The Catalog of Good Deeds

God “adorns himself in magnificence and clothes himself with beauty.” Man stands amazed and contemplates the glory whose light causes a hymn of praise to burst forth from the heart of every creature. The Testamentum Domini gives us the following prayer: “Let them be filled with the Holy Spirit…so they can sing a doxology and give you praise and glory forever.” An icon is the same kind of doxology but in a different form. It radiates joy and sings the glory of God in its own way. True beauty does not need proof. The icon does not prove anything; it simply lets true beauty shine forth. In itself, the icon is shining proof of God’s existence, according to a “kalokagathic” argument.

Paul Evdokimov in The Art of the Icon

“Kalokagathic” – what a wonderful word! It’s is a Greek coinage, combining the word for beautiful(kalos) and the word for good (agathos). To see an icon is so very far removed from viewing an art object. First off, an icon is never an object. Faces in an icon are never in profile, but look at us face to face. To rightly see an icon is to see it in relationship, that is, to see it personally. And the person whom we see is not the wood and paint, but the one whom the image on the wood and paint represents. It is this encounter that makes it possible to speak of an iconographic proof of the existence of God. I know there is a God because I have seen His image.

In the most perfect sense of this understanding, Christ is the proof of the Father’s existence, because He is the “image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15). Thus Christ is the visible of the invisible. “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father,” (John 14:9).

It is also true that man is created in the image and likeness of God – though only in Christ, the perfect man (and perfect God), is the image and likeness truly realized. But Christ Himself extends the image – gathering into Himself, “the least of these my brethren” (Matthew 25:40). Thus every human being offers the opportunity of an encounter with God – if we have the eyes to see. Every human being is proof, poor though it may be, of the existence of God.

Pavel Florensky in his wonderful book Iconostasis, says that “Rublev’s icon of the Holy Trinity exists, therefore God exists.” The first time I read the statement I was brought up short. It took time to see what he meant and to see that it was true. A couple of years later one of my daughters was visiting Moscow. She sent a postcard say, “I have seen Rublev’s Trinity. It’s true.” What a marvelous witness!

Source: https://fatherstephen.wordpress.com/the-icon-as-the-proof-of-gods-existence/

Remember in the Star Wars movies, how various emotions were able to throw different characters over to “the Dark Side of the Force”? Anger, hate, vengeance, competition, ambition, greed, even an excess of sexual passion or selfishness therein. (Recall that Jedi Knights are supposed to be celibate – like some quasi-monastic mystical police force – and how marrying Padme – secretly and against Jedi advice – was a big wrong turn for Anakin Skywalker on his way to becoming Darth Vader.)

These are some of the passions Orthodox Fathers and Mothers of the Church, and other Orthodox, talk about, and how they push us, as if from outside ourselves, in directions we don’t want to go, or shouldn’t want to. They’re not afraid to say an aim of Orthodox self-restraint and ascesis (asceticism) is a Greek word, apatheia. This isn’t like the modern meaning of the English word apathy, a bad thing, but it is a certain equanimity, or tranquility, like that in the Morning Prayer of the Optina Elders. It’s also illustrated in the story about the spiritual father who told his spiritual child to go to the cemetery and insult those buried there, to note their response, then to go back and praise them, and note their response: like we should be dead to both praise and insult.

Passionlessness is another word used in this discussion, appropriately enough. Again, not that you don’t devote yourself to whatever you’re supposed to be doing in life – what Americans usually mean by “passion” today (in the non-romantic, non-sexual meaning, anyway) – but actually, that you don’t devote yourself to what you’re not supposed to be doing in life, if you get my drift.

This can sound kind of Zen, and of course, self-restraint, self-discipline are important parts of many religions for their serious practitioners. (In fact, I have heard that the most common use of the word jihad in Muslim literature isn’t as an analogue to Western Christian crusade, but spiritual struggle with oneself.) But the big difference with Buddhism is that our goal isn’t nothingness, but ongoing repentance, trying to come closer to the (Tri-)Personal God in His Energies/Activities. We’re not supposed to act ‘out-of-control’ like animals; and Adam and Eve, before they fell, were in-control of themselves, not controlled by passions – perhaps even leading up to and during marital relations!* – until the serpent tempted them, tricked them, and they submitted to him and their passions instead of to the God Who loves them.

Also, of course, our aim is not to control God or His Energies like the Jedi’s is to control the Force – although there are accounts of some Orthodox Saints who seem able to do extraordinary things at will. However, perhaps these are like St. Seraphim of Sarov in his famous conversation with Nicholas Motovilov: Seraphim asked God to let Motovilov see the Uncreated Light of God’s Energies, ie, that he (Motovilov) “was in the Holy Spirit” right at that moment – in response to a question from Motovilov. Generally, the idea is to bring ourselves into agreement with what God wants.

(*The Fathers are not all in agreement on whether Adam and Eve had relations before the Fall. But it seems to me they were married: “What God has joined….” Also compare Genesis 1:28, 2:24, 3:16-17, 4:14, 5:3. For what it’s worth.)

Source: https://eorthodox.wordpress.com/2007/05/26/star-wars-and-orthodoxy/

I would like to tell about an episode, which reflects the monastic rules concerning the relationships of a monk with his relatives.

When Elder Paisios became a monk, from the very beginning he entrusted the care for his relatives to God. Every time someone of his brothers or sisters tried to come to his, he began to scold them. Of course, the elder loved all his relatives, and that great love was the very reason why he decided to let God care about them, but not himself.

When the elder came to the monastery of St. John the Theologian, his sister never missed an opportunity to come there and see him. She loved him very much and always worried about him. Sometimes she sewed clothes for him or just bought some and went to the monastery. At his turn, the elder handed out all the clothes she brought to him and never wore it. When his sister saw that he did not wear what she had brought she asked what he did with those clothes. The elder always answered that he handed it out as a blessing. He scolded her for frustration she felt when she found out that her brother had handed everything out. He even called her greedy, allegedly because she brought too little. Thus he tried to make her get tired and stop visiting him.

Once she came to the monastery of St. John the Theologian. When the elder saw her, he resented:

- What do you want again? Why are you here? Have I not told you that you stop coming?

- But why, father? – she replied. – How can I bother you? So many people come there! They are standing in queue, and I am standing with them, without no exceptions. And I have one more thing to say to you: I come there not for you, but for the sisters.

The elder answered her:

- I is better for you not to come at all, because you are tempting them.

- How can I tempt them?

- I tell them about absolute withdrawing from the world and that they should not maintain relations with their close people. Are you are always rolling around here. It will be fair if they ask me, “Then why do you meet with your sister all the time?” And I will not find any excuse for myself. This is why I am asking you not to come!

That was a real joy to observe such a brotherly dispute.

An excerpt from the book “Chosen Vessel”

Chrysostom frequently spoke about poverty and wealth, themes which were set for him by life in the large, noisy city. For him, these and all other social themes had primarily a moral significance, and he dealt with them in relation to the rules of Christian behavior. He judged the life around him on the basis of its morality. Everywhere he saw injustice, cruelty, suffering, and misery, and he understood that this was caused by the spirit of greed and by social inequality. He warned against idle luxury and also against wealth as a source of temptation, since money threatens to corrupt the man who possesses it. Wealth by itself has no value but is only a theatrical mask which covers the true image of man. However, the wealthy man comes to value his riches. He begins to deceive himself and he becomes attached to something which is good in appearance only. In Chrysostom's opinion there is danger not only in wealth which has been acquired by dishonest means but in all forms of personal property. These are not harmful in themselves but they may stimulate the will to desire things which are perishable and transient. "The love for wealth is an unnatural passion," Chrysostom writes. "The desire for wealth is neither natural nor necessary. It is superfluous." This movement of the will is dangerous and riches are a dangerous burden. "Wealth is harmful for you not because it arms thieves against you, nor because it completely darkens your mind but because it makes you the captives of soulless possessions and distracts you from the service of God."

The possession of wealth involves an unavoidable contradiction. By the spirit of greed men are attached to material things, but God teaches us to despise things and to renounce them. "There is harm not only in trying to gain wealth but also in excessive concern with even the most necessary things," Chrysostom writes. "Christ has demonstrated what kind of harm can come from the passion for money but His commandment goes even beyond this. Not only does He order us to scorn wealth, but he forbids us to be concerned that the food we eat is the best we can possibly get: 'Do not worry your soul about what you eat'." This does not exhaust the subject. "It is not enough to despise wealth," Chrysostom writes, "but you must also feed the poor and, more importantly, you must follow Christ." Thus another contradiction is revealed: the worldly drive of greed and the desire for the accumulation and preservation of material goods is opposed to the command of the Gospels to "give all you have to the poor." Against this background we see with greater clarity the injustice of the social inequality in the world. In the face of poverty and misery, all wealth is an unjust and dead thing. It testifies to hard-heartedness and the absence of love.

It is from this point of view that Chrysostom disapproves of the magnificent decoration of churches. "A church is not a place in which to melt gold or forge silver," he writes. "It is a triumphant assembly of the angels. Therefore it is souls which we demand as an offering because it is for the sake of souls that God accepts our other offerings. It was not at a silver table and it was not from a golden vessel that Christ offered His blood to His disciples to drink but nevertheless everything there was precious and called forth reverence, for it was filled with the Spirit. Do you want to honor the body of Christ? Do not scorn to see Christ naked. What good does it do you if here you honor His silken coverlings while outside the Church you continue to tolerate the coldness and nakedness of others? What good does it do you if the altar of Christ is covered with golden vessels, while Christ Himself suffers hunger? You make a golden goblet but you offer no cooling water to go with ft. Christ as a homeless pilgrim wanders and asks for shelter, but you, instead of accepting Him, adorn your floors, your walls, and the tops of your pillars, and you put silver harnesses on your horses. But Christ remains bound in the dungeon and you do not even want to look at Him."

It seemed to Chrysostom that each thing that one man puts aside is taken away from someone else who needs it, for there cannot be a man who is rich without another man being poor because of it. "The source and root of wealth must definitely be hidden in some act of injustice," he writes. Chrysostom did not consider that poverty as such was a virtue. Poverty attracted his attention as a form of need and suffering, and he considered that Christ is present among the poor, since He comes to us in the image of a beggar and not in the guise of a wealthy man. Furthermore, when poverty is voluntarily chosen for the sake of God and accepted with joy, it can be a path to virtue. This is primarily because a man without possessions is freer than a wealthy man and has fewer attachments and worries. It is easier for him to live and to strive to perfect himself.

Chrysostom knew also that poverty could be a heavy burden not only in terms of external and material things, but internally, as a source of envy, spite, and despair. For this reason he tried to fight against poverty, but his attention was always occupied with its moral implications. In this respect he functioned as a spiritual pastor, not as a social reformer. Although it is true that he did have an ideal vision of society, this ideal was primarily moral. It was the ideal of equality because inequality makes true love impossible.

The basic premise of Chrysostom's thought is that strictly speaking there can be no such thing as "personal property" because everything belongs to God and to Him only. All things are given by Him as a gift in the form of a loan. Everything is God's, and all that man can claim as truly his own are his good works. Everything God gives is intended for common ownership. "If the good things we enjoy belong to the Master of all of us, then they all belong equally to our fellow slaves. That which belongs to the Master belongs to everyone in common. Do we not see a similar arrangement in great houses?"

"The possessions of the Emperor, the city, the squares, and the streets, belong to all men, and we all use them in an equal degree. Look at the economy that God has arranged. He has created some things that are for everyone, including the air, sun, water, earth, heaven, sea, light, and stars, and He has divided them equally among all men, as if they were brothers. This, if nothing else, should shame the human race. The Emperor has made other things common to all, including the baths, cities, squares, and streets. There is not the slightest disagreement over this common property but everything is accomplished peacefully. If someone tries to take something and claim it as his own personal possession, then quarrels arise. It is as if the very forces of natures were complaining, and as if at that time when God was gathering them from everywhere they were trying with all their might to separate among themselves, to isolate them selves from each other, and to distinguish their own individual property by coldly saying that 'this is yours but that is mine'. If this were true, quarrels and bitterness would arise, but where there is nothing of this sort neither quarrels nor disagreements occur. In this way we see that for us as well a common and not an individual ownership of things has been ordained, and that this is according to nature itself. Is not the reason that no one ever goes to court about the ownership of a public square the fact that this square belongs to all?"

It seems to Chrysostom that in this respect even the animals are better than men. "They hold everything in common, the earth, and springs, and pastures, and mountains, and forests, and not one of them has more than the others. But you, O man, the most gentle of animals, have become more fierce than the beasts. In a single one of your houses you store up enough to feed thousands and even many thousands of the poor. How can this be, when we have one common nature, and much else in common besides this? We share a common heaven, sun, moon, choir of stars, air, sea, fire, water, earth, life, death, youth, old age, sickness, health, and the need for food and clothing. Our spiritual goods are also common to all: our holy altar, the body of our Lord, His sacred blood, the promised Kingdom, the bath of renewal, the purification of sins, truth, sanctity, redemption, and ineffable bliss. Is it therefore not madness for those who share so much in common, their nature, grace, covenant, and laws, to have such a passion for wealth that it causes them to forget their equality and to exceed the savageness of beasts? This is all the worse since they must of necessity soon leave these things behind them."

Chrysostom sees the source of inequality in man's free will and desire for personal property. Free will determines how an individual will manage the gifts he had been given, and Chrysostom considers that this is the heart of the problem. He does not recommend poverty for all men and, although he denounces superfluous luxury, it is primarily inequality to which he is opposed. Chrysostom demands equality and justice. Material goods are given by God and for this reason there can be no cause to abominate them. However, they must not be used to the personal advantage of one man in such a way that another man suffers for lack of them. Chrysostom believes that the problem can be solved by love because "love seeks nothing for itself." It seems to him that this solution was realized by the earliest members of the Church in the manner described in the Acts of the Apostles. "They renounced property and rejoiced greatly because in this way they gained blessings that were even greater. The cold words 'mine and yours' did not exist, and there was joy at the altar . . . The expression 'mine and yours', which is so harsh and has caused so many wars in the world, was driven out of that holy Church, and men on earth lived like angels in heaven. The poor did not envy the rich, for there were no rich, and the rich did not despise the poor, for there were no poor. At that time things were not the way they are now. Now those who have property give to the poor, but at that time it was not so . . . All of them were equal and all wealth was shared among them." This example has been frequently cited by the supporters of communal monasticism who absolutely reject the right to personal property.

Chrysostom wanted to realize the example provided by monastic communities in the world, having in mind a comparatively small society in Antioch or Constantinople. In his homilies he tried to demonstrate how the voluntary renunciation of property and its equal distribution could provide for the needs of all. This is the way in which the property of the Church was organized at that time. It was held in common and was distributed by the bishop. Part of it was devoted to upkeep of churches and to the support of the clergy, but most of it was the "property of the poor." Chrysostom emphasized that such a socialization of property could be truly effective only if it was voluntary and if it was the expression of true self-renunciation and love.

All of this would presuppose a high degree of moral development and perfection. It would be the ultimate and ideal expression of Christian charity. However, Chrysostom was content to limit his demands to generous almsgiving and works of charity. His conception of charity was very broad, extending from material contributions to consolation and comfort. "Is it not also an act of great charity when a soul, which is overwhelmed by grief, threatened by extreme danger, and held in thrall by the flames (of passion), is freed by someone from this affliction?"

An article by Fr. George Florovsky

Source: johnsanidopoulos.com/2011/09/st-john-chrysostom-on-poverty-and.html