Word for the fifth week of Lent. On repentance: “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed by the archpriest and the scribes, and they will condemn Him to death” (Mark 10:33). What lengths does the fervent love of a virtuous soul reach! The devout and knowledgeable monk Methodius was chosen by God and the Church to enlighten the Bulgarian king in the true faith of Christ. At that time, this king had just transitioned from idolatry to the knowledge of God, was baptized, and, along with his entire realm, became part of the Roman Empire, submitting to the authority of Constantinople. The faithful servant of God began to guide the newly enlightened ruler, not only through the strength of his teachings but also by the example of his life, demonstrating what a true Christian ought to embody in relation to the precepts of faith and the commandments of the Gospel. Yet, his aspirations did not stop there; with great skill, he painted two illustrations: one depicting the Second Coming of Christ, and the other illustrating hell. In the first illustration, he portrayed the Son of God "sitting on a high and exalted throne" (Isaiah 6:1), radiating immense power and glory; thousands of angels surrounded Him. Countless souls awaited judgement before the awful Judge, with the Cross rising near His seat; from beneath the fiery throne flowed a river of fire— meticulously illustrating the events of the forthcoming judgement. In the second illustration, he depicted an unquenchable hell ablaze with insatiable fire, a place of utter darkness, eternal worms, and assorted torments for the damned alongside grotesque depictions of tormenting demons. The wise teacher presented these two fearsome images to the royal disciple daily, seeking to nurture within him an understanding of the dire judgement and agonizing suffering that awaits the wicked and sinful. Through this, he aimed to stabilize the king in the true faith and motivate him toward a righteous life. I commended the zeal and creativity of the esteemed Methodius, and thus I aspired to follow his path. In my previous teachings, I introduced a vision of the impending judgement and eternal punishment. I did so intending to draw you toward repentance, the sole avenue to evade the wrath of forthcoming judgement and the agony of eternity. Today, as we ascend to Jerusalem; today, as the Son of God is delivered into the hands of the high priests and scribes to endure suffering, to shed His precious blood, to die, to sacrifice His life for death, to redeem us from sin—"and to give His life as a ransom for many" (Matthew 20:28). There is no more opportune time for salvation than these hallowed days when the Son of God is fulfilling the work of our deliverance. Alas! Are you still procrastinating? Are you still unrepentant? Do you stubbornly cling to your mindset, your passions, and your transgressions? Hard-hearted and unrepentant sinners, heed what I wish to convey today. I will discuss repentance and demonstrate that for the one who fails to repent now, while it remains an option, a time will come when, despite their desire, the chance for repentance will vanish. From ancient times to the present, there has been contention between the orthodox and heretics regarding what justifies and saves a person: is it solely the grace of God or the collaboration of man’s will with grace? The Pelagian heresy asserted that for human justification and salvation, merely the will of man suffices without divine grace; while the heresy of the Luther-Calvinists maintained that it occurs solely by divine grace, in addition to man’s will. The former maintained that grace is unnecessary alongside the will; the latter claimed that, alongside grace, the will is not free. The genuine Orthodox teaching is that neither the human will in isolation nor divine grace alone justifies and saves humanity, but that both will and grace are interdependent in our salvation; grace is perpetually essential, and the will remains inherently free. Our Holy Church imparts through Holy Scripture, as well as through Church Fathers and learned theologians, that the freedom of human will and the support of divine grace serve as the two wings that elevate us toward heaven and paradise. “If any man will walk after Me, let him deny himself” (Matt. 16:24), states Christ. Here lies the essence of human free will. “Without Me ye can do nothing,” Christ assures again (John 15:5). Here is the necessary grace of God. Though God fashioned man without man, He cannot save man without man—without humanity’s will, noted the profoundly insightful Augustine. “Salvation must come from us and from God,” proclaims Gregory the Theologian. The divine Chrysostom elucidates that “grace, despite being grace, will save only those who are willing.” Thus, human will and divine grace in the saga of our salvation are interconnected, with God’s grace preceding, and man’s will responding in kind. Grace beckons, and the will must comply. This signifies that God calls all humanity to repentance, "for He wants to save all men" (2 Tim. 2:4), but humanity must equally desire to repent and be saved. Otherwise, calamities ensue! If an individual persists in sin without repenting, these two wings—will and grace—dwindle over time and ultimately cease functioning. The will is weakened by prolonged forbearance. The individual remains reluctant to repent from sins, becoming entrenched in habits. God, in turn, grows weary of forgiving sins as He can no longer tolerate them. On the human side, there is obstinacy; on the divine side, abandonment. Consequently, if one refuses to repent while it is still feasible, there will inevitably come a moment when they will yearn to repent but will no longer have the capacity to, due to two reasons: firstly, the will will have been abandoned, and secondly, so too will grace. Let us begin with the first. The human will is inherently predisposed toward evil rather than good. It is challenging to ascend from good and effortlessly plummets toward evil, and once fallen, it remains in that state, seemingly immobile. When the city of Sodom was engulfed in flames from heaven due to its heinous sins, God sought to rescue the righteous Lot and his family from the impending destruction. Do you see that mountain?—the angel instructed him—Run to it for salvation; hurry, and beware of glancing back. Do not turn around, lest the evil catch you by sight and cause your demise. “Save your soul by saving it; do not look back… in sorrow be saved, lest you perish when you have been captured together.” Take refuge swiftly, waste no time, and utmost—do not look back. Lot’s wife disregarded God’s command—she lingered, turned back, perhaps to cast a farewell glance at her devastated homeland. As soon as she turned around, she became petrified, transformed into a pillar of salt—“his wife turned back, and there was a pillar of salt” (Genesis 19:26). This incident, my listeners, carries profound meaning. Furthermore, Christ, in the Holy Gospel, instructs us to retain this lesson in our memory: “Remember Lot's wife” (Luke 17:32). Its allegorical interpretation unfolds as follows. The entirety of the earth is engulfed and consumed by sin. Its flame encompasses the globe; externally, it scorches the world, penetrating even within the Church of Christ across all ages and ranks; evil dominates among the laity and clergy alike—among husbands, wives, elders, the young, and children. The entire universe has become a conflagration, and destruction has reached apocalyptic proportions. God desires to rescue you, O Christian, from this catastrophe, urging you, as if to say, “Save your soul by saving it; do not look back… in sorrow be saved, so that you may not perish while entangled.” Flee worldly corruption, elevate yourself far above earthly passions; escape to the mountain of Christian virtue and evangelical perfection. With heart and eyes fixed forward, press on the path without glancing back toward worldly vanity, which, like an ensnaring net, entices the gaze of individuals. Avoid turning back, for obstacles will arise in the way of your salvation, evil will ensnare you, and you will descend into ruin. “Save thyself,” and “endeavor to save thyself” (Gen. 19:22). Seek refuge promptly, without delay, and do not look back. This is the counsel of divine grace. However, the human will does not comply, does not stride in accordance with divine commandments, remaining in negligence, distracted by evil. And when the will turns toward it, evil ensnares it, and one becomes entrenched in sin. Turned to seek that delight—erotic desires ignite within; turned to pursue profit—one is captured by greed; turned towards vainglory—caught in the snare of vanity; turned to evil—focused on wickedness—and one is engulfed by it. Like Lot’s wife, she transforms into a pillar of salt, steadfast and unyielding in her wrongdoings. The will becomes a habit, which, in civil matters, morphs into a second law, and in moral matters, translates into a second nature—affecting both nature and law for the will. It ultimately evolves into necessity, directing the course of our inherent desires with unwavering strength. How often do we perform by habit what we would not do by genuine inclination? It becomes a tyrant suppressing the laws of our freedom. How many times do we act not out of desire, but out of strict routine? Within the confines of the 'small world' (as humanity is referred to), will with freedom is akin to an absolute ruler exercising dominion over human actions; habit driven by necessity resembles a tyrannical despot who seemingly assumes power temporarily, yet truly retains it eternally. Foolish Christian, you thought you could allow sin to reign in your life for just one day, one hour, merely once. Yet, having permitted your freedom to grant permission and power, you have converted that day into a lifetime. For instance, you extended your hands to thievery just once. Reflect on how many times this act has recurred until now. Your possessions have merged with those of your neighbors; your dwelling brims with others' belongings; you have grown dull with the blood of the downtrodden; layer upon layer of grievances has formed a lengthy chain confining your conscience firmly. You are unmoved by the tears of the orphans, the cries of the destitute, the shame of humanity, or the reverence due to God. You disregard thoughts of your soul, dismiss the reality of death, shy away from contemplating judgment, and dismiss your fear of torment. Your thirst for the blood of the needy intensifies, and with each indulgence, so does your avarice grow. This is today, and it will persist tomorrow; what initiated once will continue indefinitely. You now wish to repent, but your will has solidified in malice; it has been overtaken by a prevailing habit. You desire to, yet only with weak and uncertain resolve; you wish to, while clinging to past sins. You wish to confess, but do not intend to amend, rendering it inconsequential whether your intent is genuine or not. It indicates that the bonds binding you are slightly loosened, yet not severed. While you listen to this teaching, your heart momentarily softens, and tears flow. Yet as soon as you depart the church, your heart hardens once more in its evil. Before the Holy Feast, you grieve over your sins, and after the Feast, you mourn yet again. With Holy Mysteries lingering on your lips, you revert to your former filth. What compels you back? Habit. And what of the will? It follows habit. When will you alter your character? Never. – Listen to what the Holy Spirit proclaimed through the prophet Jeremiah: “But if an Ethiopian shall change his skin, and a leopard his spots, then may ye also do good, that are accustomed to do evil” (Jeremiah 13:23). Oh, having once embraced wickedness, does one earnestly wish to unlearn it? Habit begins to dominate the will, and one day solidifies into permanence; one instance becomes a recurring life pattern. Now, one wing is not lifted, indicating that your will is weakened and unable to guide you toward repentance. What of the other wing, God’s grace?
THEOSIS