Heb. 4: 14-5:6
Mark 8: 34-9:1

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A man walked into a bar and ordered a glass of white wine. He took a sip of the wine, then tossed the remainder of it into the bartender's face. Before the bartender could recover from the surprise, the man began weeping. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. I keep doing that to bartenders. I can't tell you how embarrassing it is to have a compulsion like this."

Far from being angry, the bartender was sympathetic. Before long, he was suggesting that the man see an analyst about his problem. "I happen to have the name of a Psychoanalyst," the bartender said. "My brother and my wife have both been treated by him, and they say he's as good as they get." The man wrote down the name of the Doctor, thanked the bartender, and left. The bartender smiled, knowing he'd done a good deed for a fellow human being.

Six months later, the man was back. "Did you do what I suggested?" the bartender asked, serving the man his glass of white wine. "I certainly did," the man said. "I've been seeing the Psychoanalyst twice a week." He took a sip of the wine. Then he threw the remainder into the bartender's face. The flustered bartender wiped his face with a towel. "The Doctor doesn't seem to be doing you any good." He sputtered. "On the contrary," the man claimed, "he's done me world of good." The bartender exclaimed, "But you threw the wine in my face again!" "Yes," the man replied. "But it doesn't make me feel bad anymore."

According to our culture’s Gospel, it is all about “me”. According to Jesus Christ, it is all about the sacrificing of “me”. The question for us here this morning is: Do we give any real thought to the consequences of our following Jesus Christ, to his call for our self-sacrifice, or are we simply so used to calling ourselves Christians that we have become comfortable with the mediocrity of our lack of sacrifice?

If we give some serious thought to our discipleship to Jesus Christ and to the issue of self-sacrifice, we may become a bit dismayed to see that there is not so much sacrifice on our part as we might like to think. All too often we middle-class, American Orthodox Christians prefer our discipleship to Jesus Christ to be like our food: Fast, easy, and at no cost to us.

But Jesus Christ doesn’t do “at no cost to us.” In this morning’s Gospel Christ tells us what the consequences will be of our being his disciples: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."

There’s no way around it: If we are to actually be followers of Jesus Christ, we must take up our crosses, just as he has instructed. Jesus was not saying that we should seek out pain needlessly, but that if we truly aspire to be like him then we must be willing to do what he has done…to carry the cross that comes to us, in order to do God’s will.

A man stumbled up to the only other patron in a bar and asked if he could buy him a drink. "Why of course," the first man replied and then asked, “So, where are you from?" The second man replied, "I'm from Ireland." “Glory to God!” the first man responded, "You don't say! I'm from Ireland too! Let's have another round to Ireland." "Of course," replied the second man.

After downing their drink, the first man said, "I'm curious, where in Ireland are you from?" The second man replied, "From Dublin." "I can't believe it!" the first man shouted in astonishment; "I'm from Dublin too! Let's have another drink to Dublin." "Of course," replied the second man.

After their drink, curiosity got the better of the first man again and he asked, "What school did you go to in Dublin?" The second man replied, "Saint Mary's. I graduated in '64." Jumping up in astonishment, the first man knocked over his stool and exclaimed, "This is unbelievable! I went to Saint Mary's too, and I also graduated in '64!" About that time into the bar came one of the regulars. He sat down and asked the bartender, "What's new?" The bartender replied, "Nothing much" And then, cocking his thumb towards the two drunks down the bar he said, "The O'Keefe twins are drunk again."

Sometimes, we just don’t catch on to ourselves: We keep yearning for “more”, and yet, no matter how much we obtain, nothing seems to satisfy that yearning. At least a part of the reason why we don’t embrace self-sacrifice is because our culture says that we don’t have to; in fact, our culture stresses that happiness comes not from self-sacrifice, but from the pursuit of “more”: More possessions, more money, more…more…more. As a result, even we “Christians” may well view self-denial with not only distaste, but as actually being unnecessary for our happiness.

When Christ tells us this morning to “take up” our cross, this injunction flies in the face of all that the culture around us tells us should constitute our happiness. There is a real spiritual danger that we may, in fact, be more disciples of our culture than of Jesus Christ.

What, in the end, really is “happiness”? By way of answering this question, in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus Christ poses another disturbing question to his disciples: “What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?... What will a man give in exchange for his soul” According to Jesus Christ, happiness is not found in possessions, or in getting our way in an argument, or even in getting-off easy; according to Jesus Christ happiness comes from losing: Losing our self-protectiveness, losing the desire to come out on top, losing our preference for ourselves over others. In other words, according to Jesus Christ, happiness comes from self-sacrifice.

There's a man sitting at a bar just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half an hour. Then, a big trouble-making truck driver steps up next to him, grabs the drink from the guy, drinks it all down, and says, “What do you think about that?!” To the truck driver’s astonishment, the man just starts weeping. To his further astonishment, this makes the truck driver feel sorry for taunting the guy, so he says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a grown man cry.”

Wiping his eyes and accepting the drink, the man says, “This day has been the worst day of my life. First, I oversleep, get to work late, and get fired. When I leave the building, I find that my car has been stolen. So I get a cab to go home, discover, on the way, that I left my wallet in my desk at the office, and the cab driver just stops and makes me get out. By the time I walked all the way home I found that the house had burned down. So I left the smoldering mess and came here. And now, when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink the poison! I just can’t win."

Death-by-stupidity, and self-sacrifice, are not the same thing. Self-sacrifice is a choice made out of awareness. The point of this morning’s Gospel reading is to spur us to awareness of what discipleship to Jesus Christ really demands of us. Jesus Christ frames the issue best when he asks, “What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” As we enter this fourth week of Great Lent 2011 let us ponder what we are giving in exchange for our soul, and then let us ask ourselves:
Is it worth it?

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Third Sunday of Great Lent

On this Sunday, the third Sunday of Great Lent, we celebrate the veneration of the honorable and Life-Giving Cross, and for this reason: inasmuch as in the forty days of fasting we in a way crucify ourselves and become bitter and despondent and failing, the Life-Giving Cross is presented to us for refreshment and assurance, for remembrance of our Lord’s Passion, and for comfort. We are like those following a long and cruel path, who become tired, see a beautiful tree with many leaves, sit in its shadow and rest for a while and then, as if rejuvenated, continue their journey; likewise today, in the time of fasting and difficult journey and effort, the Life-Giving Cross was planted in the midst of our struggles by the holy fathers to give us rest and refreshment, to make us light and courageous for the remaining task.
Or, to give another example: when a king is coming, at first his banner and symbols appear, then he himself comes glad and rejoicing about his victory and filling with joy those under him; likewise, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is about to show us His victory over death, and appear to us in the glory of the Resurrection Day, is sending to us in advance His scepter, the royal symbol – the Life-Giving Cross – and it fills us with joy and makes us ready to meet, inasmuch as it is possible for us, the King himself, and to render glory to His victory.
All this in the midst of Lent which is like a bitter source because of its tears, because also of its efforts and despondency, but Christ comforts us who are as it were in a desert until He shall lead us up to the spiritual Jerusalem by His Resurrection…for the Cross is called the Tree of Life, it is the tree that was planted in Paradise, and for this reason our fathers have planted it in the midst of Holy Lent, remembering both Adam’s bliss and how he was deprived of it, and remembering also that by partaking of this Tree we no longer die but are kept alive.
Great Lent has two parts. Before the Sunday of the Cross, the Church invites us to concentrate on ourselves, to fight flesh and passions, evil and all other sins. But even while doing this, we are constantly invited to look forward, to measure and motivate our effort by “something better” prepared for us. Then, from the Sunday of the Cross, it is the mystery of Christ’s suffering, of His Cross and Death, that becomes the center of the Lenten celebration. It becomes “going up to Jerusalem.”

Heb. 1: 10-2:3
Mark 2: 1-12

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A police officer came upon a terrible wreck in which both the driver and the passenger had been killed. As the officer stared, suddenly a little monkey poked its head up out of the wreck, ran to the officer, and jumped into his arms. Petting the trembling monkey, the officer said, “I sure wish you could tell me what happened, little fellow.” At that, the monkey began shaking his head up and down, as if saying “yes.” Seeing this, the officer asked, “Are you saying that you can understand what I’m saying?” Again, the monkey shook his head up and down. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, the officer asked, “So what happened?” The monkey pretended to have a can in his hand and repeatedly raised it to his mouth. “They were drinking?” the officer asked. The monkey motioned “yes”. “What else?” the officer asked. The monkey pinched his fingers together and held them to his mouth. Astonished, the officer blurted out, “They were smoking marijuana?” Again, the monkey motioned “yes”. The officer said, “So you’re saying that they were drinking and smoking marijuana before they wrecked?” Again, the monkey motioned “yes”. Before he could realize what a stupid question it was to ask a monkey, the officer said, “And what were you doing?” At that, the monkey motioned, “driving”.

Friends don’t let friend’s monkeys drive. The 4 friends in this morning’s Gospel story, however, were intent on helping their friend find healing. We all know the basics of the story: 4 friends lower their paralyzed friend into Jesus’ presence; Jesus heals him of his paralysis, and the man gets up and walks away.

St. Mark doesn’t tell us much about the paralytic man in this passage. We don’t really know for sure what kinds of medical treatment he had sought to treat his condition. But one thing that St. Mark makes clear is the healing power of friendship.
Since 1368 this second Sunday of Great Lent has also been dedicated to the memory of St. Gregory Palamas, Archbishop of Thessalonica, even though one notices that neither the epistle nor the gospel for this day have any direct bearing on him. This is because the commemoration of Palamas was only introduced in the 14th century, when the liturgical structure for this Second Sunday of Great Lent had already been established along different lines.
St. Gregory Palamas was a Greek theologian and an exponent of that approach to prayer known as Hesychasm. This term means “to be silent” and this approach to prayer concentrates on the proper use of the Jesus prayer, on one’s posture and breathing during prayer. This approach attempted to bring about a union of the mind and the heart of the one employing it. And union of the mind and heart IS what Great Lent is about; it… like friendship, like forgiveness… is about healing.
Fred decided that he needed something new and different for a winter hobby, so he went to a bookstore and a book on “Ice Fishing” caught his eye. The topic so intrigued him that he bought 5 more books on it and rapidly devoured them. Sure that he was now an expert on ice fishing, he bought all the equipment, drove to the ice while it was dark, set up his padded stool, carefully laid out his tools, and started to cut a hole in the ice… when a loud voice boomed out of the darkness, proclaiming, “There are no fish under the ice!”
Needless to say, Fred was a but shaken. He picked up everything and moved himself further along the ice, set himself up again, poured a mug of hot chocolate from his shiny silver thermos, and started, once again, to cut a hole in the ice. Again, the voice boomed out of the darkness, “There are no fish under the ice!” Fred looked up and asked, “Is that you, Lord?” The voice boomed back, “No, you idiot. I’m the manager of this skating rink!”
Life often has a way of showing us that we don’t always know what we are doing; the question posed to us this morning, is: Are we listening to what life, and God, is telling us, particularly about forgiveness and the friendships that forgiveness facilitates?
When we forgive, two prisoners are set free… the other, and ourselves. Forgiveness is a healing of the distance between offender and the offended. Forgiveness is a release from the paralysis of hatred and misunderstanding.
During this coming third week of Great Lent, let us question our unwillingness to be a friend to others, or to even be friendLY to others! Let us also wonder at what part the issue of “inconvenience” might play in our un-friendliness. How many times in our life have we, unlike this morning’s 4 friends, failed to “do whatever it takes” for someone simply because embracing inconvenience… was just not convenient?
Let’s face it; we live in a world that thrives on convenience. We have convenience stores, drive through restaurants, and even drive through pharmacies. In Las Vegas they have drive through wedding chapels. We seem to be a nation obsessed with convenience at all costs.

What about us? During our work-week it is not convenient to get up a little earlier each morning so that we can talk with God… and yet it is all too easy to turn on the morning news while we get ready for work. It is not convenient to watch a little less mindless drivel on Saturday night so that we CAN get up early enough to come to Sunday Matins. It is not convenient to be the one to clean the Residence toilets.

We should wonder to what extent this issue of “convenience” affects our relationship with God. If we really want to grow in our relationship with God, we are going to have start embracing inconvenience; God knows, the cross was not convenient for Jesus Christ! We are going to have to be willing to tear off a roof or two for others. And let us not kid ourselves: If we are unwilling to sacrifice for others, we can be sure that we are unwilling to sacrifice for God.

Fred and Lucinda were driving through Wisconsin. As they were approaching Oconomowoc, they started arguing about how to pronounce the town’s name. They argued back and forth about this all the way up to the counter until the guy behind it asked, “May I help you?” Fred, sure that he was in the right, said,” First, would you please pronounce where we are for my wife… V E R Y slowly!” Leaning over the counter towards Fred and Lucinda, the man said, “Burrr gurrr king.”

Some of the pain that we suffer in our lives comes from the confusion of our lives, and some of that confusion comes from our maintaining an ongoing attitude of unwillingness towards what life and God asks of us. For some of us, that unwillingness has even resulted in interior paralysis.

There is no denying the healing power of love, of friendship, and of forgiveness. We are now entering the third week of Great Lent, and it seems the right time to ask the question: What are we doing about forgiveness this Great Lent? Are we doing anything about it? What are we willing to do about it this next week? God doesn’t ask that we do anything as dramatic this coming week as tearing off a roof; all that he asks is that we be willing to be a friend and forgive someone.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

The Second Sunday of Great Lent,
The one known as
“The Sunday of Gregory Palamas”

Second Sunday of Great Lent, St. Gregory Palamas Sunday. Since 1368 this second Sunday of Great Lent has been dedicated to the memory of St. Gregory Palamas, Archbishop of Thessalonica. This commemoration forms a continuation of the feast celebrated on the previous Sunday, the Triumph of Orthodoxy: St. Gregory’s victory over Barlaam, Akindynos and the other heretics of his time is seen as a renewed Triumph of Orthodoxy. In the earlier period there was on this day a commemoration of the Great Martyr Polycarp of Smyrna whose feast was transferred from the fixed calendar (23 February). This commemoration, like that of St. Theodore, underlined the connection between Lenten asceticism and the martyrs living and witnessing for the faith. This second Sunday also takes up the theme of the Prodigal Son as a model of repentance, with the first of the two Canons at Matins being devoted to this parable.

Heb. 11: 24-26, 32-12:2
John 1: 43-51

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

Fred and his always-nagging wife went on vacation to Jerusalem. While there, the wife suddenly passed away. The undertaker told Fred, “You can have her shipped home for $10,000, or you can bury her here for $150. Which would you like to do?” Fred thought about it for a minute, and replied, “Well, although we spent every last cent that we had on this trip, I think I’ll ship her home.” Puzzled, the undertaker asked, “If you spent all your money on your trip, why would you spend $10,000 that you don’t have in order to ship your wife home when you could bury her here in holy Jerusalem for only $150?” Fred replied, “A long time ago a man died here and was buried, and then just 3 days later he rose from the dead. I just can’t take that chance.”

We who call ourselves Christians are the disciples of that man who rose from the dead. The question presented to us this morning on this Sunday of the triumph of Orthodoxy, the triumph of truth over falsehood, is: Do our lives reflect the truth that Jesus Christ proclaimed?

The event that we commemorate today, the Triumph of Orthodoxy, was such a big deal because it celebrates the triumph of truth over falsehood. The Sunday of Orthodoxy was first instituted in 843, to celebrate the triumph of right belief over the heretical belief that God could not be painted because he is eternal and invisible, and that, therefore, the veneration of icons was tantamount to idol worship.

In reality, however, Icons, or images, were not really the issue; this was not a dispute about “art”. What was the issue was the Orthodox belief that Jesus Christ is God’s own proto-image: that in seeing Jesus Christ we have seen God himself. The decision that the Ecumenical Council came to was that since Christ had a body and “dwelt among us” it was entirely permissible to portray him in images, and that when the images are venerated the respect and honor expressed to them passes through them to the one portrayed… much as happens when we kiss a photo of a dearly beloved departed one. Therefore, the iconoclast heresy was not simply a controversy over religious art, but over the entire meaning of Jesus Christ’s Incarnation and its implication for our salvation.
The essence of heresy is that it is like a masquerader, purporting to be what it is not. A modern-day heresy masquerading as truth is the heresy of relativism, the position that you can believe what you want to believe, and I can believe what I want to believe, and that both beliefs are “true”, even when they conflict. Much of modern-day society lives according to this belief, saying that Truth is relative and that there is no absolute measure of it.
A US Navy cruiser anchored off of Mississippi for a week of shore leave. On the first evening, the ship’s Captain received a note from the wife of a wealthy plantation owner, which read: “Dear Captain, On Thursday, at 8pm, will occur my daughter Melinda’s Debutante Ball. Would you be so kind as to send 4 well-mannered, handsome, unmarried Christian officers in their formal dress uniforms to attend the dance to serve as escorts for Melinda and 3 other lovely, refined Southern young ladies? And one last point that I, as a Christian woman, must insist upon: No Jews, please.”
The Captain sent the following note in reply: “Dear Madam, Thank you for your kind invitation. In order to provide 4 Christian men with the widest possible areas for conversation, I am sending the following. One is a Lieutenant Commander, a graduate of Annapolis with an additional Masters degree from MIT in Fluid Technologies and Ship Design. The second man is a Lieutenant, one of our helicopter pilots, a graduate of Northwestern University with a BS in Aeronautical Engineering and a Masters and PhD in Aeronautical and Mechanical Engineering, who is also an astronaut candidate. The third officer is also a lieutenant, with degrees in both Computer Systems and Information Technology from SMU. The fourth officer, also a Lieutenant Commander, is our Ship’s Doctor, with an undergraduate degree from the University of Georgia and his medical degree from the University of South Carolina, who is also a Senior Fellow in Trauma Surgery at Bethesda.”
Upon receiving this letter, Melinda’s mother was quite excited. At precisely 8pm on Thursday Melinda’s mother heard a polite rap at the door and opened it to find, in full dress, dazzling white uniforms, 4 handsome and smiling black officers. In confusion and anger the woman said icily, “There must be some mistake.” “No Ma’am,” replied the first officer. “Captain Goldberg never makes mistakes.”
According to whose definition are we Christ’s disciples: Jesus Christ’s, or our culture’s? Let us be careful of what we say to our culture by how we live. A western theologian has said that we may proclaim the whole truth of Orthodoxy and at the same time deface it, that we may give the lie to what Orthodoxy teaches by the way in which we live, showing with our life that Orthodoxy is merely words and not a lived reality. This, then, is something for us to repent of as we enter the second week of Great Lent: Our willingness to “just get along” with our society, to compromise the truth of Christ’s teachings by the manner in which we live.
Let us ask ourselves if the way that we live actually speaks of Christ’s truth. No less than those whom we commemorate this morning, we, too, are called to speak the truth to our culture so that it might be nourished and enabled to grow in a correct relationship with God.
At a marriage seminar for husbands only, the Counselor asked for a show of hands of those men who had celebrated at least 10 years of marriage. Lots of hands went up. He then asked that only those who had celebrated 20 years of marriage remain with their hands up; only 5 remained up. Then he asked that only those celebrating more than 40 years of marriage remain with their hands up, and only Giuseppe’s hand remained in the air. “Remarkable,” the Counselor enthused. “Giuseppe,” he asked, “How many years now are you married?” Giuseppe replied, “Almosta 50 year.” The Counselor asked, “Giuseppe, would you please tell the rest of us guys the secret to remaining married to the same woman for so long.
“Wella,” Giuseppe replied, “Ahma tella you. Ahma always treata her nice. Ahma spenda lotta money ona her. Butta best of alla, Ahma takea her to Italy for the 25 anniversary.” The Counselor responded, “Giuseppe, you are really an inspiration for all of us husbands here this morning, Please tell us what you are planning to do for your wife for your 50th anniversary” Giuseppe proudly puffed up his chest and replied, “Ahma go backa for her.”
Not quite the response you expected, was it? In the same vein, let us not speak to our society according to its terms or out of any other dictionary than Jesus Christ’s. Let us, disciples of Jesus Christ, pass on the truth about Jesus Christ by how we live, and let us not be followers of the modern-day heresy of relativism. Let it be able to be said of us Orthodox that we, like Christ, are proto-icons of God…that in seeing us, hearing us, watching us…others see the falsehood of our culture’s heresies, and that through our presence we, like Christ, enable those who walk in darkness to see the One for Whom their hearts yearn.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

The First Sunday of Great Lent,
The one known as
“The Sunday of Orthodoxy”

First Sunday of Great Lent, Sunday of Orthodoxy. Each Sunday in Lent has two themes, two meanings. On the one hand, each one belongs to a sequence in which the rhythm and the spiritual “dialectics” of Lent are revealed. On the other hand, in the course of the Church’s historical development almost each Lenten Sunday has acquired a second theme.
Thus, on the first Sunday the Church celebrates the “Triumph of Orthodoxy”, commemorating the victory over Iconoclasm and the restoration of the veneration of the icons in Constantinople in 843. The connection of this celebration with Lent is purely historical: the first “triumph of Orthodoxy” took place on this particular Sunday.
Nonetheless, each Sunday in Lent has its own essential theme. To understand them, we must once more remember the original connection between Lent and Baptism – Lent’s meaning as preparation for Baptism. These themes, then, are an integral part of the early Christian catechesis; they explain and summarize the preparation of the catechumen for the Paschal mystery of Baptism.
Baptism is the entrance into the new life inaugurated by Christ. To the catechumen, this new life is as yet only announced and promised, and he accepts it by faith. He is like the men of the Old Testament who lived by their faith in a promise whose fulfillment they did not see.
This “living by faith” is the theme of the first Sunday, the Sunday of Orthodoxy.

Rom 13: 11-14:4
Matt. 6: 14-21

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ!

A stranger was walking down a residential street and noticed a man struggling with a washing machine at the doorway of his house. When the newcomer volunteered to help, the homeowner was overjoyed, and the two men together began to work and struggle with the bulky appliance. After several minutes of fruitless effort the two stopped and just stared at each other in frustration. They both looked as if they were on the verge of total exhaustion. Finally, when they had caught their breath, the stranger said to the homeowner, "We'll never get this washing machine in there!" To which, the startled homeowner replied, "In? I'm trying to move it out of here!"

Sometimes, we make unintentional mistakes. Sometimes, we, and others, deliberately lash out. Either way, forgiveness of the other is required if relationships are to be restored. This is why the Church offers the sacrament of Confession.
Why is it that when we come to Confession the same old sins are usually on our list time after time? Could it be that there is something about repentance that we are not catching onto?
Last Sunday, Meatfare Sunday, was the last day that we will partake of meat until Pascha. This Sunday, Cheesefare Sunday, is the last day for the consumption of eggs, milk, butter and cheese. At Vespers today the Great Fast begins. But this Sunday has to do with more than just food; this Sunday is also called “Forgiveness Sunday”.

Dr. Victor E. Frankl, survivor of three grim years at Auschwitz and other Nazi prisons, has recorded his observations on life in Hitler's camps: “We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms: to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

One thing that marks us as humans is our ability to choose, to make choices. It is possible that we choose to not forgive others their offenses. Sometimes, though, the offense that we imagine was not real. Sometimes, we take real delight in jumping to conclusions about the supposed injustices done to us, and then savoring the taste of our unwillingness to forgive. There is a certain perverse satisfaction in viewing ourselves as the injured party, and, sometimes, we would rather carry on about how we’ve been wronged than to forgive the injustice.

It is not easy to give up our supposed “right” to be hurt, or our supposed “right” to be angry. But what God forgives, God forgets. To forgive and forget an offense is to be like God, which is the very meaning of Deisis. Which leads us to wonder: Is my unwillingness to forget an injustice a proof of my unwillingness to be like God?

What exactly does it mean to forgive? Fr. Alexander Schmemann once wrote, “The triumph of sin, the main sign of its rule over the world, is division, separation, hatred. Therefore, the first break through this fortress of sin is forgiveness… which is a return to unity, solidarity, love.”

Restoring a relationship to its original status, however, requires more than just our forgiving of the other. We all have made mistakes in our life and hurt others, and need to ask for their forgiveness as well. One way of engendering the suppleness of heart needed to ask for the forgiveness of others… is by fasting.

Fasting and Forgiveness are the external manifestations of a heart invested in becoming like God. As we begin Great Lent this year, let us ask ourselves: Is our heart’s treasure found in remembering offenses committed against us, or in becoming more like God?

After wandering lost for days in a dark, overgrown forest, a man stumbled upon a great red barn. Seeking refuge from the howling winds of a storm that seemed to rage perpetually in the forest, he went inside. The man found a lamp, and lit it and, to his astonishment, he discovered that this was the barn where Satan kept his storehouse of seeds to be sown in human hearts. More curious than fearful, he began to explore the piles and bins of seeds around him. He couldn't help but notice that the containers labeled "seeds of discouragement" far outnumbered any other type of seed. Just then, one of Satan's demons arrived to pick up a fresh supply of seed. The man asked him why there was such an abundance of discouragement seeds. The demon laughed, "Because they are so effective and they take root so quickly!" The man then asked, "Do they grow everywhere?" At this the demon became sullen. He glared at the man and admitted in disgust, "No. They never seem to thrive in the heart of a grateful person."

Maybe we don’t forgive others because we are not truly grateful for what we have been forgiven. Great Lent is about our journey back home to God our father. At Vespers today we will participate in the Rite of Mutual Forgiveness, in which we ask one another’s pardon for our offenses committed during this past year. Why does the Church choose to begin Great Lent this way? The answer is… because there can be no genuine reconciliation with God unless we are at the same time reconciled with one another… and reconciliation begins with forgiveness.

Glory to Jesus Christ!