Our Lord Jesus Christ communicates through the Prophets, sometimes articulating His own words and at other times expressing our sentiments, uniting Himself with humanity, as the Scripture states that two shall become one flesh. This unity is why, in the Gospel, the Lord teaches about marriage, confirming that they are no longer two but one flesh. This oneness pertains to the human condition, as He embraced our mortality by assuming human form; not that He relinquished His divinity, for He is the Creator while we are His creation. Therefore, whatever our Lord conveys in the context of His adopted human nature pertains not only to that divine Head who has ascended into the heavenly realm but also to those members still navigating their earthly existence. We should engage with our Lord Jesus Christ as He communicates through prophecies. The Psalms, sung long before the Lord’s incarnation through Mary, were not prior to His lordship because He has been from eternity the Creator of all. Yet in time, He was born of His creation. Let us hold firm in our belief in this divine nature, striving to grasp as much as we can that He is coequal with the Father. This divine essence, equal to the Father, participated in our human frailty, drawing from our nature rather than His own, so that we might partake in His divine nature, not from ourselves but from Him.
“Lord, Thou hast searched me, and known me.” Let it be the Lord Jesus Christ who declares this, asserting to the Father, “Lord.” His Father holds that title for Him only as He chose to be born in the flesh. He is the Father of the Divine, the Lord of Humanity. Do you know who He is a Father to? To His equal Son. As the Apostle Paul states, “Who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God.” This form belongs to God the Father, who embodies equality with His only-begotten Son, generated from His own essence. Yet for our sake, so that we might be reformed and share in His divine nature, He became partaker of our frail existence. What does the Apostle declare about Him? He said, “But He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men, and was found in fashion as a man.” He existed in the Form of God, equal to the Father; He took on the form of a servant so that He might be lesser than the Father.
“You know my sitting down and my rising up.” What is it to sit or to rise? In sitting, one humbles oneself. The Lord then sat in His Passion and rose in His Resurrection. He indicates that you understood it; that is, you willed it, you approved it; by your willingness, it was accomplished. Yet, if you prefer to interpret the words of the Head as spoken through the Body: a man sits in humility when he repents, and he rises when his transgressions are forgiven, lifted to the hope of eternal life. Do not elevate yourselves unless you have first humbled yourselves. For many wish to rise before they have knelt in penitence, eager to appear righteous before admitting their sins.
“You have understood my thoughts from afar; You have traced my path and my resting place.” Even from a distance, while still on my journey, Thou have understood my motives. The younger son ventured to a distant land. After toil, suffering, and need, he remembered his father and resolved to return saying, “I will arise and go to my father.” I will arise—prior to sitting down. Here you may see him acknowledging: “You knew when I sat and when I rose.” I sat in want; I arose wanting Your sustenance. You understood my heart from afar. Truly, I have strayed far; yet where can I escape from You, whom I have abandoned? Thus, the Lord declares in the Gospel that his father encountered him on his way back. Indeed, for he comprehended his thoughts from afar. “My path,” he reflects; what could it be but the wrong path, the one he took in departing from his father? What defines my path? The journey I have undertaken. What is my limit? What I have attained. You have traced both my journey and my limitations. Though I have strayed far, nothing is distant from Your sight. I have wandered greatly, yet You were present. You have perceived all my ways beforehand. He did not merely say ‘saw,’ but stated ‘saw in advance.’ Before I traversed them, before I engaged with them, You beheld them ahead of time. You let me labor along my path, so that should I choose not to toil, I might return to Your paths. There is no falsehood upon my lips. What does he express by this? Behold, I confess to You; I have strayed far from You, drifting from the source of my goodness, where it was well with me, and badly for me without You.
“Behold, Thou art aware of all my deeds, both my past and present.” You knew my most recent actions when I tended swine; You recognized my earlier actions when I demanded my share of the inheritance. The former actions were the roots of my newest woes: the ancient sin at our fall; my latest punishment when I entered this laborious and perilous mortal life. What may have been the last for us can still become our last if we now desire to return. For some wicked individuals, there remains one last reckoning when it will be declared, “Depart into everlasting fire.” You have formed me, and laid Your hand upon me. Where have You shaped me? In this mortality; in preparation for those labors for which we were all created. No individual is born without God having formed him in his mother’s womb; there exists no being whose Maker is not God. You have crafted me for endurance and placed upon me Your hand of vengeance, Your corrective hand, humbling the proud. For He has brought down the haughty to heal and uplift the humble.
“Your artistry has marvellously revealed itself within me; it is powerful, and I cannot attain it.” Listen closely now, for this may seem obscure yet yields deep insight when understood. Moses, the holy servant of God, spoke with God amidst a cloud; humanly, He must communicate with His servant through some visible manifestation. Moses yearned to witness the reality of God’s presence and approached God saying, “If I have found favor in Your sight, demonstrate Yourself to me.” And when he fervently longed for this revelation, he beseeches God in familiarity, and God responds: “You cannot see My face, for no one may behold My face and live; but I will place you in the cleft of the rock, and as I pass by, I will cover you with My hand; once I have passed, you shall see My back.” From these words emerges another mystery, an enigmatic reflection of truth. “As I pass,” God indicates, “you shall behold My back”—as though He has a face at one side and a back on the other. We cannot conceive of the full majesty of this! For if someone considers God in such a manner, what good are closed temples? They construct an idol in their hearts. These words are laden with profound mysteries. Those who opposed the Lord whom they beheld now seek counsel on how to be saved; it is said to them, “Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of your sins.” Behold, they saw His back, for they were unable to see His face. For His hand obscured their gaze only temporarily, and once He passed by, He removed His obscuring hand from their sight. When it was removed, they conversed with the disciples, asking, “What shall we do?” First, they were fierce, then loving; they grew angry, then fearful; were previously hardened, then gentle; were once blind, and became enlightened.
Consider the realization that a fugitive in a distant land cannot evade the gaze of the One from whom he flees. Where now can he turn, when his limit has been reached? What, he questions: Where shall I go from Your Spirit? For who can escape the Spirit that fills the world? And where shall I flee from Your presence? He is endeavoring to find a refuge from God's wrath. What haven can shelter the fugitive from God’s gaze? Those who offer sanctuary to fugitives inquire whom they fled from, and when they discover the fugitive is under a lesser master, they harbor him safely, thinking, “He has no master pursuing him.” However, upon learning of a mighty Lord, they either refuse to give refuge or do so with great trepidation, recognizing that even those with great might may sometimes be deceived. Where is there no God? Who can deceive Him? Who is unseen by Him? From whom does God not extract His requital? Where does the fugitive seek to escape the face of God? He strives attempting to find an avenue of flight.
“If I ascend to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.” Finally, wretched fugitive, you have discovered that you cannot separate from the One from whom you yearn to flee. Behold, He is everywhere; where will you escape? He has illuminated a path, and that guidance came from Him who now recalls it to memory. If, having sinned, I descend into the depths of wickedness and deny my transgressions, reasoning, “Who sees me?” (for in the grave, who admits to You?) You are still present to dispense punishment. Where can I go to elude Your presence, that is, to avoid encountering Your wrath? He formulates a plan: “Thus I will evade, I will distance myself from Your countenance and flee from Your Spirit; from Your vengeful Spirit, Your fierce glance, I will hide.” And how will he do this? “If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the farthest parts of the sea.” Thus, he hopes to escape from Your gaze. However, if he retreats to the farthest reaches of the sea from God's presence, can he assume the One from whom he flees will not be there? For what is the end of the sea but a boundary of the world? There let us soar with hope and eager longing; let us seek rest only in the furthest points of the sea. For should we seek repose elsewhere, we will plunge headlong into the sea. Let us take flight to the ocean’s edge, ascending upon the wings of ardent love, while busily striving towards God with faith, and at the sea’s end let us contemplate in serene hope.
Now listen to Him who can guide us there—the very One from whom we wish to flee in fury. What follows from this? “And there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall support me.” Let this thought be ours, dear brethren; may it be our aspiration and reward. Let us reclaim the wings lost through desire, for base cravings impeded our ascent, grounding us from the liberating breath of God's Spirit. As we fell, we lost our wings and became ensnared; yet He redeemed us through His blood, from whom we were fleeing only to be caught. He bequeaths to us the wings of His commandments; we shall lift them now, freed from bondage. We must possess our wings, and He must guide us, for He is our Helper. We are endowed with free will; yet what can we accomplish in our own strength, unless He who commands strengthens us?
THEOSIS