My servant is now in heaven, and my witness is on high. Let my plea come before the Lord; may my eyes weep before Him (Job 16:19-20). Compassion and wisdom stirred the Authority to create a sanctuary for the afflicted, who could not access healing in their own homes; a project that inherently speaks to its nobility. Yet, I overheard what the righteous authority further emphasized: “This is insufficient. A hospital, a means of sustenance, medicines, and physicians alone do not suffice for the sick. A house of prayer is equally essential for them; the supports of faith must be accessible.” How should the minister of Faith respond? Surely, with joy and gratitude to God, offering prayers for the Benefactor of the suffering and for those who carry out His will inspired by His spirit. It seems fitting for a minister of Faith to account for this noble thought that is so well realized. I assert, then, that in times of illness, as in all misfortunes, no aid is truly adequate without Religion. Only Religion can genuinely ease the mind when faced with the trials that disturb it. It offers complete solace to the sorrowful, providing decisive help against afflictions. Good fortune and prosperity are easily encountered; the heart finds contentment in them, and the mind does not contest their presence. However, when calamity and misfortune arise before us, even if they do not directly assail us, the mere sight of them weighs heavily on the heart and soul; and should our contemplative mind awaken in the midst of suffering, it is plagued by questions: why is there evil in a world created by an all-good God? Where is the disorder in His works, and the destruction in His creation? How many centuries has the human intellect wrestled with such dilemmas and remained confounded! It fell into darkness and absurdity while attempting to elucidate the origin of evil. Some speculated that the source of darkness, evil, and sin lay in crude matter or physicality, seeking to absolve the Divine from these unworthy acts by positing matter as eternal and uncreated. Others imagined a dualism where evil emerged separately but equally alongside the good, viewing an inescapable fate or relentless destiny that chains beings to either evil or good, beyond God's intervention. Such notions betray the reality of decay we witness around us! Eternal matter, evil, and blind fate are but dreams and fables that undermine the core truth of the infinite perfection and omnipotence of the Divine. Rebranding evil as matter, fate, or origin does not clarify or justify it. Thus, the human intellect languished in a narrow perspective, like a chick confined within its eggshell, unable to break free. This was the state of philosophers and seekers of wisdom, along with nearly all humanity, until they encountered the revealed Religion that had quietly awaited its time in a small corner of the world, a beacon of enlightenment for the entirety of creation. With the advent of Christianity, absurdities were revealed as such, and darkness found its explanation; burdensome realities were alleviated. We came to understand that the origin of evil is rooted in the misuse of freedom by created beings, exonerating the Creator, who generously bestowed freedom and refrains from its misuse. We learned that God possesses the means to redeem humanity from the evils to which it willingly surrendered for pleasure; therefore, evil does not impugn God’s providence over the world. We received firm hope that evil, both within humans and nature, will ultimately be vanquished, and goodness shall triumph, establishing everlasting joy through Christ the Savior. Thus, even while confronted with evil and suffering, we can find joy, akin to a farmer who does not despair during winter, knowing that his crops will rise again with the coming of spring, or to a gardener who does not lament over bitter fruits in spring, for he knows they will mature into sweetness in summer and autumn. Therefore, only true Religion can reconcile the mind with the sight of calamities that would otherwise inflame it. While it is challenging to observe misfortune, enduring it oneself is even more daunting. Yet, when avoidance becomes impossible, we must find ways to cope. Weeping and wailing are surely not the most dignified responses to hardship; a different approach, one that aligns with the dignity of a rational and free being and the capacity of the afflicted individual, is needed—means of consolation. Here, I wish to challenge the prideful Philosophy that believes it can render humanity prosperous and free from external turmoil solely through its own wisdom. I would send it to a hospital to assess its effectiveness. What might it say to the afflicted? “Be brave; your suffering arises from natural causes, from the laws of nature, which you cannot escape as part of the chain of existence.” Would such remarks ease the patient’s burden or merely exacerbate it by highlighting their bondage to these inevitable laws? Or suppose Philosophy, viewing the sick from a moral perspective, stated: “Perhaps you have brought this upon yourself through excess or negligence; endure what you have caused.” Again, is this enough to console the suffering? Could not the patient retort: “You are compounding my misery by making me feel wretched in body and spirit?” What further counsel could Philosophy provide? “Be patient; if not healing, death will deliver you from your suffering.” But if that is all it can offer—and it lacks further insights—it seems more likely to foster despair than solace. Let us cast aside the pretensions of human wisdom, which promises much but delivers little. Come, Wisdom of God; Divine Religion, assist us. You may assure the suffering individual that their affliction is either sent by or permitted by a merciful Heavenly Father; thus, the suffering is not without purpose or righteousness, for a loving Father would not allow unnecessary anguish. You may remind them that the Father is compassionate even in affliction, willing to provide relief in accordance with the recipient’s capacity and true good. It is certain that while suffering may be great, it cannot surpass our ability to endure, as it is written, “Faithful is God, who will not allow you to be tempted above that you are able; but will also provide a way of escape, that you may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13). If the sick one suffers due to sin, and feels profoundly miserable, you can extend considerable consolation: for the grief of the soul comes with the promise of forgiveness through faith and repentance; and for physical ailments, there is the hope of healing derived from such forgiveness, alongside the assurance that the Physician of souls and bodies will utilize hardship as a means of purification, transforming bodily affliction into a path toward spiritual healing through patience. Consequently, it becomes essential to accept the suffering of illness willingly, just as one would accept bitter medicine in the knowledge of its benefits. Immortal Religion can extract sweetness even from the bitter contemplation of death, for within it lies not merely an end, but the dawn of a new existence—not an end, but a continuation—not a closure of life, but an opening to something far better—not a dark abyss, but a realm of light into which faith boldly ventures. Here, not just the conclusion of suffering awaits those who persevere, but also the promise of blessings beyond comprehension and a glorious reward for enduring patience. Ultimately, as the cornerstone and fulfillment of all consolation, the Religion of Christ can turn the sufferer’s gaze toward the Great Healer of sorrows, Who “was wounded for our transgressions; He was bruised for our iniquities,” and Who offered “the chastisement for our peace,” by Whose stripes “we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). Those who truly know Him in faith and love understand how one might endure suffering with sweetness, holding a fellowship in His sufferings, assisted by Him and inspired by His example, out of gratitude and love for Him. Such individuals express profound sentiments that, while implausible to the carnal mind, are encouraging to the spiritual heart: “We rejoice in tribulation” (Rom. 5:3). “I am joyful in my sufferings” (Col. 1:24). “In the multitude of my afflictions within my heart, Thy comforts delight my soul” (Ps. 93:19). “As the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ” (2 Cor. 1:5). The abundance and completeness of consolation available to the afflicted or distressed is found solely in Religion. Must we seek additional remedies for calamities alongside comforting aids? Such remedies are found most surely in Religion. There are maladies that medical science fails to cure; poverty that diligent labor cannot alleviate; injustices that no human fairness can quell, for the reasons that man is neither omniscient nor omnipotent. Religion, however, knows no such barriers or constraints. Its strength is that of the Almighty, Who “kills and makes alive; Who brings down to the grave and brings up; Who makes poor and makes rich; Who lowers and exalts” (1 Sam. 2:6-7); Who “heals all sickness and all disease” (Matt. 4:23). The very power that Jesus Christ employed to perform miracles, He bestowed upon the Saints’ souls, contained in His Word and sacraments, granting the keys of faith and prayer. “All things are possible to him who believes” (Mark 9:23). To reflect upon these thoughts in light of experience, let us recall the figure of Job, who undoubtedly comes to mind in a hospital context. The assault of robbers, the consuming fire from heaven, the raging storm, the loss of cattle, servants, homes, and children—how many arrows aimed at one target! How many misfortunes striking one individual! The calamity, staggering in itself, was compounded by the extent of his previous happiness. The blows that might have been endurable individually became overwhelming due to their number and abruptness. Yet, the righteous man remained steadfast: for his faith anchored him in God. “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21). The architect of evil sought to amplify Job's suffering: “So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and struck Job with painful boils from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head” (Job 2:7). There was neither home nor hospital for him: “and he sat in the ashes” (Job 2:8). His wife remained with him, but not as a supporter; rather, she sought to lead him to despair: “Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!” (Job 2:9). His friends came to visit; their words brought no healing balm for his wounds but new barbs of accusal against his righteousness. What then? The devil’s arsenal was exhausted, yet the shield of the righteous man remained unbroken. What shield? The same as that of the Apostle: “the shield of faith” (Eph. 6:16). This shield he wielded against the arrows of unfounded reproach, asserting: “My witness is in heaven; my complaint is on high. Let my supplication come before the Lord, and let my eyes weep before Him” (Job 16:19-20). The human wisdom of Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu fell short. Religion in Job stood triumphant. “And the Lord restored Job’s losses when he prayed for his friends; indeed the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before” (Job 42:10). Christ, Lord! Your grace triumphed in Job over all adversity, reflecting Your own victorious sufferings. It now facilitates Job's endeavors: for he is not cast to sit in the ashes but is provided with a comfortable residence, care, healing, and the comfort of faith—all for Your sake, Who enacted such acts of compassion when You stated, “I was sick, and you visited me” (Matt 25:36). Blessed is Your faith, holy, powerful, and saving! Accept and bless this monastery as a sacrifice offered to You. Let all who are sick believe, for “the prayer of faith shall save the sick” (James 5:15).
THEOSIS