Thoughts

(Chryssavgis: Soul Mending, pp35-48; Fr Arseny pp30-96)

Again the depth of weakness and height of glory of the priesthood are evident in these readings: from the weakness of a freezing cell, Fr Arseny enjoys the glory of serving with angels; from the weakness of death, he enjoys the glory of serving with other saints in a heavenly Liturgy.

It is important to note that in these two events, the two points of greatest weakness for Fr Arseny are transformed by God into the two experiences of greatest glory. Chryssavgis notes that the idea of the priest being “aware of his own personal weakness as being the very occasion of divine strength through him deepens and broadens the notion of the authority of ministry as service (diakonia)” (p37). Indeed for Fr Arseny, living in a place where his priestly dignity and authority has been totally stripped from him, it is apparent that the authority he comes to hold through service grows precisely out of his weakness. In such a place, where most people were desperate to hold on to what little they could of themselves and for themselves, a career criminal said to Fr Arseny, “you do not live for yourself, but for others” (p61) and submitted to his priestly dignity in a life confession.

“God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise” (1 Cor 1:23, as quoted by Chryssavgis p35) and all God’s priests must accept that they are some of those foolish things. The foolish ‘things’ should not be ashamed of their foolishness: it is the wise who are put to shame by the foolishness. If our shame in our foolishness causes us to cover our weakness, it becomes a block to our weakness being used to manifest divine strength (cf Chryssavgis p35,38). Like Fr Arseny, all who minister must be “kneeling internally” as Chryssavgis puts it, admitting our weakness and woundedness (p35) like St Paul, the “chief of sinners”, so that our weakness can be an opportunity for the divine strength which is “made perfect in weakness” (p38). Out of the weakness of fear of interrogation, Fr Arseny was given intense prayer (p81). He responded to being cast into a freezing, metal punishment cell as an opportunity: “God has allowed us to pray aloud”! And out of this weakness came the divine strength which allowed him not only to pray aloud, but to serve with angels for two whole days, surviving the freezing temperatures along with his cellmate (p34-7).

This intensity of prayer which brings strength out of weakness should be a characteristic of the priestly vocation which “arises precisely from and leads precisely to the Cross” (Chryssavgis p36) – and beyond the cross to the resurrection-communion: out of death comes life, but a life which is continually broken and distributed, poured out and distributed in communion for the benefit of all. The weakness manifest as service Fr Arseny’s life describes is properly symbolised in the fact that he is given his old, tattered prison jacket as the vestment in which to serve the heavenly Liturgy among the angels, saints and martyrs.

Because of his authority gained from service in the camp, when Fr Arseny lay sick, the other prisoners, to whom death was an everyday occurrence, cared about him, feeling his impending death “in a special way” (p43) and in prayer, he felt their support. Seeing their souls and understanding the way they had shared suffering together, he understood he could not leave them. In this moment of clarity he also understood that among people he had previously seen as ordinary prisoners, there were great saints and “true ascetics in the faith” (p45). He prayed, “O Lord! Where was I? Pardon me and have mercy on me. I only saw myself. I was deluded, I did not have enough faith in people.” Chryssavgis points out that it is in the communion (koinonia) of the Church, in our common work (leitourgia) that we can fully face and overcome our weaknesses. In speaking of our failings and hard-heartedness, the gospel speaks to “communion and love, the love that is true and costly” (p40-41) in which we can face our weaknesses together in order to allow divine strength to be manifest in our body. “Each person contributes to this divine-human community, not simply by the service that each renders but by the sacred mystery that each one is” (Chryssavgis p40).

May we, through the cross of our own weakness, through the communion of persons in the one body of Christ, through the manifestation of divine strength in our personal weaknesses, come to know that heavenly Liturgy in which all our wounds will be glorified and our imperfections “changed from glory into glory”.

(St John of Kronstadt pp81-127; Inner Kingdom ch3,9)

Again the depth of responsibility and heights of glory of the priesthood are evident in St John of Kronstadt’s description of priest as Pastor, Teacher, Confessor and Intercessor. He speaks of how the priest has to answer to God for his people – including for those things they “might have done had it not been for us” (p84). On the other hand, he speaks of how wonderful is the priest’s witness at the Judgement for those he has confessed: he is able to witness to the reality of their repentance (p105).

The work of being a confessor is hard. St John of Kronstadt speaks of the temptation to be irritated at the number of penitents waiting for their confessions to be heard (p83). His words on teaching in general no doubt apply also to speaking to a penitent in the context of confession. He says that every word should be valued (since it is through ‘word’ that God creates and sustains the universe) and the words must be words of spirit and life, not dead letters (p96-7). Met Kallistos in speaking of the starets notes the ability of the starets to “use words with power” (p135). This ability is undoubtedly related to the emphasis the spiritual father has on intercessory prayer for his spiritual children (the “constant intercession” is more important that any words of counsel – p138-9). Intercession has the potential to bring one close to him about whom one prays as illustrated in the story about St John Maximovitch, who, having prayed for four friends of a monk was able to tell the monk the following year which had died and which recovered (IK p151).

Met Kallistos speaks of the great significance of repentance in the Christian life, quoting St Isaac the Syrian (“This life has been given you for repentance. Do not waste it on other things.” – p43) and noting that the preaching of both St John the Baptist and Christ himself began with a call to repent. The significance of repentance in terms of true conversion (p45) and viewed positively as an eschatological illumination (p46) should also be a constant reminder to the priest-confessor and the spiritual father of the seriousness of their task. Hence St John of Kronstadt enjoins the priest-confessor to be a patient lover of souls, never hurrying, never sparing oneself, never being agitated nor irritated (p106): hearing confessions is a cross, but since it is a cross it is not only a school of self-denial for the priest, but also the “touchstone of a priest’s love for his parishioners” (p108) – and the priest needs to take care not to focus on the sin in a penitent but on the image of God he or she bears (p112), enabling him to constantly intercede for his people with his heart as well as his lips (p124) knowing that he can take no credit himself for his prayers since it is only openness to the Spirit who prays through him (p125). St John of Kronstadt speaks of the transformative power of confession (p112) and Met Kallistos emphasises that the role of the confessor is not that of judge (Christ is the judge) nor even that of physician (Christ the physician being the central meaning of confession as a sacrament of healing) but only that of “God’s usher” (IK p49-51) – witnessing the transformation and healing brought through repentance, and using his discernment given through constant intercessory prayer for the penitent and specific prayer of preparation for the sacrament (CPP p109) in order to exercise the priest’s discretion whether and how to impose a penance and his greater responsibility in exercising his power to bind or loose.

Finally, Met Kallistos emphasizes the distinction between true spiritual fatherhood and the role of a priest-confessor. They may be united in one person, but frequently they are not. The priest-confessor is a role conferred by the Church institutionally, and the spiritual father is a role conferred charismatically, being “recognized as such by the people” in a process parallel to that of the acceptance of Church Councils (IK pp129-130). The priest-confessor is appointed and understands his role, whereas the spiritual father never claims his role for himself, but is always revealed by the initiative of those who seek him out (often involving a “movement of flight and return” seen in many great saints who sought a hermitic life before being sought out as spiritual fathers – IK pp131-4). Thus while a priest-confessor is easy to find, it may not be possible to find a spiritual father, in which case we have to do our best with the resources available to us: the Scriptures, other writings, and the informed advice of other travellers on the spiritual path, our spiritual brothers and sisters.

The key to all spiritual advice, whether given by a priest-confessor or a spiritual father, is the personal relationship between the confessor and the penitent, the father and the child. This is why books and rules are inadequate. Each human being is unique, and every relationship is therefore also unique. “Personal encounter” (IK p146) is the only way to learn many things where words (which on the page can be ‘dead letters’) are inadequate. Only the living word, through which we meet the Living Word, is adequate to this task.

The priest must be “dignified yet modest, impressive yet kindly, masterful yet approachable, impartial yet courteous, humble but not servile, vehement yet gentle.” He must be armed with “earnestness and constant sobriety of life.” [1]

In these extracts, there is a striking similarity between St John of Kronstadt and Fr Arseny, both of whom live up to St John Chrysostom’s description of what a priest should be. One almost gets the impression that the one in the other’s (very different) place would have fulfilled the priestly vocation in a very parallel way. St John of Kronstadt describes how in prayer, when fully convinced in true faith of God’s action in response, God will accomplish everything: “at such a time there is no interval between God and yourself”[2]. Similarly, when Fr Arseny, out of his love for his fellow prisoners and his great faith simply calls on God commanding the prisoners to stop fighting, God answers his call, the fighting stops and the wounded are helped.[3]

Fr Arseny continually centres himself with the Jesus prayer, and by calling upon the Theotokos. St John of Kronstadt says that to call with faith and love upon the name of God and the name of the Mother of God will “enliven, hallow and comfort”[4]. The prayers of the Church are seen as a great blessing. St John of Kronstadt admits the temptation sometimes to shorten or rush the public prayers “wishing to finish the holy work the quicker that we may hasten after worldly vanity.”[5] By so doing, we neglect what is the source of peace, joy and health for ourselves and for those praying with us – “enlivening, strengthening and healing our body as well as our soul.”[6] Fr Arseny understands the value of these prayers. Without access to a church, service books, vestments or any material thing that he was accustomed to using in his priestly work before his arrest, he would recite the matins service, the akathist to the Mother of God, to St Nicholas and to St Arseny all by heart.[7] In fact, so strong was the power of his prayer and so fully did his prayer represent that of the Church, that on one occasion, an officer in the camp saw in him suddenly not “an old man in a patched up vest and torn pants, but a fully vested priest, who was performing the sacrament of prayer to God.”[8]

St John of Kronstadt emphasises that during the celebration of the Liturgy, the whole Church – in heaven and on earth – is assembled around the Lamb of God. He sees this holy assembly, he sees his brothers and sisters in the Church gathered among the saints and angels, and he wonders at the fact that he too is there, celebrating for his neighbour as for himself[9]. The awareness of the tremendous grace of being permitted to share in such a gift opens his heart “to love all, to care for all, to seek the salvation of all.”[10]

This love and care for all is demonstrated in Fr Arseny’s constant care for the sick prisoners, sharing his own meagre ration with them, and persevering in this care despite the lack of gratitude (and even contempt and mockery) on the part of the sick.[11] This love goes along with humility as he quietly takes abuse and derision, which St John Chrysostom says can make even the most valiant ascetic lose his head.[12] This love is also demonstrated in Fr Arseny’s full use of all the gifts he was given for the benefit of the souls in his care: “It is essential that even the ‘silly priests,’ as you call them, understand the soul of Russian art and, being shepherds of souls, they must show their flock the truth as it is in reality.”[13] Especially in a world where truth has been subjected to ideology, the priest has a particular responsibility to try to understand the direction of the culture that surrounds the Church, and to communicate this understanding to his people, that they may understand true reality.

The world of Fr Arseny is strongly in contrast to that of St John Chrysostom, where a man might seek out the priesthood for worldly reasons. Who would seek out the kind of priesthood that Fr Arseny found himself serving in? St John Chrysostom says, “the weakest athlete can keep his weakness secret as long as he remains at home and pits himself against nobody; but when he strips for the contest, he is soon shown up.”[14] What kind of preparation is there for the contest that Fr Arseny had to face? Yet in all that he did and all that he experienced, Fr Arseny found that the root of his life was the same: “I had my faith in Christ out there in freedom and I have it here within myself.”[15] He lived his life so much in the light and presence of God, and in service to others, that even some of the most hardened criminals and atheists were able to say “but you… I trust. I know you won’t turn your back on me. You live in your God…”[16] Truly it was with Fr Arseny as St John Chrysostom said it ought to be with any priest: “the beauty of his soul must shine out brightly all around, to be able to gladden and enlighten the souls of those who see.”[17]

[1] Priesthood p93, p86

[2] Counsels p68

[3] Fr Arseny p22-23

[4] Counsels p71

[5] Counsels p64

[6] Counsels p65

[7] Fr Arseny p12

[8] Fr Arseny p26

[9] See Counsels p63

[10] Counsels p78

[11] Fr Arseny p10, 12-13

[12] Priesthood p83 – those who cannot “bear insult and abuse and vulgar language and taunts from inferiors” must be barred from the priesthood.

[13] Fr Arseny p19. Note that St John Chrysostom says that piety is not enough for a priest, he needs to combine piety with “considerable intelligence”, Priesthood p89. Part of this is manifested in the priest’s responsibility to teach (especially in the absence of miracles – p115), to which St John Chrysostom devotes most of Book IV of his Six Books.

[14] Priesthood p85

[15] Fr Arseny p15

[16] Fr Arseny p21

[17] Priesthood p85

Reflection 1 on Counsels on the Christian Priesthood (St John of Kronstadt) chapters 1-3

The extract from this book continues the basic theme of the other readings in demonstrating both the extreme weight of responsibility of the priesthood and also its glory. The strongest impression from this text is the intensity and sincerity with which St John prayed for his people (“he was above all a ‘genius of prayer’”[1]). Out of his prayer, miracles came. In his prayer, he worked tirelessly for the benefit of the souls who were entrusted to him – there was no opposition between his prayer and its practical outplaying in his life’s work. How much this convicts us when we read of someone living out our faith this deeply: “we all shrink from the fundamental demands which the Christian faith… makes upon us” and, phrased as a greater challenge, “He was a man of outstanding faith… and I, alas, am not… why am I not?” [2] The answer to this latter question is provided by St John himself who says that it is essential to “live in a state of constant watchfulness”, “without ceasing praise and thank the Lord” (cf. 1 Thess 5:17), and “always be striving after holiness, with fasting… with humility of mind, obedience and patience.”[3]

In order to be able to heal others, a priest must “strive to be free himself from spiritual infirmities”. Attachment to ‘earthly cares’ needs to be laid aside: “If he is frightened of man, it means that he does not yet entirely cleave to God.”[4] He describes this attachment as a “wall” which we have to “pierce” by prayer.[5] But earthly cares are not the only difficulty: St John points out that the more holy the task, the greater the temptation and attack of the devil, whether it be through sloth, depression, despair or just doubt over the purpose of long prayers[6]. But the priesthood is not only a harbinger of greater spiritual attack, it is also a provision of weapons to use in the conflict: invoking the Holy Spirit over the Holy Gifts in the Liturgy brings confidence that he will come also in other situations[7]. The work of a priest is full of reminders and experiences that should bring him close to God, and if he can live a holy life, his prayer can “work wonders”[8].

[1] p11, Grisbrooke quoting G.P. Fedotov

[2] p16 and p27

[3] p35

[4] p38

[5] p54

[6] See pp43-44

[7] p54

[8] p56

Reflection on From the 25^th Hour to Eternity (Georghiu) and On the Priesthood (St John Chrysostom) chapters 4, 7. (Reflection on Counsels on the Christian Priesthood (St John of Kronstadt) chapter 3 to follow when the book becomes available.)

The basic theme of these readings is to emphasize both the extreme weight of responsibility of the priesthood, especially in terms of pastoral responsibility for the souls in the care of the priest, and also the glory of the priesthood – a glory which has to be understood in specifically Christian terms as that glory shown not only in the resurrected, glorified and ascended Christ, but also in Christ reigning in glory on the cross.

Georghiu describes his priestly father in iconic terms, from his first vision of his father as an icon to his later awareness of how his father’s mode of living out his priesthood in constant service to his flock led to both the aging and breaking of his physical body along with an illuminating radiance in his glance that would seem to light up what he observed and which led to Georghiu seeing him “as bright as an icon”. Again, the glory and the sacrifice are two sides of the same coin.

Likewise in Chrysostom: in telling of the priesthood in ways which justify his attempt to flee so great an honour, he describes both the sacrifice – how the priest must risk not only his life but even his soul in taking on the pastoral care of the flock, and the glory – “bringing down, not fire [as Elijah did], but the Holy Spirit” he notes in a beautiful passage on the role of the priest in the Divine Liturgy.

Chrysostom’s expressions of the character of the priest are enough to make most follow his example and run! The priest “needs great wisdom and a thousand eyes, to examine the soul’s condition from every angle”. He needs “a heroic spirit” and must be “as pure as if he were standing in heaven itself”. The magnitude of the task excludes most men, being open only to those who “far excel all others” and are “above the rest in spiritual stature”. Who is going to claim this for himself? The need for this heroic spirit and great stature is the pastoral responsibility of the priest for his people in discernment of spiritual disease, its effects and its appropriate treatment; the ability to discern the right path between an overly rigorous approach leading to despair and an overly lenient one leading to complacency; avoiding the temptations of the world which attempt to lead the flock and the priest himself astray; and serving as a spiritual midwife who leads those who are brought to him through the pregnancy of preparation into the new birth of baptism. In the end, according to Chrysostom, the priest as ruler exceeds an earthly king, as physician exceeds an earthly doctor, and as father exceeds an earthly parent. No man can achieve this, and yet we know of great saints who have reached such a level of humility that they have been able to accept these gifts from the one Lord who is the true priest of all.

When Georghiu complains to his father that the people do not treat the priest well, and expect more of him than a human can give, his father tells him, “the priest is not human but a sacrifice of a human that is added to the sacrifice of God.” This was also the experience of St Paul: “I rejoice in my sufferings on behalf of you, and fill up the things lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, on behalf of his body, which is the Church, of which I became a minister” (see Col. 1:24-2:3). The afflictions of the older Fr Georghiu are described in detail in the poverty of his family, the 30km daily walks in the snow to serve his people, the premature aging of his almost “immaterial and fragile” body. The glory is shown in the wearing of the priestly stole, the epitrachelion – but again this glory is described in terms of the sacrifice it represents when Georghiu tells of circumstances so severe that the only epitrachelion available is a piece of rope – worn nonetheless as that priestly stole – and worn also by those priests whose priesthood served to the last earthly sacrifice in mid-twentieth-century Romania when such a piece of rope was used to hang them.

In the imitation of his master, Georghiu tells us, sociologists have observed that the faithful servant will take on characteristics of the master. Thus a faithful priest takes on characteristics of his Lord – sharing in the glory and in the sacrifice.