Archimandrite Aimilianos (Vafeidis), born 1934, was for many years abbot of the monastery of Simonopetra on Mt Athos.  He is one of the leading spiritual fathers in the Orthodox world.  His insights into the Jesus Prayer, the underpinning of Athonite spirituality, are expressed in the following essay translated by John Sanidopoulos, owner of the excellent Mystagogy blog.

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The prayer of Mount Athos, who does not recognize it?  It is comprised of one small phrase, of measured words.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.

With the loud cry Lord, we glorify God, His glorious majesty, the King of Israel, the Creator of visible and invisible creation, Whom Seraphim and Cherubim tremble before.

With the sweet invocation and summons Jesus, we witness that Christ is present, our Savior, and we gratefully thank Him, because He has prepared for us life eternal.

With the third word Christ, we theologically confess that Christ is the Son of God and God.  No man saved us, nor angel, but Jesus Christ, the true God.

There follows the intimate petition have mercy, and we venerate and entreat that God would be propitious, fulfilling our salvation's demands, the desires and needs of our hearts.

That on me, what range it has!  It is not only myself, it is everyone admitted to citizenship in the state of Christ, in the holy Church; it is all those who are members of the body of the Bridegroom.

And finally, so that our prayer be full of life, we close with the word a sinner, confessing--since we are all sinners--as all the Saints confess and become through this sound sons of light and of the day.

Through this we understand, that this prayer involves:
Glorification
Thanksgiving
Theology
Supplication
and Confession.

The Episcopal Church is "episcopal" due in large part to the initiative of Samuel Seabury (1729-1796).  A rather unlike candidate for the first bishop of an independent Anglican church in the United States, Seabury was not only a committed Loyalist during the American Revolutionary war, but he also served as the chaplain of a Loyalist regiment under British command in New York City.  After the American victory he made his peace with the new regime and served a parish in Connecticut. 

There had never been an Anglican bishop in any of the colonies prior to the war.  The Church of England parishes were administered, often rather loosely, by the Bishop of London.  With independence, this already-bad situation was completely untenable.  A group of Connecticut rectors met and nominated Seabury as their bishop.  He agreed to travel to England to seek episcopal consecration.

Despite his impeccable Loyalist credentials, he was unable to be consecrated in England.  The hands of the English bishops were tied because they were forbidden by law to consecrate anyone who could not swear allegiance to the king.  As a foreign citizen, Seabury was incapable of doing this.  He then traveled to Scotland, where he had better luck with the Scottish Episcopal Church.  This church had separated from the Church of England about 100 years earlier when its bishops refused to swear allegiance to William and Mary after the deposition of James II.  The Scottish Episcopal Church, small, marginalized, and largely despised by the Scottish mainstream, was nonetheless free of government control and was strongly "Catholic" in its sacramental theology and ecclesiology.  It agreed to Seabury's consecration if he would try to influence the development of an American prayer book so that it would be similar to the Scottish book (itself largely unchanged from the original 1549 Book of Common Prayer).

And so, on November 14, 1784, Seabury was consecrated, in a room over a bank in Aberdeen, by the Bishop of Aberdeen, the Bishop Coadjutor of Aberdeen, and the Bishop of Moray, Ross, and Caithness.  Upon his return to America he was in fact able to influence the development of the first American prayer book in a Scottish direction (among other things, the Eucharistic prayer had an epiclesis, or invocation of the Holy Spirit on the bread and wine, which was lacking in the 1662 book).  Seabury's high-church tendencies are further evident in the quote below taken from his essay An Earnest Persuasive to Frequent Communion.  I am indebted for this to the Anglican Centrist site. 

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The general practice in this country is to have monthly Communions, and I bless God the Holy Ordinance is so often administered.  Yet when I consider its importance, both on account of the positive command of Christ and of the many and great benefits we receive from it, I cannot but regret that it does not make it a part of every Sunday's solemnity.  That it was the principal part of the daily worship of the primitive Christians all the early accounts inform us.  And it seems probable from the Acts of the Apostles that the Christians came together in their religious meetings chiefly for its celebration (Acts 2:  42, 46; 20:  7).  And the ancient writers generally interpret the petition in our Lord's prayer, "Give us this day", or day by day, "our daily bread", of the spiritual food in the Holy Eucharist.  Why daily nourishment should not be as necessary to our souls as to our bodies no good reason can be given.

If the Holy Communion was steadily administered whenever there is an Epistle and Gospel appointed, which seems to have been the original intention--or was it on every Sunday--I cannot help thinking that it would revive the esteem and reverence Christians once had for it, and would show its good effects in their lives and conversations.  I hope the time will come when this pious and Christian practice may be renewed.  And whenever it shall please God to inspire the hearts of Communicants of any congregation with a wish to have it renewed, I flatter myself they will find a ready disposition in their minister to forward their pious desire.

In the meantime, let me beseech you to make good use of the opportunities you have; and let nothing but real necessity keep you from the heavenly banquet when you have it in your power to partake of it.



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An Episcopal priest of my acquaintance--whom I actually respect a great deal--once went to a monastic retreat house planning to stay for a week.  She left after two days because she could not deal with the silence.  And the monastery was not a Trappist place located in the middle of nowhere. 

Greek Orthodox deacon and theologian John Chryssavgis has some insightful things to say about silence, stillness, and related matters in his essay "Solitude, Silence, and Stillness:  Light from the Palestinian Desert."  It is the final chapter in the excellent and highly-recommended The Philokalia:  a classic text of Orthodox spirituality, ed Brock Bingaman and Bradley Nassif, Oxford, 2012, pp 262-276.  The Philokalia is an anthology of Orthodox spiritual texts compiled over two centuries ago by two monks of Mt Athos.  It pretty much underpins all contemporary Orthodox spiritual writing, and in the past few decades it has come to the attention of ever-increasing numbers of Western Christians.  It is, however, a difficult read and the above book is an invaluable introduction.

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Nevertheless, stillness is not merely something frightening; it is, above all, something sacred.  Stillness is closely associated with the desire for "life in abundance" (Jn 10:  10), beyond "mere survival".  Most of us tend to deny the relation between death and stillness by entering a whirl of activity that makes death either improbable or else impossible.  Stillness is like waiting respectfully and reverently.  It is a renewing sense of anticipation, an overture to heavenly resurrection.  In stillness, we are aware of being alive, and not dead--of having needs and temptations and of being able to face and embrace these without turning elsewhere.  In  stillness we are not empty; we are not alone; we are not afraid.  "In stillness we know that God is" (Ps 46:  11)--an experience that may occur in a split instant or develop over an entire lifetime.

Finally, stillness introduces an apophatic element to the way of intimacy and love.  This is why Gregory of Sinai claims:  "Stillness requires above all...love with all one's heart and strength and might".  Citing Isaac the Syrian, Peter of Damascus links "the state of stillness" with "freedom from discursive thought."  In this regard, silence and stillness become greater than love itself.  In the Philokalia, Thalassius the Libyan closely links "stillness and intense longing for God."  Indeed, through stillness comes the refreshing suggestion of approaching God and others by "not knowing" them.  If we are fixed to our preconceptions about God or our fears of people, then we may never enjoy perfect stillness.  When we "know" someone, we have already shut our eyes to that person's constant process of change and growth.  We limit ourselves by rooting others only in the past and not rejoicing in their potential.  In the isolation of solitude, we can risk being who we are; in the echo of silence, we can risk facing the other person as he is; and in the intimacy of stillness, we can embrace the other person in his entirety, in his eternal dimension--beyond what we can ever comprehend, tolerate, or merely find useful.  For, then, we are--to adopt the phrase of Nicephoros the Monk--"wounded by love."

It has been the fate of Francis of Assisi, whom we commemorate today, to end up as the ornament in innumerable bird-baths.  There is of course much more substance to him than that, but even this banality is a sign of the near-universal love he inspires, a love transcending time, culture, and even religious bickering.  As the church makes a genuine if belated effort to address our ongoing ecological crisis, Francis stands out as a primary stimulus to a theology of the environment, both by his words and his deeds. 

An iconic moment of Francis' life--made literally so by Giotto--was the time he preached to a flock of birds.  Close interaction between contemplative humans and animals is by no means rare in Christian spirituality--the example of Seraphim of Sarov feeding the bears near his forest hermitage leaps to mind--but Francis talking to birds is probably what many people think of when his name is mentioned.  I think it would be helpful to look at the origins of this legend.  It is found in the writings of Thomas of Celano, one of Francis' brother friars.  An English version is in Regis J Armstrong, OFM Cap, et al, The Francis Trilogy of Thomas of Celano (Hyde Park, New City Press, 2004).  It and other animal stories can be found here, quite appropriately on the site of the American Humane Society. 

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One time as [Francis] was passing through the Spoleto valley, he came upon a place near Bevagna, in which a great multitude of birds of various kinds has assembled.  When the holy one of God saw them, because of the outstanding love of the Creator with which he loved all creatures, he ran swiftly to the place.  He greeted them in his usual way, as if they shared in reason.  As the birds did not take flight, he went to them, going to and fro among them, touching their heads and bodies with his tunic. 

Meanwhile his joy and wonder increased as he carefully admonished them to listen to the Word of God.  "My brother birds, you should greatly praise your Creator and love him always.  He clothed you with feathers and gave you wings for flying.  Among all His creatures He made you free and gave you the purity of the air.  You neither sow nor reap; He nevertheless governs you without your least care."

At these words, the birds gestured a great deal, in their own way.  They stretched their necks, spread their wings, opened their beaks and looked at him.  They did not leave the place until, having made the sign of the cross, he blessed them and gave them permission.  On returning to the brothers he began to accuse himself of negligence because he had not preached to the birds before.  From that day on, he carefully exhorted birds and beasts and even insensible creatures to praise and love the Creator.

In popular culture angels have a high potential for banality.  They provide visual motifs for sappy birthday cards and even sappier sympathy cards.  It is commonly thought that dead people as well as dead pets undergo a post-mortem transformation into angels.  Sometimes angels show up in movies or television shows as non-judgemental life coaches. 

For today's feast of St Michael and All Angels, I would like to share a bit of authentic traditional teaching on angels.  The Celestial Hierarchy is part of the corpus attributed to Pseudo-Dionysius, dating probably to the late 5th/early 6th centuries.  The Dionysian works were among the few Greek texts to become known--via Latin translation--in the early medieval Western church.  The Celestial Hierarchy is the source of the notion that angels are not undifferentiated but rather organized into nine distinct classes or "choirs".  Readers of this blog will be interested to learn that Dionysius considered angels to be contemplatives, "...because they are full of a superior light beyond any knowledge and because they are filled with a transcendent  and triply luminous contemplation of the one who is the cause and the source of all beauty."

The above quote as well as the following descriptions of the angelic choirs are taken from Colm Luibheid (tr) Pseudo-Dionysius:  the complete works (Paulist Press 1987), pp 161-173.

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Seraphim
The holy name "seraphim" means  "fire-makers", that is to say, "carriers of warmth"...a perennial circling around the divine things, penetrating warmth, the overflowing heat of a movement which never falters and never fails...It means also the power to purify by means of the lightning flash and the flame.

Cherubim
The name cherubim signifies the power to know and to see God, to receive the greatest gifts of his light, to contemplate the divine splendor in primordial power, to be filled with the gifts that bring wisdom and to share these generously with subordinates as a part of the beneficent outpouring of wisdom.

Thrones
The title of the most sublime and exalted thrones conveys that in them there is a transcendence over every earthly defect, as shown by their upward-bearing toward the ultimate heights...and forever in the presence of him who is truly the most high...

Dominions
The revealing name "dominions" signifies...a lifting up which is free, unfettered by earthly tendencies...It rejects empty appearances,  returns  completely to the true Lord, and shares as far as it can in that everlasting and divine source of all dominion.

Powers
As for the holy "powers", the title refers to a kind of masculine and unshakable courage in all its godlike activities.  It is a courage which abandons all laziness and softness during the reception of the divine enlightenments granted to it, and is powerfully uplifted to imitate God.

Authorities
...they are so placed that they can receive God in a harmonious and unconfused way and indicate the ordered nature of the celestial and intellectual authority.

Principalities
The term "heavenly principalities" refers to those who possess a godlike and princely hegemony, with a sacred order most suited to princely powers...

Archangels
[This order] communes with the most holy principalities and with the holy angels...Its relationship with the angels is due to their shared order as interpreters of those divine enlightenments mediated by the first powers.  It generously announces these to the angels and through them to us insofar as we are capable of being sacredly enlightened.

Angels
For being closer to us, they, more appropriately than the previous ones, are named "angels" insofar as their hierarchy is more concerned with revelation and is closer to the world.

A frequently-used term in the writings of Hildegard of Bingen, whose feast we celebrate today, is veriditas.  Literally meaning "greenness" in Latin, it occurs in a number of contexts and the precise translation is a matter of some scholarly debate.  Jeanette Jones points out in this article that veriditas first shows up in the writings of Gregory the Great (specifically Moralia in Iob) with which Hildegard would have been familiar. 

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...the word veriditas symbolizes an important concept of relating to God and to creation.  Creation is the metaphor for how the Christian flourishes.  As God created and sustains the earth, so He creates the "new life" of the Christian and causes this life to flourish.  Veriditas is a picture of this particular kind of thriving, one that is created and preserved by God...Both occasions of veriditas in the opening of Hildegard's  Liber divinorum operum are in a context of the union of God with creation, from the fields to the human being.  They paint a picture of the blessing and the life that results from communion with God...

...the word veriditas has a meaning with respect to a Christian's spiritual life that goes beyond mere references to life, fecundity, or freshness.  Veriditas implies a particular understanding of the nature of creation and the sovereignty of God.

The French Orthodox theologian Olivier Clement (1921-2009) in his The Roots of Christian Mysticism (New City Press 1993) succinctly ties together the Eastern Christian concepts of  divine essence, divine energies, and the process of theosis or divinization.  The quote is found on pp 237-238.

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The Fathers distinguish here, without in any way separating them, the inaccessible essence of God and the energy (or energies) by means of which his essence is made inexhaustibly capable of being shared in.  It is a distinction that is inherent in the reality of the divine Persons and it points, on the one hand, to their secret nature and, on the other hand, to the communication of their love and their life.  The essence does not imply a depth greater than the Trinity; it means the depth in the Trinity, the depth that cannot be objectivized, of personal existence in communion.  The inaccessibility of the essence means that God reveals himself of his own free will by grace, by a "folly of love" (St Maximus's expression).  God in his nearness remains transcendent.  He is hidden, not as if in forbidden darkness, but by the very intensity of his light.  It is only God's inaccessibility that allows the positive space for the development of love through which communion is renewed.  God overcomes otherness in himself without dissolving it and that is the mystery of the Trinity in Unity.  He overcomes it in his relations with us, again without dissolving it, and that is the distinction-identity of the reality and the energies.  "God is altogether shared and altogether unshareable", as Dionysius the Aeropagite and Maximus the Confessor say.  The energy is the expansion of the Trinitarian love.  It associates us with the perichoresis of the divine Persons.

God as inaccessible essence--transcendent, always beyond our reach. 

God as energy capable of being shared in--God incarnate, crucified, descended  into hell, risen from the dead and raising us up, that is, enabling us to share in his life, even from the starting point of our own enclosed hell--God always within our reach.

The energy--or energies--can therefore be considered from two complementary standpoints.  On the one hand is life, glory, the numberless divine Names that radiate eternally from the essence.  From all eternity God lives and reigns in glory.  And the waves of his power permeate the universe from the moment of its creation, bestowing on it its translucent beauty, masked partially by the fall.  At the same time, however, the energy or energies that create and maintain the universe, and then enable it to enter potentially into the realm of the Spirit, and to be offered the risen life.  All these operations therefore are summed up in Jesus, the name that means "God saves", "God frees", "God sets at liberty".  In his person humanity and all creation are "authenticated", "spiritulalized", "vivified", since, as St Paul saves, "in him [Christ] the whole fullness of deity dwells  bodily" (Col 2: 9).  The energy as divine activity ensures our share in the energy as divine life, since what God gives us is himself.  The energy is not an impersonal emanation nor is it a part of God.  It is that life that comes from the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit.  It is that life that flows from the whole being of Jesus, from his pierced side, from his empty tomb.  It is that power that is God giving himself entirely while remaining entirely above and beyond creatures.