By Protodeacon Leonid Mickle
Many are perishing
I have often heard advice similar to that given by St. Seraphim of
Sarov: Cultivate the quiet light of Christ within you, and with it you
will enlighten those around you. At times, when contemplating the zeal
which so many apostles demonstrated in their confession of the Faith
before the world, I have wondered about that advice. We know that many
are perishing, that many have either never even heard of the Orthodox
Church, or are not aware that the Church is not an ethnic clubhouse, but
a source of Living Water for all. Why are we not told to advertise, to
go out with trumpets, drums, loudspeakers, bright lights, to make the
Church more visible? God sometimes provides us with wonderful answers in
unexpected settings.
Once, on a long journey, I stopped at a state information
center to ask for the best route to my destination. The clerk asked me
whether I really wanted the best route, or the quickest route. She
pointed out that the best way would add about an hour to the
fourteen-hour journey I could expect via the interstate, but that, if I
had the time to take the alternate route, I would certainly enjoy the
calm and beauty of some lovely country roads. Thinking about my
schedule, I chose the interstate. I made excellent time — at least until
I was pulled over for speeding. I had saved less than an hour, lost
both a sizable percentage of my salary and an opportunity to become
acquainted with some pretty country, and had briefly been driven to
anger at a state police officer who was properly doing the job for which
my taxes paid.
The little things
Shortly thereafter, I stopped in at a small church, almost two hours
before the Vigil service was to begin. I found the priest trimming the
wicks and replenishing the oil in the lamps behind the altar table. He
told me that he almost always arrived at the temple well before the
scheduled service, in order to maintain the oil lamps. I asked him
whether he had ever considered using candles instead of oil lamps. He
smiled, and said, “That certainly would be the quick way. I could enter
and light the candles without giving them a thought. Without giving them
a thought! Think how great a lesson would be lost!
“Here, lighting the lamps, I must arrange my day so that I can
be here early. I must concentrate on my task. I must see that there is
an ample supply of oil, so that the lamps do not go out. I cannot hurry.
I must pour carefully, lest the oil spill onto the altar table. I must
trim and adjust the wick, then light it. and observe the flame: If it is
too low, any little breeze may blow it out. If it is too high, it will
generate such heat that the glass will crack, or at the least, will burn
so quickly that the wick turns to ash, and the flame goes out.
“Such an apparently insignificant task, and yet, it is done in
the House of God, and to the glory of God. If I cannot be attentive to
the little tasks which God permits me to take on, how can I hope to
persevere in the greater tasks? If I cannot take the necessary time and
make the necessary effort to prepare these lamps, to see that the flame
remains lit but does not become a self-destructive fire, how can I hope
to do the same with my soul? How can I control my passions, and how can I
instruct others to do the same? No, sometimes the quick way, the easy
way, is not the best way. Glory to Thee, O Lord.’
While I was struck by his words, to my shame I found myself a
little irritated by them. I found myself thinking that, yes, that may
well be the best way, but he has the luxury of serving in a country
church with a small congregation which does not put great demands on his
time. He has the time, he has no secular job from which to rush to the
church in time for services… Suddenly, I realized how irrational were my
thoughts, and how cunning and persistent was the enemy of our
salvation. When faced with an evident truth, the enemy challenges it by
bringing to mind external, irrelevant details, diverting our attention
away from the lesson.
The little things of family life
We are all given talents to be used to the glory of God throughout
our journey toward salvation. If we exercise them to the best of our
ability and to the glory of God, they become part of that light which
enlightens the world. The enemy is tireless in his attempts to keep us
from performing them. If he cannot sway us from performing the obviously
important tasks, he works on the little things, the mundane, seemingly
insignificant details of daily life.
An important arena in this battle is family life. In raising
children we are given the opportunity to learn many skills, to develop
many talents. We become tailors, fashion consultants, emergency med
techs, diplomats, teachers, caterers, chauffeurs and entertainers All of
us juggle schedules in a never-ending struggle to manage time. We learn
to do a lot of things in a hurry — taking children to school, to
after-school classes, to sporting events. What temptations present
themselves! Two children, with two different activities beginning only a
few minutes apart. We can be on time if there is no traffic, if we time
the lights, if…. It is precisely then that we encounter the longest
backup seen on the highway in a decade. Turning on the radio, we hear of
a multi-car accident several miles ahead. How do we react? Is our first
impulse to ask God to preserve them involved, or to become annoyed at
being delayed?
Unfortunately, it is sometimes the latter. Someone not blessed
with a complex daily schedule may offer us the sage advice that had we
left early, we could have avoided the temptation; had we so arranged our
day as to be there well ahead of time, the temptation would not have
come. We are tempted to snap at such an individual that it is not always
possible to be early! In so doing, we fall to yet another temptation.
We can be sure that as long as we live, we will be surrounded
by temptations. As long as we strive, we will be tested. Avoid one, and
another quickly takes its place. If we set out to proclaim God’s Word,
but cannot first calm our passions, if we cannot see the temptations for
what they are, we risk bringing not the Word, but temptation to others.
If we are to teach others to live as Orthodox Christians, we must first
learn to subdue our passions.
The House of God, an island of calm
The Holy Apostle Paul instructs us to put on the whole armor of God.
The Holy Fathers often remind us that as part of this process, we should
strive for apatheta. This is something not to be confused with
“apathy,” as that term is used in contemporary English. Rather it is
dispassion, a purity of heart with which we gain control of, and subdue
our passions. In search of a respite from the pressures of hectic
schedules, in search of a place in which to cultivate this dispassion,
we come to the House of God, an island of calm, a world of peace, a
world in which daily life proceeds at a leisurely pace within an overall
structure which does not change from year to year.
As we enter the Temple, a wonderful thing happens. We slow
down. We prostrate ourselves before God, and, like the publican, ask God
to have mercy on us. We take the time to light candles, to join our
little light to the overall light whose Creator we have come to worship.
We take our places within a structure whose icons span the centuries
and tell us of those who throughout history successfully battled the
same temptations, the same passions which now assail us. Before us, in
the images on the icon screen, we read our history, We see, frozen out
side of time and place, the overall perspective of our path to
salvation: The fall, our exile, our promised Savior, the events which
led to His Glorious Resurrection, and the means by which we can hope to
enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.
A soft, gentle light
We enter this refuge, and begin our liturgical day with what the
secular world sees as the close of day. We begin not when the world
commences its frantic daily schedule, not when we must shade our eyes
from the flat detail-obliterating glare of bright sun light, but at the
time when God’s creatures are beginning to settle down in their nests,
when calm settles over land and sea and all is bathed in a soft, gentle
light whose shadows outline God’s creation. In such light, we can calmly
study and appreciate the complexity and beauty of God’s creation, we
can experience that peace of which Motovilov spoke in his famous
discussion with Saint Seraphim on the Holy Spirit. Feeling that peace,
we can actively join m the beautiful words of thanksgiving sung at the
evening entrance. Having seen the world in the evening light, we
perceive what sometimes eludes us in the glare of midday — that at all
times it is meet to glorify the Lord, the Giver of life.
Because we treasure the Peace from Above which we find in the
Temple, we consciously strive to do nothing to disturb it. Looking
through the Royal Doors into the Holy of Holies, we encounter God on the
Heavenly Throne, surrounded by the Holy Angels. During the Small
Entrance, we see Christ appear. With Him, and surrounded by the Heavenly
Hosts, we are transported from earth to Heaven. What a wonderful
expression of a great Mystery! How easily, in the quiet light, in the
calm order of that procession, do we cast off the petty temptations, the
little distractions of secular life.
On the other hand, how easily can that Mystery and the calmness
of spirit which it engenders be disrupted when, instead of seeing a
place of peace, we see chaos, when in the seven-lamp candelabrum two
lamps are out while five others are blazing, smoking torches, when
acolytes who, because they have not been paying attention, are rushing
to light candles, are turning every which way or arguing over who
carries what candle or fan. These tasks, while small and routine, are
integral parts of the whole. If we attentively prepare the lamps, if we
attentively prepare ourselves to carry out the little tasks assigned to
us, the quiet light of Christ will be made manifest. If we choose to
prepare neither the Temple nor ourselves, we disrupt not only our own
calm, but the entire order of service, and risk evoking in clergy and
laity alike not an attitude of prayer, but one of irritation or anger.
The family — the little church
The preparation of the Temple, the preparation of the dispassionate
flame, must begin within ourselves, with a recognition of who we are.
“And how is your little church doing? How are matushka and the
children?” Such a greeting, common among Orthodox Christians. may seem
confusing to those outside the Church. The ecclesia, the body of
believers, makes up the Holy Church. The family is the “little church,”
an icon of the life of the entire ecclesia in Christ. A building
prepared for use as the Temple is consecrated by the bishop. Likewise,
when we have prepared a residence for our family, we ask the priest to
bless it, for it is to be the dwelling place of our little church.
When we enter a Temple, we see before us the icon screen. When we enter an Orthodox Christian home, we see the krasny ugol,
the “beautiful corner,” as the Russians call it, or icon comer. While
it may not be directly opposite the entrance, it is not hidden away, for
it is the center of our family life: Here we give thanks to God for
having brought us through the night, we ask for God to guide us through
the day, we ask for God’s blessings as we begin activities throughout
the day – be they taking a meal, undertaking a task or setting out on a
journey — and we give thanks to God upon their completion. Here we keep
holy water and prosphora (blessed bread) to be taken at the beginning of
each day. Here we see the images of the saints whose names we bear and
who are praying with us and for us. Here, in maintaining the lamps
before the icons, we reinforce each day the lesson which that priest so
simply and eloquently expressed. “O gentle light…”
Come unto Me all ye who are heavy laden
Yes, family life is undeniably hectic. Yes, we could save some time,
rush past the icon corner and get on with our daily tasks. However, in
taking only a relatively few moments before and after those tasks in
order to pray to our Creator, to ask the Holy Theotokos and all of the
saints to help us in our tasks, we find that the tasks become more
bearable. When unexpected problems occur, instead of allowing the
resultant passions to occupy our time, we can simply recognize them as
temptations, and get on with the rest of the day. When we stand in the
Temple, that recognition can be so simple. We are bathed in that quiet
light, we put aside our earthly cares, we look upon the Icon to the
right of the Royal Doors, we read the words: “Come to Me all ye who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest...”
and a burden is lifted from us. When, at home, it becomes our practice
to take that relatively short time needed to prepare ourselves and the
lamps which burn before the icons, we cultivate that dispassion in which
we can keep the peace which we acquired in the Temple. If we nurture
and cultivate that steady, quiet light, if in all of our activities we
strive to live in the light, we can subdue our passions, and can become
beacons~ to draw to the refuge of the Orthodox Church those who are
heavy laden with the passions and temptations. May God grant us all the
strength and discernment to persevere.
