"Feeling" different, ancient teachings and words from a priest
I am now a catechumen in The Orthodox Church. That means that the parish recognizes that I am serious about about becoming an Orthodox Christian and is now preparing to receive me as part of the church that I may partake in full fellowship, mainly The Eucharist or Communion.
But one cannot just go and say, "I want to be Orthodox" and expect open arms of, "We'll make you a full member right now!" Instead you may hear, "Well, what do you know about Orthodoxy," or "Let's discuss it over a cup of coffee" or "let's wait a few months. Stay with us for a while and then we will talk in the future. Until then, feel free to ask anything you'd like."
Perhaps the first question you want to get off your chest is, "why not now?" You feel ready. You're so on fire. You have peace about it. Sure it doesn't show but you are definitely ready. You can "feel" it.
One of the most dangerous things, the Church teaches, a Christian can have is "spiritual delusion." This is the belief that one is closer to God than one actually is.
That you feel "near" in your undisciplined and heartily unstructured life. These things, of course, I speak to a mirror. For I have said these things and they are indeed false. I cannot be close to God and yet pray sporadically and sometimes not at all. I cannot be close to God and not help the orphan and widow, visit the sick and prisoner, clothe the naked or feed the hungry. I cannot be close to God and yet so easily skip gathering together with his people to practice our common work, our liturgy unto God.
To think that I can is spiritual delusion. And the most poisonous part of it is that it implants a deep stubbornness within me, that I am right, that I am close.
The priest of my parish says that two things mark every Christian life: simplicity and consistency.
One is not "overly" religious. Father Thomas Hopko teaches that all that we do should be, "small, simple and hidden." In fact, it would be more beneficial that no one know of the personal piety you have. Saint Barsanuphius teaches that humility means to never speak of one's own good deeds.
Thus my actions should be simple.
But also consistent.
It is a good act but does nothing for the state of my soul to simply to a good deed and say, "well now self! Look at how you've changed! How you love the poor and have peace and contentment!" Whatever I feel in that moment, whether good or bad, is fleeting and does not mark any change in my soul except perhaps toward narcissism.
To feel that one has any sort of virtue: kindness, love, patience, peace, and yet not have it expressed outwardly with faithful consistency is deception.
Eastern Christianity has been marked as being more "spiritual" and "mystical," than western forms. I do not disagree with this but I also find it to be more physical. Because what we do with our bodies holds weight. Committing sin without repentance, being in strife with a family member, disrespecting one's spouse can ban one from partaking of the Eucharist until repentance has begun.
This being Lent, the season of repentance, I find these reflections of great importance to me. For I am not only called to fast, but to also increase in good works and repentance.
But one cannot just go and say, "I want to be Orthodox" and expect open arms of, "We'll make you a full member right now!" Instead you may hear, "Well, what do you know about Orthodoxy," or "Let's discuss it over a cup of coffee" or "let's wait a few months. Stay with us for a while and then we will talk in the future. Until then, feel free to ask anything you'd like."
Perhaps the first question you want to get off your chest is, "why not now?" You feel ready. You're so on fire. You have peace about it. Sure it doesn't show but you are definitely ready. You can "feel" it.
One of the most dangerous things, the Church teaches, a Christian can have is "spiritual delusion." This is the belief that one is closer to God than one actually is.
That you feel "near" in your undisciplined and heartily unstructured life. These things, of course, I speak to a mirror. For I have said these things and they are indeed false. I cannot be close to God and yet pray sporadically and sometimes not at all. I cannot be close to God and not help the orphan and widow, visit the sick and prisoner, clothe the naked or feed the hungry. I cannot be close to God and yet so easily skip gathering together with his people to practice our common work, our liturgy unto God.
To think that I can is spiritual delusion. And the most poisonous part of it is that it implants a deep stubbornness within me, that I am right, that I am close.
The priest of my parish says that two things mark every Christian life: simplicity and consistency.
One is not "overly" religious. Father Thomas Hopko teaches that all that we do should be, "small, simple and hidden." In fact, it would be more beneficial that no one know of the personal piety you have. Saint Barsanuphius teaches that humility means to never speak of one's own good deeds.
Thus my actions should be simple.
But also consistent.
It is a good act but does nothing for the state of my soul to simply to a good deed and say, "well now self! Look at how you've changed! How you love the poor and have peace and contentment!" Whatever I feel in that moment, whether good or bad, is fleeting and does not mark any change in my soul except perhaps toward narcissism.
To feel that one has any sort of virtue: kindness, love, patience, peace, and yet not have it expressed outwardly with faithful consistency is deception.
Eastern Christianity has been marked as being more "spiritual" and "mystical," than western forms. I do not disagree with this but I also find it to be more physical. Because what we do with our bodies holds weight. Committing sin without repentance, being in strife with a family member, disrespecting one's spouse can ban one from partaking of the Eucharist until repentance has begun.
This being Lent, the season of repentance, I find these reflections of great importance to me. For I am not only called to fast, but to also increase in good works and repentance.
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