[The following are the “highlights” from a homily I just gave yesterday on the occasion of the 37th anniversary of the founding of our monastery. For most of my homilies I have a prepared text, because I publish them here, but sometimes we have the Liturgy at our outdoor shrine to Our Lady, and so I usually “wing it” on those occasions.]
Today we’re celebrating our 37th birthday as Mt Tabor Monastery. I feel younger already—maybe I should just use the monastery age as my own! I have been here for 27 of our 37 years, so I guess I qualify as an old-timer. No one is left who was here at the very beginning.
I think it is appropriate that our anniversary falls this year within the octave of Pentecost. Monks were actually among the earliest “charismatics”—not the modern hand-waving, tongue-speaking variety, though. Monasticism began in part as a reaction to a compromised form of Christianity that was a fruit of the “Peace of Constantine,” that is, the establishment of Christianity as the religion of the empire—free now from persecution but, alas, not free from an unhealthy alliance with the ways of the world. Many early Christians saw the Fire of the Faith, which first came in power from the Holy Spirit on Pentecost, reduced to a mild flicker and nearly extinguished due to the distortions of worldliness. Therefore they fled the cities and took up residence in the deserts so as to be able to live the Gospel in its full purity and power, leaving the ways of the world and the imperial court far behind.
Even within the Church itself, monasticism has for centuries expressed the “charismatic” dimension that complements the hierarchical dimension, and thus the Church could function both with its necessary external structure and as well as its essential inner fire. The gifts and the fruit of the Holy Spirit form the foundation of monastic life. St Seraphim of Sarov, a charismatic monk in the best sense of the word, said that the goal of life is the “acquisition of the Holy Spirit,” and if we enter into the grace and peace of the Spirit—or rather, if that grace and peace enters us—a thousand souls around us will be saved. In the Byzantine Liturgy, the common Epistle reading for monastic saints is the passage from Galatians 5 that speaks of the fruit of the Holy Spirit.
In one of the Offices for Pentecost, we say that we have received grace by Fire and Water, for in the readings for the feast, we hear of the Holy Spirit descending in fiery tongues, and Jesus speaks of the grace of the Spirit as a River of Living Water. But “fire and water” has another, less desirable meaning, though I think both can be incorporated into the celebration of our anniversary. “Fire and water” is an expression that denotes severe and varied hardships. The psalmist writes: “Lord, You have put us to the test… You led us into a snare and bowed our backs with trouble, while human masters rode us down; we went through fire and water…” Looking back over our history, I see there has been plenty of fire and water—some of it literal, either from careless boys starting a brushfire on our grounds or an electrical failure in a cabin (not to mention lightning strikes and wildfires in the area), or from actual flood conditions on a few occasions in winter. More often, though, it was the kind of spiritual trials we are supposed to expect when we sign on the dotted line: “My son, when you come to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials… for gold is tested in the fire…” (Sirach 2). But it is God’s plan that the “fire and water” of trials and temptations is answered from on high by the Fire and Water of the Holy Spirit—the inner Fire that purifies our souls and ignites us with zeal and love for God, and the refreshing River of Life that nourishes our souls and quenches all the wrong kinds of fire that may be smoldering within us: passion, anger, bitterness, self-pity, etc.
So we celebrate fire and water today: the trials and the triumphs, the suffering and the solace, the daily grind and the daily grace—all that this life throws at us, and all that our loving Father bestows on us. As monks we try to live consciously in the grace of the Holy Spirit, putting the Gospel into practice through daily faithfulness to our vocation, trying to be, as St Paul said, lights in the world, children of God in a crooked and perverse generation, holding fast to the Word of Life (see Phil. 2:15-16).
But I haven’t yet managed to get to the readings for this feast day, chosen by our founder, Archimandrite Boniface (Lk 12:32-40; Rom. 12:9-17). The reading from Romans is a kind of blueprint or job description for the Christian, and hence all the more so for the monk. It starts off with love, and the apostle describes it in general terms as holding fast to what is good and rejecting what is evil. If we could do that alone our place in Paradise would be secure! But all the practical details that express the embrace of goodness and the rejection of evil are where our salvation is worked out in fact. The Apostle gives us a few examples: be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer, take care of those in need, offer hospitality, share the joys and sorrows of others, do not be conceited. Those may be difficult enough, but what about these: bless those who persecute you (and in case we want to hurry by this one, he repeats: bless and do not curse), do not repay evil with evil, and live in harmony with one another. We may think that “repaying evil for evil” refers only to serious revenge for serious offenses. But more often in our own lives repaying evil for evil takes the form of repaying a slight with a slight, a bad attitude with a similar attitude, an annoying habit with a refusal to forgive. This is what destroys the peace and harmony of a family or community.
Doing good and eschewing evil may seem simple enough at first glance, but when we see what this entails in practice, we’ve got our work cut out for us! But it is precisely in these details where the Gospel is lived—or is not. Life in a monastery gives plenty of opportunity for patience in tribulation, constancy in prayer, continually blessing others and living in harmony with them.
The Gospel offers some insight into the mystery of monastic life and a few of its characteristic dimensions. The Lord begins by saying, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.” The Kingdom of God is why men enter monasteries. It is why the first monks fled to the desert. They wanted nothing to do with the kingdom of Constantine and its politics and worldliness. They wanted instead the Kingdom of God, for that alone is the goal of Christianity. So we come to a monastery to seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, for it is the Father’s good pleasure to grant it to us. Yet it comes at a price, as Jesus immediately adds in the Gospel: “Sell your possessions and give alms; provide yourselves with… a treasure in heaven that does not fail… for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” To sell our possessions and seek treasure in Heaven may seem to apply only to the vow of poverty, but it applies to chastity and obedience as well. This is because our sexuality and our own self-determination are in a spiritual sense “possessions” that we must renounce in order to have treasure in Heaven. The whole of monastic life can perhaps be summed up in Jesus’ profound saying: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” If our treasure is truly the Kingdom of Heaven, then no earthly renunciation will seem impossible to make.
Finally, the Gospel concludes with a characteristically monastic element: watchfulness for the coming of the Lord. If our treasure and our heart are in the Kingdom of God, then we will not rest until we are safely there, and we will long for the coming of Christ as our only true and lasting fulfillment. The Son of Man is coming at an hour we do not expect, so it is the business of monks to watch for Him at all possible hours! The image of the watchful servant awaiting his Master’s return is perfect for the monk, who wakes up very early to meditate upon the word of God and to keep watch in prayer.
So we have much for which to give thanks today. The Lord has graciously established us on this holy mountain, and though He has led us through fire and water, many trials and tribulations and prunings of the vine, He has also poured out upon us the Fire and Water of his Spirit, his grace and love and providence. He has planted us here as watchmen for the world, lifting it up in prayer and intercession, waiting for Him to come and definitively manifest his glorious and everlasting Kingdom. For there is our treasure, and there is our heart.
