The Third Sunday of Elijah
October 2 , 2011
The Third Sunday of the Fast of Elijah
I said “I will guard my path and not sin with my lips”
The distresses of my heart have increased; take me away from my distresses; I am innocent and unknowing
I said that I will go far away from your eyes
The desires of the passing world have separated me from you, and through them the rebel sets traps for me and ensnares me, that I may not please you, O Lord. And as I earned little, and the world and its enticements passed away, regrets and sufferings overcame me, for I saw that the hope of my life has come to naught, and now I have no refuge aside from you, O Lord. In the greatness of your mercies, turn to me, and in your grace, have pity on me; rescue me from my sins, as is your custom, O Lover of mankind: forgive me, O Lord!
The holy Church extols your holy cross, O Savior, in which creation was freed from error, and preaches its victory with the assemblies of her children. And because daughter Zion lost her case through it, the Church has victory through its power, and boasts in its name, as she pleads from you to guard her children from injuries.
ܚܕܒܫܒܐ ܕܬܠܬܐ ܕܐܠܝܐ
ܐܸܡܪܹܬܼ ܕܐܸܛܲܪ ܐܘܼܪܚܝ ܘܠܵܐ ܐܸܚܛܸܐ ܒܠܸܫܵܢܝ܀
ܥܵܩܵܬܹ̈ܗ ܕܠܹܒܝ ܣܓܼܝܼ̈ ܘܡ̣ܢ ܥܵܩ̈ܵܬܼܝܜ ܐܲܦܸܩܲܝܢܝ. ܘܐܸܢܵܐ ܒܪܝܼܪ ܗ̄ܘܹܝܬܼ ܘܠܵܐ ܝܵܖܲܥ.
ܕܨܘܼܪܬܵܐ. ܐܸܢܵܐ ܕܹܝܢ ܐܸܡܪܹܬܼ ܕܐܸܬܼܪܲܚܩܹܬܼ ܡ̣ܢ ܩܖܵܡ ܥܲܝܢܲܝ̈ܟ.
ܪ̈ܓܼܝܼܓܼܵܬܹܗ ܕܥܵܠܡܵܐ ܥܵܒܼܘܿܪܵܐ ܦܲܪ̈ܫܵܢܝ ܡܸܢܵܟܼ. ܘܲܒܗܹܝܢ ܨܠܵܐ ܠܝܼ ܡܵܪܘܿܖܵܐ ܦܲܚܹ̈ܐ ܘܨܵܖܲܢܝ. ܕܠܵܐ ܐܸܫܦܲܪ ܠܵܟܼ ܡܵܪܝܵܐ. ܘܟܲܖ ܐܲܓܪܹܬܼ ܩܲܠܝܼܠ. ܘܲܥܒܲܪ ܥܵܠܡܵܐ ܥܲܡ ܪ̈ܓܼܝܼܓܼܵܬܹܗ. ܬܘܵܬܼܵܐ ܘܚܲܫܵܐ ܐܲܖܪܟܼܘܼܢܝ. ܕܲܚܙܹܝܬܼ ܕܲܒܛܸܠ ܣܲܒܼܪܵܐ ܕܚܲܝܲܝ̈. ܘܠܲܝܬ ܠܝܼ ܡܸܟܹܝܠ ܒܹܝܬܼ ܓܲܘܣܵܐ ܐܸܠܵܐ ܐܸܢ ܐܲܢ̄ܬ ܡܵܪܝܵܐ. ܒܣܘܿܓܼܵܐܐ ܕܪ̈ܲܚܡܲܝܟ ܐܸܬܼܦܲܢ ܥܠܲܝ. ܘܲܒܛܲܝܒܘܼܬܼܵܟܼ ܪܲܚܸܡܥܠܲܝ. ܘܕܲܠܵܢܝ ܡ̣ܢ ܚܲܘ̈ܒܲܝ. ܐܲܝܟܼ ܕܲܡܥܵܕܲܬ ܪܵܚܹܡܢܵܫܵܐ. ܡܵܪܝ ܚܘܼܣܥܠܲܝ؛ ܬܢܝܼ. ܫܲܒܲܚ. ܒܵܗ̇.
ܕܲܨܠܝܼܒܼܵܐ؛ ܨܠܝܼܒܼܵܟܼ ܩܲܕܝܼܫܵܐ ܦܵܪܘܿܩܲܢ. ܕܒܹܗ ܐܸܬܼܚܲܪܪܲܬ̤ ܒܪܝܼܬܼܵܐ ܡ̣ܢ ܛܘܼܥܝܲܝ. ܗܵܐ ܡܙܲܝܚܵܐ ܠܹܗ ܥܹܕܲܬܼ ܩܘܼܖܫܵܐ. ܘܲܒܟܸܢܫܹ̈ܐ ܕܝܲܠܕܹܝ̈ܗ̇ ܙܵܟܼܘܼܬܹܗ ܡܲܟܪܙܵܐ. ܘܲܕܚܵܒܲܬ̤ ܒܹܗ ܒܲܪ̄ܬܼ ܨܸܗܝܘܿܢ. ܙܟܼܵܬ̤ ܥܹܕܬܵܐ ܒܚܲܝܠܹܗ ܘܒܲܫܡܹܗ ܡܸܫܬܲܒܼܗܪܵܐ. ܟܲܖ ܒܵܥܝܵܐ ܡܸܢܵܟܼ ܕܲܬܢܲܛܲܪ ܝܲܠܕܹܝ̈ܗ̇ ܡ̣ܢ ܢܸܟܼܝܵܢܹ̈ܐ.
In his unsurpassable mercies, God created us with many natural gifts and talents, and second only to the intellect, the greatest gift he gave us at our creation was the gift of free will. Though all things are in his hands, God deigned to allow some things to be in ours, and he respects that freedom until today; that is, he does not force our will to any decision, but in his grace he guides us gently to the truth and goodness that come from him. What is in our hands, then, is ultimately the following: to decide what to do with the gifts God has given us. The Master in Matthew 25 who gives a different amount of coins to his three servants expects them back with 100% increase, but not all of them live up to this expectation.
It is easy to call ourselves “servants of God,” and in fact giving ourselves this name is Christ’s direct command: “When you have done all that you have been commanded, SAY TO YOURSELVES, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done only what was our duty.’” (Luke 17:10). But this servanthood of God is not simply a matter of names. Do we act as servants, unprofitable or otherwise, or do we rebel in disobedience to our Master? Do we follow other masters, like money or pleasure? Do we run away from our true and kind Master only to find ourselves enslaved to another? Indeed, the temptation to follow, and ultimately serve, the pleasures of this world is a real one:
The desires of the passing world have separated me from you, and through them the rebel sets traps for me and ensnares me, that I may not please you, O Lord.
The parable of the two sons in Luke 15 gives the example of the son who ran away from his father after taking half of his father’s property. Having “squandered it on a life of dissipation,” he finds himself in servitude to another master, one who does not even provide him with the basic essentials of life, for “he longed to feast on the pods on which the swine fed.” The “prodigal son” turns back to his father after realizing his own hunger.
What hunger it must have taken to make this son, who had insulted his father so badly, return to him in shame! But what of us? What type of spiritual starvation must come upon us before we return to our Father above, after we have spent our gifts and our life running after the passing and empty pleasures of this world? How dark is that moment when, having sold our soul and filled ourselves with some sinful delight, we realize that it no longer tastes as it did! How shockingly sad when we discover we have been duped by a lying salesman! Indeed, all the delights of this world, delicious as they are, without God are fading in flavor rapidly, and in the end leave us starving even for our basic sustenance of life:
And as I earned little, and the world and its enticements passed away, regrets and sufferings overcame me, for I saw that the hope of my life has come to naught…
The first and worst mistake we can make in thinking about God is in reducing him to our mindset, in “creating him in our image.” This mode of idolatry is expressed when we fear his anger and avoid returning to him. Yes, God is perfectly just, but his mercy is perfect as well, and, according to Christ’s own symbol, he is a Father who enthusiastically runs out to greet us when we turn back to him, no matter what we have squandered our life upon. Our return to him is humbling indeed, but this humility only puts us in our place in relation to God. Indeed, even the fear we have of God’s punishment should be motivation to turn back to him. Between the spiritual starvation, the promise of mercy, and the threat of punishment, there are many ropes in the net which pulls us back to the Father:
…and now I have no refuge aside from you, O Lord. In the greatness of your mercies, turn to me, and in your grace, have pity on me; rescue me from my sins, as is your custom, O Lover of mankind: forgive me, O Lord!