Sermons & Homilies
Today, as we stand at the threshold of Great Lent, the Holy Church gives to us in the Gospel story of Zaccheus an icon of the Lenten journey which lies ahead. It is precisely an icon, because everything happens as it were in a flash, in one single image passing before our eyes. We hear nothing of Zaccheus’ past, and after these few short verses he never again appears on the pages of the New Testament. In fact, it is only in St. Luke’s Gospel that we hear of him at all. Yet for all its brevity, this Gospel passage contains within itself the entire narrative of salvation.
During this past week we made a beginning in Great Lent. We call the first week of Lent “Clean Week”, because it is a time when we cleanse ourselves, spiritually, through prayer and fasting – through long church services, through abstaining from food, through silence and by separating ourselves from the every-day noise and distractions that draw us away from the remembrance of God.
Today we stand at the threshold of Great Lent, and prepare ourselves for the struggle of the long journey towards Pascha, the Bright Resurrection of Christ. Again, after another year of sinful falls, defeat by the passions, and entanglement with all the pleasures and distractions of the world, we strive once more, with Christ’s help, to lay for ourselves a good beginning. Because of our human weakness and our nature which so often seems to change with the wind, it is necessary for us each day, each hour, each minute to strive to make this good beginning, but each year on this day especially we are given the opportunity to lay a good foundation for the lenten season of repentance which is about to dawn.
In the Sayings of the Desert Fathers we read:
One day blessed Theophilus the archbishop came to the mountain of Nitria and the abba of the mountain came to meet him. The archbishop said to him, ‘Father, in this way of life which you follow, what do you find to be best?’ The old man said to him, ‘The act of accusing myself, and of constantly reproaching myself.’ Abba Theophilus said to him, ‘There is no other way but this.’
St. John Climacus, whom we remember today, writes in The Ladder: “When our soul leaves this world we shall not be blamed for not having worked miracles, or for not having been theologians, or not having been rapt in divine visions. But we shall certainly have to give an account to God of why we have not unceasingly mourned.”1
