The Catalog of Good Deeds

In regard to suicide, the Church has taken very seriously such spiritual and physical factors, and has responded pastorally by offering a funeral service and burial to suicide victims whose capacities for judgment and action were found to be significantly diminished.

Like many of you, I was shocked and saddened by the suicide of Robin Williams. This illustrates that we never really know what is going on in a person’s life and one might appear, on the surface, like everything is fine, when deep down inside their life is in turmoil.

Depression, like all mental illness, is very complex and is not always the same for each person living with it. There are many unanswered questions but the questions need to be asked.

For clergy it is even more complex. I learned a long time ago that I have limitations in my ability to help someone when they come to see me and I am not afraid to refer someone to a professional. Just a side note here, I do not counsel as that has a legal definition to it and I am not licensed by any state to provide that service to others. I am a spiritual father and provide what assistance I can and I feel an obligation to refer people when it is above what I can handle. Yes, many things are spiritual in nature but not all are.

There have been many discussions in social media regarding the suicide of Robin Williams and many of the positions that Orthodox Christians take on this do not fall in line with what the Hierarchs of our church have stated. As Orthodox Christians we look to our Hierarchs as the authentic teachers of the faith.

In 2007 The Standing Conference of Canonical Orthodox Bishops (SCOBA) now the Assembly of Orthodox Bishops, released a pastoral letter on the subject of suicide. I think it helpful for all of us to take a few moments to read this letter and for those of us involved in pastoral ministry this is a good reference point.

***

May 25, 2007

The following “Pastoral Letter on Suicide” was adopted by the Standing Conference of the Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the Americas (SCOBA) at their May 23, 2007 Session held at St. Vladimir’s Seminary in Crestwood, NY. The document was prepared by the SCOBA Social and Moral Issues Commission (SMIC). The Letter offers pastoral perspectives, consistent with both Holy Tradition and current medical and psychological thought, to clergy and laity alike on this human tragedy and how best to minister to those whose lives are so deeply affected by it.

A Pastoral Letter on Suicide

5/23/07

The tragedy of suicide has been a part of the human story from very early on, and it continues to affect the lives of our faithful today. As Hierarchs of the Standing Conference of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the Americas, we are asked frequently to clarify the Church’s teachings on this critical issue. Our desire is to offer a pastoral perspective that is consistent with both the Tradition of our Orthodox Church and our improved understanding of the medical and psychological factors that might lead one to take his or her life.

The Sacredness of Life

As Orthodox Christians, we believe that life is a gift from God. The All-Holy and Life-Giving Trinity created all things and granted life to all living creatures. Out of His love, God made us, human beings, in His own divine image and likeness, entrusting us as stewards – not owners – of our lives, blessing us with the capacity of freedom, and calling us to a life of loving communion.

Our ancestors’ original rebellion against God was a misuse of freedom, which ushered in the reality of both spiritual and physical death. Throughout history, God has acted to redeem the fallen race and to restore the communion and life that had been forfeited. Indeed, our Lord Jesus Christ identifies the very purpose of His incarnation and earthly mission with the gift of life, proclaiming, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Remaining faithful to the Lord’s Gospel, the Orthodox Church invites all human beings to enter into the living body of Christ, to be sustained through the life-giving sacraments, and to preserve and perpetuate both spiritual and physical life.

Suicide and the Orthodox Tradition

While a precise and unproblematic definition of “suicide” is difficult to articulate, we can say that the type of suicide here being addressed pertains to the intentional causing of one’s own physical death through a decisive act. Understood in this way, suicide is regarded generally within the Orthodox Tradition as a rejection of God’s gift of physical life, a failure of stewardship, an act of despair, and a transgression of the sixth commandment, “You shall not kill” (Exodus 20:13).

Historically, the Church was called upon to address the issue of suicide from the outset. When the Gospel was first being preached, philosophical and religious teachings prevalent in the Greco-Roman world tended both to disparage the body and to endorse suicide in circumstances of severe hardship. The Cynics, Epicureans, Stoics, and Gnostics, for example, all endorsed voluntary death for reasons consistent with each group’s broader ethical vision. The early Church’s condemnation of suicide, as reflected in the teachings of Clement of Alexandria, Lactantius, St. Augustine, and others, thus served to affirm teachings that were sharply different from those of the broader culture: the sacredness of each human being, the holiness of our bodies as Temples of the Holy Spirit, and, especially, the call for each one of us to maintain faith and hope even in the midst of extreme adversity. While these core teachings provided a Christian witness to Greco-Roman society, they also were reflected internally, to the members of the early Church, through the condemnation of all attempts to hasten one’s entry into the Kingdom by self-sought martyrdom. Clement of Alexandria, for instance, condemns both suicide and such martyrdom when he writes, “He who presents himself before the judgment-seat becomes guilty of his own death. And such is also the case with him who does not avoid persecution, but out of daring presents himself for capture. Such a person…becomes an accomplice in the crime of the persecutor” (Stromateis 4.77.1).

Notwithstanding its strong general stance against the moral permissibility of suicide, the Church, historically, has offered a balanced teaching on this issue. On the one hand, the Church has maintained the normative position described above by condemning acts of suicide and by declining to offer a funeral service and burial to suicide victims. This dimension of the Church’s teaching has underscored the sacredness of physical life and the responsibility of human beings to express proper self-love, gratitude, and hope. This dimension has also served as an intended deterrent for those suffering suicidal thoughts.

On the other hand, in her wisdom, the Church has acknowledged the complex etiology and emotionally charged character of a suicide. The corruption of human nature, brought about by the ancestral sin, carried profound implications for both the spiritual and physical dimensions of the human person. While human freedom was not annihilated in the fall, both spiritual factors, like acedia (spiritual torpor), and physical factors, like depression, can severely compromise a person’s ability to reason clearly and act freely. In regard to suicide, the Church has taken very seriously such spiritual and physical factors, and has responded pastorally by offering a funeral service and burial to suicide victims whose capacities for judgment and action were found to be significantly diminished. Thus, Canon 14 of Timothy of Alexandria states that liturgical services should be offered, “if a man having no control of himself lays violent hands on himself or hurls himself to destruction.” And the patristic interpretation of this teaching states that services should be offered when a suicide victim “is not of sound mind, whether it be as a result of a demon or of an ailment of some sort.” Question XIV of the 18 Canons of Timothy, Archbishop of Alexandria. Pedalion, p. 898

Suicide and Science

Through advances in science we now have a better understanding of the relationship between suicide and depression, as well as a more accurate account of the causes of depression. Depression is an illness caused by both medical and psychological factors. It is characterized by feelings of marked worthlessness and hopelessness and is often accompanied by physical changes such as loss of appetite, weight loss, or in some cases, weight gain. Both insomnia and hypersomnia are common symptoms.

Current medical knowledge helps us to understand that all depressions are multi-factorial. Genetic, hormonal, neurochemical, environmental, and psychological contributions can combine to create a depressive picture. Furthermore, depression can present as the only expression of an underlying physical illness such as occult cancers, thyroid dysfunction, and drug reactions.

Sometimes depressions are very severe and psychotic in nature. These can be accompanied by delusions, hallucinations, and an altered sense of reality. In most instances, the depressed person is less impaired. Nonetheless, in all cases, depression is determined by non-rational psychological and physical internal events. Even an apparently rational and clear-thinking person may have his or her outlook and choices strongly affected by those non-rational internal events.

Pastoral Recommendation

In light of the above theological and scientific reflections, it is clear that the articulation of a proper Orthodox response to the tragedy of suicide is both acutely needed and particularly challenging. We are sensitive to the difficulty of maintaining a balance between the call of every human person to responsible stewardship of his or her physical life and the call of the Church to consider how advances in medical knowledge impact Orthodox pastoral ministry. Conscious of this need for discernment, we offer the following guidelines for ministering in the wake of a suicide.

First, we must remain mindful that the primary focus of the Church and its pastoral ministry in cases where a suicide has taken place is on the living, the family and friends of the deceased. We should maintain a certain humility while remembering that the state of the suicide victim is and must remain in the hands of God. Those left behind carry a great burden – of hurt, guilt, and often shame – with the realization that their loved one has taken his or her own life. They look to the Church and, especially, to the parish family, for strength and hope regarding the deceased, and for the support and love they themselves so urgently need. In addition to their personal pastoral response, clergy should direct grief-stricken family and friends to crisis counseling resources in the area, which can complement the healing ministry of the Church.

Second, as we have studied this issue, it has become clear to us that far more cases of suicide than have previously been recognized involve spiritual and/or physiological factors that significantly compromise a person’s rationality and freedom. While not removing moral culpability from all suicide cases or changing our general stance against suicide’s moral permissibility, we affirm the deep relationship between physical and spiritual factors in human agency and we acknowledge that, in most instances, the complex web of causes contributing to a suicide lies beyond our full understanding.

Finally, because of the complexity of suicide, both in terms of determining causes and in terms of ministering to those most affected, the parish priest should always consult with his diocesan hierarch in order to discern the proper course of action, the general pastoral recommendation being that a church burial and memorial services could be granted unless there were an absence of significantly diminished capacities.

Conclusion

In his beautiful description of the Church as the “body of Christ,” St. Paul writes, “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” (1 Cor 12:26) The suicide of an Orthodox Christian is a tragedy that is suffered by the entire Church. As hierarchs of the Orthodox Church, we are acutely mindful of the need to maintain a perspective on suicide that is consistent with our identity and mission as the unified body of Christ. We believe that the perspective outlined in this statement, which reflects our common mind, accomplishes this purpose by drawing from our Holy Tradition as well as our deepened understanding of suicide’s causes.

We extend our fervent prayers for the victims of suicide and for all whose lives and faith have been shaken by the suicide of a loved one. Furthermore, as Orthodox bishops and members of SCOBA, we affirm that we will work together rigorously in order both to prevent suicides from occurring and to provide a unified pastoral response when they do, one characterized by the faith, hope, and love made possible by God, in Whom “we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28)

An article by Fr. Peter-Michael Preble

Source: http://www.pravmir.com/orthodoxy-suicide/

We can, however, only express the Truth if we foresee the extreme expression of all the contradictions inherent in it, from which it follows that Truth itself encompasses the ultimate projection of all its invalidations, is antonymic and cannot be otherwise.

Pavel Florensky

***

I wrote in a previous article about the importance of contradictions in the knowledge of God. The Orthodox faith utterly delights in paradox and contradiction and liberally salts its language of worship with shockingly antonymic expressions. This is intentional and inherent to the nature of the kind of knowledge (koinonia) that alone is saving knowledge. Remembering this is important when we come to the study of the Scriptures. Doubtless, the most devastating practice with regard to the Scriptures is ridding them of contradiction. Today, this is done regularly, and from a number of directions. Apparently, human beings dislike contradiction and have a passion-driven instinct to minimize it. This diminution of reason goes by many names – some of them being so bold as to claim that this is reason itself. It is not. True reason is at home with contradiction.

The gospel proclamation of Christ is summarized by St. Paul in his First Letter to the Corinthians:

For I delivered [literally “traditioned” – it is a technical term in Greek] to you first of all that which I also received [“received” by “tradition”]:

that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures,

and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day according to the Scriptures,

and that He was seen by Cephas, then by the twelve.

After that He was seen by over five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater part remain to the present, but some have fallen asleep.

After that He was seen by James, then by all the apostles.

Then last of all He was seen by me also, as by one born out of due time. (1Co 15:3-8)

If the opening lines of this passage remind you of the Creed, it is because they most likely come from the most primitive Baptismal Creed, one version of which was later known as the Apostles’ Creed. This is not an off-hand narrative that St. Paul is making up as he writes. He is quoting, and specifically quoting a “tradition.”

At the heart of that tradition of the risen Christ is that He “died for our sins according to the Scriptures,” and that He “rose again the third day according to the Scriptures.” This does not mean “because the Scriptures said he did.” Rather it means, that His death for our sins and His resurrection on the third day are in accordance with the right reading of the Old Testament Scriptures. Indeed, we could say that the primitive Church proclaimed a message about the Old Testament itself that was as important (and new) as the news of Christ’s death and resurrection. Their radical proclamation was that all of the writings of the Old Testament were about the death and resurrection of Christ!

As I noted previously, this is simply not obvious on any reading of the Old Testament – unless you have been previously taught how to see it, look for it, and understand it, and have the ascetical discipline that allows the heart to “see.” This “according to the Scriptures” is itself part of that which is handed down. It is traditioned to us.

The treatment of the Scriptures, particularly since the Reformation, have ceased to acknowledge this dynamic, sometimes even being embarrassed by the unvarnished allegorical readings of the Fathers. The Reformation mantra that the Scriptures were the book for everyman, that each person, enlightened and guided by the Spirit, was capable of reading and understanding the Scriptures has consistently tended to privilege rationalistic schemes of interpretation. Alexander Campbell, one of the founders of the Protestant Restoration Movement, is said to have carried a Bible and the writings of John Locke. The “common sense” of Scottish rationalism has deeply affected the popular treatment of the Scriptures in the contemporary world.

There seems to be a general sense that the New Testament, however it arrived at its conclusions, is now the rational guide for reading the Old Testament. The Apostolic Church wrote by a miracle and we read with our reason. There is a rational paradigm that has risen in this context. It is rooted in the notion of the “authority” of Scripture (and its infallibility). How do I know that Christ is the truth? Because it’s in the Bible. How do I know that the Bible is true? Well, it says so in this verse here. That circular reasoning is actually as nonsensical as it sounds.

This also creates an anxiety of reliability. Every questioning of historical accuracy, every example of internal contradiction is met with rational explanations of how the Scriptures must be true. Extreme examples are those who insist on “Young Earth Creationism,” even suggesting that God created a universe that appeared old, but really isn’t. In Orthodox circles, this same approach is defended by citing any treatment within a Church Father that supports a literalist understanding. I have seen Fr. Thomas Hopko, of blessed memory, decried as a heretic because he suggested that Adam may not be a historical figure! There is some version of a “house of cards” in all of this. If this isn’t literally true, if this isn’t utterly reliable on a rational level, then that may not be true, nor this, nor…until faith itself collapses.

This is the tragic state of faith among many Christians, a foundation without merit, vulnerably standing on the playing field of modern rationalism. I personally believe it is the breeding ground of atheism…because it is a false position.

St. Luke has this:

Then He said to them, “These are the words which I spoke to you while I was still with you, that all things must be fulfilled which were written in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms concerning Me.” And He opened their understanding, that they might comprehend the Scriptures. Then He said to them, “Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” (Luk 24:44-47)

This passage needs some care. In the Greek, it does not say “He opened their understanding.” Rather, it says, “He opened their nous.” The Scriptures are noetically understood. The nous and the heart are synonymous in many of the Fathers. It is by no means a synonym for discursive reason. Christ spiritually changed the disciples, such that they could see things that before had been hidden. And this change is directly associated with the encounter of the risen Lord. Christ nowhere opens the understanding of the disciples until after the resurrection. That noetic miracle is itself part of the resurrection. To be a witness of the resurrection includes the noetic understanding of the Scriptures.

And it is at this point that I direct us to the inherent contradictions within the text. I say “contradictions,” but I include within that the very “hiddenness” of the meaning. That meaning, if you will, is a “contradiction” of the letter. If the letter says, “Ark of the Covenant,” but we understand that it refers to the Theotokos (to use but one common example), then, there is a seeming contradiction between the letter and the meaning. If the text says, “lamb,” be we read “Christ,” there is an apparent contradiction between the letter and the meaning.

But the Fathers (including the Apostles) were not daunted by these seeming contradictions. There is a seeming contradiction in Christ Himself. He is a man, and appears as a man in every outward manner. But we confess Him as God, despite His death on the Cross. How can God die? His mother is a virgin, and yet she gave birth.

When we no longer see the contradiction in these things, the nous is darkened, and we begin to make of these great mysteries mere intellectual ciphers, rational objects to be manipulated in arguments, systematized and refined. True noetic perception involves great ascetic effort, in which we fast, pray and repent for the hardness of our hearts and our constant efforts to substitute an understanding that does not at every moment depend upon God.

There is a sense in which I revel in the contradictions (at least the ones I see). They are gateways into the Kingdom of God. I frequently encounter, however, an “easy” Orthodoxy, or “easy” Protestantism, etc., in which paradox and contradiction are deeply muted, explained, or simply avoided.

At every Divine Liturgy, I stand at the altar, and speak the contradiction, “And make this bread to be the precious Body of our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ…” Its opacity is a measure of my own heart. On those occasions in which things seem less than opaque, I do not know how to explain what I see. These are the moments of faith, a “participatory adherence to the Presence” in the words of Vladimir Lossky. And though I can proclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” I cannot demonstrate it as an object. I can love it and eat it and become one with it.

The reading of Scripture should resemble this far more than we realize. For Christ is there, within every word, every space between the words, and even in the silence that frames them.

“Didn’t our hearts burn within us!”

An article by Fr. Stephen Freeman

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/glory2godforallthings/2016/06/29/the-contradictions-of-scripture/

January 3, 1879

In our last letter of December 14, you wrote that you cannot find any books applicable to your situation. You say that all books discuss monasticism, and that you are not a nun but are simply living near a monastery. In response I would say this to you: the Gospel teaching is given to everyone in common, and everyone is obliged to fulfill it. Monasticism stemmed from the desire to live exactly according to the Gospel teaching. This is terribly difficult amidst the noise of the city and the cares of life in the world, which hinder such a precise fulfillment of the Gospel teaching, even though everyone is called to this. Monastics are distinguished from laymen in that the latter are permitted to live in a state of matrimony, while the former choose to remain unmarried. Read more often the Gospel of Matthew, from the beginning of the fifth chapter to the end of the tenth, and try to live according to what is written there. Then your life will be marked by harmony, and you will find peace of soul.

***

January 11, 1879

Peace to you and God’s blessing, and a strengthening towards good. On January 3 I briefly wrote to you that monastic life by no means differs from the Gospel teaching, and that those living in the world differ from monastics only as concerns their married state. About married people, however, St. John of the Ladder writes that they are like those whose hands and feet are bound with fetters. Although even these can walk the path of righteousness, it is only with difficulty; they often stumble and fall and become sorely wounded as a result. The unmarried–and particularly monastic–state offers greater facility in the fulfillment of the Gospel teaching. It is for this reason that monasticism was established by the Holy Fathers.

You are now in the middle, between the world and monasticism (*). The middle path is everywhere approved, and for you–both on account of your upbringing and your weak constitution–it is in many ways appropriate. Only try to live according to the Gospel commandments. Above all, judge no one about anything, so that you yourself will not be judged …..

In my letters I’ve always had one aim –to dispel your misconceptions about monasticism and spiritual life in general, which you formed while still living in the world. You have perhaps heard it said that even apparently correct theory does not always coincide with practice. One’s own experience, when it follows the experience of spiritual people in the past, is a good instructor, provided we check our life against the Biblical and patristic teaching.

You laid for yourself and your life a rather strange foundation: I wanted so, I thought so, I intended so… You are not the only one; many desire a good spiritual life in the simplest form. Few, however, (they are rare, in fact) fulfill their good desires in actuality; they are those who hold tightly the words of Holy Scripture: “We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22), and who, entreating the help of God, try to bear the griefs and illnesses and various discomforts visited upon them without murmuring, always keeping in remembrance the words of the Lord Himself: If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments. (Matt. 19:17)

And the most important of these commandments are: “Judge not and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven” (Luke 6:17). Besides this, those who want to be saved must bear in mind the words of St. Peter Damascene, that salvation is accomplished between fear and hope…

To live in a simple hut without humbling oneself will not lead to any good. It is better for someone who is weak in soul and body to live in a comfortable cell and to humble himself, blaming and reproaching himself for such comfortable and spacious quarters. Only few, and those possessing a strong constitution, can without harm lead an austere life, and endure cold and hunger and dampness and sleeping on the ground. According to the words of St. John Damascene, those who are weak in body derive more profit from humility and thanksgiving than from physical labors and podvigs to which they are unequal.

You are adversely affected by the harsh words of such people who, in your opinion, should speak differently. St. John Climacus writes that God providentially leaves some flaws even in spiritual people so as to bring them to humility.

If you wish to set yourself on a firm path toward salvation, try above all to pay heed to yourself alone, and leave everyone else to God’s Providence and their own will, and don’t concern yourself with instructing anyone. Not in vain is it said: Each man begetteth himself shame or glory according to his deeds. This will be most beneficial, meat conducive to salvation, and, what’s more, more peaceful.

From the Letters of St. Ambrose of Optina

Source: https://orthodoxcityhermit.com/tag/from-the-letters-of-st-ambrose-of-optina/

Affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground, reasoned one of the friends of Job the Much-Suffering (Job 5:6). Because for the Christian, woe and trouble is first of all sin and the passion that precedes it, it could be said that passion “does not come from the dust”, and sin “does not grow out of the ground”, but rather springs from the soil of the human heart. The Lord Himself warned us when He said, From within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness: All these evil things come from within, and defile the man (Mk. 7:21-23). That is, according to the Gospel teaching, not only is sin what is committed in deed, but even the longing for sin—which we call passion—is not altogether innocent by itself and is also a sin.

Having achieved victory in the struggle with their passions, the holy fathers of the Church left us a detailed description of this struggle. Part of this was their scrupulous study of the stages of the passions’ formation in the human soul.

“A thousand-mile journey begins with one step,” say the Chinese. So also every passion begins with one thought, which is called prilog, or “suggestion”. This term describes a thought, but also an image, a feeling, a desire, or a state that suddenly arises in the human soul; however that is not to mean all thoughts or states, but only those aimed at separating us from God. It is not possible to completely avoid prilogs, but it is within man’s power to either accept them or reject them. The Ancient Patericon (sayings of the holy fathers) describes the following incident: “A brother came to Abba Poemen and said to him, “I have many thoughts, and I am in danger from them.” The elder took him outside into the air and said, “Open your collar and lapel, and do not let the wind in!” “I can’t do this,” answered the brother. “If you cannot do that,” said the elder, “then neither can you prevent the thoughts that come to you. But it is your job to withstand them.”

According to patristic teaching, the most reliable method for warring with the passions is to cut them off at the very beginning; that is, to reject the prilog, or suggestion. “If we cut off the thoughts we will also cut off the sin,” taught St. Tkhon of Zadonsk. “Sin comes from thoughts like the tree grows from its roots.”

The next step in the strengthening of the passions in the human soul bears the name “conjunction” and consists in the interchange with the thought. The thought draws the attention of the one being tempted, who is now in danger of being drawn into sin. Therefore, conjunction is not always without blame. If a person feels some pleasure from the interchange, then the will is already inclined towards the sinful thought and is leading the person to the next stage.

That state is called soslozheniem, or “acceptance” of the thought. At this stage happens the complete acceptance of the illicit thought, which attracts and fills the person’s mind, feelings, and will so that sin begins to act in the human soul and prepare it to actually commit the sin in deed.

By lingering in this state a person is taken to the next step, called “captivity”—a state that has a qualitative difference from the former states. If up to that point the person could through his own efforts not only withstand the sinful thoughts, but also overcome them (If thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him [Gen. 4:7]), now even the very desire to abandon the sinful thought disappears. If this comes up, then the person is no longer capable of getting rid of the illicit desire that has taken him over—unless he have some outside help.

The final step of this ladder into the abyss is the passion itself, which paralyzes the will, and like a kind of inner despot draws the person into sin. Incidentally, even if the passion does not result in the deed it is nevertheless destructive and requires great effort, prayer, and both divine and human aid to be rid of it.

The venerable Abba Dorotheos illustrated the difficulty in struggling with rooted passion through the following story: “A great elder was walking with his disciples in a certain place where cypresses grew, both large and small. The elder told one of his disciples to pull up a cypress. That cypress was small, and the brother pulled it up quickly with one hand. Then the elder pointed to another one larger than the first and said, ‘Pull up this one also.’ The brother wrenched it back and forth with both hands and finally uprooted it. Again the elder pointed to another, even larger tree, and the brother pulled it out with great effort. Then he showed him yet another, yet larger tree, and the brother yanked it about this way and that, and although he worked hard and sweated over it, he could not tear it out. When the elder saw that he did not have the strength to do it, he asked another brother to rise and help him. The two of them were barely able to tear out the tree. Then the elder said to the brothers, “You see, brothers, it is the same with the passions. While they are small, if we want we can easily root them out. But if we are careless about them when they are small, they will gain strength, and the stronger they become the more effort is required of us to uproot them. When they have become very strong in us, then even with great labor we will not be able to tear them from ourselves, unless we receive aid from certain saints who help us according to God.”

Because the lingering in sin and sinful thoughts becomes worse for the person than the sin itself, the holy fathers call us to go to confession as quickly as possible, even if the fall is repeated many times. In the Ever-memorable stories of the ascetic saints and blessed fathers we find the following: “A brother asked Abba Sisoes, “What should I do, abba? I have fallen.” The elder answered, “Rise up.” The brother said, “I rose and fell again!” “Rise up again,” the elder answered. The brother again asked, “How long will this go on?” “Until you are taken from this life, either good or depraved,” said the elder. “For in whatever state you will be at that time, that is how you will be when you go there [to the next life].”

The question may arise as to why the majority of us not do this; that is, why don’t we have recourse to repentance immediately, right after committing a sin? And even if we repent, it is rare if we do not return, as the Scriptures say, “to our own vomit” (cf. Pet. 2:22). St. Ambrose of Optina used to complain, “What times have now come! It used to be that when someone sincerely repented of his sins he would exchange his sinful life for a life of goodness. But now it often happens that a person tells all his sins in detail at confession, and then goes and does what he always did.”

Probably this happens by force of our inner division, our disintegration, which in turn leads to the inability to make a willful resolution—that is, to a lack of resolve. It is namely this lack of resolve, according to the teachings of St. Seraphim of Sarov, that does not allow us to imitate the ancients. This resolve must be shown in the very early stages of the passion’s development—against the prilog, or suggestion. If our indecision does not allow us to take this comparatively easy but necessary action, our strength will be spent on the struggle with the passions, which can grow to monstrous proportions.

How to cut off a suggestion at its very inception is something that everyone has to decide for himself. For example, Empress Catherine II had a rule never to say anything while angry, but rather to wait until she was in a peaceful disposition; and in order to ease the difficulty of silence, she literally filled her mouth with water. St. Moses of Optina did a similar thing. He would not bring guilty monks to reason right away, but only after they had forgotten to some extent what they had done.

Of course, the holy fathers taught that prayer is the most necessary and effective means of conquering thoughts. Here is what St. John the Dwarf writes: “I am like a man who sits under a tall tree and sees that that a multitude of beasts and snakes are coming towards him. If he cannot fight them he will climb the tree and be saved. That is what I do: while keeping silence in my cell, I see evil thoughts attacking me. When I cannot fight them I run to God in prayer, and am saved.” But what at first glance looks like a simple exercise is something that a Christian has to learn his whole life.

An article by Andrei Gorbachev

Source: http://orthochristian.com/74462.html

A pagan landlord hired an Orthodox Christian as a gardener and warned him, “I will hire you only if you don’t utter a single word about Jesus Christ!” The Orthodox Christian replied, “No, I won’t, I promise.” And he did not utter a word about Christ for three years. All he did was diligently doing what he was supposed to do and tolerating all temptations and afflictions. Finally three years later, the pagan landlord said, “Listen, I want to be like you! Tell me everything about your God.” And he went on to become a Christian.

There was a woman who came to Elder Anatoly (Zertsalov) of Optina and requested his blessing for her to live alone, so as to be able to fast, pray, and sleep on hard wood without any obstacles. The Elder said:

— You know, the devil does not eat, does not drink and does not sleep, but he still has to live in hell because he isn’t humble. Subdue your will to the Lord’s will, and that’s what your ascetic practice should be about; be humble and admonish yourself, bear your illnesses and sorrows with gratitude — and this is greater than all feats!

Once upon a time Abba Macarius was walking from a lake to his cell. He was carrying palm branches on his shoulders when he met a devil with a scythe. The devil attacked Macarius but he couldn’t do any harm to the monk, so he said, “You are very strong, Macarius. I can’t stand against you. Although I do everything you do: you fast, and I don’t eat at all; you abstain from sleep, and I never sleep, there’s only one thing at which you are better than me.” “What is it?” Macarius asked. “Humility.” the devil replied. “This is why I can’t stand against you.”

A Greek philosopher ordered one of his disciples to give silver to those who would humiliate him. The disciple spent three years doing so. Finally, the teacher said:

— Now you can go to Athens and study wisdom.

When we was about to enter the city of Athens, the disciple saw a sage who was sitting at the city gates and cursing everyone who was going past him. He did the same to the disciple. The disciple burst out laughing.

— Why are you laughing when I curse you? — the sage wondered.

— It’s because I used to pay those who disparaged me for three years, and you do it for free.

— Enter the city, it’s yours. — the sage replied.

Two shepherds had a political argument. One of the shepherds was foolishly attacking the king, while the other was no less foolishly defending him. They lost their voice and even had a fight, but neither of them could prove anything to the other shepherd. The shepherds were desperate so they decided to go down the road until they find someone to settle their argument.

They left their sheep and went no one knows where, shouting at one another. Fortunately, they soon met a priest who was going to the Vespers. The shepherds told him about their argument and asked him to settle it. The priest replied, “My children! The crux of your argument is that one of you is milking a he-goat, and the other offers a sieve to carry the milk.”

The shepherds were astonished to hear this remark but suddenly remembered their duty and ran back to their sheep.

There was a monk who had a cell attendant. That cell attendant was meant to help him but he would beat the monk up and take away his bread. It happened every day, and the monk was close to death. One day, the abbot called that cell attendant, so the monk could have rest. He could be thanking God but he was praying, “Lord, I haven’t tolerated anything for your sake today, and so this day has gone in vain.”

There was a man who lived in abject poverty, loneliness, cold and hunger. Notwithstanding that fact, he would fervently thank God in his prayers every morning.

One of his neighbors came to him and said:

— Listen up, how can you be so dishonest? You cannot deceive God or yourself or us: we all know that God has made you as poor as a church mouse — and you know it, too: why do you thank him, then?

The poor man replied:

— You don’t seem to understand anything! God looked at me and thought: what does this child of mine need to grow into full measure? He needs to be hungry, cold, and lonely… He gave all those things to me so abundantly that I cannot help thanking him every day.

Source: https://azbyka.ru/days/

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