Sermons & Homilies
Around the year 271, there was a young man who lived in Lower Egypt, born to wealthy landowner parents, both of whom had only recently died, leaving the young man to care for his little sister and the upkeep of the family home. This young man went to church one day, and while there, he heard the Gospel which we have just heard. Writing about this experience, his friend says that the young man realized this passage had been read for his sake and he immediately left the church, gave away all the land that he had inherited, and then sold his possessions, distributing the money to the poor, and saving some for his sister. This young man we know as St. Antony the Great, and his friend and biographer is St. Athanasius of Alexandria. Originally, St. Antony’s Life was written in Greek, but within twenty years it was translated twice into Latin, then into Coptic and Syriac, and became the impetus for many who desired that perfection which comes to those who leave their homes to make the desert a city.
It’s in this state that Christ comes to us and asks us the question upon which hinges the entire Christian life: Wilt thou be made whole? (Jn. 5:6). “Do you want to be healed?” The answer may seem self-evident. Why else would the man be laying there by the sheep pool? But significantly, the paralytic does not simply say, “Yes.” He begins to explain why he can’t be healed. Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool (Jn. 5:7). We do something very similar. We presume that we want what’s best for ourselves, we presume that we truly desire spiritual health and salvation. “Why else would I be living a Christian life? Why else would I have come to the monastery?”
We’ve received much grace with all these events taking place and many may have had some spiritual exaltation. This is all very good and God gives it to us because He loves us and wants to console us. However, it is a common mistake to think that what we’ve received is permanent and now life will be different. To think that whatever spiritual fervor that has been engendered is us will now carry us along.
A dove and a rainbow followed the flood, the Promised Land followed forty years of wandering in the desert, resurrection followed the widow of Zarephath’s trust in the Prophet, the stanching of blood followed twelve years of ritual impurity, and walking followed a lifetime of paralysis alongside the pool of Siloam. Today, an instrument of torture gives life as all the references to the Cross of Christ are paralleled with His rising from the dead.
The parable of the Prodigal Son is the most touching and poignant image of the Christian life of repentance. That is why the Fathers chose this parable to frame the service of monastic tonsure. Because monastic life is the Christian life of repentance in its fulness and perfection. For those of us whom God has vouchsafed the mystery of monastic tonsure, it is impossible to hear the troparion for this day without a feeling of deep compunction.
