LETTERS TO MY SPIRITUAL CHILDREN
I am a spiritual pilgrim, an Orthodox Christian pilgrim, having found a refuge in the Eastern Orthodox Church. For some years now I have been a laborer in the vineyard of the Lord, as a simple priest.
The Church is my home, but each day I leave it in the morning to labor in fields rife with weeds and filled with stones, the soil hard and unyielding for the most part, where little water is. Sometimes I find a flower or a vine which has sprung up on its own, for I in my poor inability did not plant it there; and there is some shade under a fig tree or an olive which is God’s planting also, from long before my time. I labor as my bishop has directed me to do, not well but out of obedience, with the prayer that somehow beneath the hot sun there will someday be fruit, for which the owner of the vineyard will be pleased.
The letters posted here were written to some of my spiritual children. For myself, it does not seem possible that I should have spiritual children of my own, for in my heart I am little more than a child myself, still trying to find my way and struggling each day. But my own spiritual father fell asleep in the Lord not many weeks ago at the age of 93, leaving me an orphan and almost without consolation, although he taught his students not to mourn his passing. I myself am growing old, and as my body wears out I weep, not at the prospect of leaving this life but because I cannot yet walk where others have run, and I long to join them. If God grants time, perhaps I will yet see fruit on the struggling vines entrusted to my care.
And perhaps these letters will grant some encouragement to others apart from those to whom they were addressed, as I found encouragement in the words of many who went before me. Those to whom these letters were originally addressed will recognize themselves, should they stumble across them again in print, but they will not be known to the readers, as I have changed their names; and just as instructions given to me are the more valuable when they were written down, so it may be good for the original children to read them over again from time to time.
In the future, God-willing, on this site we will post other things, words of consolation and answers to some of the questions that pepper me, like other priests, every day. May they be of some value to you, the reader, as I ask your prayers for me, the unworthy priest, +fr Brendan
Dear Susan,
Christ is in our midst!
It was good to hear from you by telephone the other day. Our conversation wasn’t very long, but I know that you are shy. In the months I have known you, Susan, you have told me a little about your life. Now you feel ashamed, so you do not come to Divine Liturgy any longer as you should. I am writing to you in the hope that eventually you will awake from spiritual sleep and find new life in the love and joy that God wants for you.
Your life is complicated by many things that are wrong and hurtful. You know that, so there is no point pretending that your life is better than it is. You say you are living in a soap opera, but the characters are quite real and the pain you have suffered does not go away at the push of a button. That pain is evidence of what the Church calls sin.
When your brother died, you said that he had cancer. I knew that he was gay and had AIDS, but you kept up the masquerade for the sake of your family. Your mother could not have lived with the idea very well, and at that time you were not speaking to her or your sisters. I am glad that he was able to get Hospice care and that he died peacefully at home. I am also glad that through that ordeal, your bad relationship with your mother and sisters improved.
Your personal life did not improve, though, because you continued to live with Bill. Susan, I knew that you were married before and that Bill was not really your husband. How did I know these things? The Lord reveals everything, or at least enough, to those who pray, and you were entrusted to my miserable care. Soon these things became clear.
You had gotten pregnant so you moved in with Bill. I also knew that he was beating you and that he drank. Do you remember when we talked about alcoholism? But on that day, you did not want to admit that he is alcoholic. You hid it even from yourself. You did not want to lose Bill because you desperately wanted the security of a family.
Then you lost him anyway. It is fortunate that you did not lose your life first, or your beauty (may I say that?) or more of your belongings. I am glad that you were able to move back to your mother’s house and to find work. Now you want to get your life in order–to go back to school, to get to know your babies and to make friends. More than anything, you want to have a relationship with God again, but you are afraid to come to church because you believe that everyone will condemn you. In fact you believe that God has condemned you already by allowing all these things to happen to you.
Susan, do you remember what happened to Eve in the garden, after she became aware of her own sin? God called to Adam and Eve, but they hid themselves. God did not reject them, but they hid from God’s presence because they knew they were wrong. You feel naked too, thinking that you are not wanted in God’s house. The truth is very different.
God wants you in his house very much. He sent his Son to wash you clean of every kind of sin, with his own blood. Still, you want to know why God allowed your life to go the way it did. Could it be because you made the choices that hurt so badly? You chose to hate your mother, to envy your sisters, to smother your brother, to live with your first husband in defiance of your parents. Bill was very wrong–he will have to answer for his own life–but you “protected” him when he was killing himself and you by his behavior. You even chose not to accept your father’s death, but to blame God for it and to feel sorry for yourself.
Now I want to invite you into the sunlight of another kind of life. Imagine that you came into God’s house to worship him, with no expectations on God’s part. Imagine that you received his love, and you allowed him to love you. Imagine that you let brothers and sisters (who have all suffered as you have) pray with you. Imagine that you prayed for Bill, and for your children, and your father and mother, your sisters, even your first husband–without any bitterness, but with acceptance and love, asking for their well-being in the peace of Christ.
Most of all imagine, Susan, that you are shining with the light of Christ, with joy and peace and love. I just wanted you to know that that is how I see you, because that is how God sees you. That is your future. I hope that it is soon. Will you call me again?
Dear Mary,
Christ is in our midst!
Beloved child, you have no idea how beautiful you are and how much God loves you and I love you. When I see you, my face lights up and I am overjoyed. But my joy turns to sorrow when I see your struggles. You are troubled by so many things in the world. You bite your fingernails and wrinkle your forehead. And, like your own father, I long to ask you, Why do you disfigure yourself with tattoos, especially where no human being other than your own husband should see you? Do you not know that God made you perfectly and that it is God’s pleasure to see you?
You are weighed down by guilt. Often you interrupt conversation to say, “I’m sorry,” when you need not be sorry for anything. This is the result of wrong religion. Somehow you have believed that much of your life was worth little, that you must apologize for everything that happens. If only you could lay down this heavy load! And then you would stand tall, and know the freedom which only Christ can give, in the precious gift of His Holy Spirit.
Right now, you do not like to hear about Christ. When I asked if I could anoint you for healing, when you were losing your baby, you declined. You said it would make you uncomfortable. Do you see why? You do not know how to receive love, because in the past you have been hurt, and you do not trust. I do not blame you for this; only I want to coax you into the sunlight from your dark corner, so that you can love and be loved.
And now God has granted you two beautiful children. Many years ago, you lost a child. You never told me about it, but I knew. When you are able to confess this you will find a new freedom that right now you cannot even imagine. And so, with tears, I am writing to you and asking you to return. Look up at the blue sky and give thanks for it, and that you can see it; look down at the green earth and rejoice. Look at your children and utter a prayer of thanksgiving. What? You do not pray? But you do, my beloved one; you are praying constantly but you do not admit it. Right now, your prayers are cries of desperation. Let them turn into songs of praise. Give thanks, and you will be filled with new joy.
I look forward to seeing you when you have time. Greet your husband for me, even if he does not like churches and priests, for God has given me a great love for him.
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