Each one of us has some acquaintances, or even relatives, who regard our gathering in church with puzzlement. Profound lack of understanding is written on their faces, even at times disturbance. Sometimes this pours out in words such as these: "Well, alright, you've committed yourself to the Faith, be that as it may. But why go to church, and waste all that time and effort in doing so? Look at me, for instance; I also believe. But I believe in the heart [literally. soul]. I have God in my heart, and do not need any outward ritualisation. just remember how, not long ago, the satirist Michael Zadornov remarked: No intermediaries are necessary for me to have communion with God!"
There is no
seriousness in the position and contention of our critics that "God is in
our hearts!" Of course, there is such a condition in the most exalted
paradigm of the spiritual life. And this the Apostle Paul desired for us, when
he said: "My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until
Christ be formed in you" (Gal. 4:19), "to be strengthened with the
might of His Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts by
faith" (Eph. 3:16-17).
If the words,
"God is within me," had been spoken by the Venerable Seraphim of
Sarov, these words would have had some weight, for they would honestly bear
witness to the fruit of his spiritual struggle. If a desert-dweller had said
that he had trained himself in continual interior prayer, and for that reason
he did not perceive [any loss] by his absenting himself from church, which he
only rarely attended, then those words, coming from those lips, might be
justified.
Can you distinguish
in your spiritual experience what is the "presence of God," and what
is simply a manifestation of various human characteristics: an awareness of
beauty, harmony, a pang of conscience, and human fellowship? You cannot? This
surely means that you haven't noticed the moment that God, the Creator of the
universe, came into your life and into your soul? How could it not be noticed?
Maybe, this means it didn't happen?
Faith: this is
active. It is a striving towards something already perceived but not yet
self-evident. A striving towards something which already touches upon our
lives, and throws its sheen across them, but which has not yet entered them
fully. Faith: this is a desire for new experience. But it is hard to trust
those who repeat, "I have my faith, and it is in the heart," and who
say this with lacklustre eyes, or believe that then or at any time they have
really experienced a striving towards God.
So now, you who
affirm that "God is in the heart," what have you done to cleanse your
heart for this wondrous Presence? How do you address Him, and what do you call
Him? How do you keep Him within? How has this Acquaintance changed you? Do you
love that One, Whom you have met? And what do you do for the sake of this love?
If these questions throw you into a bewildered silence, how is it so when you
consider yourselves so exalted above all that you abide with God? Perpetually
standing still, you are not looking where you are going, or even noticing if
you are stumbling!
One can pose such
questions to those people who excuse their laziness by some imaginary
"spirituality."
But you can get that
from an acquaintance. To put up a candle? But you can put up a candle in front
of your icons at home. And so, why do we go to church?
Furthermore, some
people say that if they want to go and pray, they go off to a wood, or to a
stream or the seaside, and there in a "Church Erected by God" it is
easier for them to be aware of the Creator and to send up glory to Him. Why,
they say, do we leave the boundless temple [of creation] to place ourselves
under the narrow vaults of a church that is man-made? [This is, of course, the
argument of the so-called Blue Domers — ed.]
Just as the pagans
speak of the sacrifices people ought to offer their god, so the Gospel tells us
what sacrifice people must needs offer God: "The Son of Man came not to be
ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for many"
(Matt. 20:28); "God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten
Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting
life" (John 3:16).
The biblical
offerings of sacrifice were not necessary to God, but for the people. People
simply must learn to be thankful. People must be instructed that they must deny
themselves albeit a portion of their life, of their possessions and of their
time (remember the teaching on the Sabbath), and give it over to the Person of
the Lord. This is not because God needs this portion which is dedicated to Him,
but because thereby people are instructed in sacrificial love.
Only a tenth or
hundredth part of religion subsists in what people contribute. The principal
part in religion is what God contributes therein. The most important part is
not what people do for God's sake, but what God does for the sake of the
people. The most important part is not what people bring as an offering in
church, but that which they take away from the church!
That which we offer
God, we can offer Him in any place. All that is in the world can thus be laid
before Him. But there is that small portion of existence in which God is well
pleased to reign, not in Himself but in another. That is my soul. This is that
chamber within the limitless edifice of the universe, wherein the Builder
thereof will not enter without an invitation. And it depends upon us at whose
disposal we lay that freedom of ours, which was given us by God. Will we serve
God, or will we serve ourselves, our caprices and our lusts? The only way we
can augment the limitless power of the Lord is if we offer Him our own free
will.' For this reason, "a sacrifice unto God is a broken spirit"
(Ps. 50:17). And this sacrifice we can offer everywhere. And in this sense,
each one of us is a priest. This is the meaning that underlies the words of the
Apostle Peter, that the Christians are a people comprised of priests (I Peter
2:9). No one can, in my place, offer God in sacrifice my will. I alone have
power over it, and only I can offer it at the Throne of God. Swear an oath of
faithfulness and say, "Lord, Thy will and not mine be done! I thank Thee
for all that Thou dost desire to bring into my life. Grant me the ability to
serve Thee with my every breath!" And this can be done in any place!
So the possibility of
offering sacrifice to God is always with us. And we can always say to our ego,
the very words which the philosopher Diogenes once used to reply to the world
ruler Alexander of Macedonia, who wanted to fulfil some request of the wise out
of his love for him: "Make off, and do not block out the sun for me!"
Thus, that a
Christian might offer sacrifice to God, it is not necessary for him to be in
church. But religion is not only concerned with what we give. More importantly,
it is concerned with what we receive. It is not so important why we seek God.
It is more important why He seeks us.
Why we often go to
church and turn to God with our petitions is well enough known. We turn to God,
seeing Him as some kind of generator of humanitarian aid: "Give us, O
Lord, better health, greater success and an increase in our wages!" Too
often we seek the Lord, according to the saying of the hierarch Dimitry of
Rostov, "not for the sake of Jesus, but for a crust of bread." But
why does God seek us? Does He require something from us? Or does He wish to
give us something?
Why does His Word
invite: "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden" (Matt.
11:28)? This invitation has no such corollary as "and ye shall give Me so
and so..." Rather this invitation ends with another promise; it tells of
that which God does for those who respond: "And I will give you rest ...
and ye shall find rest for your souls."
Thus, God calls us to
Himself, so that he might present us with something. Learning — "Learn of
Me" (Matt. 11:29): Spirit — "Receive ye of My Spirit;" Love,
peace, joy — "Abide in My love" (John 45: 10); "My peace I give
unto you;" "That My joy might remain in you." But Christ grants
us something further which the mind cannot comprehend.
"Abide in Me,
and I in you.... Receive ye this, this is My Blood, which is shed for
you...." Christ entrusts His whole Being to the people; both His Divinity
and His manhood.
And so, we come to
church, so that we might receive something therein. The church — it's just
walls; but walls built around the Mysterion [sacrament] of Communion The
Mysterion consists in this: that to the people a hand is extended with the
Gifts. Therefore to visit church is not an onerous obligation, but a wondrous
privilege. To us there is granted the right to stand as participants in the
Mystical Supper. To us there is given the possibility of becoming
"partakers of the divine nature." To us there is granted to
possibility of contacting an Energy, such that not one of of the power stations
of the world could produce.
Christ has said where
He awaits us and what He desires to give us. He, the Eternal One, desires to
meet us and be united with us in this life, so that in our future, everlasting
life, we might not be irreparably alone.
Would it be good
manners for us, if we had received a message to meet someone on Pushkin Square,
to take a walk on Leo Tolstoy Street at the time appointed? If the meeting was
thus missed, who would be guilty? Well, quite obviously, not me, — Pushkin
would be!!
Deacon Andrei Kuraev
Source: http://orthodoxinfo.com/praxis/whygotochurch.aspx
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