On Being a Spiritual Father in Modern Times
by Archpriest Valery Lukianov
If we were to make
a survey of the non-eucharistic services performed in an active parish over a
period of, say, one year, we would see that the breakdown of such services
might appear as follows: 15 baptisms, 5 weddings, 25 funerals, and almost 1000
confessions! From this breakdown one can easily arrive at the conclusion that
the sacrament of confession occupies the place of greatest honor in the
spiritual activity of each pastor. Hence, it would not be out of place for us
to share with you some thoughts on the mystery of confession, particularly on
confessorship in our very difficult times.
The subject of our
talk will be directed primarily toward the contemporary conditions of confession
and the disposition of modern-day penitents. However, to effectively evaluate
the present-day conditions of confession, we must first turn to the history of
the Church of Christ and in comparison say a few words about the struggle of
repentance in the first centuries of Christianity.
Confession as an
indispensable preliminary to the taking of Communion was unknown among the
early Christians. Theirs was a time when every faithful Christian had to be
prepared, on whatever day, at whatever hour, to confess his Faith and Jay down
his life for Christ in martyrdom. Such circumstances had a powerful effect in
raising the spirit of Christians and promoted moral purity in their hearts,
making them, even without confession, prepared to approach the great Mystery of
the Body and Blood of Christ. And if anyone committed a sin, he would repent
publicly in church.
When the era of
persecutions came to an end and Christians were able to plunge freely into the
pagan life which surrounded them, the moral disposition of their spirit
declined. It became essential to prepare for the great Mystery of Holy
Communion. During the same time-period—the age of the Ecumenical Councils—the
order which we preserve to this day took shape, namely: the recitation of
prayers of preparation, intensified prayer, fasting, confession of one's sins,
and, only then, approach to the holy chalice (Protopresbyter V.
Boshchanovsky, Lessons in Pastoral Theology, p. 69).
In general, in
Christian antiquity sacramental confession was not viewed as the sole and
unavoidable means for the forgiveness of sins committed by a person after
baptism. Confession and repentance were only one of many means of cleansing
from sin. St. John Chrysostom, for example, points out five such methods,
namely: 1) public confession; 21 weeping over one's sins; 3) humility; 4)
almsgiving—the queen of the virtures; and 5) prayer (Smirnov, "Ancient
Spirituality and Its Origins," Theological Herald, Vol II
[1916], p. 377).
As regards
ordinary repentance and confession of sins in antiquity, it could be done
either secretly in the presence of a priest, or openly. Moreover, there was a
whole range of sinners who confessed serious sins which affected the entire
Christian community. The first level consisted of those who wept, standing
outside the door of the church, shedding tears as they besought the faithful
who entered to forgive them and to accept them back into their company; the
second level consisted of those who listened, who, with the
catechumens, stood in the vestibule and listened to the prayers and readings
from there; and the third level consisted of those who knelt continually behind
the faithful, though in the church proper. Those of both the second and third
levels were required, at a certain moment, to leave the church. Finally, a
fourth level consisted of those who stood with the faithful, yet
were not admitted to the Eucharist (E. Smirnov, History of the
Christian Church, pp. 97,98).
When speaking of
the ancient practice of confession, we must also touch upon the question of
eldership. In the context of ancient monasticism, there were elders who were
bearers of charismata, special gifts of the Holy Spirit imparted directly from
God on the basis of personal merit. Spiritual healing was viewed as the gift of
the grace to "discern spirits." It was not bound up with the
hierarchical ranks of bishop or priest, but was acquired by tonsure into the
schema. The spiritual father took the souls of his disciples upon his own soul,
guided them on every step of their spiritual life, and finally, hearing the
confession of their thoughts and works, gave them encouragement and
admonishment.
The moral and
everyday relations between elder and disciple, spiritual father and spiritual child,
very early developed externally into a stable and harmonious system. The
ancient elder, like the later confessor, heard confession and regulated
penance. The elder usually heard the confession of all the monk's sins.
Confession to an elder and penance took the place of confession in church.
The spread of the
influence of eldership among the laity began quite early, probably not long
after monasticism became established. Laymen then began to patronize the
elders, forsaking their own pastors.
The monastic form
became the form used by the Church, and in this guise continued in the East,
almost without change, for many centuries. In Russia this discipline,
introduced with the rise of Christianity, survived to the beginning of the 18th
century. With the acquisition of an immense expanse of territory, the separate
class of spiritual fathers ceased to exist, and the right to hear confessions
began to devolve upon each parish priest at his ordination.
Another
peculiarity of the Church of Russia was that the position of confessor began to
be limited exclusively to those in the rank of priest (I. M. Kontzevitch, Optina
Hermitage and Its Epoch, pp. 15-19).
Thus, from of old,
confession has taken the form, firmly established by our times, of a threefold
spiritual exercise: preparation, confession, and Communion.
As in antiquity, so also now confession must be met by essential
external conditions without which the beneficial effect of the sacrament itself
upon the soul of the penitent is limited.
The first
condition, as has already been noted, is preparation. Without preparation there
can be no confession! The old Russian verb "govet" (to
prepare) means, in one sense, "to live" (see the dictionary of V.
Dal'), "to be reborn." Through intense prayer, fasting, virtues, and
spiritual reading, the path to this rebirth became accessible.
How may a
believer, who with good conscience maintains a morning and evening rule of
prayer, intensify his prayer? Firstly, through a more conscious and more
deeply-felt prayer—one achieved, as it were, through suffering. Prayer is
intensified by adding canons and akathist hymns, of which there are a great
multitude. Finally, preparation may serve as the beginning of a continual
remembrance of God through the recitation of the "Jesus Prayer."
Traditionally,
preparation coincided with the four periods of fasting established by the Holy
Church. At other times, it was felt to be desirable for preparation to be
accompanied by no fewer than three days of fasting.
As regards virtue,
possibilities for doing good deeds always surround us at every step. With
regard to spiritual reading (apart from the Gospel, which should be read every
day through the entire year), it is a good thing to read the lives of the
saints. In our times, there is no lack of spiritually-edifying books and
magazines.
To the unalterable
external conditions for an effective confession one ought to add the time at
which it takes place. Confession should take place during the evening prior to
the day on which Communion is to be taken. An evening confession spiritually
binds the disposition of the penitent for the whole night. This influence is
felt especially during evening prayer and during morning prayer on the day of
Communion, when the soul is tranquil and the heart is pure after confession.
Confession in the evening makes it possible to open one's soul to the spiritual
father without haste, to converse soul to soul. In parishes, particularly where
there is only one priest, this rule ought to be strictly observed. In the
morning, the priest is occupied with the proskomedia, and if he is forced to
delay the beginning of the service because of those who come to confession at
the last minute, is this fair to the whole assembly of the Church, which has to
wait because of a few negligent parishioners? if there be exceptions to these
two basic conditions, they can be found in extraordinary, mitigating
circumstances, such as, for example, illness.
Let us now turn to
the inner content of the confession of modern day Orthodox Christians.
An understanding
of Christian piety has, to a significant degree, been lost through the
influence of the world. We observe a complete lack of understanding of the
importance and necessity of confession as the struggle for repentance in man's
life. The majority of contemporary Christians now regard confession in an
altogether superficial manner. Confession is undertaken as a formality which it
is necessary to undergo in order to obtain access to the holy chalice. Against
the background of such a soulless regard for the sacrament of confession, one
may, in general outlines, draw a "picture" of the
"attitude" of those who approach for confession.
The majority of
those who would confess maintain silence and, in general, do not wish to speak
of their sins in specific terms. If one of them does speak up, he speaks of his
sins with such indulgence, with such reservations, that the spiritual father
feels that sin itself is regarded by such people as a mere violation of the
social order.
Of God, of God's
justice, of the inner purity of the heart, of the conscience, there is no hint.
To the question of the spiritual father concerning this inner state of the
soul, the following dictum is often heard: "I have nothing in particular
on my heart, Father. I am as sinful as other people. I haven't killed anybody;
I haven't stolen anything; I am not involved in adultery; I don't get drunk.
Perhaps I have judged someone; maybe I envy somebody...." Of what the
penitent has done in God's name, for his neighbor, for his moral improvement,
one hears not a word. There is no talk of the inner disposition of one's heart,
of those multitudinous passions which rage in one's soul: malice, hatred,
jealousy, judgement, falsehood, pride, vainglory, greed .... Such a person
considers all of this a completely natural thing: "How can a living man
exist without this?" Even more astonishing is that this entire silent
majority, as though by agreement, describe their inner spiritual state in an
identically lenient manner!
In order to bring
about a spiritual healing, the confessor, like a medical doctor, must diagnose
the affliction and disease of the penitent's soul. How can one treat those who
maintain silence, who have the most false and superficial understanding of sin?
More will be said of this later on.
The next category
of people who come to confession are not those who keep silence, but those who
speak on totally abstract themes. What do these mean-spirited confessors talk
about? Usually such persons dwell on their experiences in their lost homeland of
Russia, of the disorders and shortcomings of the diaspora. What transpires is a
sort of quasi-political diatribe! Then, such persons will often complain about
their bodily illnesses, and many even describe these ailments in the most
painstaking detail. In taking leave of their audience, they unfailingly ask for
health of body and length of days. And finally, these people quite openly speak
about their relations with their loved ones and acquaintances, plunging into
the vanity and pettiness of life, and even providing the names of those who
have offended them.
It seems to us
that conversations of a social nature at confession may be tolerated only in
those cases when such experiences have a direct influence on the soul, or on
the person's relationship with the Church. One may speak of one's illnesses in
the case when, for example, the observance of the fasts would have a
deleterious effect on one's health; the penitent might seek a dispensation from
the rigor of fasting on the basis of his physical difficulties, which do
influence the spiritual state of man. But to drag in the names of offenders is
in no way laudable. Such people sow in the heart of their pastor the seeds of
involuntary prejudice against others who are equally his spiritual children.
The principal thing that such a person must come to understand when coming to
confession is that a gift can be offered to the Lord God only after asking
forgiveness of those whom one has offended and have forgiven offenses
wholeheartedly.
In general, one
often forms the impression that many Christians come to confession not to
confess, but to urge their pastor to free them from what the Church has
established as the goals of the spiritual and moral development of Her
children. They justify their demand by their ailments. It is a strange thing to
express such demands to a pastor. He can loose and bind, in accordance with the
Saviour's command, but he must be more than careful in setting aside what the
Church has ordained. Of course, a spiritual father must show leniency if it is
clear to him that the penitent's reason for his inability to fulfill the law is
not based on some personal caprice, but on real infirmity. Yet the penitents
also must think twice before burdening their spiritual father with compromising
considerations. In any event, they must fear willfulness in the weakening of
the precepts of the Church, and must not dare, in any case, to set foot upon
such a path without the blessing of their spiritual father.
From silence,
secular garrulousness, and self-justification, some Christians, sinking even
deeper into the morass of secularism and worldliness, permit themselves to
attack the Church Herself. They not only do not acknowledge their own sins, but
absolutely refuse to accept the precepts of the Church. For them, fasting is
not obligatory (it is, according to them, fit only for monks and priests); they
hold that civil marriage is enough for them, that an ecclesiastical marriage is
not essential; and so forth. Put yourself in the place of a spiritual father:
how can you permit such a person to approach the holy chalice? The person has
no sense of his sin; on the contrary, he holds firmly to his own supposed
correctness and expects the pastor to permit him to commune! To his great
regret, the spiritual father has no other recourse than to withhold his
permission. Before such a person comes to confession, he ought to speak with
the spiritual father alone about his spiritual state.
In this latter
category one may also place the many, especially of the young, who have fallen
victim to the grievous apostasies and abnormalities of our times. Such are
homosexuals, followers of Hindu mystics, drug addicts, and, in general, those
who have fallen into the mire of today's amoral, pornographic, and abnormal
allurements. In order to help such unfortunates it is essential that the
spiritual fathers themselves be well-read and acquainted with the essence of
these pernicious phenomena. There is an abundance of spiritual and moral
literature on these questions at the present time, primarily in English.
This, in outline,
is the lamentable composition of the penitents with whom today's pastors and
spiritual fathers must deal. It is quite far from the spirit and ardor of the
early Christians, is it not? One might ask: "is everything really so
gloomy?" Let us hasten to give reassurance. In our benighted times there
are many radiant spirits who approach the sacrament of confession with a
sincere cry of heartfelt contrition. How many times a confessor sheds tears at
a confession, seeing some kind soul offering good fruits at the table of the
Lord—the Lord alone knows! But what about the majority: those who keep silence,
or puff themselves up with vanity, who justify themselves, who are
hard-hearted? What about them? Does one spurn them? God forbid! How can one
help these sinners, how can one enkindle their hearts?
The answer to this
difficult question must be twofold and comprehensive: on the one hand, the
sinner must be re-educated, and on the other, the activity of the pastor
himself must be successful.
Speaking of
lukewarm and even hardened souls, we can only endure the gloomy reality of
today's spiritual environment. There is no argument; there is no need to
expound on the spiritual bankruptcy of the world. However, where is it that we
encounter these deeply secular personalities, if not in church? Even if they
arrive only when the bell is rung at "It is meet and right . . .,"
even if they leave during the sermon, nevertheless we encounter them in
church. Something still draws them toward that which is holy. In a
word, a spark is still alive! It is up to the spiritual father to fan that
spark into flame.
In re-educating a
lukewarm soul, attention must first be directed towards bringing sinners to an
understanding of sin as the death of the soul. So long as man does not fear
sin, he will never understand why confession has been established. When man
senses that there is such a thing as a pure conscience, a pure heart, he will
confess his sins with greater care and will approach the holy chalice more
worthily, having made the effort to prepare himself for it. It is the task of
the spiritual father to make clear, as has already been mentioned, that the
penitent must pray earnestly, with his whole heart, and beseech the Lord with
tears for mercy, in no wise trying to justify himself, for man can sin
involuntarily, or, in any event, be a cause of temptation for others.
The second
approach to the lukewarm soul must be to make him understand the
mystery of Holy Communion. Everybody knows how the Lord Jesus Christ
Himself instituted this sacrament, even the unchurchly, who know it from the
days of their childhood when they studied catechism. Yet of the essence and
action of the Eucharist many have only a superficial knowledge. What does
Christ Himself say of Holy Communion? "I am the living Bread Which came
down from heaven: if any man eat of this Bread, he shall live for
ever" (Jn. 6:51). And even more precisely: "Verily, verily, I say
unto you, Except ye eat of the Flesh of the Son of man, and drink His Blood, ye
have no life in you. Whoso eateth My Flesh, and drinketh My
Blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him
up at the last day. For My Flesh is meat indeed, and My Blood is drink
indeed. He that eateth My Flesh, and drinketh My Blood, abideth in Me and I
in him" (Jn. 6:53-56).
Interpreting these
sacred words of the Saviour, the spiritual father must with all care impress
upon the consciousness of the faithful the essence of the activity of the
Sacrament of the Eucharist. These are the saving fruits of Holy Communion:
1. Holy Communion
unites us with the Lord in the closest possible manner.
2. Holy Communion
nourishes our soul and body and makes possible our strengthening, progress, and
growth in the spiritual life.
3. Holy Communion
is for us a surety of the coming resurrection and everlastingly-blessed life.
Alas, many, many
do not understand this basic truth! Hence the neglect of confession. A
deepening of the knowledge of the nature of sin and the saving nature of
repentance is also an object of spiritual care. Every student must have a
teacher. For the healing of the flock there must be an experienced spiritual
father. And where should the priest's labor be directed in order to gain what
is most important in his life: the experience of spiritual healing? The answer
to this question we find in His Beatitude Metropolitan Anthony's book on
confession: "To acquire experience the confessor must work first of all on
himself .... He must love the people, love man especially in those moments when
he gives himself over to you, when he surrenders to God. You will hardly find
him better than at these moments, and if you do not try to love him then, you
will never love under the conditions of ordinary life."
How can one
nurture the spirit of being a confessor within oneself?
We refer you to
the remarkable writings of Protopresbyter V. Boshchanovsky on pastoral
theology, in which the author urges the pastor to know himself: who he is and
what gifts of grace he has been given by God. There is present within the
priest the charisma of prophecy, imparted to him with the imposition of hands
at his ordination. But the priest himself must not be passive; he is called to
activity, to a continual, intelligent, and highly sacrificial labor in life.
The spiritual father must promote within himself certain traits without which
he would be no more than an ecclesiastical functionary; and he himself can feel
this in the cool attitude toward him shown by the truly spiritual sympathetic
souls who are seeking genuine pastorship, real guidance. These are the traits:
A holy life. The priest
must, first of all, cleanse himself before he seeks to cleanse others, St.
Gregory the Theologian teaches. The priest who himself turns away from the
commandments of God can expect to hear the reproof of the Gospel:
"Physician, heal thyself!" Sanctity of life is not a consciousness of
an attained righteousness, but a striving for it which is full of an awareness
of one's own unworthiness.
Knowledge—not of the world,
which is arrogant and vain, but one which is mystical and filled with grace.
The pastor must know the Gospel, the word of God, the teaching of the Church
and Her rules—especially as interpreted and revealed by the Holy Fathers and
Teachers of the Church. The lives of the saints are a precious fountain of
instruction for the penitent.
Prudence—not secular and
carnal, but one that is true, spiritual, which may merge with a higher virtue,
discernment.
Ardent
prayer, not for oneself alone, but also for all one's
spiritual children. How can a pastor, who is surrounded on all sides by
temptations, get by without prayer to God? And his children always sense this.
Zeal for the
salvation of souls. This is the real flame of confessorship. If it is not
present, the soul of the confessor is barren and fruitless. Spiritual zeal must
encompass love, patience, and meekness, but firmness as well.
Thought of
God must be habitual and commonplace for the pastor; for
how else can the pastor move from the vanity of life to the grace-filled
mystery of confession? The priest must live in a constant awareness of the
closeness of God. This
is the true quality of a spiritual father.
And really, who
would entrust his soul to a priest who leads a secular life? Can one imagine a
spiritual father who loves the cinema and the theater, who has a reputation in
society as a successful recounter of not always modest anecdotes, whose reading
is exclusively newspapers and secular literature, who can hold his liquor, but
at confession shows himself to be a dread judge and a strict upholder of the
law? Such a spiritual father doesn't so much arouse the sleeping conscience of
the one confessing as cast the tormented soul into the abyss of despair and
disillusionment!
Indeed, how worthy
of his calling must the pastor-confessor live, to win the trust and love of the
faithful who seek his spiritual help! Of all the problems of the pastoral
ministry, that of being a father confessor is the most difficult, the most
responsible. Truly the path of reconciling man with God is one strewn with
thorns!
How does one gain
the trust of the believer who comes to confession? How does one touch his soul?
Firstly, as we have already stressed, one must develop the good qualities of a
true confessor, must deepen one's Spiritual character.
The second
condition of successful confessorship is amicable collaboration, mutual consent
to the treatment between confessor and penitent. This flows from true Christian
love of one for another and leads to mutual trust. The penitent must understand
that the confessor is his friend, as well as his personal physician. The
discipline governing the relationship must be strict. Obedience to the
spiritual father must be complete—a total rejection of one's own will. A
harmony of a sort must be established between confessor and the one confessing.
The true pastor is ready to rejoice with one who is happy and to shed tears
with one who is weeping. Therefore, the penitent must come to his spiritual
father with complete trust and openly relate to him his experiences, doubts,
and spiritual ailments. Under ideal circumstances, the one who confesses and
the spiritual father pray for one another, and the Lord aids them. But the
reward is inexpressibly great—peace of soul, joy in the Lord, and reinforced
hope of everlasting life.
This is the
immense task which lies before pastors and laymen alike. Can all the
difficulties, all the impediments outlined above be resolved and overcome? Is
this not a fantasy divorced from the reality of life? One wishes to believe
that this is not the case! How can one nurture the noble impulse of the heart,
how can one advance spiritual healing?
St. Tikhon of
Zadonsk points us in the right direction: "One has to work. God helps
those who labor, not those who lie down." Let us work for the Lord with
fear, that we might gain the good fruits of true confessorship!
From Orthodox
Life, Vol. 38, No. 2, pp. 41-49.
Source: http://orthodoxinfo.com/praxis/spiritual_father.aspx
