Le combat spirituel dans le monde contemporain

Light in the darkness

Describing the spiritual struggle, saint Paul underlines its antinomic character: “… In honour and dishonour, in ill repute and good repute … dying, and see – we are alive … sorrowful, yet always rejoicing … having nothing and yet possessing everything” (2Cor 6:8-10). Let us now balance these three sombre elements in the spiritual struggle with three more joyful elements that are of particular importance in the contemporary world.

(1) Transfiguration.

Earlier, when analyzing the different ways in which the warfare against the passions can be understood, I suggested that it is, at this present juncture, wiser to say to ourselves, not “mortify” or “eradicate”, but rather “transfigure”. Indeed, the mystery of the Transfiguration as a particular value for us at this present time. Our spiritual struggle has certainly to involve renunciation, ascetic effort, sweat, blood and tears, inner and perhaps also outer martyrdom; but all of this we lose its true value unless it is eliminated by the uncreated light of Tabor. In this connection, it is certainly no coincidence that the most influential saint in the life and experience of twentieth-century Orthodoxy has been Seraphim of Sarov, who is precisely a saint of the Transfiguration. When I first visited Greece, fifty-five years ago, saint Seraphim was virtually unknown. Now, wherever I go on Hellenic soil, I see his icon in churches and in homes; and in monasteries I frequently meet monks and nuns who have been named “Seraphim” and “Seraphima” in his honour. All this is entirely as it should be, for he is indeed a saint for our time.

At the same time let us not sentimentalize the saint of Sarov, or oversimplify his spiritual struggle. We are right to recall how he wore white clothing, not the customary monastic black; how he called his visitors “my joy”, and greeted them throughout the year with the paschal salutation: “Christ is risen”; how is face shone with glory in the presence of his disciple Nicolas Motovilov. But let us not forget the demonic souls that he had to endure, as he prayed on the rock beside his hermitage and heard the flames of hell crackling around him; let us not forget the physical pain he suffered after being crippled by the attack of the three robbers in the forest; let us not forget the misunderstanding that he had to endure from his own abbot, and the slander that pursued him up to his death. Truly, he understood what saint Paul had in view when he said: “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing”. In the spiritual struggle, transfiguration and cross-bearing are inseparable.

(2) Eucharist.

Earlier it was said that baptism forms the foundation of the Christian’s spiritual struggle. But baptism is not to be divided from holy communion; and so the Eucharist also plays a foundational role in our spiritual combat. In the earlier patristic period, many ascetic writers such as saint John Climacus or saint Isaac the Syrian make little or no reference to the Eucharist. But in our spiritual struggle today the Eucharistic aspect needs to be made explicit and placed in the forefront. Significantly, this is exactly what was done by a great priest-celebrant at the outset of the twentieth century, saint John of Kronstadt. “The Eucharist is a continual miracle”, he used to say; and he entered to the full into this “continual miracle” by officiating daily at the divine liturgy. The intensity of his Eucharistic celebration astonished his contemporaries: saint Silouan, for example, speaks of “the force of his prayer”, and adds, “his whole being [was] a flame of love”. He insisted that all present at the service should receive communion with him. Under his influence and that of others, the reception of communion has indeed become more frequent in the Orthodox Church of the twentieth century; yet there are still many places where the faithful approach the sacrament only three or four times a year. This is surely regrettable. In the contemporary world our spiritual struggle needs to be, in the fullest possible way, a Eucharistic struggle.
At the central point in the divine liturgy, immediately before the epiclesis of the Holy Spirit, the deacon elevates the holy gifts, as the priest says: “Offering Thee thine own from what is thine own, in all things and for all things (ta za ek ton zon soi prospherontes, kata panta kai dia panta). This brings us to an aspect of the divine liturgy of especial relevance to our spiritual struggle in the contemporary world: and this is the cosmic dimension of the Eucharist. It is significant that in the Eucharist we offer the gifts not just “for all human beings” (dia pantas) but “for all things” (dia panta). The Eucharistic oblation embraces in its scope not merely humankind but the entire realm of nature. It is all-embracing. So the Eucharist places upon us an ecological responsibility. It commits us to protect and love not only our fellow humans but all living things: and not only that, but to protect and love the grass, the trees, the rocks, the water and the air. Celebrating the Eucharist with full awareness, we look upon the whole world as a sacrament.

Our spiritual struggle, then, is not simply anthropocentric. We are saved not from but with the world; and so we struggle to sanctify and to offer back to God, not our own selves alone, but the whole of creation. This ecological outreach in our spiritual struggle has been particularly emphasized by the Ecumenical Patriarchate in the last two decades. Patriarch Dimitrios and his successor, the present patriarch Bartholomew have established 1 September, the commencement of the ecclesiastical year, as a “day for the protection of the environment”, to be observed (so it is hoped) not only by Orthodox but by other Christians as well. “Let us consider ourselves”, said patriarch Dimitrios” in his Christmas message for 1988, “each one according to his or her position, to be personally responsible for the world, entrusted into our hands by God. Whatever the Son of God has assumed and made his body by his incarnation should not perish. But it should become a Eucharistic offering to the Creator, a life-giving bread, partaken in justice and love with others, a hymn of peace for all creatures of God”. In the words of saint Silouan, “the heart that has learnt to love has pity for all creation”. This cosmic tenderness, as dom André Louf reminded us, is a leitmotiv in saint Isaac.

(3) Prayer of the heart.

However important the Eucharistic and liturgical aspect of the spiritual struggle is, at the same time the struggle for inner prayer needs to be given full emphasis. In the spiritual struggle of the twentieth century, inner prayer has meant, for the Orthodox, pre-eminently but by no means exclusively, the Jesus prayer. The importance of the invocation of the holy name has come to be appreciated, during the last hundred years, through the influence above all of two books: The Way of a Pilgrim and the Philokalia. Both have enjoyed an altogether unexpected success in the West. Probably the Jesus prayer is being practiced today by more people than ever in the past. Ours is not only a secular age!

Such, then, are some elements of the spiritual struggle in the contemporary world: on the one side, descent into hell, martyrdom, kenosis; on the other, transfiguration, Eucharist, prayer of the heart. The two triads are not to be opposed but combined together, as saint John Climacus does (and here I recall the talk of father Ioustinos) when he coins the word charmolype, “joy-sorrow”, and speaks of charopoion penthos, “sorrow that creats joy”. The two complementary aspects of the spiritual struggle are well summed up in two short sayings of saint Seraphim of Sarov, that I try to keep constantly in mind: “Where there is no sorrow, there is no salvation”; “The Holy Spirit fills with joy whatever he touches”.

KALLISTOS WARE
Métropolite de Diocleia

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