The Catalog of Good Deeds

Fasting, praying, Church more than once a week, “take up your cross,” sacrifice… Do I have to be a monk? I have been asked that question on a number of different occasions. With all of the prescriptions given to us to do, it seems sometimes that the Church is asking us all to be monks. After all, monks and nuns are the ones who devote their lives to prayer, who fast all of the time, who don’t have to worry about money or families. Those of us out here in the world have “real” responsibilities and don’t have the time or the energy to focus on all of that. At least that is what we think. Of course, Christ does not ask all of us to be monks or nuns. The life in the monastery is a very unique calling that is blessed and necessary, but not for everyone. Just as all of us are not called to be mathematicians or rocket scientists, not everyone is called to be a monk.

However, that does not mean that everyone isn’t called to some sort of ascesis. That word, most often used exclusively for the monastic life, simply means self-denial, something that Christ tells all of us to do. “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself take up his cross and follow me.” ANY MAN. While not called to be a monk or a nun, those of us who are attempting to follow Christ are called to serve the Lord through ascesis. What does that look like?

One of the greatest monks in history, St. John Climacus, wrote a 30-step treatise called The Ladder of Divine Ascent. This book was written specifically for those who were monks and laid out step by step the way to the Kingdom of God. Though he wrote it in the 7th century, it is still read today during Great Lent in many of the monasteries in the Orthodox world. In this work, St. John doesn’t just address the monks, however. He was presented with this same question over 1500 years ago: “Do I have to be a monk?” He responded by saying:

“Some people living carelessly in the world have asked me: ‘We have wives and are beset with social cares, and how can we lead the solitary life?’ I replied to them: ‘Do all the good you can; do not speak evil of anyone; do not steal from anyone; do not lie to anyone; do not be arrogant towards anyone; do not hate anyone; do not be absent from the divine services; be compassionate to the needy; do not offend anyone; do not wreck another man’s domestic happiness, and be content with what your own wives can give you. If you behave in this way, you will not be far from the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Notice that St. John doesn’t start off by mentioning what we should avoid and not do, but what we should actually do. “Do all the good you can” is very different from “avoid doing bad.” If the answer was to avoid doing bad, we would be better suited to stay in our homes and be alone as much as we can; or, if we are outside our homes, to focus on the task that we are doing and not pay attention to anyone else that is around us. St. John is encouraging all of us to pay attention to the moment that we are in and look for the good that we can do. How often do we drive down the road talking on the phone or listening to the radio and mindlessly make our way to our destination? In my case, too often. In attempting to “do all the good you can,” try instead to pay attention to where you are going, your surroundings. You might notice an opportunity to do good. That goes for anywhere we find ourselves, in whatever company. St. John does not want us not to lie, or speak evil of anyone, or hate anyone by not being around other people. His encouragement is to live in the world, doing your work, going about your business around all of the people that you see and to do good, be compassionate, and be content in your life. Not avoidance, but acceptance and transforming a situation.

How can we possibly have the strength to fulfill all of that? St. John answers that as well. “Do not be absent from the divine services.” All of that ascetical discipline is not meant to be something that we just do in separation from the life of the Church. Quite the opposite. None of that type of discipline is really possible or helpful without a constant connection to Christ and His Church. In our attempt to do good we will often be pushed away. In our effort to avoid offending anyone and seeking out the good we may be hurt and feel lost. The answer is in Christ. Through the divine services, all of the different ones throughout the year, we are encouraged by the witness of the lives of the saints. We are enriched by the Word of God through the Scriptures. Most importantly, we are filled with the Divine Grace of God through the participation in the Mysteries. All of this helps to fulfill the discipline and ascesisthat St. John was talking about. It might seem impossible, but with Christ all things are possible.

One thousand five hundred years later and I think St. John’s words still hit the nail on the head. Not all of us are called to the discipline of the monastery. All of us, however, are called to the discipline that St. John lays out. So where and when do we start? Right here! Right now!

Source: https://svotssynaxis.com/2011/12/08/do-i-have-to-be-a-monk/

A friend sent me a photo of an icon he recently bought. It was an icon of St. Stephen, an early deacon in the Church. I recognized some of the attributes that marked him out as a deacon, but not all of them. What was that strange church he was holding? Only diaconal saints hold it, so what does it have to do with being a deacon?

Recognizing Deacons

Most of you have probably seen deacons serving in Orthodox Churches, and you’ve probably seen deacons in icons (a few of the most popular ones include: St. Stephen the Proto-Martyr, St. Olympia the Deaconess, St. Prochoros the Deacon, and St. Romanos the Melodist).

We automatically recognize various saints as deacons by the way they are dressed. They wear the sticharion: a tunic that covers the whole body, going down to the ankles. They wear the orarion: a thin strip of cloth that hangs over the deacon’s left shoulder and is usually draped over his forearm. They also wear the cuffs that go around their wrists.

Deacons are also very recognizable in icons because they usually carry the censer. Generally speaking, priests are called to pray at the services while deacons are called to perform the physical actions of the services, including the censing.

But, in many icons that depict deacons, there are usually a few items that most parish deacons have never used: such as a veil over their left arm and a small little church or box.

The Zion or Jerusalem

What are these items? Why do deacons carry them in icons and what do they mean? Well, I did some research and here’s what I found.

The small church (or sometimes, it’s a simple box) is called a Zion or Jerusalem. While some people have postulated that it is an incense box, a reliquary, or a tabernacle (to hold either prosphora or the Holy Gifts) it seems that none of these are correct.

Historically, deacons were tasked with caring for the physical needs of the community, especially the sick, the widowed, the poor, the orphaned, or the imprisoned.

We see from scripture that this task is assigned to deacons:

And the twelve summoned the body of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables [the word for “serve” is related to the word “deacon” in Greek]. Therefore, brethren, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” (Acts 6:2-4 RSV)

It seems the Zion was a part of this ministry; it was originally a collection box. The deacon would collect alms so that they could fulfill their ministry of helping others.

The veil, which looks a bit like the aer that covers the gifts on the altar, or a small phelonian, is probably there to prevent the deacon from directly touching the Zion.

In ancient times, holy items weren’t handled directly. Instead, clergy would use their vestments to hold such things. This is why, in some icons, bishops don’t hold the gospel books directly. Think of it as an ancient form of gloves.

Zions were probably used mostly in cathedral churches, which were located in larger cities that had many more people in need. Over time, however, it seems that Zions fell out of use.

But, in some very traditional settings, such as on Mt. Athos and in Moscow, you can still see them used.

Reviving the Zion

No, I’m not calling for a revival of the Zion as a parish liturgical item, but I am calling for us to revive, or live out, the ministry that the Zion represents.

We saw how the various attributes in an icon are like a written language, telling us about the person and/or their role in the Church. The censer tells us about the deacon’s liturgical role.

The Zion, on the other hand, tells us about the deacon’s ministry of compassion, a participation in the justice and mercy of God in the here and now. Though it was the deacon, as an image of Christ, who formally looked after the less fortunate in society, we are all called to imitate our Lord and participate in this ministry.

Source: http://www.dustinlyon.org/?p=1160

By Fr. Andrew Lemeshonok

Ofttimes, I have to talk with people who are offended. They keep complaining and whining all the time… They just don’t look at themselves from outside and seek a justification of their sins. This is how our world works. People fight for their rights and obligations and don’t understand their neighbours. That is why each person should deal with himself first. Usually, our opinion is the yardstick that we use to assess our life. Instead, we should ask the people around us, our relatives and neighbours. They will provide the correct judgement of our lives. However, we find it hard to accept their judgements if they are less than favourable.

A fast season is an opportunity to have a critical look on ourselves. One has to curtail one’s own self in order to see and understand one’s neighbour. Otherwise, that person may spend his entire life being hurt and offended, and he will never figure out that it is him who offends and hurts everyone else. People just can’t see that spiritual life is a life of a warrior. We are at war but this war is invisible, and that’s the danger of it. There is a war going on for every soul, for every day, and for every word. If we’re defeated in this war, it will impact those who are close to us. Therefore, we have to bear in mind that there is God, and there is the God’s plan of our salvation; all we need is to accept his plan and not oppose God.

“Why didn’t they reward me? Why didn’t they notice me? Why did they hurt me? Why did they punish me so unjustly?”—these are the questions that thwart our spiritual life. “Why am I so hideous?”—this question is better. Everyone likes to judge and evaluate. Few people can actually listen and do what they are told. Everyone is a philosopher or a theoretician. You must proceed to practice from your philosophising and theorising. You should humble yourself down: make yourself be quiet and hear what you’re being told. There is hardly anyone who can hear what he’s being told immediately: that’s how deaf and lame we’ve become due to our sinful loneliness.

“How do I become a true Christian? How do I learn to see people and accept them?” These questions must be at the centre of your attention. The Church is designed is such a way as to lead an individual out of his spiritual isolation, get him to open his eyes, allow him to see God in his life and say, “I’ve got so much! There are so many good people around me! How shameless I am, how often I am a stumbling block for them!” I wish we all had this kind of spiritual fruit in our lives.

You can be talking about incessant prayer and revelations all the time. In fact, your neighbour is the revelation that you need. Give in, humble yourself down, support or sympathise with your neighbour. This is what spiritual revival begins with. We’ve got a lot of theoretical knowledge but we take too few tangible, practical steps towards God; we don’t want to struggle with ourselves and force ourselves to do something good.

All misunderstandings and conflicts stem from our unwillingness to surrender to the truth of our neighbour. I believe that this is the chief issue with us, no matter where we are. We have left too little space for God and too much space for the sin. Let’s be patient and believe that we will change, albeit not quickly.

August 26, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

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