This train of thought can easily lead to a sad place. There is something in us that wants to believe there is life beyond the grave. Yet, because of fear and selfishness, we live as though this life is all there is. However, the doctrine of resurrection is central to the Christian faith. St. Paul says: If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable (1 Cor. 15:19). Yet the concept of eternal life is as incomprehensible to us as the concept of death. As I quoted in the previous post, in the popular book Tuesdays with Morrie, Morrie says, “Everyone knows they are going to die, but no one believes it.” We are created to be animated, living, vibrant people. Not a soul trapped in the body as in a prison, but the two are inseparable…naturally. In death people experience this separation every day, not because it’s a “part of life,” but because it is an unnatural occurrence that is because of us separating ourselves from God, the source of life.

Yet, there is hope in Christ, not in this life only, but beyond. And that hope begins now. So many, even Christians, want to be remembered by men. This is somewhat understandable. In the Old Testament, there is little concept of eternal life as we know it. We tend to look at the person as a dualistic being where body and soul are so different. Yet the Hebrews saw man as a wholistic being. There was no hell, but not really heaven either. There was Sheol, Hades, the grave, where the fool and the wise man alike met their end. For a person’s life to continue, it had to continue in progeny and memory. To be remembered was to live forever. This legacy (eternal life), was promised to those who followed the commandments of God, the righteous. Let us see the difference between the righteous and evil as David observes:

Surely [the good man] will never be shaken; the righteous will be in everlasting remembrance. –Psalm 112: 6

The face of the LORD is against those who do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. –Psalm 34:16

When we say that we want people to remember us after our death, I believe we are really saying, we want to live forever. There is nothing wrong with this. However, we must begin to see this in a different light. Our concept and hope of eternal life is far to narrow. We must broaden our scope to desire not that men would remember us, but that God would remember us. The remembrance of God is far different from the remembrance of man. The remembrance of God is not always obvious and therefore often looks less attractive. However, when God remembers us, it affects something for greater than when men do. In the Old Testament, God’s remembrance was equivalent to His salvation. For God to remember you was for God to do something great on your behalf. When God remembered Noah, he removed the flood waters from the earth (Gen. 8). When rainbows appeared in the sky, God remembered His covenant with man to never destroy the world with a flood (Gen. 9). When God remembered Rachel, the wife of Jacob, He opened her barren womb and she bore a son (Gen. 30).

Just as we are called by Christ to not seek the praise of men, we are called to seek His remembrance, rather than men’s. People can remember us, but eventually, they too will pass from this world and others must take up the work of remembering them. Yet our God never sleeps, and when God remembers, His memory is truly eternal. It is only in the memory of God that we can truly have eternal life. This is what is meant when we in the Orthodox Church proclaim “Memory eternal” in reference to someone who has reposed. This is what the good thief recognized. As part of the Ninth Hour, we Orthodox sing: Between two thieves Thy Cross did prove to be a balance of righteousness. Wherefore one of them was dragged down to Hades by the weight of his blasphemy whereas the other was lightened of his transgressions unto the comprehension of theology. O Christ God, glory to Thee. The thief asks Christ to remember him when He comes into His kingdom. This is truly a remarkable request considering than Man being asked is a beaten, bloody, Jewish reject nailed to a cross, under the same condemnation as the one asking. Yet it is precisely this kind of faith that we must have when approaching our own death, and the faith we as the Church must have in our services for those who have reposed in the faith.

Eternal life is so much more than this limited existence we have in this world. There have been numerous men and women of faith over the centuries who have lived their lives unto salvation and passed out of this life with no one to remember them, no one to even know they had died. Yet these did not look for the praise or remembrance of man, but that of God. Is it wrong to want to be remembered by our friends, family, or even those we were not close to? No. Just as it is not wrong to desire approval from men. However, this all must be kept in its right context. Let us seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness first and those other things will be added to us.

As I have written this, I have been trying to see what it is I am ultimately trying to say in this. This post feels much more scattered than usual. I suppose, I want to end where I began. This world is like a horse with blinders, seeing only what is in front of it. All it can find to do is live for its own desires and hope that in the end, someone here cares that they were here and that they are gone. But let us, who profess faith in Christ, whose kingdom shall have no end, look for something greater. Let us live in eternity now. Let us find salvation and eternal life, not in accomplishments or in a life lived unaccountable to anyone, but one lived in the fear and love and commandments of God. Let us humble ourselves before our crucified Lord and ask that He would remember us when He comes into His kingdom, and may He grant us eternal life, as only He can.

When we hear those words—the holy Gifts for the holy people of God—it could be easy for us to get puffed up, to think we are something special. It’s like we are part of the club, while everyone else is not. But the Fathers, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, immediately bring us back to the humbling truth: that there is only One who is holy, and that is the Lord Himself. Now, Christ says that only the Father is good. However, we know that, being in the form of God (as Paul says), Christ is good, Christ is holy. However, this holiness reaches its fruition in the Passion of Jesus. In this moment in the Liturgy, the priest raises up the Lamb (the Body of Christ) as the Body of Christ was raised up on the Cross, offered as a gift to all who consecrate themselves (a.k.a. make themselves holy) to Him. It is in this ultimate act of humility and self-emptying that God’s holiness and goodness is demonstrated and Christ’s manifestation as the icon (image) of the Father is fully revealed.

Now, surely, Christ gave Himself for all. However, the gift of His Body and Blood is only given to those who have made themselves “holy as He is holy”. The Eucharistic meal is only for those who understand what is proclaimed in the hymn quoted above: that God alone is holy and worthy to be praised. Some are scandalized by the concept of closed Communion. However, this is not simply about “keeping the heathen out of our private little party”. On the contrary, it is at least partly, if not mostly, for the sake of those who cannot participate. The Eucharist is to no effect for people who partake unworthily. In fact, it can actually serve to their hurt and condemnation, as St. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11. And, we must remember that this applies to those inside the Church as well as to those outside. St. Paul tells us in Romans that a Jew is not a person who is a Jew outwardly, but inwardly. It matters not if a person wears the name “Orthodox” if they do not truly live the Orthodox life. We all know that no one is perfect. However, when it comes to recognizing our own lack of perfection, and realizing God’s true holiness and worthiness, it is much like what Morrie says about death, “We all know it, but few of us believe it” (Tuesdays with Morrie).

God alone is holy. We are called to be holy as our Father in heaven is holy. So often, though, we do not walk worthy of our calling. Yet our Father is merciful. Making ourselves unworthy by our actions, we can still partake of the Eucharist in a worthy manner by exercising humility. In fact, even with virtuous deeds and abstinence from evil, it is still only by humility that we that we can approach the Chalice. Elder Paisios of Mount Athos tells us that Christ wore His humility like a garment, so when we are humble, we look like Jesus. We should not take our sin lightly, but we should not let this keep us from Communion. Let us hear what St. John Cassian says: “We must not avoid communion because we deem ourselves to be sinful. We must approach it more often for the healing of the soul and the purification of the spirit, but with such humility and faith that considering ourselves unworthy, we would desire even more the medicine for our wounds.”

So, let us remember as we see the Body of Christ lifted up, our great calling to holiness, as well as our lack of holiness, and above all God’s possession of it. But let us not be discouraged, nor let satan puff us up with such pride that we will not humble ourselves before our merciful Lord and approach Him who alone is the cure for our sin. I leave you now with a comforting story, relayed by Elder Michael of Valaam:

“Once St. John of Kronstadt went to give Holy Communion to his spiritual children. ‘Well,’ he asked, ‘are you prepared?’ ‘Yes, Batiushka,’ some answered, ‘we are prepared.’ Others looked sorrowful. ‘No, forgive us, we were distracted by work and various concerns and were unable to prepare ourselves properly.’ ‘All right,’ said St. John, ‘those who said they were unprepared, come forward. Those of you who are prepared, come another time to receive Christ’s Mysteries.’ St. John saw the pride and self-assurance and humbled them. Without humility and compunction the heart has little value.”

Your mind is a coffee cup, from which your heart drinks and is filled. If the cup has good stuff in it, the heart will drink of good. If the cup is not full and pours into the heart continually, the heart will thirst.

If there is room left in the cup if it is not filled with good to drink, the enemy will come and pour poison into your cup, as much as is space for it. A little drop of poison is just a bitter taste in the heart a whole lot of poison, like something that sours the stomach, is nearly deadly for the heart.

So why drink poison? Fill the cup to the rim, or better keep it overflowing with the good drink that is spiritual thoughts, sobering joys of Christ’s mercy, of death, of the Church, of the Panagia, of the Saints, etc. When you see poison has been added to your cup, start dripping in, pouring in, much good stuff. Open the Scriptures, the Psalms, or best of all the dripping faucet of “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me”.

Then the enemy will rage helplessly, for without any room to add poison to your cup, he will not be able to reach your heart and wound it. This is the “secret” of watchfulness and continual prayer a full cup of divine good. Keep the cup full of good, and keep that drink flowing into your thirsty heart, to quench its thirst and to edify it constantly.

May you overthrow the enemy, by the Name of Christ, by His grace, and by His Cross, the invincible weapon, unto the salvation of your souls, and that we may share the glory of His Dominion, now and forever!

In the Orthodox Church, especially, it can be very easy to “go through the motions,” because being the Church built on 2000 years of saints and Tradition, we truly stand on the shoulders of giants. We have countless prayers set before us, which are not merely words of good men, but the very expressions of hearts immersed in God, outpourings of the heart equal to that of King David in the Psalms. We have the opportunity to speak in our own words to God and, at the same time, to take the words of the holy ones of our Faith and somehow make them our own, making our own hearts another outlet through which to channel those outpourings. This has merely led to more questions for me. Is one superior to the other? Or, if both have their place, where do they fit? In the infancy of our conscious faith, is it better to pray in our own words or use the prayers passed down to us? And thus, as our faith progresses, into which do we pass?

Ultimately, all of these questions center around what to do about dry prayer. I cannot speak for you, but most days I do not feel like praying. I certainly am in no mood to pray in the morning as I am NOT a morning person. And in the evenings I lack motivation and often find myself tired or distracted and so once again I miss the opportunity. I even pass the opportunity to pray during the day. I fall into the fear of vain repetition, again, when considering saying the Jesus Prayer. Doubts and issues like these have often given me a “what’s the point?” attitude. The Fathers often speak of the need for fervor and feeling in prayer and the need to pray with our whole heart and mind. Yet, these feelings do not just come. When I settle myself into prayer, I can hardly squeeze an ounce of passion out of my dry heart. At best I might get one drop through much toil and effort, but even that is rare. So do I just throw up my hands and wait for God to visit me and stir the waters? This can hardly be right.

Over the last few days I have finally had some conversations and read some things that have helped at least begin to clean this dilemma up for me. I have come to believe now that we should always at least make the attempt to pray, even when we think it might be fruitless. The first thing that brought me to this conclusion is remembering the words of St. Francis de Sales when he notes that we only learn a certain art by practicing it. Naturally, at least in things we are not previously disposed to or gifted in, our beginnings are difficult and mangled. It is by no means cliché for me to say that in learning to ride a bike I fell a lot. But we cannot allow these things to upset us. We need to have the humility to admit we are not saints. This is especially needful for us Orthodox Christians who are usually named after saints who have gone before. Even in the event of a close relationship between ourselves and our patrons, we cannot, and are not expected to, be a perfect copy of that person. We each much tread our own path in holiness, though within the confines of Sacred Tradition. Nevertheless, we must persevere. We can only learn to pray by praying. There simply is no other way. Even if our early attempts are dry, and even if we cannot accurately call it “prayer”, we should yet continue. Ultimately our attempts at prayer will break through and our hearts will open and it will truly become prayer. And even afterward, I don’t think we should be surprised if our prayers occasionally return to that dry state. I think in these cases we must be like the ones in Christ’s parables who lost their respective sheep and coin. We must pursue until we find them again. We must also remember that in attempting this kind of work, demons will surely come against us. We should not be shocked when they attack and even knock us down or injure us. When this happens, we simply must get back up and redouble our efforts and make them regret they came against us in the first place. The Orthodox Church teaches neither excessive sovereignty of God, nor Godless free will. God will not do everything for us, and yet without Him we can do nothing. The ideal is cooperation: us doing all we can on our side and yet remaining humble and remembering that the increase is solely in the hands of God.

Secondly—and this addresses the usefulness of the prayers of the saints—we should persevere in prayer, no matter what, because as St. Paul says, we do not always know what to pray for as we ought. Often doubts creep into our hearts and we can barely find the strength to pray for even the most selfish things, in even the most blasphemous words, to say nothing of truly praying within the context of the will and kingdom of God. We desperately need reminders of what Truth is. For this world, and even much of the Church, Truth exists only within the confines of quotation marks. Each person is free to believe how he wishes and is not accountable to anyone. We can each determine for ourselves what Scripture is in fact saying and whether or not we will believe it. We can shout the most blasphemous words, and no one is able to correct us. The prayers of the saints do not fit into this mold. On the contrary, being filled with and inspired by God’s Spirit, they swell and break the mold of our subjective, opinionated “truth” and expand to embrace the whole body of God’s universal, objectivity: Truth itself. We are constantly being fed the lies of satan and his demons, and so it should be little surprise when these very lies are what predominantly proceed from our mouths. However, this regurgitation merely serve as more food for us and thus it becomes an ongoing cycle. Negative cycles can be broken only by introducing a contrary force or obstruction. The prayers of the Church serve to halt and counteract the lies of the evil one. So long as we take in both, they will remain locked in struggle, and we will remain a mixed bag. One must inevitably win out in the end, however. We must not only take in the prayers of the Church, but also reduce, consistently, the intake of all that is opposite of these. I know as well, or more, than most, how when reciting these prayers, we can almost look into ourselves and realize we don’t really mean them or have the faith we would claim in reciting them. However, if we are honest with God in admitting this and asking for His help, it will come. St. Paul tells us to work out our own salvation because God is working in us, not only to do His will, but also to desire it. If we do the works pertaining to our salvation—prayer in this case—God will work in us to make prayer more honest and desirable and fruitful in us.

In summing up, I want to encourage you—and trust me that I am trying to encourage myself much more—to continue in prayer, no matter how fruitful or unfruitful it might seem. We should not trust the externals, and I say this in reference to the mind and emotions. They can often be deceptive and the mistake I often make is that I take my surface thoughts and emotions to be the measuring stick, whether they are positive or negative. I make them the standard by which I judge the quality of my prayer. However, God looks at the heart; and I don’t think this means the heart as the seat of our  emotions, but the heart as the seat of our true being, our soul, what the Fathers call the “nous”. The maturation of the body takes years. At the time of this entry I am 25 and still can not grow the thick, full beard that I want. Change comes painfully slow when it comes to the body. How much more should we expect this when it comes to our deepest selves? So simply because we cannot perceive change and improvement in our hearts when we make the effort to pray, does not mean that it is not happening. And, we must remember that we often cannot see as well from the inside as others can from without.

So this is a call, to my own heart, and to any who read this: let us make the effort to pray. Let us not be afraid of using the prayers of the saints, especially starting out, for we are in need of replacing the horrid lies of our enemies with the Truth of God as He has revealed in His Church. There are many things in life that we have no passion for in the beginning, but if we force ourselves, they often become the most rewarding experiences. If we want to learn to pray, truly—and here I am merely exhorting and I humbly admit I know nothing experientially about prayer—let us admit our weakness and helplessness to God and ask Him to open our hearts, or put another way, to give us courage to open our own hearts to Him. Perhaps the reason our prayer is so dry many times is that we are like the unfaithful servant who buried his talent in the ground for fear of his master. Perhaps the talent that we bury under so many things is our very heart. Yet our Master is not so hard as we imagine Him to be. Let us remember that the God we serve is not only the God of thunder and lightning, sitting in fearful majesty at the top of the mountain—which we believe we must climb alone—but He is also the God who has ascended the mountain Himself, bearing the cross on His back and crying out with us: My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? If we bear the cross also—the cross of the strain of attempting the crucifying work of prayer—our Master will not cold stand atop the mountain, satisfied to merely watch us suffer in toil, but will reach down and lovingly draw us up to wear He is.

Man makes a return to the Garden when he turns to God in prayer. The essence of all prayer is communion with God. Prayer, even intercessory prayer, is always about communion with God. We do not pray in order to change God’s mind. We do not pray in order to get things. We do not pray in order to make things happen. We pray in order to be in communion with God, Who alone does what He wills, gives what He wills, and governs the universe without advice from anxious men.

As we pray, and the more truly we pray, we unite ourselves to God, and His actions. His will and His gifts become things for which we can give thanks.

I have often read about the “habit of prayer.” The one problem with this description is that it can be seen as an activity that we ought to do often, when prayer is, in fact, a state of being in which we should dwell constantly. We are not ever truly ourselves when we are not in prayer.

As communion with God, prayer is itself life-giving. How could we want a life-giving activity to be less than constant? If we are engaging in activities that are not life-giving, then we are exercising communion with death. There is no neutral ground.

This does not mean that we may not go about our daily chores and responsibilities. But learning to go about them in a state of communion with God is to learn what it is to live our lives as truly human. We were not created for death, but for life and communion with God.

There are many ways we maintain such a communion: use of the Jesus Prayer; the use of frequent or constant thanksgiving; the use of small verses of Scripture offered up to God throughout our activities. There is nothing we do, apart from sin, that cannot be done better in communion with God. If it is an activity that we cannot ask God’s blessing for, then it is an activity that we should avoid. As St. Paul said, “Whatsoever is not of faith is sin.”

Most important to me as I think on this topic is the true nature of prayer and communion with God. Prayer will not be a habit so long as it seems a laborious activity that we carry out because we “ought to.” This is the thought of a slave and not a son. Until we come to know God as our Father we will not be able to pray in such a way that it can become our true life. This is a gift of grace, a kindness from God. If you pray like a slave, then ask for the gift to pray like a son. God is a good God and wishes to free us from slavery and adopt us as His children.

Though the desert fathers said, “Prayer is a struggle to a man’s dying breath,” it is also true that prayer should increasingly be a source of life for us, so that even if we struggle, it is as if a man who has difficulty breathing still struggles to breathe. He doesn’t just give up on breathing because it’s too much trouble. He will breathe until he can breathe no more. We must pray until we can pray no more. –Fr. Stephen Freeman

Yet Christianity cannot be regarded as a religion, at least not as religion presents itself today. God is usually visualized as dwelling in heaven and directing human history from there: He is extremely exacting, seeking satisfaction from man, who has fallen to earth in his sickness and weakness. There is a wall of separation between God and man. This has to be surmounted by man, and religion is a very effective help. Various religious rites are employed for this purpose.

According to another view, man feels powerless in the universe and needs a mighty God to help him in his weakness. In this view God does not create man, but man creates God. Again, religion is conceived as man’s relationship to the Absolute God, that is to say, the “relationship of the I to the Absolute Thou”. Yet again, many regard religion as a means whereby the people are deluded into transferring their hopes to the future life. In this way strong powers put pressure on the people by means of religion.

But Christianity is something higher than these interpretations and theories; it cannot be contained within the usual conception and definition of religion given in the “natural” religions. God is not the Absolute Thou, but a living Person Who is in organic communion with man. Moreover Christianity does not simply transfer the problem to the future or await the delight of the kingdom of heaven after history and after the end of time. In Christianity the future is lived in the present and the kingdom of God begins in this life. According to the patristic interpretation, the kingdom of God is the grace of the Triune God, it is vision of the uncreated Light.

We Orthodox are not waiting for the end of history and the end of time, but through living in Christ we are running to meet the end of history and thus already living the life expected after the Second Coming. St. Symeon the New Theologian says that he who has seen the uncreated light and united with God is not awaiting the Second Coming of the Lord but living it. So the eternal embraces us at every moment of time. Therefore past, present and future are essentially lived in one unbroken unity. This is so-called condensed time.

Thus Orthodoxy cannot be characterized as the ‘opium of the people’, precisely because it does not postpone the problem. It offers life, transforms biological life, sanctifies and transforms societies. Where Orthodoxy is lived in the right way and in the Holy Spirit, it is a communion of God and men, of heavenly and earthly, of the living and the dead. In this communion all the problems which present themselves in our life are truly resolved.

It’s possible for someone to say, ‘The way that person is behaving, he will be punished by God,’ and to believe that he is saying this without evil intent. It is a simple matter, however, to discern whether he has or does not have evil intent. It does not appear clearly. What is hidden in our soul and how that can exercise influence on people and things is a very secret matter.

The same is not true if we say with a sense of awe that another person is not living well and that we should pray for God to help him and grant him repentance; that is, neither do we say, nor deep down do we desire that God will punish him for what he does. In this case not only do we not do harm to our neighbor, but we do him good. When someone prays for his neighbor, a good force proceeds from him and heals, strengthens and revives him. It is a mystery how this force leaves us. But, in truth, the person who has good within him radiates this good power to others, mystically and gently. He sends light to his neighbor and this creates a shield around him and protects him from evil. When we possess a good disposition towards others and pray, then we heal our fellows and we help them progress towards God.

There is an invisible life, the life of the soul. This is very powerful and can have effect on the other, even if we are miles apart. This also happens with the curse, which is a power that works evil. But if, conversely, we pray with love for someone, whatever the distance that separates us, the good is transmitted. So distances do not affect the power of good and evil. We can transmit these across boundless distances. Solomon the Wise says this very thing: ‘The noise of murmurings shall not be hidden.’ The noise of our soul is transmitted mysteriously and affects the other, even if we don’t say a word. Even without speaking we can transmit good or evil, irrespective of the distance which separates us from our neighbor. What is not expressed generally has greater power than words.

I noticed the accumulation of water in puddles in the spot of ground that separates our apartment from the driveway. My thoughts tracked along to thinking of how the rains that spell health and life for us and our world can also serve for their hurt and ruin. My thoughts drifted to the great flood of the Prophet Noah. O how the rains that the farmer so longs for can overwhelm the precious earth and flood its soil, spilling out and carrying with it the fruit that has been born thus far!

Having just come from my first personal evening prayer rule in many weeks, I felt as though God were telling me to take notice and observe His creation and thus how He works. So often I am tempted to try and do everything at once and expect the results just as quickly. There was a joke in an early episode of the ABC show Boy Meets World in which Cory’s mother reminds him of an attempt he made at taking all 30 showers and the beginning of the month. I sympathize with this naïve and foolish attempt at expecting to accomplish all at once what can only be done step by consistent step.

There is no substitute for the pain-staking work of grinding out the tough stuff day by day. And as a farmer cultivating a field or the rains falling on that field, the work cannot be accomplished in one day or night. Even the most arid environs of our world, if subjected to too much rain in a given span, will no longer profit and a flood will result. The ground can only drink so much at a time. For rain to be most affective, it must fall slowly and consistently. Then, crops grow, deserts are turned into lush gardens, and the fields reclaim their rightfully green luster.

This is a difficult truth to accept when it comes to the spiritual life. I know it is for me. But there truly is no other path. Often (and again I say this from my own immaturity), when we make even the smallest step toward God, we expect Him to come to us and make His brilliant presence known to us and turn us into super-saints. However, this is an utter rejection of the freedom of God to approach us how and when He chooses. But more than that, it causes us to fool ourselves into thinking that were He to give us what we desire, it would do more harm than good. Like rain falling onto even the thirstiest, most arid plain, the glory and presence and grace of God can only come to us in small amounts at a time. If He were to come to us in the way we ask, our hearts would flood and we would thus lose the small bit of precious fruit that we have. Rather, we must allow God His time as the master cultivator to grow us in the manner which He knows is best: slowly and persistently. And this can only come in proportion to which we draw near to Him and open ourselves to Him as a flower opens itself to the sun. Let us not become discouraged at the slowness with which God appears to be working in us. Let us remember the words of Peter that God is not slack as some count slackness, but with Him a thousand years is as a day. Let us continue, and be constant, in prayer and reading and partaking of the Holy Mysteries and attending services. St. Isaac the Syrian said, “A small, but always persistent, discipline is a great force; for a soft drop, falling persistently, hollows out hard rock.”

So let us take courage and be joyful, even when it appears nothing is happening. God never really leaves us. Our daily prayers tell us that God is everywhere present and filling all things. We are like plants being grown. And just like a plant growing in the soil, our hearts are often growing in small ways, under the surface, so gradually that it avoids our detection. Even careful, close observation of a plant can neglect to see its true progress. But if we trust in God, and remain consistent and faithful, we will soon find ourselves amazed at the harvest He has wrought in us. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him (Ps. 126:6).  Amen.

http://ocafs.oca.org/FeastSaintsLife.asp?FSID=100311

To the in-depth observer, this final request of the Lord’s Prayer can be puzzling. Why do we need to ask God to not lead us into temptation? Of course we think of temptation as a purely negative reality. So why would God, the Shepherd of our souls, purposely lead His sheep into a valley full of temptations in which we would readily fall? First of all, I believe we get hung up on the word “temptation”. Temptation is something we think of us coming only from the devil and is a situation which is sent for the purpose of causing us to fall. However, the word in this verse does not necessarily mean temptation. It can also be a trial or testing.

I am sure most of us would agree that trials and testings are necessary for our spiritual growth. Without them, St. Anthony says, we cannot be saved. Now it is easy for us to think: “Well God knows my spiritual state. What does He need to test me to prove what He already knows?” However, simply because God knows where we are does not mean testing is not necessary. A school teacher might be able to discern how well we know material by observing the answers we provide in class, yet the test is still necessary. In life, we must have resistance, we must have the option of showing ourselves ignorant and unprepared in order to help us discern our own station. If God were to simply tell us, “this is what you need to do because this is where you are,” we might often come up with excuses and try to dispute with Him. However, it is in the trials that we see for ourselves who we really are, and thus see our need for continuing in the right or correcting the wrong. Let us remember Peter. He was sure that he was ready to follow Christ, even to death. Christ knew better, and yet could not convince him. It was only when Peter was tested by being confronted during the trial of Christ that he saw his own weakness and wept bitterly and amended his ways. Conversely, Judas’s betrayal of Christ was not a sudden slip over which he had no control. The testing and temptation to betray Christ in order to gain money revealed the evil already lurking inside. The Gospel of John reveals this further when he notes that Judas had been a thief, stealing from the money box he kept for the Apostles.

In regard to this verse, we also fail to understand the difference in the Semitic mindset, as opposed to the Greek mindset. In Semitic thinking, all things come from God. A careful reading of the Old Testament will reveal this. All things—calamity and peace, victory and defeat, prosperity and draught, deliverance and trial—come from the Almighty God: Creator and Sustainer of all. We can see this thinking even in later centuries with Christians such as St. Ephraim the Syrian. In his famous prayer, shared by Orthodox Christians during Lent, we ask God to remove sloth and other such things from us and give us, rather, humility and other virtues. In the original text, however, it is “do not give me” the first things.

Our understanding, however, is that only good things come from God, and when evil comes, it is by satan’s instrumentation, and only by God’s allowance (as in the book of Job). Thus, when we look at the Lord’s Prayer, a better rendering here (as I say it when I pray it) might be: Do not let us fall [while] in temptation, or, Do not let us fall when we are being tested. It is foolish to expect that we will not be tested in our Christian life. Paul told the churches in Acts that it is only by many hardships that we enter the Kingdom. Christ Himself tells us we must take up our cross and follow Him. Trials must come. There is no way around it. But when God allows testings or trials or temptations, He does not allow them expecting us to fail. This is the key difference between satan and He. God allows these things for our growth. God has confidence in and loves mankind. He would not have died for us otherwise. And if we but turn to God in the times of temptations, He will deliver us from the evil one. Let us remember the words of St. Paul: God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it (1 Cor. 10:13).

A short word about the final clause of the prayer. It sums things up well. As I have said before: this prayer is not concerned with the temporal, carnal matters of life, but is firmly spiritual and eschatological. In the Lord’s Prayer, we appeal to God to make His Kingdom manifest: in the world at large, but within our hearts as well. This prayer asks for the one thing needful for our salvation: a pure heart, without which we cannot see God, and without which His Kingdom cannot radiate through us. We pray for our hearts and bodies to become living tabernacles for His presence, by which we can proclaim to the nations that “there is a God in Israel.” And so, all of this is truly for His glorification, and nothing else. All things truly belong to Him, and because of this, we can trust in His power to deliver us, in His mercy to forgive us, in His goodness to sustain us—not just in each day, but in the eternal day to come—and in His holiness to cleanse us and the whole of His creation. I hope that we can all reflect more seriously on the words of this prayer and recognize our sacred duty to say it, and say it well. Amen.

As an ending note on this series, I would just like to take the time to express my appreciation for all the great men and women of the Church down through the centuries, whose commentaries on this prayer have influenced my thinking, and thus on whose shoulders I sit. I would especially like to credit Fr. Thomas Hopko, whose audio lectures I have always enjoyed became the fodder for much of the thoughts here presented. If anything beneficial has been said here, it is by the grace of God through His Church that they have come.