about vaccination status. As in almost all matters, so with government health mandates, it is possible (probable) that very godly, intelligent and well-meaning people will disagree. Let’s not let self righteousness—and her children, fear, anger, and judgement—keep us from loving one another and believing the best of one another, even if we don’t see eye to eye on this or any other political or medical matter.

Here’s the problem: We so often set ourselves up for failure by thinking our best must mean that we should do what someone else, probably a saint, is doing or has done. And so, without discernment, we force ourselves to complete a rigorous prayer rule or fasting discipline, or to sleep very little, or attend copious church services, or to volunteer at every opportunity—all without discernment, often motivated by a pride that thinks that all we have to do is force ourselves and we will attain the spiritual heights others seem to have attained.

Our assurance must be in God Himself. Our assurance cannot be in being right, for we are human. Yes, being right is important, and we should strive for orthodoxy (ortho is Greek for ‘right’). We are the Orthodox Church, after all. However, we are also human. We are limited, do not know everything and are easily deceived. Our trust has to be in God, not in man.

Isn’t it strange how much easier it is to thank God when you have almost nothing, than it is when you have much more than you need? I have noticed this in myself. I am very thankful to God when I have a little bread (when I might not have any), but when I have bread going mouldy because I have so many other things to eat, I forget to give thanks. When we have abundance, we have to force ourselves give thanks, otherwise we won’t.

Today we live in a time of uncertainty; but really, today is no more uncertain than yesterday nor the day or year or century before. Certainty is a kind of delusion. It is a delusion that conveniently forgets that there is much, much more going on in the world than we know and can see. How, then, can we live in peace when our life is enveloped in uncertainty? How do we escape the fear of uncertainty?

Keep nurturing the disciplines and activities that tend to produce the fruit of the Spirit, and work to avoid the activities or relationships or situations that stir up your passions. This is what the Church calls asceticism.

There are many kinds of waves in the chaotic world we live in. Sometimes the waves are pushing to the left. Sometimes the waves push to the right. Really, there is no rhyme or reason to it. In fact, part of what can drive you crazy is how unreasonable life in this world is. Like the waves on the ocean, it all depends which way the wind is blowing. And the wind that influences the political and social realities of this fallen world is the spirit of the age, the spirits of wickedness that dwell in the air (Ephesians 6:12).

I write a weekly letter for our community and this week I thought I would share this letter with a broader audience. We celebrated the Feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos this week. Mary the Mother of God was born into a world full of oppression and confusion, yet she was able to become the Holy dwelling place of God. We too, especially at this time of government restrictions and all of the heightened rhetoric of political campaigns—all too radicalized and spun by social media, news outlets, social prophets, and advertising—we too may feel that we are living in an increasingly oppressive and confusing world. While we are not suffering under the occupation of a foreign army, as was Israel during the lifetime of the Mother of God, still many of us are angry and stressed out by the restrictions being imposed on us, whether we agree with them or not.

After my last blog post, John commented that the burning of Churches in Canada calls for “Christian outrage” now, while love and forgiveness can wait until after the crimes have been investigated and resolved. I can honestly say that I know how John feels. In fact, I will go so far as to say that until one feels outrage, one can’t honestly love and forgive. Outrage is a natural human response to outrageous acts—like burning down a Church. If one does not begin by feeling a certain amount of outrage, then I would wonder if that person is actually in touch with reality. Outrage is a natural, merely human emotion.

Last night I attended a prayer service in the street in front of the Coptic Orthodox Church that was burned down early Monday morning. Although some evidence points toward arson, arson has not been proven and no motive has yet been identified. However, there has been a recent spike in violence against churches (vandalism, arson and threats), some sources report over 200 significant incidents in Canada since June. Many of us may be wondering what we should do. Well, I think we should do what our Coptic Orthodox brothers and sisters are doing. We should pray and love.

Even as we strive to please God by disciplining ourselves and obeying His commands, we know that God loves us. We know that God will accept our striving for righteousness, even if we don’t do it very well, even if we fail. God is able to fix our mistakes. Therefore, like children striving to please a parent whom we know loves us completely, we offer what we have, what we can do, in a carefree way, knowing that 100% will never be enough to succeed completely all of the time, but it is enough to please God.

Waiting involves attention. We have to pay attention to our thoughts. We have to notice what is happening in our minds and thoughts and feelings leading up to and when and after we sin. And learning to pay attention to our thoughts takes time. It’s something that we have to practice. It is, the Fathers tell us, an important part of prayer. When we practice prayer with attention (attention to what we are praying, to being present and not allowing our mind to wander), then we develop this ability to pay attention to our thoughts at other times too.

All suffering, however, regardless of its apparent immediate source, can be understood as the wrath of God. But we must never forget that we call it God’s wrath because of how we feel and how we experience it, not because God is at all angry or vengeful. Rather, God both allows and brings about suffering in our lives as a doctor treating a patient. What patient after major surgery has not experienced the wrath of the physical therapist? Healing the body is often painful.

Fr. Michael Gillis builds off of last week's talk about the Great Reset on not getting attached to the comforts of this world. Someone asked about how to balance living in this world without getting attached to it. Fr. Michael talks about three things we can do to help us live as sojourners in this world, waiting for a City whose foundation and builder is God.

Fr. Michael Gillis talks about what we should do about the Great Reset. About once a week Fr. Michael gets a message from one or another of my parishioners with a link to a video that he “has to see.” Many of these videos are of a monk on Mt. Athos (or a monk from some other place reputed for holiness), or it is a video by a conservative religious or political commentator decrying the loss of religious freedom that is or will be brought about by the secular powers that be. The not usually spoken but very strongly felt subtext of these messages is that if we are true Orthodox Christians we should do something to stop it. What that something is, is generally left for us to decide. This is probably why parishioners want to know what a priest thinks after watching the video they sent, a video decrying the Great Reset, and the terrible loss of religious freedom that is taking place and will certainly get worse.

Is it possible to flee to the desert a little bit? No and yes. No, you can’t flee a little bit, for fleeing a little bit is not fleeing at all. But yes, you can flee a little bit, if that little bit is complete. Here’s what I mean. We are all called to flee the world, in the sense of fleeing the sinful ways of the world. But we are not all called to flee in the same way. St. Isaac the Syrian, also known as St. Isaac the Solitary, wrote letters and homilies for hermits, those who had fled the world in the most complete and literal way. Much of the wisdom of these letters and homilies can help anyone flee to the desert completely, even if they only flee completely a little bit.

If we do not work on that relationship, if we do not nurture longing for God, if we do not take the time to nurture our inner life, then we also grow apart from God. We are still baptized, still joined to Christ, but growing apart we become bored with God, our longing wanders to more exciting possibilities; and if we are not careful, God become a stranger, even an enemy to us. And this, perhaps, is what hell is like: to be joined to God, yet be bored with Him; to go to your own wedding, despising your fiance; to spend eternity knowing that you ignored for a lifetime the God who loves you so much that he allows you even to ignore His love.

Fr. Michael suggests that going to hell, or going to heaven, for that matter, will not be new or unfamiliar for most people.

Fr. Michael presents the first of a series of blog posts that have not yet been shared as podcasts. Here he deconstructs the notion that choice translates into freedom.