What do we have that we have not received from the hand of faith? What we believe, that shall be. We believe, and we can move mountains. We do not believe, and not one iota will pass. Lazarus believed and was raised from the dead. Judas did not believe and could not avoid losing his life.
The believer does not need the aids of nature. Without faith, every action of nature is useless. The breadth of faith cannot easily be grasped. It is not confined within the narrow limits of a dead concept of the Godhead and human nature. For such an ark, embracing all the mysteries of God, even the broad minds of the heavenly beings above are not sufficient.
Let us proceed further and further, but only with the eye of God, not by the steps of men. The inward beauty of faith is fair. The highest and most excellent gifts do not always prove that a man is a Christian and pleasing to God. For the Kingdom is not in word (1 Cor 4:20).
To turn a rod, to pass through the sea, to draw water from the rock, and to speak with fiery tongues are acts of God, but not always acts of His good pleasure. They are of God, but the Lord is not in the fire. They are of God, but do not rejoice in this. Remember also that Miriam was a prophetess, Saul was a prophet, and Balaam spoke a parable.
Faith may be likened to a beautiful tree enriched with marvelous fruits. These fruits are so unique that one who has tasted them can say only this: they grew from incorruptible seed in the fields of heavenly Eden, and were prepared by the right hand of the Most High.
"The spiritual fruit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, goodness, mercy, faith, meekness, continence" (Gal 5:22-23). Let us consider why these fruits are called spiritual.
Love is a turtledove, a hen, an eagle, the Spirit who hovered above the water. It sighs with those who sigh, like a turtledove. It calls together the little chicks of scant understanding, like a hen. It rises on high to God, like an eagle. It orders all things well in the likeness of God.
Love possesses God and is also mistress of all human things. Everything belongs to it. It rejoices over every happiness as over its own. It grieves over every misfortune as over its own. Behold the first fruit of faith.
Do you think that unbelievers love anyone? They love neither God, nor the world, nor men, nor themselves. They do love the world, but in such a way that through this they hate themselves. They love themselves, but in order to destroy themselves. They love others, but only those who love them.
Innocent love looked down from heaven. The Pre-eternal One, suffering on Golgotha and thirsting for the forgiveness of sins for His crucifiers, is the first and only teacher of the science of love. The spiritual fruit is love.
Joy is the blessed calm of conscience that comes from the appeased, reconciled Godhead. The unbeliever has never felt joy in his heart. 'Cursed is everyone who does not abide in all things written in the Law' (Gal 3:10). What calm can there be for the cursed? What joy for the lost?
Perhaps they do rejoice, but not with their own joy. Smiling fortune, the applause of flatterers, and the blessing of those around them are another's joy. We have seen Romans enraptured by victories. Yet to look indifferently at corpses, and to be enraptured by rivers of blood and by kings drawing chariots, is to surrender to inhuman frenzy, not to joy.
Only those who have seen Jesus, and who rejoice with great joy that none of those entrusted to Him was lost except the son of perdition, learn how one ought to rejoice. The spiritual fruit is joy.
To do nothing, say nothing, and think nothing contrary to the statutes of the God-man is what a peaceful heart means. Is this how the impious live without faith? There is no peace in the impious, and no peace from the impious. It comes from the grace-filled upper room of Zion, where true divine peace was first proclaimed by heavenly lips. The spiritual fruit is peace.
Longsuffering is a uniform abiding in belief in what is worthy of all acceptance, and in love for what most worthily attracts our love. The sons of nature are not so. The favor of fortune puffs up their minds, and slight adversity brings them to despair.
From where could longsuffering come to them? They have not seen the Suffering One on Golgotha. They have not asked about His lineage, rank, and power. They did not know that there were two crosses there. On one, suffering was borne for sinners. On the other, sinners being saved suffered. From Golgotha came forth the law of longsuffering. The spiritual fruit is longsuffering.
A heart that willingly desires to give itself for the true benefit of mankind is a good heart. 'I do not wish to save myself without saving my countrymen,' Moses cries (cf. Ex 32:32), and Paul repeats (cf. Rom 9:3). Such a well-disposed heart belongs only to Moseses and Pauls, because they saw the Good One, listened to what is good, and always abode in Him who does good.
Yet one may say without doubt that among the patriots who build, enrich, and exalt such populous societies of the nations, there has not been and will not be such a creative right hand. Autumn trees, twice dead, are not clothed with leaves and are not adorned with fruits. Waterless clouds do not pour out life-giving rain. In traitors there is no soul that gives good. The spiritual fruit is goodness.
A soul that quietly touches the wounds of the suffering, pouring wine and oil upon stinking sores, is a merciful soul. The Levite who turned away from the sufferer and the Samaritan who poured wine and oil upon his wounds presented two different pictures, compassion and hardness toward man.
Why did the Levite pass by? Because he did not know what to do with the sufferer. He had not seen the Samaritan pouring healing oil. This Samaritan is that very heavenly Physician, who out of His own tender mercy came down to the suffering world, sick and stretched across the whole earth. He healed multitudes of incurable diseases by the anointing of His priceless Blood.
Before His coming, who was there to show mercy? The sons of men were hard of heart (cf. Ps 4:3), without feeling, stiff-necked, and did not look upon the unfortunate one being consumed. All suffer at the same time in one infirmary, and therefore, it seems, they ought to suffer with one another.
Yet everyone, by inhuman forgetfulness of others, wishes to show that he himself has been healed. Hard of heart are the sons of men. The spiritual fruit is mercy.
To uphold all things by the word of His power and to be lifted up on the tree of Golgotha is a wondrous example of inimitable, incomprehensible, and directly divine condescension. But let us draw back from the unapproachable. It is enough for the meek human soul, which sketches within itself Jesus, the sufferer from above, to forget the divinity promised by the ancient serpent, and to remember continually that it is naked, blind, and poor.
The sons of the giants, groaning under the waters of the flood, did not think so. The Most High covers the earth with the sea, while they build hundred-gated Babylon. The Most High takes up arms, and the lower one takes up a shield. The Heavenly One shows wrath, and the earthly one resists.
They do not know meekness, because they had no one from whom to learn it. Their leader, Lucifer, the heavenly exile, arms himself against the Almighty. Their forefather, the firstborn of Adam and disciple of the morning star, raised murderous hands against his brother of the same womb. Their second leader, Nimrod, attempted to renew the ancient warfare of Satan.
I do not wish to speak of foxlike humility, which is harsher and more dangerous than the wildest violence. But to learn humble-minded meekness, forgetful of one's own good qualities, one must go by another road. Go down into Judea. Enter the praetorium. Look upon Him who is questioned there by Pilate. Listen to how He answers the lawless voice. Otherwise, how can we depict its beauty, never having seen it? The spiritual fruit is meekness.
A spirit that reigns as master in its own house, safely ruling the unbridled crowd of its companion's desires, is a continent spirit. This virtue too is a branch from the tree above. Before this tree sprang up, there were no such fruits in the universe.
We remember that the son of Sophroniscus also taught men to forget the body. He taught as a rational man, but not rationally. What master of a house, while caring for the inhabitants, will not care for the dwelling itself? They also report that the pupils of Lycurgus lived in a way almost inhuman toward themselves. But this was in order to become accustomed to inhumanity committed against others.
O continence! Beginning with those who tasted the forbidden fruit, there had not yet been a continent man. Moses did not begin to fast until, with the sharp eyes of grace, he saw several centuries beforehand in the Judean wilderness the Son of Mary not tasting food for forty days (cf. Ex 34). The spiritual fruit is continence.
The fruits of the Spirit are spiritual fruits. Without faith itself there would have been no fruits. These wonderworking fruits were the only, sweetest, and incorruptible food of this struggler of God, Sergius, now triumphing in the garden of paradise and exalted in the earthly dwellings.
He knew that natural food is changed into the flesh of the one who eats, but that divine manna transforms the one who partakes of it into the divine nature. He believed, because faith moves mountains. He loved, because God is love. He rejoiced, because in God there is no darkness at all.
He loved peace, because Christ is our peace. He was longsuffering, because he saw patience upon the head of God. He showed mercy, because he was saved by mercy. He was meek, because he was informed that rivers of grace flow downward, not upward. He was continent, because he was wholly possessed by God.
Behold the path set before the faithful. Behold the path. Let us walk in it. Amen.