A Homily on the Fear of God and the Love of God (Part 2)

Majestic is the depiction in the Gospel of Matthew of the second, glorious coming of the Lord, His impartial and fearful judgment over tribes and peoples. This extraordinary picture, presented with extraordinary simplicity and clarity, involuntarily comes alive before the mind’s eye and strikes the heart with fear. Contemplating this picture, one can express the state it brings the soul to in the words of Job: “Terror and dread fell upon me, and greatly shook my bones; and the hair of my flesh” stood on end (Job. 4:14-15). At the coming of judgment for the exiles from heaven, the land of exile and curse—the earth—will blaze, and the heavens will be rolled up like a scroll (2 Pet. 3:10; Rev. 6:14). The dead of all times and peoples, stirred by the life-giving trumpet—the Word of God—will rise from their graves and form an immense and innumerable multitude (1 Thess. 4:16; Jn. 5:28). The hosts and armies of the holy Angels will come to this fearful spectacle, to this great liturgy. And the fallen angels will stand for judgment. The Son of God will sit on the throne of glory, a glory terrible in its boundless magnitude. All rational creatures will be shaken with fear, seeing their Creator who called them into being from nothingness by one almighty Word. They will stand before that Word, for whom nothing is impossible. They will stand before that Life, outside of which there can be no other life. The Fathers rightly said that at this awesome time all creation, were it not held back by God’s omnipotence and left to itself, would turn to nothingness.[1] The righteous, seeing face to face perfect Righteousness, will consider their own righteousness to have no significance, while sinners, justified by reasoning foreign to the Gospel, will condemn themselves. The fate of all will be decided for eternity. Before this divine judgment comes, the Apostle himself acknowledges that he cannot justify himself, though he knows no sin in himself: because his Judge is God (1 Cor. 4:4). All the saints, during the time of their earthly pilgrimage, often bring to mind through pious remembrance and meditation Christ’s fearful judgment—and through timely saving fear they guard themselves against the fear that will be aroused in the damned by despair; through timely self-judgment they strive to gain timely acquittal, through weeping to avert weeping. Brethren! We need, we must have, we weak and sinful ones, frequent remembrance of the second coming and Christ’s fearful judgment: such remembrance is the most secure preparation. Fearful is that Judgment which awaits all humanity after the general resurrection, and fearful is also the judgment which awaits each person after his death. The consequences of both judgments are either desirable or disastrous. If earthly judges, dealing with what is merely corruptible and temporal, arouse our solicitude, how much more should the judgment of God concern us! For what other purpose did the Lord reveal it to us so clearly, if not to arouse in us the salvation-bringing fear that can protect us from a sinful, careless life, which is the condition of our destruction? The venerable Elias, an Egyptian monk who lived in silence in the Theban desert, used to say: “Three times terrify me: the time of the soul’s departure from the body, the time of God’s judgment, and the time of the pronouncement that will be made about me by God.”[2]

Is there need to warn that the teaching of all the holy Fathers of the Orthodox Church concerning the fear of God is in accord with the teaching of Holy Scripture, when the teaching of Holy Scripture serves as the source for the teaching of the Fathers, when both these teachings have one source—the Holy Spirit? “‘The fear of God is the beginning of virtue,’” says the holy Isaac the Syrian. “It is affirmed that it is the offspring of faith and is sown in the heart when the mind withdraws itself from the cares of this world to gather its wandering thoughts from dispersion to constant meditation on the future restoration… Be wise and lay the fear of God as the foundation of your journey, and in but a few days you will find yourself at the gates of the Kingdom, without being troubled by a prolonged journey.” Among the teachings of Venerable Pimen the Great we read the following:[3] “‘We need humble-mindedness and the fear of God as much as we need breath. Three main practices of the monk: to fear God, to pray to God, and to do good to one’s neighbor. When bees are driven by smoke from the hive, then their sweet labor is taken away: so also fleshly pleasure drives the fear of God from the soul and destroys all its good work. The beginning and end of the spiritual path is the fear of the Lord.’ Scripture says: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Ps. 110:10). And again, when Abraham had built an altar, the Lord said to him: “Now I know that you fear God” (Gen. 22:12). To the question of a brother, who says: “I am a friend to all who fear you” (Ps. 118:63), the Great One answered: “The Holy Spirit speaks this of Himself.” He also transmitted the saying of the holy Anthony the Great about Venerable Pamen, that by means of the fear of God Pamen made himself the dwelling-place of the Holy Spirit. ““The beginning of our salvation,”” says Venerable Cassian the Roman, “is the fear of the Lord. By it both the beginning of conversion is furnished and purification from passions is achieved, and the preservation of virtues in those who are instructed in the path of perfection.[4] When it penetrates into the human heart, it gives birth in it to contempt for all material things, forgetfulness of kinsmen and hatred of the world itself.” In this same Discourse, explaining the commandment of the Lord: “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Mt. 10:38), Venerable Cassian reasons thus:[5] ““Our cross is the fear of the Lord. As one who is crucified can no longer turn or move his limbs according to his will, so too must we direct our will and desires not according to what is pleasant and amusing to us at the present time, but according to the Law of the Lord, to what He commands. As one nailed to the cross of wood no longer gazes at the present, does not think of his attachments: he is not distracted by cares and solicitudes about tomorrow; in him no desire acts to acquire possessions; he is not inflamed by any pride or quarrelsomeness; he does not sorrow over present dishonors, does not remember those past; although he yet breathes in the body, he considers himself already dead in every respect, directing the gaze of his heart to where he does not doubt he will pass: so too must we be crucified by the fear of the Lord to all this, that is, we must be dead not only to fleshly passions, but to their very roots, our soul’s eyes directed to where we should hope to be transported every moment. Thus we can acquire the mortification of all our lusts and fleshly attachments.”” It is easily seen that the crucifixion upon the cross of the fear of God described here by Venerable Cassian is what is called by Isaac the Syrian the work, consisting, in the Apostle’s words, of crucifying the flesh ‘with its passions and desires’ (Gal. 5:24), which makes up the first half of the spiritual path leading the Christian to the perfection destined for him.[6]

Holy Scripture, which teaches us that “the fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever” (Ps. 18:10), also says, “there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 Jn. 4:18). This apparent contradiction at first glance the holy Fathers explain thus: “There are two fears: one is introductory, the other is perfect; one is proper to those beginning to be pious, so to speak, the other constitutes the possession of the perfect Saints who have attained to the measure of love. For example: he who fulfills the will of God out of fear of punishment is, as we have said, still a beginner: he does not yet do good for good itself, but out of fear of punishment. Another, however, fulfills the will of God out of love for God itself, and loving God’s will properly, fulfills it in order to please God. Such a one knows what true good is! Such a one has learned what it means to be with God! Such a one has true love, which the Saint calls perfect. This love brings him into perfect fear: because such a one fears and preserves faithfulness to God’s will not out of fear of punishment, not in order to avoid (eternal) torment, but because, as we have said, having tasted the very sweetness of being with God, he fears falling away, fears losing it. By this perfect fear, acting on account of love, the introductory fear is driven out. Therefore it is said: Perfect love drives out fear.”[7] However, it is impossible to attain to perfect fear except through introductory fear.” The very greatness of God brings holy, reverent fear upon those rational creatures of God who, on account of their purity and holiness, have been deemed worthy of the closest standing before God. “God is awesome in the great assembly; he is more awesome than all those around him” (Ps. 88:8).

Should we then, because we are sinners, not love God at all? No! Let us love Him, but in the way He commanded us to love Him; let us strive with all our strength to attain to holy love, but by the path shown to us by God Himself. Let us not surrender ourselves to the beguiling and flattering delusions of self-conceit! Let us not kindle in our heart the flame of lust and vanity, so abominable before God and so pernicious for us! God commands to love Him in the following manner: “Remain in my love,” He says. “If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love: just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love” (Jn. 15:9-10). The Son of God Himself, having become incarnate, showed the image of this manner of life and struggle, “humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). Let us reject the pride that ascribes virtues to us; let us embrace the humility that reveals to us our fall and sinfulness. Let us prove our love of Christ by obedience to Christ; let us prove our love of God the Father by obedience to the Son of God, who “did not speak on my own,” but told us what the Father commanded Him to tell, whose “commands lead to eternal life” (Jn. 12:49, 50). “He who has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them. Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching” (Jn. 14:21, 23-24). Fulfillment of the Saviour’s commandments is the sole sign of love for God accepted by the Saviour. “For this reason all those who pleased God pleased Him in no other way than by abandoning their own righteousness, corrupted by the fall, and striving after the righteousness of God set forth in the teaching and commandments of the Gospel. In God’s righteousness they found the love hidden from fallen nature. And the Lord, having commanded much about love, commanded first to seek God’s righteousness, knowing that it is the mother of love.”[8] If we desire to acquire love for God, let us love the Gospel commandments: let us sell our lusts and attachments, let us purchase at the price of self-denial the field—our heart, which without this purchase cannot belong to us; let us cultivate it by the commandments and find hidden upon it the heavenly treasure—love (Mt. 13:44).

What awaits us in this field? Toils and sorrows await us; the adversary awaits us, who will not easily yield to us victory over himself; there awaits us, in opposition to us, the sin that lives in us. It lives in the mind, it lives in the heart, it lives in the body. A strenuous struggle is needed to bend the proud and blind mind into obedience to Christ’s commandments. When the mind submits to Christ, a new struggle begins: the agreement of a corrupted, stubborn heart with Christ’s teaching, the submission of the heart to Christ’s teaching, to which it is hostile. Finally, if the mind and heart come into a state of obedience to Christ, there must also be drawn into it the clay appointed for heaven, the body. Each step in our invisible struggle is marked by labor, marked by suffering, sprinkled with the sweat of strenuous self-violence. Now we conquer, now we are conquered; now hope appears for the breaking of our captivity, now again we see that our chains are strong, weakened not at all by the means we thought would weaken them. We are cast down by both natural infirmity and infirmity of will, and by the darkening of reason wrought by our former sinful life, and by the confusion of heart that has acquired vicious habits, and by the pull of the body that has tasted bestial pleasures and become infected with lust for them; we are assailed by fallen spirits wishing to hold us in bondage. Behold the narrow and sorrowful path, strewn with thorns, along which the prayerful weeping of the sinner before God, aided by deeds of repentance, deeds of humility, fulfillment of Gospel commandments, inspired by the fear of God, leads the sinner to reconciliation with God.

The union of the fear of God with divine love is magnificently depicted by the Spirit-bearing Fathers Isaac the Syrian and Symeon the New Theologian. We adorn our poor discourse with their graceful words. “Repentance,” says the holy Isaac, “has been given to mankind as grace upon grace. Repentance is our second birth from God. We await that through repentance we shall be granted that of which we have received the pledge through faith. Repentance is the door of mercy, opened wide to those who seek it earnestly. Through this door we enter God’s mercy; apart from this entrance we shall not find mercy: for all have sinned and are justified freely by his grace” (Rom. 3:23-24). Repentance is the second grace, and is born in the heart from faith and fear. Fear is the paternal rod that guides us until we reach the spiritual paradise of goods; when we reach there, it leaves us and departs. Paradise is the love of God, in which is the enjoyment of all blessedness, where the blessed Paul was nourished with supernatural food. Having tasted there from the tree of life, he cried out: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human heart has conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor. 2:9). Tasting from this tree was forbidden to Adam by the snare set by the devil. The tree of life is the love of God, from which Adam fell, and joy no longer greeted him, but he labored and toiled on earth full of thorns. Those deprived of God’s love, even if they walk rightly, eat the bread of their labors, which was commanded to eat the first-created after his fall. As long as we do not find love, our work on this thorny earth; we sow and reap amid thorns. Though our sowing were the sowing of righteousness, yet every hour we are wounded by thorns, and however much we labor for righteousness, we live in the sweat of our face. But when we find love, then we are nourished with heavenly bread, strengthened without labor and toil. Christ is “the bread that came down from heaven and which anyone eats will live forever” (Jn. 6:51, 33). This is the food of Angels. He who has found love tastes Christ every day and every hour. “Whoever eats of this bread,” He says, “which I shall give, will live forever” (Jn. 6:51). Blessed is he who eats the bread of love, which is Jesus. And that he who has love for food has Christ for food, He who is God above all, is testified to by John, who says: “God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8). Furthermore, he who lives in love enjoys the life flowing from God, and while in this world already here breathes the air of resurrection. In this air the righteous delight after the resurrection. Love is that Kingdom, a mystical tasting of which the Lord promised the Apostles. What does He mean by: “eat and drink at my table in my kingdom” (Lk. 22:30), but love? This love is sufficient to feed a human, in place of food and drink. It is “wine” that “gladdens the human heart” (Ps. 103:15). Blessed is he who has drunk this wine. The intemperate drank it and became reverent; sinners drank it and forgot their paths of stumbling; drunkards drank it and became fasters; the rich drank it and desired poverty; the poor drank it and were enriched in hope; the sick drank it and became strong; the ignorant drank it and became wise. As it is impossible to cross a great sea without a ship: so no one can attain to love without fear. The foul sea that lies between us and the intelligible paradise we can cross in the ship of repentance, having fear as its oarsmen. If these oarsmen—fear—do not guide the ship of repentance on which we cross the sea of the world to God, then we drown in the foul sea. Repentance is the ship; fear is its helmsman; love is the divine harbor. Fear brings us into the ship of repentance and carries us across the putrid sea of life, directing us to the divine harbor, to love, toward which strive “all you who are weary and burdened” (Mt. 11:28) by repentance. If we have attained to love, then we have attained to God; our journey is complete: we have arrived at the island of that peace where the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit dwell.

The title of the Second Discourse in the book of the holy Symeon, written in verse, contains the substance of our entire Discourse, and we therefore place this title first: “From fear is born love; yet through love fear is uprooted from the soul, and there remains in the soul one love alone, being the Divine and Holy Spirit.” The Saint begins his Discourse thus: “How shall I sing, how shall I glorify, how shall I worthily praise my God who has overlooked my many sins? How shall I look toward heaven? How shall I open my eyes? How shall I open my mouth, Father? How shall I move my lips? How shall I stretch my hands to the heights of heaven? What words shall I devise? What utterances shall I bring forth? How shall I dare begin to speak? How shall I ask forgiveness for my immeasurable transgressions, my many sins? Truly I have done deeds that deserve no forgiveness whatsoever. You know, Saviour, of what I speak! I have surpassed all nature, I have done things below nature; I have shown myself worse than the speechless beasts, worse than all sea creatures, worse than all earth’s cattle, truly worse than reptiles and wild beasts, transgressing Your commandments more than the speechless, defiling my body and dishonoring my soul. How shall I appear to You? How shall I see You? How shall I dare to stand, wretched one, before Your face? How shall I not flee from Your glory, from the light by which Your Holy Spirit blazes? How shall I not go into darkness alone, having done the works of darkness? And I shall be cut off from the multitude of the Saints! How shall I bear Your voice, sending me into darkness? Bearing from hence the condemnation of my deeds, I am wholly terrified, I wholly tremble. Seized by fear and dread, I cry out to You: My Saviour! I know that no one other than I has sinned before You, nor have committed the deeds which I, wretched one, have committed. I have been the cause of the destruction of others too. Yet know this again, of this I have been assured, my God, that neither the greatness of my sins, nor the multitude of my transgressions, nor the uncleanness of my deeds shall ever surpass Your compassionate and great, exceeding great, exceeding word and exceeding thought mercy, which You pour forth abundantly upon those who sin and repent with fervor. You cleanse them and illumine them, and make them sharers of light, making them without envy partakers of Your Godhead. You often converse with them as with Your true friends, a thing wonderful to Angels and incomprehensible to human thought. O boundless goodness! O inexplicable love! Therefore do I bow down and cry out to You! As You received the prodigal and the harlot who came to You, so receive me, Merciful One, one who repents from the heart. Esteeming, my Christ, the drops of my tears as springs flowing unceasingly, wash with them my soul. Wash with them the defilement of my body wrought by the passions; wash my heart of all malice: it is the root and source of all sin. Malice is the sowing of the evil sower. Where it dwells, there it germinates and shoots up in height and produces many branches of malice and wickedness. Root out its roots from the depths, my Christ, and cleanse the fields of my soul and heart. Merciful One! Plant in them Your fear. Grant that it may be rooted and grow sufficiently, that it may grow high, guarded by the keeping of Your commandments, multiplying hour by hour, and in multiplying producing flowing streams of tears. Watered by them ever more and more, it grows and rises up. Together with fear, proportionately to it, humility grows. All the passions yield to humility, and with them the host of demons is driven away. All the virtues are perceived as following it, surrounding it like a queen, like a mistress, guardians, companions and servants. When they gather and join themselves to one another, then blooms in their midst, like a tree by the springs of water, Your fear, planted by You, and little by little it produces a strange flower. I said strange, because all nature brings forth according to its kind, and the seed of all trees is in each according to its kind; but Your fear produces both a flower strange to nature, and a fruit similarly strange and foreign to itself. This fear is by nature full of lamentation, and causes those who have acquired it to lament unceasingly, as slaves deserving of many punishments, as those awaiting at every hour the stroke of death, seeing the scythe of death, not knowing the hour of death, having neither hope nor assurance in complete forgiveness, but trembling at the end, terrified by the outcome, in the uncertainty of the judgment that shall come upon the trial, O my God. The flower produced by fear is inexplicable in appearance, still more inexplicable in form. It is seen blooming, but immediately hides itself, which is unnatural and out of order, which is beyond nature, exceeding all nature. Yet the flower appears beautiful, exceeding all word, captivating my whole mind to its vision, not permitting me to remember anything of what fear imparts knowledge of, but producing in me then a forgetting of all this, and it flies away quickly. The tree of fear again remains without flower. And I grieve, and sigh, and cry out to You vehemently! And again I see the flower on the branches of the tree! O my Christ! With my gaze fixed on this one flower, I do not then see this tree. But the flower appears more frequently and, drawing all of me to itself in desire, ends in the fruit of love. Again this fruit does not allow itself to remain on the tree of fear. Rather—when it ripens, then it is seen alone, without the tree. Fear is not found at all in love, just as, in contrast to this, the soul bears no fruit without fear. Truly a wonder surpassing word, exceeding all understanding! The tree with difficulty blooms and bears fruit, yet the fruit, on the contrary, uproots all the tree, and the fruit remains, remains alone. How fruit without tree? I cannot explain it. Yet it remains, yet it is, this love without the fear that gave birth to it. This Love is truly the greatest joy, fills its possessor with gladness and spiritual delight, expels him outside the world in his perception, which fear cannot do in any way. Being within the visible and within the sensible, how can fear that someone possesses place him far from all and unite all in him with the invisible by means of (spiritual) perception? Truly in no way. This flower and fruit, produced by fear, are outside this world. Do they even now captivate the soul, and lift it up, and place it outside this world? How, tell me, does this love place one outside the world? I wished to learn this precisely. It is inexplicable: Love is the Divine Spirit.”