A Homily on the Fear of God and the Love of God (Part 3)

In what manner does the change itself occur in the heart? In what manner does it accomplish the incomprehensible transition from fear to love? We shall present the answer from the holy experience of God’s saints. Our contemporary and countryman, the ornament and glory of later monasticism, George, the recluse of the Zadonsk Monastery, a man who has attained Christian perfection, speaks thus of himself in an edifying conversation, trusting to his neighbor: “I wish to say a few words about the essence of love. It is the finest fire itself, surpassing all mind and lighter than any mind. The actions of this fire are swift and wondrous, they are sacred and are poured out upon the soul from the Holy, Omnipresent Spirit. This fire has only to touch the heart, and every disquieted thought and feeling is instantly transformed into quietness, into humility, into joy, into sweetness surpassing all else. I have been frank with you regarding much about myself: I intend to be frank as well. I have spent here, in my seclusion, it seems now six years, when the Lord was pleased to bring my heart into perfect contrition. Then I thought that I had already perished and that God’s wrath would burn my transgressing soul, despondent and negligent… I fell into great weakness and barely breathed, but unceasingly repeated in my heart: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Suddenly, in one instant, all weakness fell away, and the fire of pure love touched my heart: I was wholly filled with strength, feelings, agreeableness, and inexplicable joy; I was so ravished that I already wished for myself to be tormented, torn, mocked; I wished this in order to keep in myself the sweet fire of love toward all. It is so powerful and sweet that there is neither bitterness nor offense that it does not transform into sweetness. The more wood you add to a fire, the stronger the fire becomes: so the sorrows and sorrows inflicted by men act upon us. The more attacks, the more the heart burns with holy love. And what freedom, what light! There are no words to explain: I would rejoice if someone deprived me of my eyes so I would not see the vain light; I would be glad if someone took me like a criminal and walled me up, so I would not hear a voice, not see a human shadow…” “Love,” says the holy Isaac the Syrian, “knows no shame, and therefore cannot provide its members the appearance of decorum.[1] It is natural to love to reject shame and forget its measure. Blessed is he who has found you—harbor of infinite joy!”[2]

The blessing of God comes of itself at a time when we do not expect it and do not hope to receive it. But that God’s good pleasure may come to us, we need to make ourselves clean by repentance beforehand. In repentance are combined all God’s commandments. Through repentance the Christian is first led into the fear of God, then into divine love.

Let John, the virgin and theologian, the disciple “whom Jesus loved” (Jn. 21:20), recline on the breast of Jesus. Let the other Saints of God join him, the confidants of holy love! This is not our place. Our place is in the multitude of the leprous, the infirm, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the demon-possessed. We belong to their number by the state of our souls, and in their number we shall draw near to our Saviour. With them the Mother Church places us, putting into the mouths of her children tender, penetrated with the feeling of consciousness of our sinfulness, prayers of the akathist to the Most Sweet Jesus. Our spiritual Mother gives us the proper position, so that we may the more surely receive mercy. The Lord adopted us as His own through holy baptism; but we have violated the sacred covenant with Him by the violation of His holy commandments, by an adulterous union with abominable sin. “Rulers of Sodom, people of Gomorrah” (Is. 1:10), thus the Lord calls the people, after it had fallen into lawlessness, that very people about which He had announced before: “The Lord’s portion is his people, Jacob his allotted inheritance” (Deut. 32:9).

The prodigal son, having squandered his father’s property in a distant land and having been subjected to unspeakable calamities, when he began to reflect upon returning to his father, was directed by his most calamitous state and the great wealth of his father to devise the most prudent course of action for himself. “I will set out,” he said, reflecting on his intention, “and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants” (Lk. 15:18-19). The humility that formed in his thoughts, the son realized in deed: “So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him” (Lk. 15:20). So too must we, having lost in vain and sinful pursuits the beauty of adoption given us by the Heavenly Father, when we resolve to turn to Him, approach the throne of His glory and majesty with deep humility, with reverent fear. Our first act must be the consciousness and confession of our sins, the abandonment of a sinful life, the entrance into life according to the Gospel commandments. The soul of our prayers and other pious efforts must be the feeling of repentance. From the fullness of conviction we must consider ourselves unworthy of love, unworthy of the name of sons and daughters of God. “Make me,” says the repentant prodigal son, “like one of your hired servants,” laboring in the field of repentance, under the oversight of a stern overseer—fear. Let us not seek what the acquisition of which does not depend on us, for which we are not yet mature. As long as, like the centurion mentioned in the Gospel, we are “under authority”; as long as we are dominated by sin and fallen spirits, let us testify and confess with the prudent centurion: “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed” (Mt. 8:8). You are most pure and most holy, and rest only in the pure and holy; but I, defiled, am “not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”

“I think,” says the holy Isaac, “that as a son does not doubt his father and does not ask him, saying: Teach me a craft, or give me this or that, so neither should a monk reason and ask of God—give me this or that. He knows that God cares for us more than a father cares for his son. Therefore we must humble ourselves, weep for the causes of our involuntary sins, committed by us either in thoughts or in deeds, and from a broken heart say in the words of the publican: ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner’ (Lk. 18:13). As a sick son of a king does not say to his father: Make me king—but applies care to his infirmity, and upon recovering, his father’s kingdom becomes his kingdom of itself: so too the repenting sinner, receiving the health of his soul, enters with the Father into the land of pure nature and reigns in the glory of his Father. Amen.”[3]

1844, Sergius Hermitage.

*) devices—cunning intentions, snares.