Tag Archives: Lent

Sadness That Brings Joy

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Alexei Ivanovich Korzukhin’s painting from 1877, “Before confession,” shows people waiting to make their confessions–waiting to out their repentance into words–in order to make right their relationships with God and their neighbors.


For even if I saddened you by my letter, I do not regret writing it. Even if I did regret it–because it saddened you for a brief time–I now rejoice, not because you were dad but because your sadness led you to repent. You were saddened according to God so that you did not suffer damage from us. Sadness according to God produces repentance without regrets and leads to salvation; the sadness of the world, however, produces death. (2 Cor. 7:8-10)

St. Paul tells his readers in Corinth that he did not intend to make them sad or depressed but he is glad that their sorrow–depression?–led them to repent and correct themselves. Their sorrow proved to be life-giving; secular sorrow and depression leads the other way and results in death … metaphorical death if not literal death. Certainly, spiritual and emotional death. The sadness he provoked in the Corinthians was a good thing, finally. It was, as Fr. Alexander Schmemann calls it, a “bright sadness.”

The person who is sad with a Godly sorrow repents for his sins; sorrow because of one’s iniquity produces justice. First, let what you are displease you so that you may be able to become what you want to be …. Will you, my brethren, ever find dung in a pile of sifted wheat or flour? Nevertheless, the wheat or flour is beautiful because of the dung; the foulness was the path to a beautiful result.

St. Augustine of Hippo, Easter Sermon 254.2

Sin gave birth to pain; pain destroys sin. Just as a worm is born by a tree consumes the very same tree, likewise pain, which is born of sin, kills sin when it is supplied by repentance …. Pain is good for those who repent sincerely. Mourn for the sin so that you do not lament the punishment.

St. John Chrysostom, Homily on Repentance and Compunction 7.6.19

Sometimes we are not patient enough to see the good thing that results from a painful–or at least, uncomfortable–process. We want results RIGHT NOW and we don’t want it to hurt in the process. But we live in time and everything we do is a process. Time–and pain–are the gift and opportunity we have to set right what we got wrong before. As Fr. Jay Smith–who serves the Church of St. Mary the Virgin Times Square–wrote recently, the ashes we are smudged with on Ash Wednesday are precisely that: reminders that we live in time and that we have a limited time to get our relationships with God and our neighbors set right. Death is coming for all of us and although death is not the end, it is a definite change in our circumstances and we can’t postpone our repentance to when our circumstances change. We have to take advantage of the time we have now. Even if it hurts–like taking a bandage off a wound that is healing but needs exposure to the air to finish the healing process.

See more about Bright Sadness here.

Tribulations … Small Time and Big Time

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St. Paul writes one of his letters in this icon. He sits at a writing desk with plenty of writing supplies with his feet on a small pedestal. This is not a footrest. It is common in icons for saints to be slightly elevated by standing on such a pedestal to indicate that they are in a slightly higher position than we are, closer to God, and able to see the world more clearly, more honestly and truthfully. They are “on the heights” (Ps. 18:33). They are where we aim to be when we lift up our hearts.


Even though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For the momentary light weight of our tribulation is producing a more and more exceeding and eternal weight of glory over us who are not looking to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor. 4:16-18)

St. Paul says that although he is physically tormented and wasting away, his inner self–his spirit, his soul–is being renewed and grows stronger every day. His tribulations attack him and damage his body but he is looking forward to the glory that he will share in the Kingdom of God.

All this was true for St. Paul. What about us? We are not being attacked for our faith and tormented physically the way St. Paul was. Why do we still read this passage today? What does it have to say to us?

Not all our tribulations are caused by our mortal, political or social enemies. Sometimes our tribulations are caused by our one True Enemy, which is Death. Some people might say that the Devil is our true enemy but the Devil–the great archetype of Evil, the gigantic monster with horns and bat wings that presides over Walpurgis Night in A Night on Bald Mountain–is actually more a comic figure than a frightful, terrifying figure. In all the stories of the desert fathers and mothers, the Devil is the comic relief: he is foolish and easily duped. He is a vain narcissist and the best way to get rid of him is to laugh at him.

The idea that the Devil is an exaggerated figure of terror comes to us from the Puritans who reduced the invisible world to simply God and the Devil. The Puritans forgot that the one, true, ultimate enemy of the human race–and of the whole created order–is, in fact, Death itself (1 Cor. 15). Death is The Enemy that Christ mounts the Cross to wage war against. Death is The Enemy that is destroyed from the inside-out by Christ’s Death and Resurrection. If we think the Devil is the enemy, then Christ’s Resurrection becomes less the salvation of the world and more a spectacular feat without much direct meaning for us.

Sometimes we bring tribulations upon ourselves. We do something stupid and suffer the consequences. But sometimes we embrace tribulations in order to teach ourselves a lesson. That’s one of the aspects of Lent: we embrace things that are physically difficult–fasting, longer prayers or Bible reading, putting up with people who are difficult–in order to experience a little bit of Christ’s victory over Death here and now.

The renewal of the human race, begun in the sacred bath of baptism, proceeds gradually and is accomplished more quickly in some people and more slowly in others. But many are making progress toward the new life …. No one starts out perfect. To think we can be perfect without a struggle against our fallen selves is a mistake. Thinking we can be perfect without a struggle is to lead the weary astray rather than uplift the weak. Is that really what you want to do?

paraphrase of St. Augustine’s The Way of Life of the Catholic Church I.35.80

God is not a sadist. He does not want us to be miserable. But sometimes we need a little reminder that the victory was won and is being played out and extended throughout the world bit by bit. We need a physical reminder of this and so we embrace small tribulations during the tithe of the year that is Lent.

Conjugal Debts

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The Church, the Bride of Christ, is born from his side when the blood and water pour forth from the lance-wound in his side, just as Eve was born from the side of Adam. As bride and groom, the Church and Christ can be said to owe each other a “conjugal debt” that is “paid” in the Eucharist. “Do you understand, then, how Christ has united his bride to himself and what food he gives us all to eat? By one and the same food we are both brought into being and nourished. As a woman nourishes her child with her own blood and milk, so does Christ unceasingly nourish with his own blood those to whom he himself has given life.” (St. John Chrysostom)

Let a man give to his wife what he owes her; similarly, a wife to her husband. A wife does not have authority over her body, her husband does; likewise, a husband does not have authority over his own body, his wife does. Do not deprive one another …. (1 Cor. 7:4-5)

Evidently the Corinthians had written a series of questions to St. Paul, some of them about marriage. In response, St. Paul writes a short treatise On Marriage in chapter 7 of First Corinthians. It was common for philosophers and later Christian theologians to write essays about the good and bad qualities of marriage; St. Augustine wrote an especially famous essay On the Good [Aspects] of Marriage.

Jewish tracts about marriage and pagan philosophers writing about marriage agree about the power of sexuality. St. Paul concurs with these ideas. The sexual relationship is at the heart of the marital relationship and the sexual availability each spouse owes the other came to be known as the “conjugal debt.” St. Paul writes that the spouses could agree to deny each other for short periods, so as to be better able to focus on prayer, but should never stay away from each other for long.

What is a “short” period? What is a “long” time? Jewish practice expected a married couple to abstain for one or two weeks each month because of the wife’s menstrual cycle. Soldiers and priests were expected to abstain during their times of active service–partly because they weren’t at home. Scholars of the Torah could abstain for a month but not longer; this meant they could not go away to distant libraries for months at a time. Ordinary workmen were not allowed to abstain for more than a week; this meant they had to come home every week if they had a job that required them to live away from home.

Early Christians expected that married couples who were fasting would also abstain from sexual activity; some manuscripts of First Corinthians read that couples should only abstain in order to engage in “prayer and fasting.” There were two fasting days each week and anyone receiving Holy Communion was expected to fast the night before as well. Converts preparing for baptism were expected to fast for three days. (This pre-baptismal fast is what became Holy Week and then Lent.)

St. Paul was not married. It was unusual for a Jewish man to not be married so a few people think he might have been a widower without children. Whether he had been married as a younger man or not, he urged the Corinthians to remain as they were when they converted: married or single or widowed. Stability of life–itself an important monastic virtue in the 6th century–was important to St. Paul. Such stability involved a stable homelife which included a stable reliance on the “payment” of the “conjugal debt.”