Learning Humility on Great and Holy Thursday

After a couple excellent years of sharing the date of Easter (Pascha) and one year of reasonably close proximity, the holiest day in Christianity is once again being celebrated at completely different times by Catholics and Protestants, on the one hand, and the Orthodox, on the other. While for most Americans, Maundy Thursday is just a distant March memory (if it's remember at all), but today is Great and Holy Thursday in the Orthodox Church, the day when, like their Western counterparts, the Orthodox remember the washing of the disciples feet and the last supper on the night when Jesus was betrayed. Both these events--the radical servanthood of Jesus and the betrayal of the Christ for material gain--ought to inspire in us an enduring sense of humility. Humility, unfortunately, has a bitter taste to Christians, being one of those virtues which we know we ought to have but we never really aspire for because its no fun and (unsurprisingly) garners us little praise. John of Sinai, standard reading for the Orthodox during the Lenten season, views humility differently.

As soon as the cluster of holy humility begins to flower within us, we come, after hard work, to hate all earthly praise and glory. WE rid ourselves of rage and fury; and the more this queen of virtues spreads within our souls through spiritual growth, the more we begin to regard all our good deeds as of no consequence, in fact as loathsome...We have risked so far a few words of a philosophical kind regarding the blossoming and the growth of this everblooming fruit. But those of you who are close to the Lord Himself must find out from Him what the perfect reward is of this holy virtue, since there is no way of measuring the sheer abundance of such blessed wealth, nor words nor could word convey its quality.

Humility, after all, is only the rejection of false blessings in favor of real blessings, divine blessing of eternal import. To eschew earthly praise is only to suggest that we prefer the praise of God our Father to that of the devil our enemy. It is this humility which Jesus embraced in kneeling before his disciples, and this humility which Judas rejected in turning Jesus over to be crucified.

The Wisdom of John of Sinai: Humility

Gregory Palamas spoke of preparing ourselves to experience and to know God through fasting accompanied always by prayer and humility. In a similar way, John enjoins humility in order that we may speak more appropriately about God as participators in Him:

Do you imagine that plain words can precisely or truly or appropriately or clearly or sincerely describe the love of the Lord, humility, blessed purity, divine enlightenment, fear of God, and assurance of the heart? Do you imagine that talk of such matters will mean anything to someone who has never experienced them? If you think so, then you will be like a man who with words and examples tries to convey the sweetness of honey to people who have never tasted it. He talks uselessly. Indeed I would say he is simply prattling. The same applies in the first instance. A man stands revealed as either having had no experience of what he is talking about or as having fallen into the grip of vainglory.

Our theme sets before us as a touchstone a treasure stored up safely in earthen vessels, that is, in our bodies. This treasure is of a quality that eludes adequate description. It carries an inscription of heavenly origin which is therefore incomprehensible so that anyone seeking words for it is faced with a great and endless task. The inscription reads as follows: “Holy Humility.”

John will relate a number of traditional definitions for humility, all of which he says he considered while trying to discover the true nature of humility. He notes, quite aptly, that humility is more than the absence of pride; it is a positive and indispensable virtue.

To exalt oneself is one thing, not to do so another, and to humble oneself is something else entirely.

Many have attained salvation without the aid of prophecies, illumination, signs and wonders. But without humility no one will enter the marriage chamber...

He defines humility first with reference to its opposite and then with an analogy from nature:

If the outer limit, the rule, and the characteristic of extreme pride is for a man to make a show of having virtues he does not actually possess for the sake of glory, then surely the token of extreme humility will be to lower ourselves by claiming weaknesses we do not really have.

A lemon tree naturally lifts its branches upwards when it has no fruit. The more its branches bend, the more fruit you will find there. The meaning fo this will be clear to the man disposed to understand it.

This idea of humility, which we would probably call self-abasement or (worse) low self-esteem, is totally foreign to our culture. Reading it, we are almost instinctively compelled either to reject it or to try to soften its force. John, however, seems to mean precisely what he says and gives an example of its value when temptation arises:

Demons once heaped praise on one of the most discerning of the brothers. They even appeared to him in visible form. But this very wise man spoke to them as follows: "If you cease to praise me by way of the thoughts of my heart, I shall consider myself to be great and outstanding because of the fact that you have left me. But if you continue to praise me, I must deduce from such praise that I am very impure indeed, since every proudhearted man is unclean before the Lord. So leave me, and I shall become great, or else praise me, and with your help I shall earn more humility." Struck by this dilemma, they vanished.

We could stand to apply a liberal helping of humility to our problems in an effort to outwit the enemy.

The Wisdom of John of Sinai: Fasting

It's Ash Wednesday, and Western Christians around the world are joining their Eastern counterparts in the observation of the Great Lent. It seems appropriate now to look briefly at what John has to say about fasting:

To fast is to do violence to nature. It is to do away with whatever pleases the palate. Fasting ends lust, roots out bad thoughts, frees one from evil dreams. Fasting makes for purity of prayer, an enlightened door of compunction, humble sighing, joyful contrition, an end to chatter, an occasion for silence, a custodian of obedience, a lightening of sleep, health of the body, an agent of dispassion, a remission of sins, the gate, indeed, the delight of Paradise.

For all the benefits of fasting--and he certainly believes there are many--John does not pretend that fasting is a cure all or that it saves in itself. Of King Manasseh, he writes:

I note that Manasseh sinned like no other man. He defiled the temple of God with idols and he contaminated the sacred Liturgy. A Fast by all the world could not have made reparation for his sin, and yet humility could heal his incurable wound.

The essence of the fast was not merely abstaining from food but pursuing humility in which true value lied. This came, however, though hard fought physical exertion.

The Lord understood that the virtue of the soul is shaped by our outward behavior. He therefore took a towel and showed us how to walk the road of humility. The soul indeed is molded by the doings of the body, conforming to and taking shape from what it does.

This toil in fasting is by no means easy, and John does not neglect the real struggle which fasting entails even for the monks he oversaw. He gives a number of lengthy instructions for when to be most alert and how to train the body to fast. His wisest piece of advice, however, and the one most certainly aligned with the spirit of Lent is this:

Make the effort, however little, and the Lord will quickly come to help you.

It is with this faith that we can persevere.

A Lesson in Humility

From Gregory of Sinai, On Commandments and Doctrines:

Those who seek humility should bear in mind the three following things: that they are the worst of sinners, that they are the most despicable of all creatures since their state is an unnatural one, and that they are even more pitiable than demons, since they are slaves to the demons. You will also profit if you say this to yourself: how do I know what or how many other people’s sins are, or whether they are greater than or equal to my own? In our ignorance you and I, my soul, are worse than all men, we are dust and ashes under their feet. How can I not regard myself as more despicable than all other creatures, for they act in accordance with the nature they have been given, while I, owing to my innumerable sins, am in a state contrary to nature. Truly animals are more pure than I, sinner that I am; on account of this I am the lowest of all, since even before my death I have made my bed in hell. Who is not fully aware that the person who sins is worse than the demons, since he is their thrall and their slave, even in this life sharing their murk-mantled prison? If I am mastered by the demons I must be inferior to them. Therefore my lot will be with them in the abyss of hell, pitiful that I am. You on earth who even before your death dwell in that abyss, how do you dare delude yourself, calling yourself righteous, when through the evil you have done you have defiled yourself and made yourself a sinner and a demon? Woe to your self-deception and your delusion, squalid cur that you are, consigned to the fire and darkness for these offenses.

Reading Titus with John Chrysostom (1:5-11)

John's second homily on Titus addresses 1:5-11, the qualifications for elders:

The reason I left you in Crete was that you might straighten out what was left unfinished and appoint elders in every town, as I directed you. An elder must be blameless, the husband of but one wife, a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient. Since an overseer is entrusted with God's work, he must be blameless—not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. Rather he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined. He must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it has been taught, so that he can encourage others by sound doctrine and refute those who oppose it.

For there are many rebellious people, mere talkers and deceivers, especially those of the circumcision group. They must be silenced, because they are ruining whole households by teaching things they ought not to teach—and that for the sake of dishonest gain. (NIV)

It should be noted that by John's time the episcopacy has been established for at least three centuries, so that these verses are understood exclusively in episcopal terms. I have used various titles to refer to church leaders below, but it should always be understood that John sees these passages as addressing bishops.

The text of the homily can be found here.

From God Be the Glory

“Retire from the earth, and look to that theater that is in Heaven.”

I found it somewhat ironic that in his exposition on a passage of scripture which gives a man (Titus) the means by which to judge the character of other men (potential elders) John should find the occasions to so vehemently reject the notion that Christians ought to care about the judgments of men. Upon further reflection, however, it seemed quite appropriate if the list of qualifications given is understood not as the human means of judging character but instead God’s. What is presented in Titus is God’s rubric for the character of a man, and that is the only judgment the Christian should consider.

For John there is nothing “so tyrannical, [and] so universally prevalent,” as the wanton pursuit of glory, i.e. human accolades. John sees in his congregation and in the hearts of all men the tendency to act primarily so that others will see and applaud our good works. The glory which is acquired is, nevertheless, utterly worthless. “…human glory is empty, and an imitation of glory; it is not true glory.” Only glory which is from God is true glory, and seeking that glory, according to John, is the only way to overcome the temptations of vainglory.

“When in doing any good thou considerst that it ought to be displayed to men, and thou seekest for some spectators of the action, and art in travail to be seen, reflect that God beholds thee, and all that desire will be extinguished. Retire from the earth, and look to that theater that is in Heaven. If men should praise thee, yet hereafter they will blame thee, will envy thee, will assail thy character; or if they do not yet their praise will not benefit thee. It is not so with God.”

When this true glory from God is understood as the real aim of our virtuous deeds and is sought accordingly, the praise which is received from men becomes meaningless in comparison. Thus, John exhorts us to become “as those who desire gold, but receive clay.” Whatever praise is given by men is to glory from God what dirt is to the most precious material man can imagine.

Having God as the sole judge, living according to His standards, comes at a price. God, who is always watching when a good deed is performed, sees every evil, even the “hidden” evil deep within the heart. For the pious, this is good news, for “thou obtainest glory for thy piety. If thou art truly pious, and conscious of no guilt, thou shouldest rejoice, not because thou are reputed pious, but because thou art so.” On the other hand, “if while conscious of guilt, thou art supposed by all to be pure, instead of rejoicing, thou shouldest grieve and mourn bitterly, keeping constantly in view that Day, in which all things will be revealed, in which the hidden things of darkness will be brought to light.” If God alone is judge, then the need to be pious becomes more important than the need to be seen being pious. If God alone is judge, it is more critical that one avoids being impious than that one avoids being seen to be impious. For this reason, John exhorts “Let us cast away the sheep’s clothing, and rather become sheep.”

In reading a text on the virtue of the leaders of the church, John sees the perfect opportunity (and perhaps justly so) to remind his congregants that the glory which is afforded to the great men of the church is from God alone. Whatever judgments are made in the selection of leaders and whatever honor is accorded to them because of their apparent virtues, the true judgment rests in the hands of God. The best that can be done here and now is to judge ourselves in view of what God requires of us, to find joy in the knowledge that He rejoices in our virtues and to be shamed by the fact that He will make known our vices.

Prescription for Christians from Descriptions of Elders

The elders being selected in Titus 1 are undoubtedly intended to be the pillars of the church, the cream of the crop, so to speak. What Paul offers is a list of qualifications that seem largely descriptive (though they are undoubtedly commands to Titus to select such men). John, however, sees in these ideal descriptions the grounds for which to make a number of practical assertions about everyday life for Christians.

The command that the elder should have only one wife is for John a tacit affirmation of the sanctity of marriage. In a modern context that does not seem all that crucial, but in early Christian times as far back as the New Testament, the question of the validity of marriage in God’s plan was widely questioned. Here, John goes further than many other authors who merely accept marriage either as permissible or inevitable. He declares that “it is not an unholy thing in itself, but so far honorable, that a married man might ascend the holy throne.” Leaders, and therefore all men, should have a high regard for marriage. Entering into a single marriage and never a second shows the high regard for one’s wife that Christ has had for his bride, the church.

John also has a word for absentee fathers based on the section relative to the orderly behavior of an elder’s children. Apparently, as is still the case, there were fathers in ancient times who were “occupied in the pursuit of wealth” such that they had “made [their] children a secondary concern, and not bestowed much care upon them…” This neglect is unacceptable to John, as it should be, and he places the sins of the children on the heads of the fathers (a nice reversal of biblical imagery). “Sins are not so prevalent by nature, as to overcome so much previous care,” John speculates. If fathers would dedicate sufficient time and offer adequate instruction, their children would not be delinquents. A father has not only a great length of time, but the force of laws and nature to inculcate virtue into his children. He must take responsibility for that.

Finally, John has advice for rulers of any sort, advice which seems obvious now but may appear strange given the authoritarian way the government and the church in antiquity are viewed. Beginning with the affirmation that an elder ought not to be “a striker” (NIV, violent), John concludes that “…a ruler without, as he rules by law and compulsion, perhaps does not consult the wishes of those under his rule…if he so conduct himself as to do everything of his own will, and share counsels with no one, makes his presidency tyrannical rather than popular.” Instead, leaders “ought to rule men with their own consent” so that their subjects “will be thankful for his rule.” Authoritarian leaders are not good leaders, a maxim as true in the fourth century as it is now.

It seems perfectly reasonable to me to take these qualifications for leaders and extrapolate them to other areas of life. Certainly the behaviors which are good elders who are fathers are good for all fathers. Surely virtues which are necessary of leaders in the church are necessary for Christian leaders in business, in the community, or even in the home. All men, in fact, ought to aspire to live a life worth of position of elder without the ambition, perhaps, to actually attain that office.

Holy and Great Thursday

The name in Western churches today is Maundy Thursday, derived from a Latin reference to Jesus washing of the disciples feet. Continuing the theme of humility begun yesterday, there could hardly be a more appropriate image on which to focus. The vast differences in human responses to God have been considered, ranging from self-abasement at the feet of God to the greatest hubris whereby the created presumes to destroy the Creator . Yet, Jesus Christ, in God's infinitely wise ways, loves us before we loved him and humbles himself to us before we humbled ourselves to him. He provides for us an example for all time. When Mary anointed Jesus' feet at Bethany she gave him infinitely less than was his due. When Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, he lowered himself to a position so diametrically opposed to his actual station that to consider it ought to be laughable to us.

Nevertheless, God's "folly" has given us a profound lesson in humility. Our humility is not to be the result of a calculated appraisal of our worth relative to others. We do not realize that we are less than God, and be humble towards him, only to decide that we are better than some of our peers and feel justified in our arrogant treatment of them. Jesus has demonstrated that humility is a state of being before God, a commitment to the service of God through the service of His entire creation. It isn't based on our quantifiable worthlessness but on his unquantifiable worthiness.

Thus, Augustine exhorts:

Pride is the source of all diseases, because pride is the source of all sins...Therefore, that the cause of all diseases might be cured, namely pride, the Son of God came down and was made humble. Why are you proud, o man? God was made humble for you. Perhaps you would be ashamed to imitate a humble man; at least imitate a humble God.*

*Quoted from Joseph M. Hallman's The Descent of God.

Holy and Great Wednesday

As Easter approaches, each day takes on a new significance. On Holy and Great Wednesday, remembrance is made of the anointing at Bethany and of Judas' decision to betray Jesus. Both these events should inspire us a radical humility. They represent the total depths of human sinfulness and the most appropriate and most inappropriate possible responses to that sinfulness.

On the one hand, there is Judas who looks on the image of his creator and is so overcome by lust for sin that he conspires to destroy the one who created him. The radical irony of this cannot be overstated. When faced with the one who came to remove his sins, Judas reacted with even greater sin. When faced with the one who came in mercy, Judas turned him over to the merciless. When faced with perfection, Judas deepens his own imperfection and labels the blameless one a criminal. He meets sincerity with hypocrisy, purity with defilement, love with hate, not only for the one who loves him, but by implication for himself as well. After all, what could be more self-destructive, more self-loathing than the respond to salvation with total rejection.

Then there is the woman, scandalous and sinful though she was, who met the divine with the truly appropriate posture: on the ground, humbly making an offering to God. Where Judas became so consumed with his own desires that those desires consumed him, Mary empties herself totally for the one who would empty himself for her. She debases herself for the one who was ineffably debased on her behalf. She washes the feet of the one who washes our souls, and makes fragrant the one whose fragrance we are to become to the world. It is a beautiful juxtaposition of human inclination towards God, and one that should inculcate in us a spirit of humility and imitation.

To that end, Hesychios the Priest offers some practical advice on achieving humility to consider:

If we are concerned with our salvation, there are many things the intellect can do in order to secure for us the blessed gift of humility. For example, it can recollect the sins we have committed in word, action and thought; and there are many things other things which, reviewed in contemplation, contribute to our humility. True humility is brought about by meditating daily on the achievements of our brethren, by extolling their natural superiorities and by comparing our gifts with theirs. When the intellect sees in this way how worthless we are and how far we fall short of the perfection of our brethren we will regard ourselves as dust and ashes, and not as men but as some kind of cur, more defective in every respect and lower than all men on earth.

Reflections on Ash Wednesday

Lent, believe it or not, is one of my favorite times of year. It isn't because I particularly enjoy the observation of Lent (or, for that matter, that I even truly observe it: "Therefore you shall fast in the days of the Pascha...and you shall sustain yourselves with bread and salt and water only...but on [Good] Friday and on [Holy Saturday] fast wholly, and taste nothing. You shall come together and watch and keep vigil all the night with prayers and intercessions, and with reading of the Prophets, and with the gospel and with psalms, with fear and trembling and with earnest supplication, until the third hour in the night after the Sabbath." Didascalia Apostolorum). What I love about Lent is the sense of unity it gives me. The practical outworking of my Lenten devotions, meager though they are, are a constant reminder to me that I am actively engaged in a tremendous body of Christians acting together in devotion to Christ. Every time I face and overcome temptation by God's grace, I mirror in my actions not only Christ who overcame temptation in his forty days in the desert but also the common experience of each of the many parts of his living body who also struggle and conquer and are made more than conquerors through God's love for us. So though I see the inherent hypocrisy in it as I try in some infinitesimal way to mimic the sufferings and trials of Christ from my rocking, reclining throne in my climate controlled palace, I trust that God's mercy will forgive the joy that I feel in this season more than any time of year.

And this year more than most years. While petty squabbling has caused there to be a break in, of all things, when we consecrate this time in preparation for the greatest of Christian feasts, once every few years all Christians, East and West, are unified as an Easter people, theologically and chronologically. This is just such a year. This year, in theory, some 1.75 billion Christians are observing Lent in one way or another. Do we even begin to grasp what a number like that means? That is enough, in rough numbers, to have one Christian sit on every person in the USA, the UK, and China. Or perhaps, more productively, that is enough Christians that, if we were so inclined, we could pray for each soul in those three powerhouses by name in a matter of only a moment. To play out the metaphor more fully, if we were to pray for a different person by name before every meal, the Christians observing Lent could pray for the entire population of the world in the course of one day. I realize of course how naive it would be to take the statistics for Christian adherence and to extrapolate them like that, but the thought is nevertheless provoking. Mystifying even. Most importantly, humbling.

It should humble because, in spite of our over-inflated senses of self-importance, we are shown our own insignificance in the grand scheme of things. The common analogy presented from the pulpit about the body of Christ that asks whether this person is a hand or a foot is laid bare by Lent which points out that you are neither a hand nor a foot but one of many largely indistinguishable blood vessels which serve to reliably though mechanically keep the body moving.

It should humble us more, perhaps, not by causing us to realize our own insignificance but, ironically, our own untapped potential. While one the one hand putting the part in its place, Lent should in the most shocking way shame us for the way we have allowed the church to fragment into impotence. We come together to form a dramatic unity in consecration to God, which is of prime importance no doubt, but when it comes to being His ambassadors to the world, we spend most of our time lost idly in individualism. The question "what can I do" must be answered with a "nothing," but at the same time Lent answers "what can we do" with a resounding "more than you have been doing."

Or as Samuel Annesley (John Wesley's grandfather) said, "It is serious Christianity that I press, as the only way to better every condition; it is Christianity, downright Christianity that alone can do it; it is not morality without faith (that is but refined hedonism); it is not faith without morality (that is but downright hypocrisy); it must be divine faith wrought by the Holy Ghost, where God and man concur in the operation, such a faith as works by love, both to God and man, a holy faith, full of good works."

With that somewhat protractive introduction out of the way, my main purpose in posting today was going to be to share some quotes - ancient, early modern, and contemporary - about Lent. The first is from Athanasius in whose time Lent, as we presently know it, was born. The next is from John Wesley, which I have truncated freely for space and effect, and then his brother Charles. Finally the comments of a pair of modern authors are included.


Athanasius of Alexandria, Festal Letter 6

But just as Israel, advancing toward Jerusalem, was purified and instructed in the desert, so that they would forget the customs of Egypt, so it is right that during the holy Lent, which we have taken upon ourselves, we should give our attention to our cleansing and purification, so that setting forth from here and mindful of fasting we can ascend to the upper room with the Lord and dine with him and share the joy in heaven. For otherwise, without keeping Lent, it would not be allowed us either to go up to Jerusalem or to eat the Pascha.

John Wesley, Sermon on the Pharisee

A Pharisee (to express his sense in our common way) used all the means of grace. As he fasted often and much, twice in every week, so he attended all the sacrifices. He was constant in public and private prayer, and in reading and hearing the Scriptures. Do you go as far as this? Do you fast much and often? Twice in a week? Once at least? Do you fast twice in a year? I am afraid some among us cannot plead even this! Do you every day either hear the Scriptures or read them? Do you join in prayer with the great congregation, daily, if you have opportunity? Do you strive to make opportunities? Do you spend an hour in a day, or in a week, in praying to your Father who is in secret? An hour in a month? Have you spent one hour together in private prayer ever since you were born? Ah, poor Christian! Shall not the Pharisee rise up in judgment against thee and condemn thee?

Charles Wesley, Penitential Hymn

Lat They hand upon my soul
Bruise me with Thy righteous rod,
Wound and never make me whole,
Till my spirit returns to God;

Ford Keifer, We Are Easter People

Jesus' forty days of prayer suggest that Lent is a time of prayer, of listening to God in his Word, and of responding from the depths of one's own heart. The long prayer vigil on Holy Saturday night is the climax of this season of prayer. Because the Church watches with her Lord, she is sensitive to his coming, to his presence and activity in her midst. Because she has kept vigil, she can cry out, "Alleluia, this is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!"

D. T. Niles, The Power at Work Among Us: Meditations for Lent

In the world as we look around it, we see contending forces battling for the souls and bodies of men. While men in one part of the world are plagued by the problems of work, in another part of the world they are plagued by the problems of leisure. There are those who seek temporary relief in mass entertainment, alcohol, or drugs. There are others who seek permanent relief in a flight from life and sometimes even in suicide. For most it seems that there is nothing human goodwill can achieve apart from each person creating around himself an immediate circle of friendship. When the visible thus offers no ground for hope, is there an invisible reality on which hope can be based? There is. men have a sure and steadfast anchor, a hope that enters into the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone. There is a throne above the universe and that throne is not empty. Hope does not arise from the circumstances of life, it arrives from the throne of God.

Finally, from the Book of Common Prayer, this is my sincere hope for all Christians observing Lent that we might all see the practical implications of our shared devotion: "O Lord, who hast taught us that all our doings without charity are nothing worth, send they Holy Ghost, and pour into our hearts that most excellent gift of charity, the very bond of peace and of all virtues, without which whosoever liveth is counted dead before thee. Grant this for thine only Son Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."