It is terribly tragic when people fall into the delusion of thinking that they love God and neighbor, when in reality they are using religion to serve only themselves and perhaps others with whom they identify for some worldly reason. We do that when we narrow down the list of people who count as our neighbors to the point that we excuse ourselves from serving Christ in all who bear His image and likeness. When we do so, we disregard not only them but also our Lord Himself, the God-Man born for the salvation of all. Our actions then reveal that we are not truly conforming our character to His. Instead of uniting ourselves to Christ to the point that we convey His mercy to all His living icons, we serve only ourselves with our vain imaginations of being truly religious and moral.

There is perhaps no more powerful example of our need for Christ’s healing of our souls than that contained in today’s gospel reading. A rich man with the benefit of the great spiritual heritage of Abraham, Moses, and the prophets had become such a slave to gratifying his desires for indulgence in pleasure that he had become completely blind to his responsibility to show mercy to Lazarus, a miserable beggar who wanted only crumbs and whose only comfort was when dogs licked his open sores. The rich man’s life revolved around wearing the most expensive clothes and enjoying the finest food and drink, even as he surely stepped over or around Lazarus at the entrance to his home on a regular basis and never did anything at all to relieve his suffering.

Many are strongly tempted today to allow the problems facing our culture and world to distract us from growing to maturity in the Christian life and bearing good fruit for the Kingdom of God. That is perfectly understandable in light of our constant access to global media and the gravity of current events.

One of the great challenges that many of us face is learning to see that being an Orthodox Christians may not be reduced to confessing certain beliefs about God, no matter how true those beliefs are. Our faith may not be reduced to conscientious participation in the worship of the Church or keeping our own rule of prayer, fasting, almsgiving, or other spiritual disciplines. Our faith may not be reduced to following a code of moral behavior or distinguishing clearly between actions that are good or evil. These endeavors are all virtuous in and of themselves and we must not neglect or diminish them in any way, but our calling is much higher, for it is nothing less than to embody the mercy of God from the very depths of our being.

As we continue to celebrate the Elevation of the Holy Cross, we must remain on guard against the temptation of viewing our Lord’s Cross as merely a religious symbol that requires nothing of us. Through His Self-Offering on the Cross, Christ has conquered death and brought salvation to the world. But in order for us to share personally in His eternal life, we must take up our own crosses, deny ourselves, and follow Him. If we refuse to do that, then we will show that we are ashamed of our Lord and want no part in Him or His Kingdom. We will show that we prefer to continue in the old way of death rather than to enter by His grace into the heavenly reign.

Think for a moment about how we mark the passage of time in our lives. We all know how old we are. Students know what grade they are in. Workers know how long they have been employed. Married people count their anniversaries. Some of us remember America’s bicentennial. Perhaps we pay attention to such markers to try to make sense of the meaning of our lives as those caught up in the inevitable cycle of birth and death, of one generation passing away as another arises. As we read in Ecclesiastes, “That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.” (Eccles. 1:9)

If you are like me, there are times when you become worried or upset over matters of very little importance. It often does not take much to punch our buttons because we base our sense of self and wellbeing, as well as our hopes for the future, on illusions that cannot fulfill them. Due to our darkened spiritual vision, we do not see ourselves, our relationships with other people, or where we stand before the Lord very clearly. When the inevitable challenges of life cause us to catch even a small glimpse of these uncomfortable truths, we usually do not like it and can easily start to sink into the churning sea of our passions.

It is easy to fall into despair before our own personal problems, the challenges faced by loved ones, and the brokenness of our society and world. It is tempting to refuse to accept that we remain responsible for offering ourselves to Christ as best we can for healing and transformation in holiness, regardless of what is going on in our lives, families, or world

Today we continue to celebrate the Transfiguration of the Lord on Mt. Tabor, when the spiritual eyes of Peter, James, and John were opened to behold His divine glory. They saw Him shining brilliantly and heard the voice of the Father proclaiming “This is my beloved Son with Whom I am well pleased; listen to Him.” We also continue to prepare to celebrate the Dormition (or “falling asleep”) of the Theotokos, when she became the first to follow her Son as a whole embodied person into the eternal life of the heavenly kingdom.

We are certainly in a spiritually rich time of year in the life of the Church. Having begun the fast in preparation for the Dormition of the Theotokos, we are now also anticipating the Transfiguration of the Lord, when Peter, James, and John beheld His divine glory on Mount Tabor. As with all the feasts of the Church, the point is not simply to remember what happened long ago, but instead to participate personally in the eternal truth made manifest in these celebrations. And that means nothing less than being transfigured ourselves by our Lord’s gracious divine energies as we come to share more fully in His restoration and fulfillment of the human person as a living icon of God.