It has been a long time since I have given direct thought to achieving holiness. I normally like to think of things from a safe, theoretical distance. I would much rather discuss what it means for someone to be holy, or how, theoretically, an encounter with a holy man or woman might be (i.e., clairvoyance, miracles, etc.). This sort of postulation does little good when it comes time to actually grow in holiness oneself. I suppose it’s good to do some preliminary thinking about what the course of holiness might entail, but it really isn’t what it takes to achieve holiness. Things become much more rigorous, tiring, and important when one considers the practical aspect of self-denial and practicing the virtues.
I recently endured some great pain in my life as a result of something I did, and the great degree of separation from God that I experienced was nothing short of demoralizing. I came face to face with my own frailty, though even this is not entirely true as I still manage to hide from it in some weird sense of pride. I’m not sure what “entitles” me to this pride considering the sheer depravity of my mind, heart, and soul, but it exists regardless. The path that I must walk now is one that embraces the suffering and the truth about myself. It isn’t much different, I suppose, than what someone who suffers from a borderline personality must undergo in DBT. Though the philosophy of “You’re perfect. Now change,” is paradoxical and admittedly confusing, it carries with it a truth; one really cannot change until one accepts oneself. I can’t move on until I recognize where I am. I guess it’s sort of like a map. It doesn’t do a whole lot of good to just have the map, but in order to use it to find your final destination, you have to know precisely where you are currently. This is much the same with the spiritual life.
I suppose this is what Christ is talking about when he says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” We are all poor in spirit, but few of us actually recognize this simple truth. We come to the Lord bearing nothing of worth. It is just us and our hearts that we present to him, and as we do so, he opens our eyes to our lives and shows us the way to his divine life. For this reason, the Church cries out to Christ during Great Lent, “Open to me to gates of repentance.” We can only come to Christ in our desperation for him to show us the way home. He presents the way, which is, of course, himself. We present our darkened hearts to Christ that he may fill them with his light everlasting. I have always had this strange idea that Christ somehow wants me to show up already cleansed, but it is simply outrageous to expect that I can wash my own heart from the multitudinous sins that plague my existence. That is why we cry out to the Lord our God to purify us in his compassion.
As Alcoholics Anonymous tells us, the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. Precisely the same is true in our lives in Christ. We cannot be filled with grace from above until we admit that we are devoid of anything good. We bare our wretched hearts before Christ, asking that he will have mercy upon us in his goodness for this is what he does for those who ask. His mercy endures forever. This is our suffering; we are plagued by our willing separation from the Lover of our souls. We are hardened to his grace and love, but he continually pours forth his abundant goodness despite our continual rejection of it. There is a certain brand of Christian theology that claims that once one is saved, one cannot lose this salvation. I suppose that makes sense within the paradigm from which this belief is generated given that much of the language used is legal in nature. Imputed righteousness takes a front seat in this; Christ dies to remove our sin debt, and in return we get to live in his righteousness. For Orthodox Christians, however, the conversation is about Christ’s work removing the barriers between Man (humanity) and himself.
Three things stand between us and God; our nature (that of flesh), sin, and death. Christ, becoming man, breaks the first barrier in that he shares our nature. In the Nicene Creed, the fundamental statement of Christian belief, the faithful assert that Christ is of “one essence (homoousious) with the Father.” In the 14th century (I believe), a certain saint whose name eludes me used the same word to describe Christ’s relationship with Man: “of one essence.” In this, man is no longer separated from his creator. In his great kindness, Christ takes on our mortal nature, uniting it to himself eternally in the bosom of the Father. Secondly, Christ, in his fleshly existence, lived a sinless life that ended on the cross. By his sinless life, the burden of sin was lifted from Man – second barrier obliterated. Finally, Christ’s Resurrection from the dead on the Third Day destroys the power of Death, and Man is fully united to God in life, death, and, ultimately, resurrection. Each barrier Christ set aside in turn.
With the barriers broken, Man, myself included, is able to enter into relationship with the Lord no matter what the circumstances. He has made his divine life available to all who would come to him in faith. Nothing stands between God and Man anymore. The legality of the sin problem is not an issue. Indeed, it never was. It merely presented a hiccup in the reciprocating relationship between God and Man. It kept us from him because we were enslaved to it. Christ, the Door, has cleared the path for open relationship that can never be broken because God has eternally united Man to himself in his infinite mercy, opening the gates to repentance at all times in every place. Having lived the life of Man, there is nothing that Christ cannot heal for he himself has become the cure. The door to holiness is Christ our God, and as we stand before him, we must acknowledge that which has kept us from coming to him, admitting that nothing good exists within us. This is the heart of holiness. We say, “Lord, I am lost and needy.” We sit in that, understanding that God’s love is unending despite our sinfulness, and as we hold those truths in tension, the only natural request is, “Lord, have mercy!” This can seem like a desperate plea for release from condemnation, but it is a cry for true relationship. Since we come before him admitting what we truly are (lost and needy), we ask him to be what he is (merciful), and the beginning of true relationship occurs. This is our faith. This is our hope. This is our holiness.
