To continue on the way and change

In recent years, we have been deeply compelled to reflect on the future of humankind, questioning whether it will survive or fall victim to increasingly disturbed and even devastated ecological environments. Will we survive? It is not only an ecological issue. It is basically a moral question.

We have problems. Problems presuppose recurring questions. Indeed, they involve throwing different propositions into the air and attempting to resolve persistent, seemingly unsolvable hardships. Life cycles and paths can be repetitive and monotonous. The Christian Great Lenten traditions of fasting align with socially imposed, economically unavoidable rhythms of chronic healthcare and ethos-religious dynamics.

True penance, true penitence, or conversion/return to the Lord, is more than just a gamble rooted in personal and collective considerations: God calls us to life, sustains us, and maintains both us and the entire creation in life, despite the systems of destruction and eradication that appear to dominate the reality of substance and memory.

The Byzantine Vesper prayers continually encourage meditation on the first Psalm: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of the scornful” (Psalm 1:1). The Hebrew text is not immutable; it allows diverse interpretations. Psalms are notoriously difficult to translate into any language because the flows of the radicals and letters always interact in a way that prevents the reader from becoming stagnant. Calcification is a serious danger for the most pious and those immersed in ritual practices. Cycles are not truly cyclical. They break through natural tendencies trapped in mental rigidity and religious routine. God does not allow us to bathe twice in the same waters as the Greek saying reptends. Memories, like films, videos, and audio recordings, fade.

Faith cannot fade, but how can we truly believe this?

The Great Lenten journey begins with this special challenge: how can we leave the ungodly behind? This is parallel to the request found in the Great Lenten prayer of Saint Ephrem the Syrian. The “ungodly,” or the evil ones, the idolaters (resha’im / רשעים), are reflected in the line: “(O Lord and Master of my life,) grant me not a spirit of sloth, meddling, love of power, and idle talk.”

The second verse of the Psalm refers to standing in the way of the “sinner”—the one who rebels, acts willfully, or is faithless (posh’im / פושעים), which parallels the second part of Saint Ephrem’s prayer: “(but give me) a spirit of sober-mindedness, humility, patience, and love.”

The third verse warns against sitting in the seat of the “scornful”—those who mock and belittle others with the intent to harm or destroy verbally (letsim / לצים). This corresponds to the final part of the prayer: “grant me to see my own faults and not to judge my brother, since you are blessed to the ages of ages. Amen.”

Instead of distorting others’ identities and deceiving ourselves and others, we can turn to the Creator and feel true remorse. In this context, the “scornful” or “lets” is the fool who seeks to destroy the ugly parts of himself by projecting them onto others. He accuses others of his own faults and attempts to eradicate them, ultimately leading to his own annihilation through some sort of retaliatory action.

Forty days are set aside for a return that pushes us forward onto an unknown path of revelation and redemption. This culminates in a week of suffering, highlighted by the Paschal meal, during which the Body and Blood of the Resurrected Messiah are shared as true nourishment. This can only rely upon faith, own, personal and collective faith. It cannot be imposed to any soul and each generation has to renew the confidence in such a creed. As a rule, Christianity is generation-to-generation true faith entrusted by the Creator. People can frequent or be born in so-called christenized societies, each soul ought to be baptized to belong to the hope beyond hope expressed in redemption proclaimed by the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Byzantine Eastern Orthodox Church began the forty days of fasting and sexual abstinence as a spiritual journey, tracing a path that reflects on the past while seeking new directions. Pardon, however, is incredibly difficult. We discuss forgiveness, but our societies and individuals often struggle to forgive. Christians speak often of pardon, but many would find it hard to forgive. Or, they might say, “We must forgive, but not forget.” There is confusion about what true mercy and acquittal mean.

Does it make sense to claim forgiveness while still refusing to forget? The two notions are often presented as separate but parallel. Is forgiveness merely an excuse? Perhaps we don’t forget in order to maintain a reminder, a memorial that helps us cope with our anguish. Transgressions and wrongdoings can harm us unexpectedly, in a moment of frightful suddenness.

Repentance is not only a matter of reflection and emotion; it requires real and verbal expression and a relational capacity to change attitudes and social connections. Repentance is, therefore, more than mere remorse, which is just a state of mind.Repentance can never turn to become a way to make pressure on the others and exercise any act of power, capture, disdain and rejection – or reversal of values : the believer might think he is entitled to oppess anybody because he supposedly would be “justified or privileged”.

The Byzantine service that introduces the Forty Days of Great Lent can often feel overly ritualistic. It is comparable to the Jewish autumnal New Year festivities (Rosh HaShanah, the intermediary Days of Awe—Yamim Nora’im, and Yom HaKippurim—Expiation/Atonement Day).

The central mental and spiritual experience of Judaism is expressed by the saying, “Kol Israel arevin zeh bazeh” (כל ישראל ערבין זה בזה), meaning, “All Israel are responsible for one another” (Shevuot 39a & Deuteronomy 57).

On the Sunday of Forgiveness, we are not asked to change for our own sake, but to recognize and repent for our wrongdoings, faults, and transgressions. However, Great Lent is not a race we can simply opt out of. Rather, the Lord frees us if we are ready to follow His plan. This is never a personal decision; it is a “common good” that contributes to the broader reality of the Church body. It is not based on our own choices and for our egos, as if they could be built societally. We cannot pick and choose who is part of the Ekklesia (the Church body)—all congregations. We are contemporaneous and transgenerational co-witnesses to the Risen Lord. It’s not always easy, but we can’t avoid it!

Forgiveness implies something beyond formal acts, rituals, and rigid words of sweetness. Pardon means being able to avoid humiliating others. This is why it is so important to be mindful of what we say when asking for forgiveness. The English word atonement is a constant subject of reflection in both Jewish and Christian traditions because it relates to how we can reconcile fully and be “at one” with each other and with the One Who is and exist, will exist.

Throughout the Forty Days, we are encouraged to feel the true significance of time. In Hebrew, shanah (שנה) is related to the root “to change” or “to repeat in a developing way.” We are swept along by waves of transformation. Still, the past cannot predetermine our future. Faith in the Resurrected allows to respond to new possibilities because we can regret what we have done wrong in the past. This means we are invited to eliminate the errors that contravened the dynamics of acting with goodness and justice.

Pascha (Aramaic for Easter, ܦܨܚܐ) is more than just the change of a year; it is a true transfiguration, a moment that transcends time and substance. The Hebrew and Aramaic roots refer to “to leap over, to spare, to make the sacrifice of the Passover lamb” (Pesachim 5:1, 58a), a sacrificial act connected to circumcision.

This notion of offering for life—not in order to be eliminated—is at the heart of vibrant faith. We are not called to be dried-up skeletons, waiting in limbos. The journey of Great Lent offers the opportunity to transform and engage with new elements of blessing. It is much more than a bungee-jumping experience. It cost Jesus His blood, twice in His lifetime: once during His circumcision according to the Law, and again on the Cross at Golgotha.

Nowadays, the Confession of Sins (Viduy/וידוי) on the Jewish Day of Atonement includes this sequence said after the mention of transgressions: “What can we say before You, Lord… You know every secret since the world began, and what is hidden deep inside every living thing. You search each person’s inner chambers, examining their conscience and mind. Nothing is hidden from You, and nothing is concealed before Your eyes. May it be Your will, Lord our God and God of our ancestors, that You forgive all our sins (chato’teynu/חטאתינו), pardon all our iniquities (avonoteynu/עונותינו), and grant atonement for all our transgressions (utechaper lanu al kol p’sha’eynu/ותכפר על כל פשעינו).”

This is very similar to the Byzantine prayer of absolution: “Absolve, erase, pardon all faults committed by word, deed, thought, or emotion” (Slavic rite).

This atonement is exemplified on the fourth Great Lenten Sunday of Saint Maria the Egyptian. She led a “normal” life for someone who might lose common sense or decency, driven by passion, which is central to Eastern Christian traditions because excited passions can be overcome through uncontrolled motions of mind and conscience. Maria sold her body for a journey to Jerusalem—a false pilgrimage to deceive the Lord and pilgrims. She was stopped at the Holy Sepulchre by an invisible barrier, possibly an angelic one (cf. Balaam and his donkey). These hidden barriers reveal secret matters that need to emerge. She prayed to the Most Holy Virgin and venerated the True Cross.

Upon crossing roads with the Lord, she found a desire to seek complete revival. She went to the monastery of Saint John the Baptist at the Jordan River, made full confession, received absolution, and received the Eucharist. She then bought three loaves of bread and went into the wilderness on the other side of the Jordan.

Saint Maria later recounted her life to Saint Zosimas of Palestine, and, when he found her, she had died. She had written in the sand that she would pass away after receiving communion, and her body remained incorrupt.

Her return to the Lord is symbolized by the Eucharist, which, in the Eastern tradition, consists of a small piece of leavened bread with wine.

The focus of Great Lent is to ascend from the corruptible to the reality of something sealed with life beyond life, substance and existence beyond the tangible realities of our world. Saint Maria the Egyptian demonstrated the deep connection between this return to God and the Mystery of the Eucharist. On the other hand, it compels to respect human dignity, human speech and opinions, existence as each individual mirrors the direct link of humanity to Divine Presence.

This is at the heart of the Paschal joy: the lamb shared during the Exodus from Egypt, the manna received as daily sustenance in the desert. The question “Man hu/מן הו-א?” (Hebrew for “What is it?”) defines the sustenance that nourishes us during the Vigils and Divine Liturgies on the night of the Resurrection. This nourishment is incorruptible, which is a unique challenge in Byzantine rites. The Latin and some Eastern rites use unleavened bread for the Body of Christ, while the Byzantine Rite uses leavened bread and red wine for the Blood of the Lord.

It is a very special spiritual experience when a priest encounters the Body of Christ in unleavened bread that has become moist after hours or days. Byzantine Churches do not typically keep Eucharistic Bread, except for the sick or in very small portions. Moistening does not imply corruption. Rather, it, preserves, as in a paradox, the precious Presence of the Risen Lord.

On the eve of the Week of the Suffering of Jesus, the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44) deepens our reflection on the footsteps of Jesus on His way to His Passion. This story is rich with layers of meaning. Jesus confronted the decomposing smell of death when He called Lazarus out of the tomb, reversing the process of corruption. Lazarus’ resurrection foreshadowed the Passion and confirmed that corruption can be overcome.

Lazarus’ resurrection summarizes the journey of faith through human decay. It shows that even the most abominable aspects of human nature can be swept away because miracles —both natural and supernatural—are an essential part of Orthodox Christian faith. How can we not acknowledge the significance of the moment when Jesus called Lazarus to come out (though “moistening” four days after his death) and to raise to life again?

In our generation, how can we hear Jesus’ call to Lazarus, “Come forth”? The imperative “Tha /ܬܐ” means to “walk forward”, to appear, to show that liberation is possible. Christ was born for all times. He rose once and for all times. The Lord comes not only in the future, but in our present, through the Paschal Meal and the Eucharist.

Maran atha/ܡܪܢ ܐܬܐ, the Lord comes, indeed. Marana tha/ܡܪܢܐ ܬܐ, O Lord, come!