Search Results

While containing invaluable insights into the life of the patriarch and his dedication to his pastoral duties — insights that his more formal treatises cannot express — the Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria remain a lesser-known work. Though many only survive until our day in fragments, these Letters, irrespective of their present completeness or condition, reveal personal reflections of the patriarch throughout the stages of his leadership of the Church in Egypt, as evidenced by his comments in them about his life in exile or other difficulties he encountered. Although the Letters occasionally document Athanasius’ personal responses to his situation, his primary responsibility was to inform the Church, through the Letters, regarding the dates for the celebration of Great Lent, Pascha, and the subsequent Feast of Pentecost. These announcements, from the See of Alexandria to the Christian world more generally, were part of a longstanding tradition begun by the third century and continuing under the formalization of the process at the Council of Nicaea.[1] Besides announcing the Feast dates, these annual letters to the faithful provided the bishops of Alexandria a platform from which to encourage their flock to a life of purity and holiness. In this paper, particular attention will be given to the recurring themes surrounding the Passover and its transformation into a Heavenly Banquet, as well as Athanasius’ exhortation to “keep the feast,” as he describes in his Festal Letters. In the style characteristic of Alexandrian theology, Athanasius repeats this powerful phrase — “keep the Feast” — throughout his Festal Letters, bringing to the fore the shadow of the Old Testament types brought to light and fulfilled in the life-giving suffering of the Lord Jesus Christ. Athanasius writes of the symbolic heavenly feast of the Christians: “For otherwise it is impossible to go up to Jerusalem and eat the Passover, unless we observe the fast of forty days.”[2] From this direct instruction, the seriousness of paying heed to the liturgical season is evident, and Athanasius uses his entire range of biblical understanding to communicate to the Church this urgent spiritual need. For Athanasius, the fasting period was an indispensable preparation without which the Feast could not be attained. In short, fasting is keeping the Feast, and true feasting is rejoicing in the presence of the Lord. Historical Background One of the issues discussed at the Council of Nicaea was the standardization of the dates for the Paschal Feast. The reasons given for the necessity of standardizing the calendar across the Christian world were twofold. First, the desire to separate the Christian celebration from the Jewish Passover; second, to promote unity across geographic regions by keeping the Feast on the same day. Constantine writes in a letter to those who were not present at the Council: “We ought not, therefore, to have anything in common with the Jews, for the Savior has shown us another way,”[3] and “[f]or what could be more beautiful and more desirable, than to see this festival, through which we receive the hope of immortality, celebrated by all with one accord, and in the same manner?”[4] While tensions persisted between the Churches of Rome and Alexandria on this point — of calculating the date of the Paschal Feast — this Canon of Nicaea was an attempt at unification.[5] By the first few centuries after the ascension of Christ, Alexandria had already long enjoyed a distinguished reputation as a renowned center of learning and scholarly pursuit; it was this Alexandrian erudition, particularly in mathematics and astronomy, that enabled the Egyptian Church to carry out this service — of calculating and communicating, through annual Festal letters, the accurate date of the Paschal Feast each year — for the benefit of the greater Christian community.[6] The earliest evidence of this annual announcement is a fragment attributed to Pope Dionysius[7] (enthroned 247-264 CE), though the hagiography of Pope Demetrius (enthroned 189-232 CE) suggests that the custom of announcing the Festal dates began as early as the late second century.[8] The three largest collections of Festal letters are from Athanasius, Theophilus, and Cyril, respectively.[9] The Athanasian letters are preserved in Coptic and Syriac, with other fragments extant in Greek and Armenian. Manuscripts of the epistles from Theophilus and Cyril exist in the aforementioned languages as well as Latin and Arabic,[10] demonstrating the wide circulation of these correspondences. Since the last of the known Festal letter manuscripts dates to the fourteenth century, it may have been that the Alexandrian Church continued to honor the Nicene directive to calculate and announce the dates for Lent and the Feast at least until the Middle Ages.[11] The practice of issuing Festal Letters was revived in the Coptic Church in the twentieth century, but with a changed scope given that the annual Feast dates had by then become easily calculable and the transmission of messages had become fairly instantaneous. Thus, in modern times, the Festal Letters of the Popes of the Coptic Orthodox Church represent greetings and exhortations on the Feasts of the Nativity and the Resurrection, and are publicly read in Coptic Orthodox Churches all over the world during the Divine Liturgies of the Feasts of the Nativity and Resurrection. As it has been with the use of Festal Letters in modern times, there was also much ongoing change in the way that the Christians of Alexandria kept the Feast during the time of Athanasius himself.[12] As the liturgical calendar developed over time, the Paschal Fast had gradually expanded from a period of three days’ abstinence to a six-day fasting period, while the Quartodeciman practice of celebrating the three-day Paschal Feast between the 14th of Nisan and 16th of Nisan, at the same time as the Jewish Passover, was abolished at Nicaea in favor of upholding the more prevalent tradition of celebrating the Feast on a Sunday.[13] The Forty-Day Fast, Great Lent, was also at some point appended to the Pascha Week, being counted as part of the Great Fast. As far as modern scholars can determine, this was the structure of Great Lent at Athanasius’ time. For David Brakke, the impetus for attaching the Paschal Fast to the forty-day period of Lent lay squarely with the Alexandrian patriarch.[14] However, as with many other questions regarding early Church practices, we may never be able to localize the precise time that Great Lent and Pascha became conjoined, recognizing in any case that the adoption of liturgical customs generally tended to arise gradually and originate in local practice. Nonetheless, by the time Athanasius penned his Festal Letters, the Churches at Rome and Jerusalem also celebrated a multi-week Lenten season preceding the Pascha, and it appears that the Church in Egypt also upheld the same standard.[15] Keeping the Feast Of all the feasts included within the Church Calendar, the Resurrection Feast is the definitive celebration of Christianity, when the initiated — the baptized believers — participate in God’s victory over death through the life-giving passion of His only-begotten Son. Paul the Apostle writes to the Corinthians of the effectiveness of the Resurrection for the salvation of mankind: “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable. But now Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1Cor 15:19-20). He continues that those “belonging to Christ” shall likewise be raised, and this salvation for humanity is God’s victory over death. We will repeatedly return to 1 Corinthians in our exploration of the Festal Letters as a focal point for Athanasius’ theological understanding and appreciation of the Feast of the Resurrection, particularly through Paul’s proclamation that “indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth” (1 Cor 5:7-8). While Athanasius is not the only early Church Father to connect this passage from the Pauline letters to the typology surrounding the Exodus narrative of the Passover,[16] he undoubtedly provides one of the most thorough treatments of these concepts, with over a quarter of his Festal Letters making reference to the transformation of the Jewish Passover into the redemptive Passion of Jesus Christ. As we read in the passage above from 1 Corinthians — that preparing for Passover requires purging the old leaven from our lives[17] — the Lenten Fast was this time of preparation and transformation. During this period, the Christian faithful strive to transform their earthly situation to reflect their eager anticipation of the heavenly Jerusalem; the Feast of the Resurrection, being the “Christian Passover,” is therefore a time for Christians to draw near to God and to partake of the spiritual food and drink of that Feast. For Athanasius, God is the giver of the Feast (Letter X), Christ is our guide to the Feast (Letter XIV), and He is the one who summons us to attend the Feast (Letter VI). Further, as Athanasius discusses in these three epistles, the Feast itself is continual worship of God, and our diligent participation in it gives way to the manifestation of virtue. Finally, for Athanasius, the Lenten period, though full of fasting and vigils, is also a time of thanksgiving and praise. In Letter XIV, he therefore explains that the Feast requires temperance: “Therefore, let us too, when we come to the feast, no longer (hasten) to the old shadows — for they have been accomplished — nor as if to ordinary feasts, but let us hasten as if to the Lord, for the feast is ready, not thinking of it as pleasure and enjoyment for the belly, but as a manifestation of virtue. For the pagans’ feasts are filled with gluttony and complete indolence because that is when they think they are celebrating a feast — when they are lazy — and that is when they perform works of perdition — when they feast.”[18] Passover Typology A typological interpretation of Passover in Exodus 12 first comes to us from Paul’s message in 1 Corinthians 5:7 and is found throughout Athanasius’ Festal Letters. At the heart of this typological interpretation of Passover is Christ as sacrifice. He takes the place of the lamb that protected the Hebrews from certain death, but not only this — Athanasius also describes, in Letter XLI, that God’s presence was with the Hebrews just as His presence is with the Christians in the Church: “But the Passover is proclaimed to us, so that we might remember the salvation that came during it, and it is completed through a lamb, without which there could be no Passover ... For it is not the blood of the lamb alone that hinders the destroyer and liberates the people from Egypt; rather it is the Word who was in the blood who accomplished these things.”[19] Thus, just as the Word was present in the lamb of the first Passover, the Word incarnate continues to be present as a source of thanksgiving in the bloodless Christian sacrifice. This offering of thanksgiving is not only giving additional attention to prayer, but it is a call to virtuosity of life and a promise from the people to fulfill the Law — indeed, keeping the command necessitates pious activity: “For [Moses] said, ‘[l]et the children of Israel celebrate the Passover,’ intending that, just as from a commandment, the action should be near to the word, while the word facilitates the action.”[20] By discussing the presence of God with His people in both the Old Testament and the new age, Athanasius turns the discussion to the posture of the people towards God: If God is in the Feast, how do we approach the Lamb? He writes: “Let us not proceed merely to the performance of the act of the feast, but as persons who are about to approach the divine Lamb and to touch the heavenly foods. Let us cleanse the hands and purify the body.”[21] However, it is not an outward cleansing, but an inward one that the devotional activity of the forty days seeks to achieve. For Athanasius, there is eternal import in this Feast along with its historical and typological aspects. The protection of the Israelites and the redemption of the Christians both point to the completion of salvation in the Parousia — the second coming of Christ — when the feast of God’s presence will be unending. In his Letters, Athanasius therefore discusses the Passover in four contexts: the deliverance of the Hebrews, the Last Supper of Christ with His disciples, the Christian Passover which the Church celebrates now, and the Heavenly Banquet prepared for the faithful. The symbolic meaning given to the actions of the Jews relates to the Christian attitude towards worship now, as well as the ultimate fulfillment of the union in heaven. For this reason, he writes, in his Letter XLV: “Just as all the old things were a type of the new things, present festival is a type of the joy above.”[22] In all four contexts, preparation precedes this heavenly union. There are numerous references to purging the old leaven and taking sustenance from the new, hearkening back to the passage from 1 Corinthians 5, signaling to the Christians that the Lenten Fast is the opportunity to prepare for the presence of the true Lamb. Athanasius therefore warns: “But the deceitful person and the one who is not pure of heart obtain nothing good ... Thus, Judas, although he thought that he observed the Passover, was alienated from ‘the upward call’ and the company of the apostles because he devised deceit against the Saviour. For the Law commanded that the Passover be eaten with care, but when he ate, he was caught by the devil.”[23] Without preparation and sincerity of purpose, the Feast becomes what Athanasius refers to in several letters as observation of the days without devotion. This can be contrasted with what awaits those who diligently prepare. For instance, in Letter XXVI Athanasius encourages the believers: “Let us walk in [these days] by preparing ourselves for the Lord and making straight his ways, as John said, by cleansing ourselves from all defilement and all sin, so that the Lord who commanded these things might come to us and dwell among us ... and walk among us and eat with us the Passover, while also promising us the true Passover and the joy in heaven with the saints.”[24] The Old Testament feast is thereby accomplished and transformed in the Christian Passover. Those who participate in the Christian Feast are therefore also awaiting the second transformation — of feasting in heaven with all the holy people of God. Preparing for the Feast with Spiritual Food and Drink With all this emphasis on eating the Passover as part of the Hebrews’ preparation for leaving Egypt and its tyranny, Athanasius does not neglect to turn his attention to the other types of eating that give physical reality to the Christian spiritual truth — that Christ is the bread of life and living water. His Festal Letter X was composed in the year 338 CE,[25] the year after Athanasius returned to Alexandria from his first exile; as such, the patriarch connects his trials with the Hebrews’ advancement through the wilderness, adding that by patience and the imitation of Christ there is victory for the faithful and virtuous. Athanasius discusses perseverance through adversity, writing: “In this same way those who suffer affliction temporarily in this place, after they have endured, pass over to the place of repose.”[26] He continues, in reference to the parable of Lazarus and the rich man: “Lazarus, on the other hand, after he had hungered for bread ground from wheat, in that place could find satisfaction with what is better than manna, the Lord who came down and said, ‘I am the bread that came down from heaven and gives life to human beings.’”[27] In crossing the Red Sea, the Hebrews were nourished by the lamb; on their journey through the wilderness, they were sustained by the manna from heaven. Again, there is a transference of this grace to Christians, who first receive redemption through the sacrifice of Christ and then abide in Him through continually receiving the blessed Eucharist. However, just as in Leviticus, where Moses warns that God will not accept all fasts and that the consequence for breaking His command is death, Athanasius distinguishes between the vices and virtues while likewise cautioning that we can eat in an unworthy manner. In Letter I, explaining that the virtuous soul will desire the food of the saints, he writes: “See, my brethren, how much a fast can do and how the law commands us to fast; for it is required that we fast not with the body alone, but also with the soul ... The two portions, the virtues and vices, are the soul’s foods, and it can eat the two foods and incline to either of the two, as it wills. For if it inclines toward the good, it will feed on the virtues: righteousness, temperance, continence, fortitude. As Paul says, ‘nourished on the word of truth,’ so too our Lord Jesus Christ being (so) nourished by these, said, ‘My food is to do the will of my Father who is in heaven’ ... And just as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, because he is heavenly bread, was food for the saints, according to this (passage), ‘Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you.’”[28] Though lengthy, this passage is worth considering and meditating on for several reasons. It provides a concise example of Athanasius’ incarnational theology.[29] The human condition is that souls can choose to grow in either vice or virtue. The Lord Jesus Christ, being fully human, is also capable of making that choice, and always chooses the good. He always exercises Himself towards the good, which is fulfilling the will of God the Father. By our sanctification, through participating in His life, we also are empowered to feed on virtue. And so, we clearly see that for Athanasius, spiritual food is not about eating at all, but rather is about our imitation of Christ through godly action. Suffering trials with patience is indeed one path towards this goal, but even more than this is fasting — particularly, in the context of Athanasius’ Festal Letters generally, and the particular passage quoted above more specifically — Great Lent with purity, prayer, and charity will open the road to holiness even in the absence of external persecutions such as those Athanasius faced. Included within Athanasius’ imagery of several types of food, one can find many references to the living water or spiritual drink. In the same way that food for the soul can be either sinful or virtuous pursuits, Athanasius reinforces the role of choice with a quotation from Proverbs, connecting the call of Wisdom to the people with discipleship to the Lord Jesus Christ: “For sin too has its own peculiar bread of its death, to which it summons lovers of pleasure and senseless people, saying, ‘Take secret bread gladly, and sweet water of theft’ ... The Wisdom of God, that lover of human beings, prohibited these things.”[30] With this passage we see the link between sinful actions carried out in secret, and the exhortation to flee from what is secret, strange, and foreign to God. On the other hand, the saints will always thirst for the presence of God. Athanasius continues in Letter VII to link the Beatitudes — “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matt 5:6) — with the Lord Jesus’ address to the multitudes at the Feast of Tabernacles, when He said: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7:37). Athanasius continues this passage: “For this reason, his disciples, who believed, he continually fed with his words and made them live by the nearness of his divinity.”[31] Finally, from Athanasius’ Letter VII, the sanctification of the people is completed in the reception of the Faith and of Christ Himself in the Eucharist: “Not only here, my brethren, is the bread the food of the righteous ones, nor are only the saints on earth nourished by such bread and blood, but we eat it in heaven as well, for the Lord is the food even of all the exalted spirits and angels, and he is the joy of the entire heavenly host ... he promises those who persevere with him in his trials, saying, ‘I promise to you, as my Father promised to me, a kingdom, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom.’”[32] Like in Letter I, the patriarch subtly leads the people to the concept of deification,[33] equipping the faithful with knowledge of the redemptive action of abiding in Christ, who alone is capable of providing nourishment for all. It does not belong to a man to say that he can satisfy the needs of mankind, so Athanasius hearkens back to creation in Letter XLIV: “And in the way that a river from a spring once gave water to drink in paradise, now it is he who gives the same gift of the Spirit to all people ... To say this does not belong to a human being, but to a living God who truly bestows life and gives the Holy Spirit.”[34] The readers of Athanasius’ Letters were thus reminded that the Lord who created the world provides nourishment for all, and by giving His own body and blood became the heavenly feast for all: “But the Lord is with us, He who is the basis for the holy feast. Let us gather and cry out to the Lord like the saints, not with our lips but in the depths of our hearts.”[35] For Athanasius, keeping the feast consists of devotion to prayer and discipline, and being nourished by the Word of God. As the faithful move toward Him through their inclination towards virtue, He Himself can “walk among us and eat with us the Passover while also promising us the true Passover and the joy in heaven with the saints.”[36] Heavenly Banquet We have thus far considered the sacrifice of Jesus Christ as the Paschal lamb whose body and blood are the spiritual food and drink of the Eucharistic offering. Further, the Lenten period of fasting and ascetic practice is established as preparation for reconciliation and the unification with God. Without this period of preparation — typified by the Old Testament command to keep the Passover and New Testament invitation to be ready for the wedding feast — the believers will not be equipped for the heavenly banquet. In perfect adherence to Athanasius’ theology of sanctification, Orthodoxy of Christian understanding recognizes a dual movement between the believer and God. Through His Incarnation, God comes to humanity, and all humans are therefore called to respond by demonstrating, with purity of heart and a life of righteousness, that they are striving to move towards God, which gives Him the opportunity to fulfill His promise of inviting the faithful to His table in the kingdom of heaven. Athanasius teaches that the desired wedding garment is purity of mind and heart, just as he describes that the food and drink of the feast are the accumulation and manifestation of the virtues. He writes: “What follows, my beloved, is clear: Even we should accordingly come to such a feast, having clothed our minds not in filthy garments, but in pure ones. Indeed, we need for this purpose to clothe ourselves with our Lord Jesus, so that we might be able to celebrate the feast with him. And we are so clothed when we love virtue and are enemies to vice, when we practice continence and do away with licentiousness, when we embrace righteousness before injustice, when we honor sufficiency and are strong in mind, when we do not neglect the poor but open our doors to everyone, when we favor humility of mind and hate arrogance. For by these things in former times even Israel, after it had contended as if in a shadow, came to the feast.”[37] For Athanasius, adorning ourselves with holy deeds is like putting on the white wedding garment in preparation for the feast with the angels, as Athanasius repeatedly calls it, and moderation, soberness, charity, mercy, and humility are the garments of the saints. The children of Israel similarly prepared themselves to draw near to God, although now the shadows and types are brought to light and fulfillment. In Letter XXVIII, Athanasius repeats these themes, writing: “Having become victors over sin, let us similarly prepare ourselves with actions, so that we too might meet the one who comes and, having entered with him, partake of the immortal food and live eternally in the heavens.”[38] Within this context, it is apparent that Athanasius considers the Lenten Fast to be a feast of God’s presence. Although the Fast is a time of repentance and correction, it is also a time of increased thanksgiving. While we wait for the life of the coming age, Athanasius instructs his flock, we must celebrate in this life in anticipation of the next. “Therefore, my brethren, as we look forward to celebrating the feast of eternal joy in heaven, let us celebrate the feast now as well by rejoicing at all times, praying without ceasing, and giving thanks to the Lord in all circumstances,” the patriarch writes in a joyful epistle that followed his return to Alexandria after an absence of seven years.[39] The joy of the Lord and the feast of the heavenly banquet do not come before the trial, but rather these things are the reward for endurance and faithfulness. Athanasius elaborates in Letter XLI: “You are the ones who have endured with me in my trials ... Therefore, because we have now been summoned through the Gospel to this great and heavenly banquet, into that swept upper room, ‘let us cleanse ourselves.’”[40] In this way, Athanasius is clear that preparation is required for entering into the great feast of the Lord and that the consequences for negligence are dire. A Call to Diligence In Letter XXV, we receive both encouragement and a warning from the Church Father, who writes: “We will recline with the Lord, like his disciples, and take from the spiritual nourishment that he will provide for us, only if we eat and drink with him with perseverance and do not betray the truth through Jewish thoughts and myths, like the wretched Judas. For he became such because he did not eat the Passover reverently as is fitting.”[41] Though Athanasius spends a more significant portion of his Festal Letters in praise of good behavior, he also cautions in them specifically against observing the days merely for the sake of the days themselves and without a pious disposition, like the Jews, and assuming immoderate practices associated with pagan worship such as gluttony or drunkenness. In Letter VI, for instance, Athanasius describes how the Jewish people did not bear the fruits required by the master of the vineyard, writing: “Therefore, when the Lord cursed them because of their negligence, he removed from them the new moons.”[42] Earlier in this same epistle, Athanasius is clear that carelessness about the feast is not a problem only of the Jewish people, but rather Christians must also be thoughtful in their preparation to receive the feast. He therefore explicitly exhorts: “Whosoever is not disposed, treats the days as ordinary, and does not celebrate the feast, but ... finds fault with the grace and prefers to honor the days without supplicating the Lord who during these days saved [him] let him by all means listen ... to the apostolic voice that rebukes him: ‘You are observing days, and months, and seasons, and years. I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.’ For the feast does not exist on account of the days; rather, we celebrate the feast on account of the Lord, who suffered during them on our behalf.”[43] In Letter VI, Athanasius relies on three references from the Gospels to reinforce his point that God’s grace requires diligent action on the part of man — the parable of the vineyard, the healing of the ten lepers, and the parable of the talents. In each case, the patriarch is asking his flock to ready itself for the feasts of the angels and saints by fulfilling their duty, with thankfulness and to the best of their ability. Even in the case of negligence, however, there is repentance available for the sinner who comes to himself and returns to his father’s house. Athanasius posits the question of who is worthy of being invited to the Lord’s table in Letter VII, reflecting on the parable of the Prodigal Son. Following his examination of the confession of the son to his father, he writes: “then [the son] will be deemed worthy of more than what he requested, for the father does not receive him as a hired hand ... but kisses him as a son, gives him life as if from the dead, deems him worthy of the divine banquet, and gives him his former precious robe, so that on this account there is singing and joy in the paternal home.”[44] Through repentance, the son reckons with his internal conflict and his desperate external circumstances, and has victory through returning to his father’s care. While facing extraordinary hardship in his varied exiles, Athanasius simultaneously writes to the Christians of Alexandria to persevere. One example of the personal touch afforded to him by the format of the festal announcements is Letter XIII, wherein he writes: “Even now, my beloved brethren, I will not be slow to announce to you the saving feast ... For although those opponents of Christ have oppressed you, along with us, with afflictions and sorrows ... because God is comforting us through our mutual faith, behold I write to you even from Rome. Even as I am celebrating the feast with the brethren here, I am celebrating in will and spirit with you as well, for we send up prayers in common to God, who has granted us not only to believe in him, but also now to suffer for him.”[45] Athanasius uses the announcement for this year 341 CE to encourage and strengthen his people, reminding them that the trial is temporary and the joy that awaits is eternal: “When we are tested by these things, therefore, let us not be separated from the love of God, but let us celebrate the feast even now, my beloved, not as if we are bringing in a day of suffering, but one of joy for Christ, by whom we are nourished every day.”[46] The patriarch asks the faithful not only to patiently endure, but also to be joyful and thrive in the feast, knowing that Christ our true Passover suffered for the sake of all mankind. Likewise in Letter III, for the Lent of year 342 CE, also during a time of extended exile and absence from Alexandria: “For the one who serves the Lord ought to be diligent and not careless or, rather, (ought to be) inflamed, so that, after he has destroyed all material sin with an ardent spirit, he may be able to approach God.”[47] He continues by pointing to Moses as an example of an ardent spirit purified by the devouring fire of God. Athanasius quotes the Apostle, writing: “Therefore the blessed Paul, because he does not let the grace of the Spirit that has been given to us to grow cold, exhorts, writing, ‘Do not quench the Spirit.’ For this is how we will remain partakers of Christ — if we hold fast until the end the Spirit (that was given) at the beginning.”[48] Once again, we discover Athanasius’ teaching about sanctification and man’s participation in his own salvation in an indirect way; the struggle towards purity requires conscientious action with fiery, unrelenting perseverance, as described in this Letter. Indeed, by the Christians’ observation of the feast with gladness and thanksgiving, the world will see that Christians are imitators of Christ and be amazed, according to Athanasius. In the following passage, Athanasius reveals that a consequence of the personal sanctification of putting on Christ is that the Christian feast will be a transformative light — an example of holy, sober joy: “The Lord’s wise servants, however, who have truly clothed themselves with the human being who has been created in God, have become recipients of the evangelical words ... ‘Set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.’ They celebrate the feast in such a proper manner that even the unbelievers, when they ‘see their good order,’ will say, ‘God is really among them.’”[49] Athanasius layers the transformation of the Passover from a shadow only available to the Hebrews to the light of Christ’s redemptive sacrifice available to all and visible by all. Although this feast is marked by the forty days of Lenten fasting and is a time of temperance and self-regulation, it ultimately will be further elevated to the heavenly banquet of the kingdom of God and the redemption of all creation. Regarding this reconciliation of the heavenly and earthly, Athanasius writes: “The entire creation keeps the feast, my brethren ... on account of the enemies’ destruction, and of our salvation. And rightly so: For if there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, what would there not be over the abolition of sin and the resurrection of the dead? What a feast! And how great heaven’s joy!”[50] — [1] Athanasius, The Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria, with the Festal Index and the Historia Acephala. Translated by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn. (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press), 18. [2] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 89. [3] Schaff, Philip, and Henry Wace. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Vol. 14 Second Series. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 56. [4] Schaff, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers. Vol. 14, 55. [5] Ibid, 55. [6] Allen, Pauline.  “The Festal Letters of the Patriarchs of Alexandria: Evidence for Social History in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries.” In Alexandrian Legacy: A Critical Appraisal, ed. Doru Costache, Philip Kariatlis, and Mario Baghos.  (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015), 174. [7] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 19. [8] Mikhail, Maged S.A. “The Evolution of Lent in Alexandria and the Alleged Reforms of Patriarch Demetrius” In Copts in Context: Negotiating Identity, Tradition and Modernity, ed. Nelly van Doorn-Harder (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2017), 169-180, 252-258. [9] Allen, 174. [10] Ibid, 175. Certainly the Arabic Letters represent later translations and could not have arisen contemporaneously to the Letters’ authorship. [11] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 21. [12] Bradshaw, Paul F, and Maxwell E Johnson. The Origins of Feasts, Fasts, and Seasons in Early Christianity. Alcuin Club Collections, 86. London: SPCK, 2011. [13] See The Synodal Letter of Nicaea. [14] Brakke, David. Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. [15] Bradshaw, Paul and Maxwell Johnson, 92. Whether the Christians in Egypt fell short of the standard practice as it was carried out in the other Churches in Athanasius’ time, and whether such shortcoming, if extant, was a matter of official practice of spiritual laxity, remains an open question, with the question arising in part from St. Athanasius’ comment, in Letter XII, that “[t]he Egyptians were made a laughing-stock because they, of all the world, did not fast during the forty days before Pascha.” In this Letter, Athanasius writes to Serapion, bishop of Thmuis, from Rome, in 340 A.D., imploring the Egyptian Christians to fast all forty days of Lent, as the Christians did in Rome. Athanasius’ Festal Letters generally paint the picture of a Great Lent composed of six weeks before the Feast of the Resurrection, with Saturdays and Sundays not being considered fast days​, although the dietary practice of the Fast was upheld on those days, in light of abstinence being forbidden on all Saturdays and Sundays of the year, with the exception of Paschal Saturday. [16] Other patristic writers that make the connection between the Exodus narrative and the Resurrection Feast include Melito of Sardis in On Pascha and Origen in Homilies on Leviticus. [17] Of note is that one of the two Pauline Epistle passages read during Paschal Saturday, or Apocalypse Saturday, in the Coptic Orthodox Church is excerpted from 1 Corinthians 5:7-13, beginning: “Therefore purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new lump, since you truly are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth” (1 Corinthians 5:7-8). [18] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 67. [19] Ibid, 211. [20] Ibid, 64. [21] Ibid, 78. [22] Ibid, 230. [23] Ibid, 88. [24] Ibid, 185. [25] Ibid, 107. [26] Ibid, 113. [27] Ibid, 113. [28] Ibid, 51. [29] For further discussion see Wahba, Matthias F.  The Doctrine of Sanctification in St. Athanasius’ Paschal Letters. Cranston, Rhode Island: St. Mary & St. Mena Coptic Orthodox Church, 1988.  Also to examine how this theological stance continued to be delivered through the Festal Letters, see Morgan, Jonathan. “The Role of Asceticism in Deification in Cyril of Alexandria’s Festal Letters.” The Downside Review 135, no. 3 (2017): 144–53. [30] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 95. [31] Ibid, 97. [32] Ibid, 98. [33] Deification in the Athanasian and, more generally, the Alexandrian tradition, is in reference to the natural receipt of the perfected believers of the attributes of immortality and incorruptibility, which attributes are God’s alone by nature, but which He grants to those who have a share in the resurrection to life at the last day. The notion in the early patristic Fathers is far removed from the later developments of the concept that arose in the West. [34] Athanasius, The Festal Letters, 229. [35] Ibid, 185. [36] Ibid, 185. [37] Ibid, 71. [38] Ibid, 192. [39] Ibid, 167. [40] Ibid, 213. [41] Ibid, 182. [42] Ibid, 85. [43] Ibid, 81. [44] Ibid, 99. [45] Ibid, 137. [46] Ibid, 143. [47] Ibid, 147. [48] Ibid, 147. [49] Ibid, 177. [50] Ibid, 87. — Bibliography Primary Sources Athanasius. The Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria, with the Festal Index and the Historia Acephala. Translated by David Brakke and David M. Gwynn. (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2022) Athanasius. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. Vol. IV. (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1998) Eusebius of Caesarea. The History of the Church: A New Translation. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2019. Schaff, Philip, and Henry Wace. A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Vol. 14 Second Series.  (Grand Rapids.: Eerdmans, 1983) Secondary Sources Allen, Pauline.  “The Festal Letters of the Patriarchs of Alexandria: Evidence for Social History in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries.” In Alexandrian Legacy: A Critical Appraisal, ed. Doru Costache, Philip Kariatlis, and Mario Baghos.  (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2015) 174-189. Bradshaw, Paul F, and Maxwell E Johnson. The Origins of Feasts, Fasts, and Seasons in Early Christianity. Alcuin Club Collections, 86. London: SPCK, 2011. Brakke, David. Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism. Oxford Early Christian Studies. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. Brakke, David. “A New Fragment of Athanasius’s Thirty-Ninth Festal Letter. Heresy, Apocrypha, and the Canon.” The Harvard Theological Review 103, no. 1 (2010): 47–66. Daise, Michael A. “‘Christ Our Passover’ (1 Corinthians 5:6–8): The Death of Jesus and the Quartodeciman Pascha.” Neotestamentica 50, no. 2 (2016): 507–26. Demacopoulos, George E. Five Models of Spiritual Direction in the Early Church. University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. Gywnn, David. “Patronage Networks in the Festal Letters of Athanasius of Alexandria” In Episcopal Networks in Late Antiquity: Connection and Communication Across Boundaries, ed. Cvetković, Carmen Angela and Gemeinhardt, Peter. (Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter, 2019) 101-115. Mikhail, Maged S.A. “The Evolution of Lent in Alexandria and the Alleged Reforms of Patriarch Demetrius” In Copts in Context:Negotiating Identity, Tradition and Modernity, ed. Nelly van Doorn-Harder (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 2017), 169-180, 252-258. Morgan, Jonathan. “The Role of Asceticism in Deification in Cyril of Alexandria’s Festal Letters.” The Downside Review 135, no. 3 (2017): 144–53. Meawad, Stephen M. "Fasting Reconsidered: St. John Chrysostom and Modern Science on Fasting." Presented at “The Conference in Preparation for the Great and Holy Council of the Orthodox Church,” (2016). Wahba, Matthias F.  The Doctrine of Sanctification in St. Athanasius’ Paschal Letters. Cranston, Rhode Island: St. Mary & St. Mena Coptic Orthodox Church, 1988. Widdicombe, Peter. The Journal of Theological Studies 47, no. 2 (1996): 678–81. Wilken, Robert Louis. “The Inevitability of Allegory.” Gregorianum 86, no. 4 (2005): 742–53. — Jessica Ryder-Khalil serves at St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church in Gainesville, FL. Before becoming a homemaker for her beloved husband and four children, her professional background was in teaching English as a Second Language. She is currently pursuing a Master of Theological Studies (MTS) degree at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School (ACTS). DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

His Grace Bishop Suriel Bishop of Melbourne, Australia and Professor at Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary, New Jersey, United States The Coptic Church that first began to lay down roots in the lands of immigration approximately 50 years ago is now quite established in the West, no longer seen as a “diaspora” but rather a fully established Church with numerous dioceses and patriarchal jurisdictions throughout the western world. We as Coptic Christians are now members of truly “national” churches in each of the countries where Copts have settled. In light of this rapid international expansion, our call to ministry in the 21st century Coptic Church, particularly in the formative field of theological education, poses novel, nuanced, and critical challenges — challenges that are significantly amplified today when compared either to education as it was carried out in the Church historically, whether the Coptic Church specifically or the Christian Church more generally until the middle of the twentieth century, or to when the first Coptic churches were established in the West. These challenges raise serious and pertinent questions regarding theological education and the formation of future clergy, servants, and Church leaders, which formation is essential to the integrity and propriety of the spirit and method by which those who comprise these categories of servants carry out and administer the service of the Church, and to the preservation and transmission of sound doctrine in the pedagogical aspects of the Church’s service and mission. The Coptic Church in her rich history and heritage is certainly not alien to challenges, having faced and overcome a myriad of obstacles and wholly unfavorable odds if only to survive until the present day. In each period she has faced unique challenges, such as those which she must now traverse, and reflecting on how the Church has dealt with these challenges historically and methodologically can supply us with many important and instructive lessons to guide us in addressing today’s concerns. To this end, I wish to focus in this series on two historical periods: one ancient — the School of Alexandria — and one modern — the work of St. Habib Girgis in theological education — in order to draw from these some thoughts, reflections, and a proposed path forward for Coptic Orthodox Christian theological education in the 21st century in the West. In books five and six of his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius of Caesarea tells of the didaskalion of Alexandria — what we like to think of today as the School of Alexandria — and enumerates its heads Pantaenus, Clement, and Origen. He presents what at first glance seems like a uniform succession of leaders in an ecclesiastical institution, and his readers are tempted to ponder the size of its supposed campus. The historical evidence, however, does not add up. A more careful analysis of the sources leads us to a rather different picture of this formidable entity: there are no buildings, classrooms, or desks; instead there are learned teachers and avid students eager to hear the word of God. The matter may perhaps upset some people, yet an honest assessment of our sources leads us to a much deeper appreciation of the beauty of the ancient Christian heritage. Ronald Heine, who published an extensive study on Origen through Oxford University Press titled Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church, presents the most plausible picture of the state of affairs in the milieu of Christianity in Alexandria. He speaks of “schools” instead of one singular school, at once acknowledging both the diversity and rich complexity of Christian teaching in that cosmopolitan city. There were likely five famous Christian teachers in second- and third-century Alexandria: Basilides, Valentinus, Pantaenus (who is designated by Origen as “the Hebrew”), Clement of Alexandria, and Origen, who was a disciple and student of Clement of Alexandria and who would himself emerge as a teacher early in the third century and ultimately become the most formidable scholar of the Christian East. Two of the five teachers mentioned above, Basilides and Valentinus, propagated teachings incompatible with proto-orthodoxy; the remainder, however, deserve our full attention. We know a little about Pantaenus from the writings of Clement, but we do not have any of his writings. Clement and Origen on the other hand have bequeathed us enough material for a lifetime of reading and decades of study. Pantaenus, Clement, and Origen, like their contemporaneous teachers, spent their efforts tutoring students in what would have looked like an ancient philosophical school. Schools of this sort were not necessarily academic in the modern sense of the term. They could be as small as a teacher and a single student and could perish with the death of the teacher or otherwise survive under a successor. Indeed, it was the character of the teacher that attracted potential students. Teachers would become spiritual guides to their students, who would gather around their teacher for years on end. The schools of antiquity were fundamentally oriented to texts — they could be described as textual communities — and their teachers interacted with important texts in three ways: one, “text functions as teacher;” two, “text and teacher act in concert or together;” and three, “teacher as text.”[1] St. Gregory the Wonder-Worker’s Panegyric is full of high praise for Origen, Gregory’s teacher, and Gregory makes clear that for him, his teacher became his text.[2] Clement and Origen’s works themselves fit within the second category, though they write in a rather different style. Clement often structures his works topically and makes use of texts that serve his literary efforts. Origen employs a similar arrangement in some of his works, yet in others, especially his exegetical works, he arranges his teaching by the structure of the text under examination. Origen had himself been a grammatikos, that is, one who taught children in the second level of their schooling after they had learned the basics of reading. The grammatikos would treat a text in four stages: one, “criticism to determine what the ancient author had written;” two, “reading and recitation, which included memorizing the text for recitation;” three, “explanation of the text, which included the meaning of unusual words, grammatical forms, etymology, as well as the content or story of the text;” and four, “judgment, or the moral teaching of the text.”[3] Origen would soon make use of his rhetorical training and devote his efforts exclusively to the study of Christian texts when persecution broke out under Septimius Severus (from 193 to 211 A.D.). As Eusebius recounts in Book Six of his Ecclesiastical History, there was not a single teacher remaining to preach the word of God.[4] Two brothers, Plutarch and Heracles, we are told, sought out Origen to teach them about Christ, and they became his first two students.[5] Eusebius names nine of Origen’s students who soon after baptism went to their martyrdom: these were Plutarch, who was one of the first two to seek Origen out for instruction, Serenus, Heraclides, Hero, a second named Serenus, a woman named Herais, Basilides, a woman named Potamiaena, and her mother Marcella.[6] What, then, was the goal of the school of Origen? Heine summarizes this for us beautifully: “Origen’s school, like Clement’s before him, was not intended to form specialists in texts or ideas, whether secular or sacred, but to form a Christian person. The real subject was the virtues, practical wisdom, self-control, justice, and courage.”[7] In Origen’s school, Gregory Thaumaturgus says, students were incited to virtue more by his works than by his words.[8] His example caused his students to love the virtues. Gregory judged the ultimate goal of Origen’s school to be that a person should progress through all the virtues, and having been made like God with a pure mind, approach Him and remain in Him.[9] Clement and Origen were concerned with the formation not merely of learned people, but, more centrally, of spiritual servants of God. What are the implications of this short discussion on the “schools” of Alexandria for theological education in the Coptic Church today? First, the question on the hearts of many: must our theological schools be accredited? If we are honest with ourselves, the issue touches our deepest vulnerabilities as a Christian minority emerging into the daylight of freedom of religious expression. Surrendering to any process of accreditation necessarily forces us to put into words and in writing to what we claim we are committed and provides an opportunity for others to hold us accountable to our expressed cause. Accreditation is not a matter to be taken lightly or approached hastily, but is undoubtedly a necessary step if we as a Church are serious about our commitment to bringing the message of the Gospel to the ends of the earth.[10] How can we return to the former glory of Alexandrine Christian education in carrying out the important service of theological education in the Church today, particularly in the West? First, we must recognize that the primary function of theological schooling and religious education in the Church at all levels is to discipline our people in the Christian life, just as it was in the theological schools of second- and third-century Alexandria, and we must make use of the ancient Christian texts bequeathed to us in order to achieve this purpose, so as to abide by and deliver the very spirit and doctrine that so wonderfully characterized the Orthodox authors of those texts, whose descendants we are. Second, we must return to the Alexandrine text of the Holy Scriptures, which is carefully preserved in the Coptic textual witnesses. Translation of these works, or adoption of the English language versions of the Holy Bible most faithful to the Alexandrine text, is undoubtedly necessary across Coptic Churches in the West. Third, we must allow the faithful writers of antiquity to speak to us today, both by consulting accurate translations of the ancient sources and through the mouths of their modern readers. We must oblige our responsibility of academic honesty and have the courage to be accurate, precise, and exacting in our research efforts. Just as it is incorrect to say, in broad strokes and general terms, that the School of Alexandria taught this or that, since it has been shown that Origen and Clement conducted their own “schools,” so to speak, so too is it erroneous to assert in general terms that the Coptic Church teaches this or that, except in those instances where the ancient liturgical prayers of the Coptic Orthodox Church reflect a certain teaching or the Church has publicly and consistently adopted a specific stance on any given matter. In the case of modern teachers and scholars, it is preferable to acknowledge that “Bishop X taught this,” or “Father Y taught that.” Every modern scholar in the field of Coptic Studies, in any of its areas, must bear the responsibility of academic honesty and measure himself or herself against the Alexandrine tradition that extends almost 2,000 years. Each of us as Coptic Orthodox Christians, and particularly those among us who are tasked with the responsibility of educating in the Church at any level, must recognize that to justify one’s knowledge and teaching of Christian faith and doctrine without recourse to the ancient writings, and especially, for our purposes, those that emerged in Alexandria, is precisely to preach ourselves and not authentic Orthodoxy. — [1] H. Gregory Snyder. Teachers and Texts in the Ancient World: Philosophers, Jews, and Christians. Religion in the First Christian Centuries. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Pp. 224-27. [2] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen. [3] Ronald E. Heine. Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. P. 61. [4] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.3.1. [5] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.3.2. [6] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History VI.4.1 — VI.5.1. [7] Ronald E. Heine. Origen: Scholarship in the Service of the Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. P. 64. [8] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen, 9. [9] See Gregory Thaumaturgus, Oration and Panegyric Addressed to Origen, 12. [10] I will address accreditation further in the third entry of this series. — His Grace Bishop Suriel presently serves as a Professor at the Pope Shenouda III Coptic Orthodox Theological Seminary in New Jersey, United States. We are honored to announce that Season Two of His Grace Bishop Suriel’s podcast, Coffee with Bishop Suriel, is also coming soon! Subscribe to Coffee with Bishop Suriel to receive the latest news. Cover Image: Andrei Mironov, Sermon on the Mount. 2022. Image Original. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

Since its earliest years, Christians have suffered nearly constant persecution — socially, financially, and physically — due to their religious beliefs. During one period of reprieve that commenced in the early fourth century with the enactment of the Edict of Milan by Emperors Constantine and Licinius, the monastic movement began to flourish as many individuals flocked to the desert to practice Christian spirituality most fully. Scholars have long debated the inspiration for this movement: were early Christians driven to monasticism to be united with God, or was their newfound lifestyle simply an escape from the threat of persecution? Scholarly literature suggests the latter. [1]  Such a view, it should be noted, is not a mere interpretation of the sociocultural atmosphere during the early monastic movement, but draws inspiration mainly from historical hagiographies [2] such as Jerome’s Life of Paulus. [3]   However, while the motivations of every individual who sought monasticism are not documented, for spiritually devout monks, withdrawal into the desert was generally not a means of escaping persecution or other worldly difficulties, but the pursuit of God in what they regarded to be a deeper or more perfect way. These individuals, in fact, continued to suffer persecution alongside their Christian counterparts in society and were subjected to various forms of conflict while fulfilling their ascetical responsibilities. In reviewing the applicable literature, it rather becomes evident that an escape from the difficult circumstances of persecution was not among the primary motives for the Christian monastic movement. Persecution in the Roman Empire Persecution, or the oppression of an individual or group in the form of hostility and ill-treatment due to their religious beliefs, is embedded in the history of the Church since its establishment by the Lord Jesus Christ through His Apostles. The Lord Himself spoke regarding the persecution of His followers: “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation, and put you to death; and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake.” [4] At the time of the Roman Empire, persecution was especially prevalent, and Christians confronted it in various ways: some voluntarily apostatized ( sacrificiati ), [5]  some bribed officials for a certificate without actually offering sacrifices ( libellatici ), [6]  some confessed when accused of being Christians ( stantes ), [7]  some voluntarily confessed their faith, and some proactively fled. The most controversial approach was that of fleeing. Clement of Alexandria, Origen of Alexandria, and Cyprian of Carthage, among several others, escaped persecution this way. On the other hand, some, such as Tertullian, opposed this approach, ultimately classifying it as a weaker form of apostasy. [8]  Pertinently, Tertullian does not mention among those who fled persecution the men and women who withdrew from the city to practice asceticism. Such individuals, on the other hand, were understood to have been regularly practicing a proverbial martyrdom, as depicted in Athanasius’s Life of Antony . Monasticism in the Roman Empire The word monk  in its earliest form was not wholly associated with religious matters. Early evidence from Egyptian papyri demonstrates that the term monk  was a designation for merchants and property owners, as well as those who were celibate for religious reasons. [9]  This emphasis on celibacy would become a foundational prerequisite for those who sought monasticism and the detachment from worldly cares and carnal lusts that such a life offered. [10]   Historically, while the first group that may be considered monks in the popular Christian sense is found in discipleship to Antony the Great, at the end of the third century, the major uptick in monasticism did not occur until 318 C.E., seven years after Roman persecution ended. Prior to Antony, and as seen in the account of his Life , Christian monasticism was associated with recluse civilians who did not withdraw into the desert or completely isolate themselves from the secular world, but instead renounced secular life through asceticism, the practice of severe self-discipline. [11] Inspired by a few men in the third and fourth centuries who decided to abandon the world to serve God in a more perfect way, Christian monasticism was born. [12] Athanasius uses the word anchoresis (“withdrawal from the world”)   to signify Antony’s departure into the desert. In its secular meaning, this word could indicate withdrawal from politics, battle, or even tax evasion. [13] While it is expected that some individuals withdrew to monasticism to escape such grievances and persecutions, this notion cannot be considered characteristic of the entire movement. The emphases found in the documented lives of early monks are consistent with philosophical tradition, stoicism, and the cultural wisdom of their time. Thus, monasticism served as a way for its adherents to return to their roots and pursue a more perfect way of life with God as their focus. Philosophy was understood as the pursuit of the perfect way of life, which was a prerequisite for “pure knowledge and illumination by the divine [God].” [14]  Such a life was not characterized by one’s intellectual activity, but rather by detachment from secular, social, and political affairs, as well as the renunciation of wealth and bodily pleasures. [15] These characteristics are explicitly seen in the lives of the monks of the early monastic period. For instance, Antony the Great gave away all of his wealth in order to follow God according to what he deemed, as a result of his sound Christian upbringing, to be the best way. The recluse Palamon, who served as a mentor to Pachomius, likewise exemplified detachment from the world, living in seclusion at the edge of civilization. In addition, common practices in the lives of monks, such as strict dietary rules, frequent recitation and memorization of Scripture, and solitude, were emphasized as being necessary to this Philosophy, and monks were regarded as pursuers of the “philosophical life” — following the “true philosophy” that is Christianity; [16] thus, there are many descriptions, in the literature arising from the period of early monasticism, of monks as successors, and even competitors, to the ancient philosophers. [17] Ultimately, monasticism granted the monks freedom from the obligations of civic life so that they could become solely concerned with the pursuit and worship of God. The Early Monks And Civic Life Escape from religious persecution and suffering in the Roman Empire during the rise of monasticism required the complete abandonment of one’s sociocultural milieu. This, however, was not common amongst monastics in late antiquity — monks during this period did not always live in complete isolation from society. In fact, documents from this period depict early monastics living in cities and towns and participating in economic and social interactions within them. [18]  These traditions predate even the establishment of organized Christian monasticism itself, and are known through the early monastic hagiographies, such as Athanasius’s Life of Antony , where Athanasius narrates that Antony sought the apprenticeship of holy men living on the outskirts of his village who practiced the ascetical discipline and were renowned for their virtuosity. [19]  The same approach was later used by Pachomius, who apprenticed himself under a local anchorite named Palamon. [20]  Thus, there were in those days recluses who practiced a form of monasticism without full retreat into the wilderness. The withdrawal of these individuals from the world was not necessarily physical, but emotional, mental, and, most importantly, spiritual. Indeed, the early monks emphasized the renunciation, and not an abandonment or disdain, of traditional forms of social life — marriage, private ownership, and civic responsibilities — and established for themselves instead a singular focus on spiritual nourishment. [21]  As previously mentioned, their pursuit of the monastic life was therefore not borne out of an escape from persecution and suffering, since they continued in large part to live in and engage with mainstream society, but instead was due to their longing to worship God in a more perfect way, removed from the distractions of the world. The Early Monks as Mediators in Conflict Further evidence for the falsity of the proposition that the monks were those who sought to escape persecution and conflict is their frequent involvement as mediators in societal, political, and religious conflicts. Soon after the rise of monasticism in the second half of the third century, monasticism became a topic of discussion at several councils in the East, and monks played a pivotal role in important controversies that arose in the Church. [22]  Monks participated in both local and ecumenical councils, such as the First Council of Nicaea, the First Council of Constantinople, and the First Council of Ephesus, and were deeply involved, even apart from participating in such formal proceedings, in addressing theological issues that arose in their time. It was, after all, the unshakeable doctrinal foundation of the Christians living near the White Monastery, which foundation was primarily attributable to the educational and pastoral efforts of Shenoute of Atripe and the monks of his monastic federation, that Nestorius was eventually exiled to nearby Panopolis, being incarcerated at Psinblje. [23]   Due to their theological proficiency and learnedness, monks were frequently called upon by presiding bishops to address local theological disputes. For instance, Antony the Great was called upon by Athanasius of Alexandria to preach against Arianism in Egypt, a heretical teaching that God the Father and God the Son, or the Logos, are not of the same substance, or nature. There are several other examples of the same sort of reliance by bishops on monks who were renowned for their soundness of doctrine and persuasiveness of character in combatting heresy. Athanasius himself, in facing the Arian heresy, introduced the practice of ordaining monks to the bishopric by carefully selecting such monks to be ordained bishops in order to assist his efforts at curtailing the spread of the heresy and securing the dioceses against its infiltration. Far from being an escape from persecution and suffering, then, monasticism was instead the pursuit of the presence of God, and its adherents’ consecration of mind and heart to God and the things of God enabled them, by His grace, to excel in understanding, teaching, and wisdom such that they were indispensable to the Church in the face of theological conflict. The involvement of monks in the affairs of the mainstream Church, moreover, was not limited to theological or doctrinal matters. For instance, the White Monastery, under the guidance of Shenoute of Atripe, opened its doors to 20,000 Christians and provided them both physical and spiritual nourishment after their village was raided. [24] The monks also served as arbitrators in civil disputes and, given their largely unrivaled piety and the reputation that many of them had for being granted special spiritual gifts, were also often asked to intervene on behalf of those in need, such as the poor and the sick. [25]  Indeed, following the establishment of communal monasticism under Pachomius in the early fourth century, monasteries frequently became the spiritual centers of villages and urban quarters, and places where local inhabitants could attend services, seek accommodations, or request help in times of need, whether medical, financial, spiritual, or otherwise. [26]   In all, the monks’ involvement in the affairs of the Church and their fellow believers in these ways attest not to their escape from persecution or societal existence, but instead their even more intimate involvement with the hardships and tribulations that arose in their days that resulted from their monastic vocation. What is more, even if some among the early monks sought out this manner of life to escape societal conflicts, they ironically found themselves all the more acquainted with it because of their monasticism. Thus, as the monks retreated further from the world spiritually, they became all the more deeply ingrained within its societal, political, and religious conflict, enduring all things, and becoming all things to all men for the sake of Christ, due to their understanding that, in the words of the founder of their way of life, “…our life and our death is with our neighbor.” [27] Monasticism as New Martyrdom The focus on suffering and tribulation as a path to glory and victory is a common theme in Christianity and was put into practice most notably by the Christian monks, who understood and approached these common experiences in the hope of the glory which God would bestow on the faithful who endure suffering for His sake. As such, they could not have abandoned suffering by their pursuit of the monastic life, but rather, by retreating to the desert, they created for themselves a prayerful oasis flowing with the waters of spiritual nourishment. Many teachers of the early Church, such as Cyprian of Carthage, in submission to the teaching of the Lord, emphasized the Christian believers’ absolute non-conformity to the world and the glory that is realized by them through their experience of tribulations. [28]  These principles are vividly represented in the lives of the early monks, who renounced traditional forms of social life in choosing to suffer for the sake of God. Besides the focus on suffering and glory, the early Christian Fathers and teachers, such as Cyprian and Origen, also emphasized the necessity of surrendering all attachment to wealth and material possessions in order to attain perfection. [29]  This way of poverty was a foundational component of monastic life: most notably, Antony the Great, upon hearing the encounter of the rich man with Christ in the Gospel according to Matthew, [30]  went and sold all his possessions before withdrawing into the desert. Furthermore, while representing a personal opinion of his and not the teaching of the early Church generally, Tertullian asserts, in his De Fuga , that persecution is ordained by God and therefore good, [31]  and accordingly, should not be fled but instead embraced. [32] The monks can be understood to have taken such advice most literally — abandoning their possessions and the comforts and pleasures of the world to pursue labor and suffering for the sake of cultivating virtue in their lives to the end of attaining to Christ at the Last Day. The practice of accepting suffering for the sake of Christ cannot be separated from the life of the monk, whose transition from civic life to monasticism resembles the transition from worldly suffering to spiritual suffering. Monasticism, similarly to martyrdom, thus epitomized for the early believers complete renunciation of the world. [33]  While martyrs endured a physical death, monks associated the desert with a place of burial. [34]  The desert represented complete and utter dependence on God, [35]  allowing the monks to choose their own means of suffering through relative withdrawal, austere dietary practices, and physical labor. The adoption of the monastic life therefore became one of many paths by which Christian men and women strove to put into practice in their own lives the command of their Master to follow Him. [36] Following Antony’s death and Athanasius authoring the Life of Antony, and in light of the cessation of the systematic persecution of Christians by the Roman Empire that characterized much of the preceding century, [37] one particular motif regarding monasticism became especially widespread: monks were the successors of the martyrs. Rather than facing a physical, imminent death, the monks “died” daily. [38] Antony himself describes dying daily as the way a monk learns to “wean himself of craving, of possessions, of grudges, of sin.” [39]  This theme became prominent in early monastic literature, [40] teaching fellow monks and civilian Christians alike that “to die is to allow Christ to live within us.” [41] Ultimately, the desert provided a transformative setting for the soul’s encounter with God, [42] allowing monks to forsake the traditional way of life in order to suffer and worship God in what they deemed a more perfect way. Monasticism as Flight From Persecution Tertullian classifies fleeing from persecution as a weaker form of apostasy. While Tertullian’s view may have been true in some cases, it is a significant generalization and cannot be considered applicable to all Christians who fled due to persecution, especially those who became monastics. For instance, Jerome writes, in his hagiographical Life of Paul of Thebes , that Paul of Thebes fled to the desert to await an end to persecution. [43]  However, Paul never returned to society even after the persecution ceased. Rather, “making a virtue of necessity,” he dedicated his life completely to God, becoming the first “hermit.” [44] While Tertullian argues that most New Testament references to persecution emphasize endurance and patience, not withdrawal, [45]  he fails to understand the “virtue of necessity” as encapsulated in the Life of Paul. Tertullian rightly justifies the idea of apostasy in those fleeing persecution for the sake of their secular livelihood. However, this idea cannot be applied to those who used this opportunity to strengthen their relationship with God by choosing to suffer for Him in another way. The spiritually devout monk did not withdraw to the desert to escape persecution, but to choose his or her own means of suffering for and worshiping God. However, not all monks retreated for the right reasons. The idea of monasticism as a means of escape from the demands of civic life was quite prevalent following the establishment of monasteries. In the fourth century, this escalated to the point where the emperor ordered the removal of many individuals who fled to monasteries to escape public duties. [46] Early in Pachomius’s communities, he encountered many such individuals, who did not take the spiritual life seriously and caused abuse to Pachomius specifically and the community more generally. [47] Once these began to neglect the synaxis (assembly for scriptural reading and prayer), he drove them away with the support of the local bishop. [48] Subsequently, Pachomius and his monks began to discreetly interview monks entering the monastery regarding their motives, [49]  ensuring that these individuals came with pure intentions. Further, while monasticism appeared on its surface to be an escape from civic responsibilities or other secular hardships, it led to more difficult spiritual duties. Monks practiced strict dietary measures, performed physical labor for long periods of time, and endured difficult living conditions. Inevitably, their toil was described as warfare, not necessarily against the body only, but for the body and spirit. [50] While monasticism may have been seen as an “easy way out” by some individuals, those truly rooted in its practices abandoned secular difficulties for spiritual ones, which allowed them to serve God in the manner most suited to their desired ends. Conclusion For the spiritually devout, withdrawal to the desert in the late third and early fourth centuries was an opportunity to choose one’s own means of suffering for and worshipping God and not a means to escape persecution or other worldly difficulties. Monasticism therefore served as a new sort of martyrdom, instilling in monks a willingness to suffer for the sake of their spiritual growth while providing them a place to worship God without worldly distraction. Nonetheless, out of their love for God and thus their brothers and sisters in the world, many monks, despite their chosen way of life, remained involved with the civic community through social service and their involvement in religious issues. They therefore did not accomplish an end to persecution and suffering through their so-called escape, and while there were many monks who sought to retreat to the desert to relieve themselves of their secular responsibilities, these were typically rejected from the monastic community and forced to return to their own villages and cities. Monastic practice today closely resembles its original form. There continue to be monastic anchorites today who follow in the footsteps of Antony the Great, who became “the defining moment for monasticism and the measure of true spirituality.” [51]  Likewise, monks living in communal monasteries are now found all over the world. Monastics today also continue to serve their local communities, whether through religious or social services, or simply by their prayers for the people. Truly, the Church today, and indeed all of world history, would not be as it is without the invaluable contributions of Christian monasticism. The Desert Fathers, or Desert Monks, were early Christian hermits living in Egypt who laid the foundation for Christian monasticism as we know it today. The Apophthegmata Patrum , Sayings of the Desert Fathers, is a collection of their wisdom, sayings, and stories, all of which have helped shape theological terminology, monastic practices, and scriptural interpretation since the establishment of the monastic movement. These sayings continue to be treasured until today for all Christians. Accordingly, monasticism has long been, and continues to be, an ever-integral component of the life of the Church in every generation. — [1] Talbot, Alice-Mary. “ An Introduction to Byzantine Monasticism. ” Illinois Classical Studies , vol. 12, no. 2, University of Illinois Press, 1987, pp. 229–41. [2] A hagiography is a written account of the life of a saint. [3] Jerome writes of Paul, “As the storm of persecution rumbled on, he withdrew to a more distant and isolated spot.” (Alexandrinus, Athanasius, et al. Early Christian Lives . Penguin Books, 1998). [4] Matthew 24:9. [5] Cyprian, Laps. 7-8, (CCSL 3:224-225). [6] Tertullian, Fug. 12 (CCSL 2:1153-55). [7] Cyprian, Laps. 3, (CCSL 3:222). [8]  Sutcliffe, Ruth. “ To Flee or Not to Flee? Matthew 10:23 and Third Century Flight in Persecution. ” Scrinium  14.1 (2018), pp. 133-160.   Note : Tertullian’s hardline view on this issue has been attributed at least in part to the influence of Montanism on his religious thinking and practices beginning in the middle part of his life, which ultimately led him to separate from the Church and join the Montanist schismatics. [9]  Rubenson, Samuel. “Asceticism and Monasticism, I: Eastern.” The Cambridge History of Christianity , edited by Augustine Casiday and Frederick W. Norris, vol. 2, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2007, pp. 637–668. Cambridge History of Christianity. [10] Lemeni, Daniel. “ The Untimely Tomb: Death in the Spirituality of the Desert. ” Hortus Artium Medievalium , vol. 23, no. 2, 2017, pp. 532–537. [11] Words that were initially secular in meaning began to have religious connotations, and eventually denotations, through the lives of these individuals. Askesis , “to exercise,” was initially used to describe physical training in preparation for athletic contests. Eventually, this word adopted a philosophical, ethical, and spiritual dimension ( See  Kling, David W. The Bible in History : How the Texts Have Shaped the Times . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Web.). Ascetics, in the Christian sense, were therefore those who practiced self-discipline, typically in seclusion at the outskirts of their villages, for religious purposes. [12] Alexandrinus, xii. [13] Harmless, William. Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism . Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004, p. 64. [14] Rubenson, 639. [15] Rubenson, 639. [16] See e.g. , Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 8.1. [17] Rubenson, 640. [18]  Rubenson, 638. [19] Harmless, 118. [20] Harmless 118. [21] Rubenson, 638. [22] Rubenson, 637. [23] Bibawy, A. “St. Shenoute of Atripe and His Monastic Order.” Orthodox Monasticism Past and Present , edited by John A. McGuckin. Gorgias Press LLC, Piscataway, NJ, USA, 2015, pp. 257-258. [24] For a discussion of this event, see  A.G. Lopez, Shenoute of Atripe and the Uses of Poverty: Rural Patronage, Religious Conflict, and Monasticism in Late Antique Egypt . Berkeley, 2013, pp. 57-62. [25] Rubenson, 641.  [26] Talbot, 230. [27] Ward, Benedicta. The Sayings of the Desert Fathers . Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1975, p. 3. [28]  See, e.g.,  Cyprian, Fort.  8-10 (CCSL 3:195-102). [29] Kling, 19. [30] The story of the rich man is found in Matthew 19:16-22 and portrays a rich man who asks Jesus what he must do to attain eternal life. After a brief interaction, Jesus replies saying, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” [31] Tertullian, Fug. 1, 2 (CCSL 2:1135-39). [32] This view — that Christians should not flee persecution — was undoubtedly the minority opinion among the teachers of the early Church. In fact, Tertullian’s own dissatisfaction with the spiritual laxity that he believed had overtaken the mainstream Church, which contributes to this opinion of his, ultimately led him to apostatize and join the Montanist sect for its more rigorous practices. [33] Lemeni, 535. [34] Lemeni, 532. [35] Lemeni, 533. [36] Kling, 20. [37] The first empire-wide, official persecution of Christians was enacted by Decius in 250 A.D. and largely persisted until 313 A.D. with the enactment of the Edict of Milan by Constantine and Licinius, which officially put an end to Christian persecution in the Empire and granted freedom of religion to all. [38] 1 Corinthians 15:31. [39] Harmless, 70. [40] Harmless, 70. [41] Lemeni, 547. [42] Kling, 33. [43] Alexandrinus, 77. [44] Alexandrinus, 77. [45]  Sutcliffe, 135. Sutcliffe mentions the following New Testament passage in support of this notion: Hebrews 11:37-38; Matthew 2:13-15, 19-22; Luke 4:28-30; Acts 8:1-3; 11:19; 13:50; 14:6, 19-21; 2 Corinthians 11:30-33. [46] Talbot, 232. [47] Harmless, 120. [48] Harmless, 120. [49] Harmless, 126. [50] Kling, 34-35. [51] Kling, 39. — Mark Dawod serves as a Reader at St. Mark's Coptic Orthodox Church in Jersey City, New Jersey. He is currently a student at Princeton University, pursuing a career in medicine. This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for "The New Testament and Christian Origins," offered by Dr. Jonathan Henry in Fall 2021 at Princeton University. Cover Image: The Monastery of St. Bishoy, captured by Monica Saleeb. Image Original. DossPress.com  is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

In an interview about his book “Hearing the Scriptures,”[1] Fr. Eugen J. Pentiuc describes liturgical experience as a dynamic and interactive event in which the interpretative imagination of hymnographers and liturgists collides with the intellect and senses of the hearer, who takes in the entire scene of prayer in the corporate setting of the Church. What Christian worshippers encounter through the hymns, lectionaries, and liturgical prayers of the Church is a synergistic expression of the Holy Scriptures through what Fr. Pentiuc describes as an entanglement of the Old and New Testaments. The depth of the meaning is compounded in both typology of the Old being fulfilled in the New, but also in a reverse typology where the New enlightens the spiritual reality of the Old.[2] While Fr. Pentiuc explores the Holy Week hymns of the Byzantine tradition, in this paper we will focus on the prevalence of Abrahamic typology and references in the Coptic Orthodox Christian rite and explore some aspects of its impact on the liturgical theology of the Coptic Orthodox tradition. This paper will be organized to cover the appearance of the patriarchs in the Coptic Synaxarium on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ,[3] in which Abraham is referenced as a prophet. Next, some attention will be given to the minor references to Abraham during the Great Lent and the Nativity season of Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ.[4] Then, we will move on to the more notable Feast of Covenant Thursday with its renowned typology of the sacrifice of Isaac foreshadowing the Passion of Christ. Finally, we will reflect on the role that Abrahamic typology plays in the annual days of the Coptic rite in the Eucharistic Liturgy of St. Basil, in the petitions of the Church and, perhaps most importantly, in the prothesis rite of selecting the Eucharistic offering. Feast of the Patriarchs on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ Many Old Testament figures are included in the Coptic Synaxarium, or the book of the “lives of the saints,” typically in remembrance of their service as prophets or in celebration of their righteous way of life. This includes the combined feast for the three patriarchs: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ in the Coptic calendar (September 3 in the Gregorian calendar). For the divine liturgy celebrated on that day, there are several special features that denote the honor given to the patriarchs in general and to Abraham in particular. Among the prayers of this day are a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ,[5] a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ,[6] a hymn for the prophets (Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ[7]) and a Concluding Canon, in addition to the daily readings, which themselves offer deep insights into the Church’s high esteem for the patriarch and prophet who was patiently awaiting the appearance of the Lord, just as he awaited the birth of Isaac. The theology of the Church is enacted and lived in the rites of the Church, and in this particular example the Church’s understanding and thought is fully explained by St. Cyril of Alexandria in his Glaphyra on the Pentateuch: “Great indeed, then, is the marvel of that righteous man, and his love of God is beyond all praise. For…allowing no earthly thing to oppose his love for God, he offered up the spiritual sacrifice.”[8] Although not an exhaustive treatment of the rites for this commemoration day, several lines from the aforementioned hymns and Canon are worth mentioning. First, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ celebrates the three patriarchs while also invoking the prayers of St. Mary the Theotokos.[9] “Through the prayers of the Theotokos and Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,”[10] is chanted making an indirect connection between Abraham as the father of the nations in Christ and the Theotokos as the mother of the incarnate Lord. The hymn for the prophets, Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ, also emphasizes the idea that Christ was already revealing Himself to the Old Testament prophets so that they may also rejoice in the foreknowledge of the salvation of the world. This line also combines the three patriarchs with Noah in exultation, “Righteous Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph judged Egypt; they bore witness to His coming.”[11] Lastly, the Concluding Canon venerates Abraham as the forefather of the Savior, saying: “All races and tribes…cannot speak of your dignity…for the pleasure of the Lord Jesus who appeared in your genealogy.”[12] These mentions of Abraham honor him as a prophet of the Passion of Christ and as an ancestor to the Incarnate Lord. The Lectionary (Ⲕⲁⲧⲁⲙⲉⲣⲟⲥ), or the book of daily liturgical readings, is a treasure trove containing the mind of the Church regarding Abraham’s high rank among the Old Testament prophets and his importance to our spiritual life today.[13] An overarching theme is the identification of the Lord as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,[14] as if to deflect the question of God’s identity to the patriarchs themselves. The Most High was worshipped by them, and we know Him by virtue of being their descendants. Both the Gospel of the Evening Raising of Incense and the Catholic Epistle excerpted from the Epistle of St. James[15] echo the theme of friendship with God. The Psalm of the Divine Liturgy signals the everlasting covenant with Abraham, reinforcing that what the Lord has promised, He will do, and it will not be undone. This is further evidenced in the Gospel of the Morning Raising of Incense, taken from the Gospel According to St. Luke, which describes the role that Abraham has in the heavenly kingdom with an account of his interaction with Lazarus and the rich man interceding to the patriarch for relief. The result of his friendship with God on earth is the eternal relationship with Him in heaven, participating in the work of the eternal kingdom by comforting the poor and meek. This one day in the liturgical calendar reveals the thought of the Church regarding the economy of salvation and the activity of the saints as friends and collaborators with the Lord of Hosts. As previously posited, the Church as the Ark of Salvation facilitates an overlapping of the spiritual realities of the Old Testament and New Testament, whose synthesis is the worship of all who are waiting for the building of the City of God.[16] Abraham waited and saw the hope of the Resurrection; so too his children wait, watch, and hope for the fulfillment of redemption in Christ. Mentions of Abraham during Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ and Great Lent Abraham accompanies us throughout the Coptic liturgical calendar with mentions during annual days and fasting seasons alike. It is worth noting that the lines about Abraham during Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ mirror the hymnology of the Sunday Θεοτοκία,[17] while the hymns for Great Lent mirror the annual Wednesday Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ and express our sharing in the virtues of obedience and generosity whole-heartedly lived by the patriarch. Of interest is that Abraham’s nephew Lot is also counted among the righteous men who were saved through prayer and fasting. In this section, the phraseology of those hymns will be explored. The theological focus of the Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ season is the anticipation of the Incarnation of the Lord, and as such the hymnology places great emphasis on the role of St. Mary the Theotokos and her willing participation in the salvation of the world through her miraculous pregnancy. As previously indicated, this participation in the economy of salvation alongside the Lord is a unique tenet of Orthodox Christianity. Pairing the Old Testament prophets with the Theotokos communicates that this activity began from the earliest encounters of mankind with God. For this reason, one of the seasonal doxologies for Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ parallels the well-known verses among the Coptic faithful from the Sunday Psalmody, in the hymn Ϣⲁϣϥ ⲛ̀ⲥⲟⲡ:[18] “Hail to you, Mary: the grace of Abraham;” “Hail to you, Mary: the salvation of Saint Isaac;” and “Hail to you, Mary: the rejoicing of Jacob.”[19] The tune shifts for the Great Lent, as does the theological lesson taught through the hymnology. In comparing the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ, prayed Sunday through Tuesday, and the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ, prayed Wednesday through Saturday, familiar concepts are displayed, such as the offering of an acceptable sacrifice through fasting, the visitation of the Lord to the righteous, and the deliverance from tribulation. The Wednesday Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ prayed during annual days throughout the year reflects the same theological points with the addition of the virtues of compassion and mercy. Abraham’s Acceptable Sacrifice and Covenant Thursday As observed in the hymns for Great Lent, Abraham’s sacrifice of his beloved son Isaac is already being recalled in the Coptic congregations in the period leading up to Holy Week. However, the significance of Abraham’s actions will only be heightened as the Pascha unfolds. H.H. Pope Shenouda III described Holy Week in his book Thine is the Power and the Glory: “The Passion Week…is the most important period in the year and the richest spiritually. It is a week full of holy memories of the most crucial stage of salvation...The Church chose for this week certain readings from both the Old and the New Testaments, which reflect, the most passionate feelings that explain God's relation with Man.”[23] In the following paragraphs, Abraham’s participation in the “acceptable sacrifice” of the Lord Jesus Christ through His Passion will be examined. Prior to Holy Thursday, there is only one prophecy related to Abraham and Isaac found in the readings of the Coptic Church’s Holy Week Lectionary. In the Ninth Hour of Wednesday, one of the Old Testament readings is taken from the Book of Genesis (24:1-9), which tells of Abraham sending his servant to find a wife for Isaac. In this case, the search for Isaac’s bride foreshadows the Church as the bride of Christ.[24] The Church again confirms that the prophets both had foreknowledge of and participated in the salvation history of the world in the Exposition reading for that Hour. The Exposition reading states: “The mystery of Your incarnation You have concealed in our body, O Christ our God. For Abraham, the great patriarch, the father of all nations fathomed in great faith that God the Word shall be incarnate from his seed.”[25] These readings and their situation within the prayers of Holy Week achieve two purposes: first, the congregation is reminded that the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross is how He will redeem His bride, the Church, and second, they act as a preparation for the events of the next day when Abraham and Isaac will again be front and center alongside Christ in His Passion on Covenant Thursday. With the focus on the account of Abraham, Isaac, and the offering on Mt. Moriah, it may be easy to miss the second reading from the Book of Genesis during the Ninth Hour prayer of Holy Thursday, even though it gives an important theological frame to the events of the day. The sacrifice of Isaac (Gen. 22:1-19) is read in tandem with Abraham’s meeting with Melchizedek (Gen. 14:17-20), king of Salem, from whom he received an offering of bread and wine. St. Cyril, in the Glaphyra, gives a lengthy treatment of the presence of Melchizedek, also interpreting the offering as a type of the Eucharist instituted by Christ on Covenant Thursday. He writes, “Melchizedek took up the symbols of the priesthood that excels the law, offering Abraham both wine and bread when he blessed him. Likewise, we are not blessed in any other way except through Christ, the great and true priest.”[26] Thus, the faithful are readied to receive the Institution of the greatest sacrament of the Christian Church, the Eucharist. It appears paradoxical that the Lord should require that the Son of Promise, Isaac, be offered up, yet this is Abraham’s test, and God finds his sacrifice acceptable, as the Church reads in the Exposition of the Ninth Hour of Covenant Thursday.[27] It is Isaac who carries the wood, just as Christ carried the wood of the Cross by His own strength and will, and was also accepted by the Father, as the Coptic faithful chant in the hymn Ⲫⲁⲓ ⲉ̀ⲧⲁϥⲉ̀ⲛϥ[28] during the Sixth Hour of Good Friday: “This is He who offered Himself as an acceptable sacrifice on the Cross for the salvation of our race.”[29] None give light to this typology better than St. Cyril: “For the Word was in reality of the substance of God the Father, shining radiantly in His own temple, that which was supplied through the Virgin, and which was nailed to the tree. Although as God He was impassable and immortal, He took Himself away to suffering and death, and through His own body He offered up a pleasing aroma to God the Father. He Himself, therefore, is said to have been accepted by the Father, in accordance with what is written in the Psalms.”[30] The Psalms resolve this paradox of sacrificing the promised and cherished heir, as we read in Psalm 16:10, “For You will not leave my soul in Sheol, nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.” Isaac is restored to Abraham, and Christ trampled death by His Resurrection. Even as we anticipate and gradually approach the Crucifixion during the days of the Pascha Week, the Church is clear in her teaching that the end goal is not solely perseverance in the face of innocents’ suffering, but the rejoicing in the redemptive victory that dawns with the Resurrection Feast. Before the distribution of the Holy Body and Blood for the Divine Liturgy of Covenant Thursday, the Fraction prayer clearly lays out this typology, instructing the faithful to anticipate the Resurrection even on the day preceding the Crucifixion. It reads, “and Isaac returned alive, likewise Christ rose alive from the dead and appeared to His holy disciples. O God, who received the sacrifice of our father Abraham, receive this sacrifice from our hands in this hour.”[31] The Church lives out this unity which transcends temporal boundaries, bringing together the sacrifice of Abraham, the Crucifixion of the Lord, and the institution of the Eucharist, our prayer and sacrifice offered year by year, and the acceptance of all these separate moments by God the Father as one. Abraham in the Annual Days of the Coptic Rite The power of this spiritual reality is repeated during the annual days of the Coptic liturgical calendar, when the Divine Liturgy of St. Basil is regularly prayed. Two references to Abraham can be observed audibly, while Abraham’s role in the prothesis rite of selecting the Eucharistic offering is acted out inaudibly by the celebrant. Attentive devotion should be given even to these minor mentions of Abraham in the Prayer for the Departed offered during the Evening Raising of Incense and also in the Commemoration of the Saints prayed during the Liturgy of the Faithful, as they bring into focus the presence of the Scriptures within the liturgical rites. As discussed in the section on 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the Gospel of the Morning Raising of Incense passage from the Gospel According to St. Luke on that day describes Lazarus as resting in Abraham’s arms.[32] In reference to the same account, we pray in the two aforementioned prayers, “Graciously, O Lord, repose all their souls in the bosom of our holy fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.[33] Sustain them in a green pasture, by the water of rest in the Paradise of joy, the place out of which grief sorrow and groaning have fled away, in the light of Your saints,”[34] reminding us that death is a departure to the resting place of the fathers and that there is spiritual activity even for those who wait there for the Kingdom. The only mention of Abraham in the Morning Raising of Incense is in the Prayer for the Oblations, reminding us to offer our gifts with righteousness. The prayer reads: “As You have received the offerings of the righteous Abel, the sacrifice of our father Abraham and the two mites of the widow, so also receive the thank-offerings of our servants.”[35] Again we see the overlap of both Old and New Testament offerings with our own in the present time, signifying the unity of the faithful across the ages. Abraham’s sacrifice also plays as important a role during the Divine Liturgies celebrated on annual days as it does on Covenant Thursday, however through a silent, symbolic action of the celebrant. Not only is it silent, but it is also passed on purely as oral tradition from priest to priest.[36] During the prothesis rite of the Coptic Church, the priest folds the Communion napkin to have a point at one end and hides it inside his sleeve to signify the knife that Abraham would have carried. Once the Eucharistic offering is selected, the napkin is taken out, unfolded, and used to wipe any excess flour from the offering in order to prepare it to be placed in the paten. The remainder of the loaves are also blessed by the priest with the prayer, “A sacrifice of glory, a sacrifice of praise, a sacrifice of Abraham, a sacrifice of Isaac, a sacrifice of Jacob, a sacrifice of Melchizedek.”[37] The silence of this symbolic act instructs us in the layers of mystery involved in the sacrament. Abraham went to Mt. Moriah keeping the details of the sacrifice to himself; the Lord Christ also went to the Cross in silence. Similarly, when the priest selects the offering bread, he is silent as the congregation chants “Lord, have mercy,” using the appropriate Ⲁϫⲡⲓⲁ prayers (Prayers of the Hours) as a segue into the Divine Liturgy itself while petitioning God to be present among the faithful. We can imagine that Abraham was earnestly praying for God’s presence and intervention in the sacrifice of Isaac, again circling back to the overlapping spiritual parallels of the Old and New Testaments in the life of the Church. Conclusion The climax of Abraham’s role in the rites of the Coptic Church is undoubtedly recognized as Covenant Thursday, when his beloved son Isaac is offered to God in tandem with Christ’s institution of the Eucharist and His preparation to complete the journey to the Cross. Nonetheless, Abraham remains present in the liturgical prayers throughout the year, as we have explored through both the seasonal hymns and the annual prayers. The patriarch is elevated in the eyes of the faithful for his righteous life before the Lord, leading him into a deep friendship with the Almighty.[38] The result of that intimate trust was that Abraham glimpsed through prophetic insight the Passion and Resurrection of the Only-Begotten Son when he received his own son back from the dead, as it were.[39] The sacramental mystery connecting the Old and New Testaments continually points us to Abraham for his willingness and determination to follow the Lord, entreating and energizing today’s faithful to continue in the ways of their father. In imitation of Abraham, the Coptic faithful eagerly rise and travel to the church with their acceptable sacrifice as a demonstration of their inheritance and root of their faith. As St. Cyril writes, “and so God the Father would in due course show forth Abraham to be the root and origin of many thousands of Gentiles, when Emmanuel died for the world.”[40] — [1] Pentiuc, Eugen. “Hearing the Scriptures: A Conversation with Fr. Eugen Pentiuc.” YouTube. Last modified November 9, 2022. [2] See Augustine of Hippo, Questions on the Heptateuch, 2.73. [3] “Mesra,” the twelfth month of the Coptic liturgical calendar, which typically begins in August in the Gregorian calendar. [4] “Kiahk,” the fourth month of the Coptic liturgical calendar, which typically begins in December in the Gregorian calendar. [5] A Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ (Psali) is a praise or hymn, and Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ (Wados) refers to the musical meter in which the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ is chanted, typically one consisting of seven, eight, or even nine beats per measure, and is associated with particular days of the week – specifically, Wednesday through Saturday. Thus, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for this commemoration is chanted when it falls on these days of the week. [6] When used in relation to the hymns and liturgical prayers of the Coptic Church, Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ (Adam), like Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ, refers to the musical meter in which the hymn is chanted, typically consists of four, five, or six beats per measure, and is associated with particular days of the week – specifically, Sunday through Tuesday. Thus, the Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ for this commemoration is chanted when it falls on these days of the week. [7] “Adam Abel” [8] Cyril of Alexandria, Glaphyra on the Pentateuch, trans. Nicholas P. Lunn, vol. 1 Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2018, pg 159. [9] “Mother of God” [10] Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ Ⲃⲁⲧⲟⲥ for 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, 2. See also H.G. Bishop Mettaous, HG Bishop Samuel, Gerges Sarkis, Murad Morcos, ed. الابصاليات السنوية الجزء الثاني. Beni Suef, Egypt: Victor Kirollos Press, 1995, pg 289. [11] “Special Hymn - Any Prophet: Ⲁⲇⲁⲙ Ⲁⲃⲉⲗ Ⲙⲁⲑⲟⲩⲥⲁⲗⲁ: لحن خاص,” Accessed November 21, 2023. [12] H.G. Bishop Samuel, ed. ترتيب البيعة الجزء الثالث (الصوم الكبير-الخمسين - من برمهات إلى النسى) Shebeen al Kanater, Egypt: Al-Neam Publishing, 2000, pg. 206-207. [13] There are nine Scriptural readings for every day in the Coptic calendar, including a Psalm and Gospel for the Evening Raising of Incense, a Psalm and Gospel for Morning Raising of Incense, and readings from the Pauline Epistles, Catholic Epistles, and the Acts as well as a Psalm and Gospel for the Divine Liturgy itself. On 28 Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the readings are as follows: Evening Raising of Incense – Psalm 46:6-8, John 15:7-16; Morning Raising of Incense – Psalm 104:2, Luke 16:19-31; Divine Liturgy – Hebrews 11:1-10, James 2:14-23, Acts 7:20-34, Psalm 104:4-5, Mark 12:18-27 (NKJV). [14] See readings from Acts and the Gospel of the Divine Liturgy. [15] See also Isaiah 41:8 (NKJV). [16] See Augustine, City of God. [17] “Theotokia,” a theologically rich praise for the Theotokos and the Incarnation of our Savior, of which one is found for every day of the week in the Psalmody of the Coptic Church. [18] “Shashf Ensob,” which begins: “Seven times every day, I will praise Your name…” [19] Ϣⲁϣϥ ⲛ̀ⲥⲟⲡ, 10a; 10c; 11a; See also Fr. Matthias Farid Wahba, ed., The Holy Psalmody Encino, CA: Keemy Brothers, 2004, pg. 136. [20] Wahba, pg. 679-680. [21] Ibid, pg. 671. [22] Ibid, pg. 201-202. [23] H.H. Pope Shenouda III, Thine is the Power and the Glory, Last modified March 13, 1998, pg. 7. [24] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 164 [25] Fr. Abraham Azmy, ed., Book of the Holy Pascha: From the Last Friday of Great Lent to Resurrection Feast Liturgy Hamden, CT: Virgin Mary and Archangel Michael Coptic Orthodox Church, 2005., pg. 261. [26] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 126; See Hebrews 7. [27] Azmy, pg. 397. [28] “Fai Etafenf” (GB). [29] “Fai Etaf-Enf: Ⲫⲁⲓ  ⲉ̀ⲧⲁϥⲉ̀ⲛϥ ⲉ̀ⲡϣⲱⲓ: فاي إتاف إنف,” March 7, 2007, Accessed December 10, 2023. [30] Cyril of Alexandria, pg 156. [31] “Covenant Thursday: Ⲁⲥϣⲱⲡⲓ ⲇⲉ ϧⲉⲛ ⲛⲓⲉ̀ϩⲟⲟⲩ: خميس العهد,” April 5, 2012, Accessed December 10, 2023. [32] See Luke 16:19-31 (NKJV). [33] Evidence for the use of this phrase can be found in the rubrics of Pope Gabriel V from the 15th century. For more on the commemoration prayers see Mikhail, Ramez. The Presentation of the Lamb Ebook PDF: The Prothesis and Preparatory Rites of the Coptic Liturgy. Studies in Eastern Christian Liturgies, V.2. Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2020, pg. 233-234. [34] Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate, The Coptic Liturgy of St. Basil Canadensis, CA: St. John the Beloved Publishing House, 1993, pg. 31 and pg. 513. [35] Ibid, pg. 53. [36] Silas Andrew, “Liturgy of St. Basil,” Bible Study (lecture presented at the College Youth Bible Study, Gainesville, FL: St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church, 2023). [37] Mikhail, pg. 219. Fr. Arsenius Mikhail details in his work that these practices developed over time with an increasing reverence and symbolism, but are not found in existing manuscripts. [38] See James 2:21-23; 2 Chronicles 20:7; Isaiah 41:8. [39] See John 8:56; Hebrews 11:17-19. [40] Cyril of Alexandria, pg. 159. — Jessica Ryder-Khalil serves at St. Mary Magdalene Coptic Orthodox Church in Gainesville, FL. Before becoming a homemaker for her beloved husband and four children, her professional background was in teaching English as a Second Language. She is currently pursuing a Master of Theological Studies (MTS) degree at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School (ACTS). This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for "Introduction to the Old Testament," offered by Fr. Eugen Pentiuc in Fall 2023 at St. Athanasius & St. Cyril Theological School. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

The deposit of Faith, as handed down to the Church from Christ through the Apostles, was safeguarded, expounded, and clearly delineated in the Ecumenical Councils such that their influence touches every aspect of Orthodox Christianity. These Councils were entrusted to elucidate the fundamental doctrines of the Church, including, but not limited to, Trinitarian theology, Christology, Mariology, Soteriology, and Ecclesiology, while also administering and regulating a rapidly-growing Christian community. Without the perceptive and transformative decrees that came out of the Ecumenical Councils, the Church would not be as we know her to be today. As members continued to be added to the Church, to the extent that the Church became universal, an official definition of her Faith and a more formal arrangement of her service became necessary. Metropolitan Kallistos Ware summarizes the role of the Ecumenical Councils in the growing Church: “[They] clarified and articulated the visible organization of the Church, crystallizing the position of the five great sees or Patriarchates…The councils defined once and for all the Church’s teaching upon the fundamental doctrines of the Christian faith.”[1] As is evident in the reception of the decrees, Creed of Faith, canons, and liturgical, moral, and behavioral laws pronounced and decreed by the first Ecumenical Council at Nicaea, this Council, and all Ecumenical Councils that came after it, became, after the Scriptures, the ruling authority regarding the Faith and life of the Church. Shortly after the turn of the fourth century, Arianism grew rampant, plaguing and dividing the Church more than any heresy that preceded it. As a result of this division among the Christians, the imperial authorities saw it necessary to convene the first Ecumenical Council to rectify the issue. Representatives were chosen from among the leaders of the Churches, and in May of 325 A.D. they convened at Nicaea to address Arianism, which purported that the Incarnate Logos “is not eternal, nor coeternal with the Father, nor uncreated like the Father,” but is rather a perfect creation.[2] By the conclusion of this Council, those in attendance, mainly Bishops and those of the various clerical orders, had identified, formulated, and deemed acceptable and Orthodox certain terminology based upon the Holy Scriptures and the Tradition which they had received, in order to clarify the Orthodox doctrine of the All-Holy Trinity, one in essence. The formulated Creed, which would come to be known as the Nicene Creed, introduced to Christological language the term Homoousios, meaning “of one [and the same] substance” with the Father, and confirmed the Church’s faith that Christ is “True God of True God,” affirming the divinity of the Lord.[3] The inclusion of the term Homoousios into the Nicene Creed was essential, as a response to the efforts of Eusebius of Caesarea, who had composed a creed of faith completely devoid of this doctrine, or at the very least the word used for consubstantiality.[4] In order to clarify the sound Orthodox teaching as they had received it, this Council felt it necessary to not only include the term Homoousios, but also to expound upon its interpretation, since it was not explicitly from the divinely-inspired Scriptures but was produced “in man’s reason.”[5] It became the intent and practice of the Church’s leaders, most notably Athanasius of Alexandria, to use the terminology developed at Nicaea, and especially its statement of Faith, to remain faithful to the Scriptural teaching and not deviate from the sound understanding of the Person of Christ.[6] The statement of Faith agreed upon at Nicaea is until today recited by the Faithful in every Orthodox liturgical prayer, albeit as modified by the Ecumenical Council at Constantinople. As such, it is evident that the first Ecumenical Council at Nicaea became the precedent and foundation upon which the subsequent Ecumenical Councils would build their efforts to preserve and convey proper Orthodox dogma.[7] Besides the Creed of Faith that was agreed upon, anathemas were instituted by the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea. An aim of the Council was to affirm that those who fall away from the Church’s doctrine were to be set apart from the Church and not to commune with the Faithful, on the basis that they do not worship the same God. The anathemas decided at Nicaea were: “And those who say that 'there was once when he was not' and 'before being begotten he did not exist,' and that 'he came into existence from nothing' or who affirm that the Son of God is of another hypostasis or ousia, or mutable or changeable, these the Catholic and Apostolic Church anathematizes.”[8] Here, the Council’s anathemas first deal with those who asserted that Christ was not eternal and was therefore successive to the Father as a mutable creation (i.e., a creation subject to change). The Council then reiterated the doctrine of the consubstantiality of the incarnate Logos and clarified that if any were to identify with or believe a contrary teaching, the Church, in her authority, condemned them, for the sake of preserving the Orthodox Faith and the spiritual and dogmatic wellbeing of her members. The Ecumenical Councils not only dealt with theology and dogma, but also touched on ritual practice and areas of practical life, as evidenced by the canons issued by them. The Ecumenical Council at Nicaea decreed twenty canons dealing with various matters of the Church’s life, for the sake of ritual order and the edification of the Church’s members. The canons issued at Nicaea remain authoritative until today. For example, even until today, a bishop must be ordained by no less than three other bishops, although the preference and most common practice is to have many bishops present. This practice corresponds to the fourth canon established at Nicaea and is a prime example of the Church issuing regulations for the proper ordination of bishops.[9] The fifth Nicene canon required that universal consistency be maintained in the Church with regard to the reception of those who were excommunicated by other bishops: pre-excommunication investigations and examinations were conducted twice a year with the gathering of a “synod.” Other canons established by this council addressed many other canonical functions, such as baptism, ordination, ecclesiastical authority, and traveling/relocated clergy. Along with these, there were canons that fulfilled a moral or ethical function, such as canon seventeen, against usury, which stated that any member of the clergy who practices usury — a rampant issue at the time — shall be deposed.[10] In the second canon, an ecclesiastical and moral issue is addressed, as ordaining a newly-baptized convert out of necessity due to a lack of clergy is denounced: it is ecclesiastical in that there is care for the Church to not cause any to stumble if the ordained convert were to fall into sin, and it is moral in its care for the one called to ordination, “lest, being lifted up with pride, he fall into condemnation and the snare of the devil.”[11] The Council saw fit to enact such preventative measures in keeping the Church ordered, secure and well-balanced. The effects of the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea pervaded throughout history to underpin the authority of the subsequent Ecumenical Councils, and thereby the life of the Church and her members. The Councils thereafter, having the Ecumenical Council at Nicaea as their foundation, became the ruling authority in the Church for expounding and clarifying proper Orthodox theology and terminology: for instance, the Ecumenical Council of Ephesus I, which convened in 431 A.D. and confirmed as most proper for use in reference to the Virgin Mary the term Θεοτόκος in lieu of Nestorius’ preferred term Χριστοτόκος[12], and the Ecumenical Council at Constantinople in 381 A.D., at which the divinity and equality of the Holy Spirit with the Father and the Son was confirmed and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed was completed, were founded upon the decrees established and Faith confirmed at Nicaea.[13] The Ecumenical Councils collectively and authoritatively sought to preserve the Orthodox Faith against doctrinal and behavioral deviations by and among certain members of the Flock, and the canons and decisions that resulted from these Councils define and safeguard the Faith of the Church until today. The Orthodox Churches continue to adhere to the Faith defended at the aforementioned Ecumenical Councils and the decisions of these Councils, for the sake of faithfully delivering the deposit of Faith, as was received from Christ, through the Apostles, and in the Church, to past, present, and future generations of Orthodox Christians. — [1] Ware, The Orthodox Church: An Introduction to Eastern Christianity, 19. [2] Letter of Arius to Alexander of Alexandria [3] Walker, A History of the Christian Church, 134. [4] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 152. [5] Danielou and Marrou, The First Six Hundred Years, 1:252. [6] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 152. [7] Danielou and Marrou, The First Six Hundred Years, 1:252-253. [8] Behr, The Nicene Faith, 155. [9] Schaff, A Select of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Ser. 2, 14, 69–70. [10] Ibid., 114 [11] 1st Timothy 3:6 [12] Schaff, A Select of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church. Ser. 2, 14, 419 [13] D’Ambrosio, When the Church Was Young, 200–201. — Mr. Kyrillos Tadros is a seminarian presently completing his studies at the Antiochian House of Studies and a Reader in the Coptic Orthodox Church serving in New Jersey. His interests and research encompass scriptural exegesis, liturgics, liturgical vestments, and patristics. He can be reached at kjtadros9@gmail.com. This article is an adaptation of a paper submitted by Mr. Tadros for “Church History I: The Christian Church from Its Foundation through the Seventh Century,” offered by Fr. Michel Najim in Fall 2020 at AHOS. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

Encountering the sunrise on Waimanalo Beach is one of the most incredible experiences. The Hawaiian breeze brushes across my face as the sun’s rays peek from the horizon. God orchestrates a symphony as the waves crash against each other, blending with the tune of the red-tailed tropicbirds. He swipes His fingers over the dark cloudy canvas with the most striking yellows, oranges, and reds. As I grab handfuls of sand and let them cascade through my fingers, I experience God’s extraordinary masterpiece. But amidst this paradisal landscape, one vexing question echoes in my mind: What am I really doing here? Traveling 4,500 miles away from my quiet Ohio country home to the populated tropical rock of Oahu in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I experienced quite a cultural shift. Fresh out of high school, I had no intention of going to Hawaii, but I knew I wanted to serve God by doing mission work. None of my research about where to go or what to do led me to the West Coast. After spending a month in Hawaii with my family, Father Anastasi Saint Anthony, who was searching for a mission coordinator, suggested for me to take on this role and offered that I live at St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Church for however long I could. For the first time in my life, God’s will for my next step was incredibly clear to me. As my time in Hawaii began, I quickly learned that I would be receiving much more than those I hoped to serve. My suspicions that I would be a student of humility were quickly realized as I began to encounter mentors and teachers in the form of all kinds of people. Indeed, the true diversity of people lies in gifts, not in color. Little Tony taught me that joyfulness does not depend on circumstances; Uncle Mako taught me that true humility lies in understanding creation; Ten-year-old Mikey taught me that every human being is beautiful, as he excitedly introduced me to every adult and child at his shelter; Abbi helped me recognize that seemingly insurmountable tribulations can be overcome with the Lord Jesus Christ. As I continued serving that year, I found myself in a constant state of awe at the vibrancy of God’s creations — in both Hawaii’s beautiful scenery and its beautiful people. I often contemplated what my real purpose was for being in Hawaii. I wished to help others, but felt foolish, as it seemed that I was doing all the receiving: making food for the homeless felt like a tremendously uneven trade when compared to the deep lessons I was learning; playing tag with orphaned children did not feel like mission work, as it was just as fun for me as it was for them; the conversations I had with indigenous youth while planting and weeding Taro plants were eye-opening and fulfilling. Realizing my duties as mission coordinator seemed to me to be the only way I was helping. I encountered many kinds of people as various groups arrived to the island throughout the year. Some volunteers signed up for mission work and possessed an easily-identifiable sincere heart keen on service, while others came hoping to enjoy a vacation disguised as mission work. I realized Oahu can become a stumbling block for the foolish because the temptation for the pleasures of this world is stronger there. To counteract and avoid these pitfalls in myself, I had to define for myself what mission work truly entails. As I compared the behaviors of these various groups, I concluded that mission work has nothing to do with the self, requiring instead a complete denial of the pleasures of the world in order to find and serve Christ and His people. Human nature defaults to serving the self, but the Lord Jesus Christ commands us to deny ourselves (see Matthew 16:24). How can I give measly sandwiches to the poor and then have sushi soon thereafter? How can I find Christ in Poke restaurants, luaus, or Waikiki’s glamorous shopping malls? As Uncle Jonathan taught me, finding Christ — finding Love — requires forgetting myself so I can witness Him in His creation — in His children and in nature. It was in the poorest of the poor that I found Christ. Waikiki, Hawaii (like many major cities) is divided between the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich. Spending time with both groups, I learned that it is the rich who are poorer than the poor. Amongst the homeless, I felt a great fulfillment because many of them were Christian and had a sense of purpose in Christ. Their joy was not dependent upon their circumstances. I was uplifted. During these times, I remembered my own home and community in Ohio and realized that people in my own city, while financially stable and of a “respectable” socioeconomic status, are in many ways poorer than those poor men and women I saw and with whom I interacted, albeit in a different way: while some do lack money, many others lack purpose and true kinship. Of all the lessons I learned during my time in Hawaii, perhaps the greatest lesson about mission and love came from Uncle Jonathan. We met at the littered park of Waikiki, which was full of men, women, and children with skin blemishes and scorched sun marks sound asleep on their beds of grass. The scents of the salty ocean breeze and sunscreen mixed with the distant but distinct smell of urine. As I stepped aside from the group to answer a call from another organization and shield myself from the scorching sun, I locked eyes with this smiley elderly man. When I noticed him hobbling toward me with a shopping cart full of all he owned (a popular way for the homeless to carry their belongings there), I quickly ended my phone call and met him halfway. In his cart were a few booklets about Christ, an old worn-out Bible, a notebook in similar condition, some food cans, two water bottles, a small bag with three stale pieces of bread, a thin blanket neatly folded, and a flimsy, ineffective pillow. His eyes crinkled as he smiled again, and, without saying a word, he bent over his cart and fished around. I did not know what he was doing until he shakily reached for my hand, turned it so my palm faced upward, and placed into it a water bottle and a piece of bread. Too awestruck by his self-denying gesture to do anything but blink, I remained silent. As he turned to find the next recipient of his generosity, I jerked back to life and stepped alongside him to return the bread and water, assuring him that I did not need anything and thanking him for what he did. I explained that I was with the organization that was currently handing out sandwiches. He responded with a quiet belly laugh, so hearty that I could not help but laugh too. So began an unlikely friendship. He explained his situation and how he was introduced to Christianity. We sat on the park bench eating our sandwiches. He spoke about his life and I spoke about mine. He was frequently the one to comfort me when he saw the tears welling up in my eyes as I heard him recount his suffering. I could not bear his selflessness. Little did I know, this would be the first of many encounters with Uncle Jonathan. Throughout the year, he taught me many lessons, but the theme that shined through all of his stories and actions was merely love. I learned that the only requirement to do mission work, or any type of service for Christ’s sake, is to love. Uncle Jonathan, who had very close to nothing, denied himself to give me what little he had. Love. I feel that I must debunk the myth that one must travel to exotic places to do mission work. I must assert that these journeys change us more than those we intend to help. When we travel for the sake of mission work for two weeks and return to the comfort of fancy cars, memory foam pillows, and air-conditioned homes, we forget about the call to serve. The habit of service has not yet solidified in us. We forget that our own cities, communities, neighbors, and even our families are in need. Our local homeless shelters and orphanages are just as in need as the dry side of Oahu. The call to serve is the call to love. Are not all acts of service simply acts of love? St. Peter wrote, “And above all things have fervent love for one another, for ‘love will cover a multitude of sins.’ Be hospitable to one another without grumbling. As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God” (1 Peter 4:8-10). There is a different type of mission service that does not require preaching the gospel or giving food to the homeless. It is to reach out to those in despair and loneliness — those with no purpose. It is simply to love. It is as easy as sending a text to a struggling friend, letting them know that you are praying for them, or buying your coworker a coffee because yesterday was a rough day, or holding a screaming baby so the mother can rest for fifteen minutes. Real love is fearless. It is to see people as Christ sees them. There are many ways within our own reach to minister every day without needing to say a word. Mother Teresa declared, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” Mindlessly spilling the sand back and forth between my fingers, I sat before God’s exquisite masterpiece and pondered my purpose. Serving in Hawaii for a year was a beautiful adventure that God arranged for me. Service, humility, and love were redefined for me. The call to serve did not end with my trip, but was all the more magnified by the experience. I learned I can continue that call right here from my quiet country home. No matter the exotic opportunities given to me, God’s work is not done. The Lord declared, “For you have the poor with you always.” (Matthew 26:11) He did not profess, “His poor are only in far-off lands across oceans.” The needs of God’s children are plentiful everywhere because sin and corruption produce poverty everywhere. No one is exempt from sin, but love is its antidote. To serve (anywhere) is to love. — Cover Image: Sunrise over Waimanalo Beach, captured by Anastasia Bibawy. Image Original. — Anastasia Bibawy was mission coordinator at The Hawaiian Mission for one year following high school. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree and hopes to one day open a music studio to teach children how to play the violin. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

The following is an original English translation of a Homily delivered by H.H. Pope Shenouda III at his weekly Wednesday Meeting on August 22, 1990. In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: One God. Amen. I wish to speak with you today about our preeminent teacher, Archdeacon Habib Girgis, to whom we all owe a debt of gratitude and without whom we would neither be seated in this place now nor would we have any understanding or knowledge. To speak about Habib Girgis, it behooves me to first speak about the time in which he lived, and whether it assisted the existence of a person of that sort. If I speak of him, I must recall certain verses found at the beginning of the book of Genesis: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light…’” (Genesis 1:1-3a). This light, of course, was Habib Girgis. How was the earth “without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep?” The generation that preceded Habib Girgis and in which he lived in his youth was among the worst times that have faced the Church — from every angle. [] The priests were uneducated and did not know preaching or teaching. The most educated priests, when teaching the people, would merely take one of the old books and read from it an ancient homily. No one knew teaching whatsoever. There was no preaching and no Sunday School. Before, there were some booklets from which they learned hymns and the word of God, inasmuch as the ‘urafa’[1] were able to teach. And the ‘urafa’ were not intellectuals as they are in our days. Today, in the Didymus Institute, which graduates ‘urafa’, they study rites and the Holy Bible, the Coptic language, spirituality, and many other things, [including] Braille, and they could read the Bible [in Braille]. This was nonexistent. As a result of this state of darkness which was devoid of teaching, before [Habib Girgis] the denominations had begun to spread. Habib Girgis was born in 1876. Meaning 114 years have passed since his birth. The Protestant Church then was beginning to work [in Egypt]. Dr. [John] Hogg and Dr. [Andrew] Watson came, and their work began to spread, and they began to establish a headquarters in al-Azbakiyya and a headquarters in the American School in Assiūt, and they began to enter and work in al-Zarabi and Mir and Abū Tīj. There was no one to guard the flock. The Catholics also began to work and [made] a bishop for themselves, and the bishop [was] elevated to become a patriarch named Kyrillos Maqār, and then they began to have a bishop for the Bahāry[2] side, and a bishop for the Qiblī[3] side, and they began to become headquartered in Tahta, and the foreign schools and missionary schools began to work and the preeminent Copts began to study in these schools and therefore came out [of them] Catholics and Protestants, and the situation began to become chaotic. No education, no preaching, and not even doctrine — foreigners began to enter. There was nothing. Even the state of the Church from within had become confused. [] Errors began to become apparent, and laypeople began to enter the politics of the Church and began to say “let us create the Lay Council[4] and the Lay Council will handle the awqaf[5] of the Church and will begin to manage them.” And the Lay Council began in 1875 and 1882 — a law was promulgated and they began to hold the power in the Church. They clashed with Pope Kyrillos V and sent him to the monastery and brought the bishop of Sanabo[6] to replace him. The bishop of Sanabo, [which is] next to Dairut, was coming by train through Upper Egypt, and [] at every stop the metropolitan [of the area] would meet him to excommunicate him. [] The train was coming from Dairut. When it reached Assiūt, the metropolitan of Assiūt came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Minya, the metropolitan of Minya came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Benī Suef, the metropolitan of Benī Suef came out and excommunicated him. When it reached Gīza, the metropolitan of Gīza came out and excommunicated him. Until he received all of these excommunications and reached Cairo, and those in Cairo also excommunicated him. To the point that he, undeterred, went to the church [], and when he came to offer the Eucharist, the chalice fell from [his hands], things became disorderly, and the Church began to become confused — the pope is exiled, the bishop is excommunicated, the authority is in the hands of the laypeople, the denominations are working, there is no teaching. In this time, Habib Girgis was born. [] There was no Clerical School[7]. The ancient School of Alexandria that once existed was relocated after the fifth or sixth centuries from Alexandria to the monasteries, and its work ceased, remaining so until the days about which we are speaking. Habib Girgis was born in 1876. His father was Head Clerk of the Office of the Abolition of Slavery, which was an office that was created at the time of Khedive Ismā’īl as a humanitarian effort. His father passed away six years after his birth, and his mother accorded him a religious upbringing. Afterwards he enrolled in the Great Coptic School in Klot Bek in al-Azbakiyyah. He completed his primary [studies] and began his secondary studies, and was hard working and sharp. Then the Church found that things could not continue as they were, and needed to restore the Clerical College in order to teach people to become learned pastors to administer the churches. There was a previous attempt, and the Clerical College was in a run down area in al-Fajjālah, or near the Coptic School, and did not even have [benches] on which the students could sit [] and no support either financially or by food or drink, to the point that once, some time ago, Sargīos, who was a student in the Clerical College, organized a protest and said, “board it up or fix it up,” and it became a big issue. To the point that the students found the environment unavailing, so they left and there was nothing remaining. “The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep.” Nevertheless “Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” The Spirit of God was waiting for the birth of Habib Girgis and when he would grow up to become a young man, and when he became fit to enroll in the Clerical College and to become a teacher and to entrust him with this great task. It happened that Hanna Bek Bakhūm went to the Coptic School to choose students to enroll at the Clerical College. They chose ten — five from among the students and five from the priests. The first student was Habib Girgis. He left the Coptic School and entered the Clerical College. They were ten [students]. The first two who graduated were Habib Girgis and Fr. Hanna Shenouda, whose son was Fr. Shenouda Hanna who [served] al-Kanīsa al-Mu’allaqa[8] and who departed long ago — ten or fifteen years ago. [] So Habib Girgis entered the Clerical College. What was the Clerical College in which Habib Girgis enrolled? They brought a principal for it whose name was Yūsuf Bek Manqariyūs, who was a history teacher and knew nothing about religion. He was not a religion teacher, but a history teacher — and secular history, not even Church history. There, [Habib Girgis] studied languages, history, geography, some sciences, and one lesson titled “Religion.” This was how the Clerical College was. Then they looked for a teacher of religion and did not find one — they found no religion teacher for the Clerical College. To the point that they thought to bring a Protestant teacher to teach religion, so they called al-Khawaja ‘Ayyād Marzūk, I believe his name was, to come, and he told them: “my path is different than yours; how can I teach?” So they brought Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm. Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm was in Tanta, and they transferred him to Cairo and entrusted him with the great St. Mark’s Church in Klot Bek, and he was the only one who knew religious education and had published works, so they had him teach religion in the Clerical College. He is considered the teacher of Habib Girgis. Besides, Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm’s health had deteriorated — one day while he was teaching, he fell, so they took him home and he remained ill while the Clerical College remained without a teacher of religion. Finally, they chose the student Habib Girgis to teach religion to his fellow students while he was still a student in his last year. So he began to teach in the Clerical College while a student in the last year. Here, I would like to mention two foundational points from a psychological perspective. One person says, “when the Church is fixed, I will enter it,” while the other says: “I will enter it while it is weak and will work so that it is fixed.” Do you understand? I recall when I resigned from my job to become a teacher in the Clerical College, the situation was unfortunate at that time as well, and the students were protesting and had a sign [saying], “fix it up or board it up,” and had overtaken the dean’s room [] and closed it up. And it became a big issue. So one of the teachers told me, “is this the Clerical College for which you will resign from your job?” I told him, “but it is the Clerical College for which I will resign from my job.” We must enter and work, regardless of what the atmosphere is like. We enter and work. If we find trouble, we must strive so that it is corrected. But if each one who finds trouble steps aside or distances himself or flees, there will never be results. The Church in that time was ailing. When I say the Church, I mean the entire Church — from top to bottom, from Alexandria to Aswan, to Sudan, to Ethiopia. The people [then] were of a variety of sorts. One sort wept for the Church, saying: “What a loss, the glory of the saints is gone, what a loss!” And weeping did not benefit the Church and did not bring about any results. Weeping does not mend the Church. Some, seeing the Church ailing, swore and criticized and cursed the priests and cursed monasticism and cursed the bishops and cursed the patriarch himself, and these curses did not bring about any benefit. The Church is not mended by swearing. The Church is mended neither by weeping nor by swearing. The Lay Council also stood up and brought lawsuits against the metropolitans regarding how the awqaf and finances and such things could be placed under their command, and how they could take these things from them, and lawsuits and countersuits were being brought, and thousands were being spent on lawyers, and the Church was not benefitted by lawsuits. It was not benefitted by weeping, or screaming, or swearing, or lawsuits. Habib Girgis stood up, dug a foundation, and placed two foundational stones therein — one stone called the Clerical College and the other called Sunday School. And he repeated, “as for your people, they will be in blessing, thousands of thousands and ten thousand times ten thousand, doing your will.”[9] And he labored in the field of positive, edifying work. [] To say, “the Clerical College does not have one religion teacher, this does not mean that I will not enter the Clerical College; I will enter and strive, and I will become the religion teacher and will graduate teachers,” this is positive work. But for one to scream, another to curse, another to weep, another to fight, another to bring lawsuits, this is not what brings about results. What brought about results in the Church was Habib Girgis. When God saw the world dark on every side, “God said, ‘let there be light,’ and there was light,” and light began to dawn. Habib Girgis became a teacher in the Clerical College while still in his last year of study. He enrolled in 1893, and graduated in 1898, and he was a student in the Clerical College. He became principal of the Clerical College, or Dean of the Clerical College, twenty years later, in 1918. But because he was not yet the Dean did not mean that he would only teach. He began to circle the entire country, preaching in cities and villages and in every place, and he began to gather donations for the construction of the Clerical College. [] And people began to love his preaching. And elderly people who had no inheritors [donated to him], so he would take from them. He bought for the Clerical College 365 acres of waqf. He began to receive money and donations, and purchased more than 3000 meters of land in Mahmasha, and he began to work and build, so the Clerical College was built in Mahmasha, and he built for the Clerical College a church, so that the students could be trained in preaching and so that they could have liturgies for the students, which is the Church of St. Mary in Mahmasha, in which I taught Sunday School in 1939 []. At that time, we would call it the Church of the Clerical College, [and] Fr. Tawadros was teaching there, whose name [before ordination] was Mr. Tadros. He was the teacher of the Coptic language in the Clerical College who then become a priest and [continued] to teach at the Clerical College and pray in the Church of St. Mary in Mahmasha. Now [the church in Mahmasha] is alone.[10] [Habib Girgis] began to build the buildings and rejoiced greatly when he built it. I hold his book al-Qulliyah al-Iklīrīkiyah bayn al-mādī wa-al-hādir[11] which he published in 1938; he called the new building he built there “The Bride of Mahmasha.” But alas, this “Bride of Mahmasha” grew old, and her teeth fell out, and her hair fell out, and she was demolished and removed entirely, and we came to Anba Reweiss in 1953. We entered in 1952 and they evicted us, and then we returned in 1953 and have remained there until today. [] Habib Girgis continued to build the Clerical College. When he came to build the Clerical College, he said “my desires are thus: first, to purchase land; second, to build; third, to bring students to enroll; fourth, to cultivate competent teachers, so that I might elevate its standard so that the Ministry of Education might recognize it.” He made its level quite high. In the days of Habib Girgis, they studied logic, philosophy, Old Testament Hebrew, New Testament Greek, [and] Ecclesiastical Coptic. When Habib Girgis taught in the Clerical College, he was initially called the teacher of religion and then the teacher of theology, [and he was] teaching theology. So [they studied] all of the Church subjects. And he began to send out from among his students people to work. [] He sent out Sim’ān Selīdes, who became the teacher of theology after him. And Sim’ān Selīdes has great fame in the Clerical College, and he authored the book al-salāh ‘al-almuntaqilīn[12]. And he sent out Fr. Ibrahīm Attiya, who was named Ragheb Attiya, who became a teacher of preaching and then a teacher of theology. And he sent out Kāmel Mātta, who is now Fr. Mikhaīl Mātta in Quseya, who became the teacher of the Holy Bible. And he sent out Fr. Tawadros to teach Coptic language. And he sent out Mr. Yassa ‘Abdelmassīh, who was the trustee of the library of the Coptic Museum, to teach the Greek language. He began to send out generations. And Edward Yostos, who afterwards became Fr. Antonios al-Baramosī and then became Anba Dioscorus, Bishop of Menofiyyāh, who has since departed, to teach Church History. And thus subjects that were absent began to enter. Initially, there was only one lesson called “Religion.” Then it was called “the Science of Theology,” then there was Theology and Preaching, and then there was Theology and Bible Studies and Exegesis and Church History and Hymnology, and things began to become organized. He introduced [many] subjects and the level of the Clerical College began to increase, so students began to come and multiply. And he created two sections: one for proficiency and one baccalaureate, which subsequently became the primary and secondary sections, and so the school grew. And metropolitans graduated from it, such as Anba Sawīrus, the departed Metropolitan of Minya, and Anba Yakobos, Metropolitan of Jerusalem. And he had many friends from among the metropolitans who loved him, and he continued well in the Clerical College. Then he initiated the evening section in 1945, which was a collegiate section. The class in which I graduated, which was the first class of college students who graduated from the Clerical College, was only five students, no more. Only five students. The only one of them who entered the priesthood was myself, and the others had their services but were not devoted to religious teaching. He began to work by teaching. But Habib Girgis did not only care about teaching. Teaching in the Clerical College was one of many branches. Habib Girgis began to lead religious education in the entire Church. In 1900, he founded Sunday School, which was a class he taught in the old patriarchate. The group of youth he taught became teachers who went out [to teach in the] east and [the] west. In the ‘20s, Sunday School began to appear with strength. In Assiūt, the one in charge of it was named Labib al-‘Assāl, I believe, who was a teacher of geography [if I recall correctly] and had published an Atlas called Atlas al-‘Assāl. In the ‘30s, [Sunday School] began to grow and spread, and [Habib Girgis] called himself the General Secretary of Sunday School, meaning the general trustee. Then, in the reign of Pope Yu’annis XIX, the pope became the president of Sunday School, and the title of Habib Girgis became Deputy of His Excellency the Supreme President of Sunday School[13]. He began to bring for the Sunday School nice colored pictures, some of which were printed in Italy and some in Germany, and on the back of the picture was written the [Sunday School] lesson. He began to prepare curricula for ecclesial education, he began to prepare pictures for ecclesial education, he began to prepare lessons for ecclesial education, he began to prepare training [materials] for teachers of ecclesial education, and ecclesial education began to spread throughout the entire [Church]. Without him, we would not be teachers of ecclesial education, and we would not be servants, and you would not be [female] servants. He is the father and guide and leader, and he is the one who became responsible for leading this matter. He is considered the true originator of the Clerical College and the true originator of the ecclesial education of Sunday School. Habib Girgis was not satisfied with this. He said, “we must introduce teaching in the schools.” He began to communicate with the Ministry of Education; there was no [religious] education in the [schools]. Religion only became an official subject [in the schools] with Mohammad Nagīb. Before that, religion was not an official subject. So he said, “at least let us teach the children, at least in additional classes.” “Where will we find teachers?” “We will prepare [them], if even on a volunteer basis without pay.” “Fine, volunteers.” So he would prepare the teachers, he would encourage [them] to teach religion, and he would prepare religious curricula for them. He authored three books titled al-khilāsat al-īmāniyah[14]. And when teaching spread further he authored a book called Mabādi’ al-‘Akīdah al-Urthudhūksiyah[15], eight books — four for primary school and four for secondary school. He began to author books. [And regarding] the stories of the Holy Bible, he prepared three books titled al-Kanz al-anfas fi tarīkh al-Kitāb al-Muqaddas[16]. He began to work to author books for religious education. The teachers would tell him, “how can we teach religion? We do not know how!” So he would tell them, “I will prepare books for you.” He would prepare these nice books and every lesson had its picture, and the lesson had its ends and its spiritual meanings and everything, the teacher takes it prepackaged, like a peeled boiled egg. He began to enter religious education in the schools and to establish curricula for it and to author books for it. In 1909, he had authored [] al-khīlasat al-īmāniyah[17] and in 1913 the fifth edition was printed — every year he prepared a new edition, and the teachers and students longed for his books because he was teaching them religion. So he was responsible for the Clerical College, and Sunday School, and religious education in the schools, and establishing the curricula and lessons and authoring books and importing pictures, all of these things. And then he said “this is not enough; religious education needs something else.” So he began preaching. He was among the most powerful preachers of his day, and is considered the strongest preacher after Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm, may God repose his soul. He began to preach in the cathedral, [and] the pope loved him — Pope Kyrillos V — and made him his personal deacon and the preacher of the great St. Mark’s Church, which was the patriarchate. He routinely preached at the patriarchate, and began to form religious societies to work by preaching — the churches were few in those days. He graduated from the Clerical College in 1898, and then all of Cairo had [very few churches]. The Church of St. Mark was there. In all of Shubra even after that time there was only one church — the Church of Saint Mary in Massarah. That was it. [] As for the other churches, in the ‘30s the Church of Anba Antonios began and the church in Toson, and even the church in Jazīrat Badrān was [established] in the ‘40s. And the church in al-Qolalī was one of the old churches. I am speaking about Shubra, which only had [the church of] Massarah. And then began the church in al-Giushi. Mr. Sidrāq built the Church of Anba Antonios and Mr. Matta Sawīrus founded the church in al-Giushi. And then every area began to make a church — [] the church in Rod al-Faraj did not exist at first. Its building began in the beginning of the ‘50s when Fr. Dawoud al-Maqarī began to go and build it. [] I was teaching Sunday School [] on the rooftop [of that church], which afterwards became the floor of the church that is there now. The first floor was built and then they built a second story on the rooftop so that it became a two story [building]. Preaching then was in the societies[18]. These societies were being built and did not even need to be licensed [] because the Ministry of Social Affairs did not yet exist. The Ministry of Social Affairs only came into existence at the end of the ‘30s, in ‘38 or ‘39. [] Before that, there was no Ministry of Social Affairs, and societies were easy for everyone to make. These societies had preaching, and trained people to teach and preach, and they were in charge of social services and took care of the poor and needy and the orphans and widows. The societies were the ones that took care of the villages and they were the ones that established the churches. In order to establish a church, a society would be established. The Society of Peace[19] established the Church of St. George in al-Giushi, the Society of Faith[20] founded the Church of St. George in Jazīrat Badrān, the Society of Love[21] established the Church of the Angel [Michael] in ‘Ayyad Bek, the Society of the Angel [Michael][22] instituted the Church of the Angel [Michael] in Toson. A society would be founded and the society would build the church. In the days of Habib Girgis, there were not many churches, so he worked in the societies. He would preach in the societies. The first sermon he delivered was in 1898 about the Christian religion, and he delivered it in a hall in the Great Coptic School. It was an eloquent sermon, and Tādrus Bek al-Manqabādī, who founded the Misr Newspaper, was in attendance and asked him for permission to print the sermon. After he printed it, he distributed it free of charge to the people because he enjoyed it. He then delivered a sermon at the Society of Growth[23], which established the church of Haret al-Sakayyīn, and which would publish a calendar. Pope Kyrillos V was in attendance, and the sermon took about an hour. The pope stood during the entirety of the hour, signing the cross towards him and towards the congregation. He was overjoyed. Nobody could preach, and here was this young prodigious man full of knowledge and understanding. He established many societies. [] He established the Society of Love[24] which took care of the poor, and the Great Central Society of the Faith[25]. He began in the Clerical College to establish societies for preaching such as the Society of Spreading the Word of Salvation[26] and the Society of the Soldiers of Christ[27] and the Society of Graduates[28]. And the societies spread. The Clerical College oversaw 84 branches of service as a result of the operative societies. The man taught, and not only taught but also filled the world with teachers. There came a time when he was not only the preeminent teacher in the Church but also the only teacher in the Church. And he began to cultivate teachers and graduate [them], and to send them into every village and every city. He was the first to attend to the service of the villages. He traveled throughout the entire country, on one hand to preach and teach and on the other to collect donations to build the Clerical College. Some would give him personal donations, but he would transfer even these to the Clerical College, remaining poor as he was. To the point that Pope Kyrillos V gifted him a home in which to reside, so he gifted it also to the Clerical College so that it would be a house for the ‘urafa’, for the school of the ‘urafa’. He was a wondrous man. He began to work in preaching everywhere. Once he gave a sermon in the Great Central Society [of the Faith][29] about the history of preaching and its importance in the Church. As soon as he finished, they printed it in a book. The book made a profit, but he dedicated all the money to the Society so that it could operate. For this reason, he lived in poverty. He lived in poverty and virginity. And all his siblings were celibate. Mr. Habib Girgis was celibate, his brother, Mr. Kamel Girgis, was celibate, and their sister was also celibate. The three lived to teach []. He worked in teaching in the Clerical College, he worked in religious education, he worked in Sunday School, and he worked in preaching. How else could he teach? He taught with his pen. He published a journal called al-Karmah. al-Karmah journal was the most powerful journal in its time. It was at an academic level and in it wrote the greatest authors in knowledge and understanding and also in position. It had ‘Aziz Bek ‘Osa, Gabriel Bek al-Tūkhī, Mr. Yassa ‘Abdelmassīh [who was] the trustee of the library of the Coptic Museum, Mr. Sim’an Selīdes, Mr. Takla Rizq who taught Science and Religion. It was a journal of the highest caliber. The al-Karmah journal was the first journal in our modern time to begin translating the sayings of the Fathers. He established it in 1907, and it continued for 17 years. “Why did it not continue,” you may ask. He bore all of its financial obligations until he could no longer do so. So it ceased for financial reasons. [] But the one who reads it finds an exceedingly high standard in science and knowledge for that time period. The man worked in education by teaching, preaching, authoring, publishing, and Sunday School. He was the leader in all of this. [] Afterwards he found that personal status issues were handled by the Lay Council. Before the law of ‘55 was passed, which transferred [ecclesial] personal affairs to secular courts that deal with personal affairs, the Lay Council oversaw those issues. He feared lest the Lay Council was doing things at its own whim, because it expanded the bases for divorce, and especially the regulation that was passed in ‘38, so he nominated himself to the Lay Council and would come out first or second or third in the ranking of the 24 [members]. The people loved him very much and voted for him. So he joined the Lay Council and attended the personal status [meetings]. He joined the Lay Council not because he desired membership, but for many reasons: to support the Clerical College in the Lay Council, to support religious education [], [and] to participate in the personal status cases []. So he was the [bastion] of the Faith in the Lay Council. Of course they did not elect him to be the trustee of the Lay Council because in that time they would choose the trustee [] from among the bashawāt. For example, Ibrahīm Fahmy al-Minyāwī [was] a Pasha and a trustee of the Lay Council, Habīb al-Masrī [was a] Pasha and a trustee of the Lay Council []; Tawfīq Doss Basha [is another example] []. And when the bashawāt decreased, they would choose from al-bahawāt, such as Azīz Bek Mishreqī. Of course he was not of those, but he was the religious representative. [] He was respected by the religious bodies, to the point that when Pope Kyrillos V would convene the Holy Synod, he would tell them: “why don’t you bring Habib Girgis, he is like us.” He loved him dearly. The best days he lived were the days of Pope Kyrillos V. He was nominated to the papacy three times, but was not chosen because he was not a monk. He was also nominated to the bishopric of Gīza in 1948, but the Holy Synod refused him because he was not a monk. He could have been a monk, but he remained as he was. He was an archdeacon. And he was a true archdeacon — completely devoted to religious education. His [spiritual] children and disciples became priests, while he remained a deacon. He remained a deacon his whole life. He could have been ordained a priest because his children were priests; he taught them and would kiss their hands because they were priests. And from among his children were bishops and metropolitans and hundreds of priests, but he remained a deacon, celibate, devoted to the service of teaching, with no function except that he was the teacher of the whole Church. He authored more than thirty books, besides 17 volumes of the al-Karmah journal. He served during the reign of four popes — Pope Kyrillos V, Pope Yu’annis XIX, Pope Macarius III, and Pope Yusāb II, in whose days he departed. When Pope Yu’annis went to Ethiopia, he took him with him, and there the emperor and empress presented to him certain badges and medals, which are now found in the museum we established for him. Habib Girgis was distinguished in his life by seriousness. [] Meaning since the establishment of the Clerical College, hundreds have graduated from it, but none like Habib Girgis. The famous graduates, who have a reputation in the Clerical College and who took things seriously, can be counted on the fingers. He was the first serious man [in the Clerical College]. He found no one to teach him, so he would sit in the library reading night and day. Reading! Who taught Habib Girgis? He studied a bit with Fr. Philotheos Ibrahīm, but he was ill and so [Habib Girgis] would consult him on only a few issues. But he began to read []. He authored books on spirituality, like Kitāb sirr al-taqwah[30] and Nazarāt rūhiyah fī al-hayāt al-Masīhiyah[31]. He found them not knowing what to say at funerals, so he authored a book called ‘Azā’ al-mu’minīn[32] containing lectures for funerals. He found that the spiritual songs [in the churches were] overtaken by the Protestants, so he authored three books of Orthodox spiritual songs. Even for young children, he authored a book called ‘In’ash al-damīr fī tarānīm al-saghīr[33]. He began to work. He was a poet, but not a poet as we are. I will tell you what I mean by “poet.” Habib Girgis as a poet — I recall when he departed in ‘51, and we issued a special volume in the Sunday School Journal about him, they asked me to write an article about Habib Girgis as a poet. So I said in the introduction to this article, I began to study Habib Girgis as a poet — the man did not study the meters of poetry,[34] nor its measuring units,[35] nor its scansions,[36] nor the zihāf[37], nor the ʿilla[38], nor its prosody,[39] nor its rhyme,[40] nor any of that. But he studied, as a deacon, the hymns of the Church. [] He would then produce a poem on the tune of a θεοτοκια, or a Ⲯⲁⲗⲓ, or one of the hymns of the Church. For example, he would study a hymn like Ⲁⲣⲓⲡⲁⲙⲉⲩⲓ[41], and then he would take its tune, the tune would fill his heart and mind, and then the words would disappear, and the tune would remain, and he would place his own words upon the tune. [] The experts in poetry then ask, “is this of the trembling meter[42] or the trilling meter[43] or the complete meter[44]?” Our great professor did not know trilling meter or trembling meter, but he knew Ⲁⲣⲓⲡⲁⲙⲉⲩⲓ. In this way, he created songs. He would take the hymn, repeat it until the tune stuck to his mind, and then place the words on the tune. And he became a poet in this way. This is Habib Girgis. And he created songs. The anthem of the Clerical College is an attuned poem [] on the tune of Fā’ilātun Fā’ilātun Fā’ilun, which is the trotting meter.[45] He did not know trotting meter, [] but he began to attune it. He wrote spiritual books, he wrote spiritual songs, he wrote books of condolence, he wrote books for Sunday School, he wrote books on the Holy Bible. Regarding doctrine, he wrote the book Asrār al-Kanīsah al-sab’ah[46]. He wrote the book al-Sakhra al-Urthūdhuksiyah[47] to answer other denominations — Protestants and Catholics. He began to work in every area. In history, he wrote the book al-Qiddīs Murqus[48]. He began to work in many areas; he entered all areas of education. You may find someone in the Clerical College who only knows one subject, but beyond it [he does not know]. But one like Habib Girgis could speak on any subject — he could speak on theology, doctrine, the Holy Bible, personal status, hymns, [in a word] everything. He led teaching in the entire Church and was known by all Copts from one end [of the country] to the other. Of course [he was not distinguished by] only seriousness in work, and his reliance on himself and God, and his self-edification, but also his consistent productive work. [] He encouraged the people and never criticized or rebuked or uttered a harsh word. Never. I remember in the poem I wrote about him, I recall that one of its stanzas says: لك اسلوب نقي طاهر ولسان أبيض الفاظ عارفه لم تنال بالذنب مخلوق ولم تذكر السؤ إذا محله وصفه [(Your behavior is pure and chaste; A tongue that is [pure] with familiar words. You do not accuse any creature of wrongdoing, and You do not mention evil if even it is apparent.)] He was a man who never criticized. One of the members of the Higher Committee of Sunday Schools once sent to Habib Girgis, who had published certain research, severe criticism, and [that person] recounted this [incident] in an article we published in the [special] volume of the Sunday School Journal issued on the occasion of the forty-day memorial [of Habib Girgis]. He says, “I sent him a strongly worded letter,” perhaps one that would have been intolerable to anyone besides Habib Girgis. What was the outcome? He did not become upset whatsoever, but rather sent to this young man a letter of thanks, saying to him: “I thank you for taking the time to read my research and I thank you for the comments you sent to me.” What is this! Habib Girgis was of this sort. I remember when I was a young man and there was a great love between myself and Habib Girgis, I would visit him weekly, especially during the final two years of his life on earth. What would happen, honestly, is I would place a notebook in my pocket, and at every visit I would record one or two sentences from which to benefit in my life, [] writing it in the notebook. I could never leave any of the visits without first recording a few words from the wonderful conversation. He was an incredibly meek person, to an unbelievable extent. Unbelievable! Once as I was contemplating the meekness of Habib Girgis, I was walking down the street, and I said: “Lord, if Habib Girgis is meek to this degree, how meek must You be!” How meek must God be [if Habib Girgis is so meek]! He was a wondrous man. Sometimes there would be a problem, and we would say, “so and so did this or that.” So he would respond, “why, my children, why did he do that? But no matter, it will be corrected, God willing. God will correct it.” Right away, he caught it and turned it [into a positive thing]. He was an example of meekness, powerful humility, the spirit of fatherhood, and exemplary spiritual ethics. Did I not tell you that he taught by way of preaching, teaching, authorship, publishing, and Sunday School? He also taught by way of his upright leadership. One would sit with him and walk away having learned several lessons, if only by looking at his face! Many times people criticized him and opposed him, and he would remain silent. Especially when the Sunday School nominated him to be metropolitan and the monks rose up against him, saying: “how can he be a metropolitan; he will destroy monasticism!” But how could he destroy monasticism? Monasticism has always been far removed from the priesthood. They began to oppose him. [] Someone nominates him to the papacy, and they would oppose him. Someone would nominate him to the bishopric, and they would oppose him. People praise him, and they would oppose him. [] Once, one of his students, whom he graduated from the Clerical College and who was a preacher, found Habib Girgis and began to curse at him extensively. There was another preacher who was serving in the same church and who was this man’s colleague, who had submitted a request for a raise from the Lay Council. Habib Girgis was responsible for the Committee of Churches, so he determined that the man who requested a raise was entitled to a raise []. He then said, “he is entitled to a raise, but he also has a colleague in the same church who is under the same circumstances, so he must also be given a raise like him.” Who was that man? The one who cursed at him. So he gave a raise to that man also, because it was right to do so, despite the fact that that man had been the one to curse at him. To the extent that after that preacher received the raise because of Habib Girgis’ advocacy, he went to him and wept [], saying: “I sinned against you. I did not know that you were like this.” He was gentle to the greatest degree. He worked positively and never responded at all to any criticism directed at him, whether from his children or his disciples or from jealous people or from those who were envious. He never responded whatsoever. He worked with positivity and did not involve himself [in such matters]. This is our professor, Habib Girgis, from whom we learned much. I recall at the forty-day commemoration we held for him on September 28, 1951, they asked me to recite a poem. I told them "Mr. Riyyād Surīel is more gifted than me in poetry and recites poetry powerfully," but they said: “no, we want you because you will say affectionate words, because you loved him.” [] It happened that Mr. Riyyād Surīel recited a poem, and I delivered an oration at that time. I do not know if I will recall it, but I remember saying هذه تقواك ايمان في حب هذه دنياك اشواق وصلب أنت من أنت؟ رسول ها هنا أنت أبهى من رسولا أنت قلب أنت قلب واسع في حضنه عاش جيل كامل بل عاش شعبه أنت نبع من حنان دافقا أنت عاطف أنت رفق أنت حب [(This is your piety: faith in love. This is your world: thorns and crucifixion. You, who are you? An apostle among us? But you are more exalted than an apostle. You are a heart. You are a wide embracing heart in which lived a full generation but a whole nation! You are a fountain of overflowing compassion. You are passion, you are companionship, you are love.)] And it ends by saying: و أب أنت و نحن يا أبي عشنا بالحب على صدرك نحن [(You are a father, and we, my father on your breast were nourished with love.)] This is the man that discipled an entire generation, and taught an entire generation. Some people write history, as we are doing now by speaking about the history of Habib Girgis. There are those who record history, and there are those who are more powerful — who make history. What does this mean? It means that they make the events that historians come later and record []. Mr. Habib Girgis is one who created our history, and at least created the history of the first half of the twentieth century. He worked at the end of the nineteenth century, but created the history of the first half of the twentieth century. Without him, we would not be here. We ask God to repose his pure soul in the paradise of joy. Let us say a small song and then I will speak to you about a small spiritual topic. [Here, Cantor Ibrahim Ayad chanted the hymn Ϧⲉⲛ Ⲫ̀ⲣⲁⲛ in honor of the Virgin Mary and Archdeacon Habib Girgis, and His Holiness proceeded with a sermon on the Virgin Mary]. — [1] Ar. عرافاء, lit. sages, denoting cantors/teachers. [2] Ar. بحري, lit. Nautical, denoting the northern area of Egypt, which is towards the Mediterranean Sea. [3] Ar. قبلي, lit. Tribal, denoting the southern area of Egypt. [4] Ar. المجلس الملي, lit. al-Majlis al-Millī. [5] Ar. أوقاف, singular وقف (waqf) denoting charitable donations and land endowments. [6] in the Assiut Governorate [7] Throughout the homily, His Holiness uses “Clerical College” to refer to the Coptic Orthodox Seminary at which Habib Girgis studied and subsequently served from 1893 until his death in 1951. We note that the institution was named the Clerical School (al-Madrasah al-iklīrīkiyah) from its inception until 1946, at which time it was renamed the Coptic Orthodox Seminary (Kulliyat al-lāhūt al-Qibtiyah). See Bishop Suriel, Habib Girgis: Coptic Orthodox Educator and a Light in the Darkness, 21. [8] lit. The Hanging Church, which is the ancient Church of Saint Mary in Old Cairo. [9] See the Three Long Litanies in the Coptic Orthodox Liturgical Prayers. [10] The church stood alone in Mahmasha in 1990 because the Clerical College had been relocated, as His Holiness will clarify hereafter. [11] The Clerical College Between Past and Present; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Madrasah al-Iklīrīkiyah al-Qibtiyah al-Urthudhūksiyah bayn al-mādī wa-al-hādir (The Coptic Orthodox Seminary: Past and Present). [12] Prayer for the Departed. [13] Ar. نائب غبطط الرئيس الأعلى لي مدارس الأحد [14] The Doctrines of Faith; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as Kitāb khilāsat al-usūl al-īmāniyah fī mu’taqadāt al-Kanīsah al-Qibtiyah al-Urthūdhūksiyah (The Doctrines of the Coptic Orthodox Faith: A Foundational Synopsis). [15] Principles of the Orthodox Doctrine; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Mabādi’ al-Masīhiyah al-Urthūdhūksiyah lil-madāris al-ibtidā’iyah (Christian Orthodox Principles for Elementary Schools). [16] The Invaluable Treasure in the History of the Holy Bible; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Kanz al-anfas fi mulakhkhas al-Kitāb wa-al-tarīkh al-Muqaddas (The Invaluable Treasure: A Summary of the Bible and Biblical History). [17] The Doctrines of Faith. See footnote 14, above. [18] Jam’iyāt [19] Jam’iyat al-Salām [20] Jam’iyat al-Īmān [21] Jam’iyat al-Mahabbah [22] Jam’iyat al-Malāk [23] Jam’iyat al-Nash’ā [24] Jam’iyat al-Mahabbah [25] Jam’iyat al-Īmān al-Markāziyyā al-Qubrā [26] Jam’iyat Nushr Kālemat al-Khalās [27] Jam’iyat Junūd al-Massīh [28] Jam’iyat al-kharījīn [29] Jam’iyat al-Īmān al-Markāziyyā [30] The Mystery of Godliness. [31] Spiritual Perspectives in the Christian Life. [32] The Consolation of the Faithful. [33] Children’s Songs for Awakening the Conscience. [34] Ar. buhūr. [35] Ar. taf‘īlah. [36] Ar. wazn. [37] Minor variations of meter which only affect the cords. [38] Major variations which affect the beginning or end of a line. [39] Ar. ‘Arūd. [40] Ar. qāwafi, denoting the rule in rhymed poetry that every verse must end in the same rhyme. [41] A hymn for Good Friday and certain other somber rites in the Coptic Church. [42] Ar. Rajaz. [43] Ar. Hazaj. [44] Ar. Kamil. [45] Ar. Ramal. [46] The Seven Sacraments of the Church. [47] The Orthodox Rock. [48] Saint Mark; cited by H.G. Bishop Suriel as al-Qiddīs Murqus al-Anjīlī: Mu’assis al-Kanīsah al-Misriyah (Saint Mark the Evangelist: The Founder of the Egyptian Church). — To access the video of this lecture, please visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7_99Xb8jWA&feature=youtu.be

H.H. Pope Shenouda III, 1989 In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: One God. Amen. Being that this week is the Week of Prayer, I would like to speak to you about Prayer. Prayer according to its simplest meaning is a dialogue with God. But is it a dialogue of the tongue or that of the heart? Doubtless it is a dialogue of the heart. For this reason, the Lord Christ rebuked those who pray with their lips only, saying: “these people honor me with their lips but their hearts are far from me” (Matthew 15:8). Thus, prayer is not merely words. Nor is it merely recitations or memorized utterances. But prayer is firstly the longing for God [] as David the Prophet says: “my soul longs for you, O God, as a thirsty land longs for water” (Psalms 143:6). And he also says: “O God, you are my God, my soul thirsts for you” (Psalms 63:1). And he says again: “as the deer longs” — the male deer which gallops quickly and tires [as a result] — “as the deer longs for the fountains of water, so my soul longs for You, O God.” (Psalms 42:1) The more your soul longs for God, and speaks to Him as a result of this longing, the more you feel that you are speaking to Him from your heart and benefit from prayer. [] For prayer is not merely a longing, but it is a longing that springs forth from love. Thus prayer begins firstly in the heart as love, is then elevated to the mind as thought, and finally the tongue utters it as word. But it is in the first instance love. Love! [David] tells Him, “Oh how beloved is your name, O Lord, for it is my meditation all the day” (Psalms 119:97). Out of his love for God, the name of God is on his tongue and mind all day long in meditation. He also says to Him, “in your name I will lift up my hands; my soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods” (Psalms 63:4-5). So prayer is satisfaction for the soul. Just as the flesh is nourished by food, so also the soul is nourished by being in the presence of God, and by conversing with God, and with the connection of the heart with God. This is nourishment for the soul. If you pray and do not feel satisfied, then you are not truly praying. Prayer, as I have said, is love. Just as a droplet of water journeys until it pours into the great sea and unites with it, so also does the heart of man journey so as to unite with the heart of God and become joined to Him. And the first matter [here] is prayer. For this reason, prayer was said to be a golden bridge connecting the creature to the Creator. [] It was also said that prayer is likened to the ladder of Jacob which connected earth and heaven. Prayer was also said to be the language of the angels, or the praise of the angels. Imagine — the Seraphim were standing before the throne of God saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord of Sabaoth” (Isaiah 6:3), being satisfied with this love and their souls being satiated by it. This is prayer. Believe me, many claim that they converse with God while in fact they do not pray. They do not pray because they merely utter words without any feeling or emotion. For this reason, prayer is connectedness[1] with God. [] In prayer you find a connection between yourself and God. You connect with God. As in the Divine Liturgy when we say, “stand [earnestly].”[2] You develop a connection between yourself and God such that you experience being in the presence of God. [] This is prayer. It is not mere words. You experience the presence of God and being with God, and the connection between you both. Some think prayer to be words they utter or beautiful phrases they say. It is not so. I will give you an example. You see these lights — there are small bulbs and a large spotlight [] — imagine you have incredibly powerful lightbulbs — a bulb with the power of many volts — but it has no electric current running through it. What would be the benefit of this lightbulb to you? What is the benefit of a powerful lightbulb if the electric current is absent from it? In your prayers, you must feel this current running through your veins. You feel pleasure in being with God [] so that even when you try to stop praying or cease from prayer, you find it difficult to do so. One stands to pray, and every time he tries to conclude the prayer, he says: “Lord let me spend some more time with You… [] a few more minutes… let me have some more time.” He is unable to leave Him! [] As it says in the Song of Songs, “I held him and would not let him go” (3:4). I can’t leave him! This is prayer. This sort of prayer purifies the heart, [] because man, when he finds himself in the presence of God, is purified thereby. Even if a sinful thought comes to him, he is ashamed of it, saying: “My thoughts were just with God, how can I now mingle it with evil?” If any external warfare comes to him, you find him impervious to it, fortified by the inner purity which he obtains from prayer. Deep prayer leads man to renounce the entire world, because after he finds himself in the presence of God, everything else becomes trivial in his eyes. For this reason, the Spiritual Elder[3] said: “the love of God alienated me” — that is, rendered me a stranger — “from mankind and the things of mankind.” St. John of Assiut was once asked, “what is pure prayer?” He told them “it is death to the world,” meaning when one is praying, this world is wholly absent from his mind; because of his preoccupation with God, he no longer feels the present world. Prayer is an honor for man — a great honor, for him to speak with God. There are many who occupy prestigious positions with whom you cannot speak. But God, out of His humility, permits you to speak with Him, even while He is the Lord of Lords and King of Kings and Creator of all. Thus, prayer is an honor with respect to man, and humility with respect to God. Of His humility He communicates with us. [] Do not dare to think that when you pray, you give to God anything at all — time, words. No. In prayer you receive and do not give. Just as we say to God in the Divine Liturgy, “You are not in need my worship, but rather I am in need of Your Lordship.” You need to be found with God. You need to speak with Him. You need to receive from His love. Imagine, regarding the pleasure of prayer, that David, when he prayed his psalms [] did not find the flute sufficient. We read in history that David had a large musical ensemble — a substantial chorus — one with a flute and one with a harp and another with an oud and another with stringed instruments and another with timbrels and another with cymbals and another with a trumpet — all of the musical instruments in his day, and sometimes the number would reach seventy people! And he prayed his psalms with the wondrous pleasure of music, and told them “Selah,” meaning “let us stop here and change the melody.” [] For this reason, sometimes prayer is a song sung by the soul to God. Imagine standing and singing to God! Where does this singing come from? For this reason he says, “sing to the Lord a new song” (Psalms 96:1). [] A song! One who rejoices in another — who loves another — and sings to Him. And God rejoices with this heart — this musical heart, in which one does not pluck the strings of the oud, but instead the strings of his heart, so that the words that spring from it are a beautiful song in the hearing of God. See Miriam the Prophetess, the sister of Moses! She held the timbrel in her hand and sang to God! [] And we, do we not sing? We certainly sing! From this we see that our hymns are prayer. See the words, “Agios, Agios, Agios, Holy, Holy, Holy.” In joyful times we sing “Agios” to Him in a joyful hymn, and with melisma. And in mournful times, in the Passion Week, we sing “Agios” to Him in a mournful tone. And in Ⲕⲟⲓⲁϩⲕ we say it in a different way. And every time we say “Holy,” we say it to Him in a different way. The psalmody, is it not a prayer? But it is a song we sing to the Lord. We stand before God singing, rejoicing — one rejoicing greatly in God, and, seeing Him, sings for joy! [] For this reason we find praises — spiritual songs. The Bible says, “with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, making melody in your hearts to God” (Ephesians 5:19). [] Indeed, singing always springs forth from inner feeling. And we stand before God singing always: people rejoicing in God and singing to Him. How? When we come to read the gospel, we say it in a melody in the Church; when we come to read the Psalm, we sing it to Him. We have Psalms which, when the chanter stands to chant them, he says them with the fullness of love in his heart before God. And the prayers and hymns of the Divine Liturgy are sung. For this reason, I am uncomfortable with those who rush through the Liturgy in a few minutes and without care for its hymns. No singing! What will God say to such people? “Is there no feeling? Do the strings of your heart not move?” In every word we say in the Liturgy, we sing. We sing before God, saying to Him: “Lord I am overjoyed in You [] and will sing to you all day and night!” Long ago, each Psalm had its own hymn, and they said it in chant. Just like the hymns we have in the Second, Third, and Fourth ϩⲱⲥ. These are all Psalms. Here is the heart that prays. But for one to pray with his tongue while his mind wanders in other things, where is the connection between him and God? Where is the dialogue between him and God? What is more, where is the etiquette of discussion between him and God? Do you speak to God while you are distracted, or while your senses are distracted; praying while looking here and there? From here, prayer requires certain qualities so that it may be considered an acceptable prayer before God. There are prayers that are acceptable and those that are not. To offer an acceptable prayer before God, the first point is to pray with understanding. While speaking, you understand the meaning of each word. You say, “Our Father who art in Heaven,” and every word is understood and has its depth, and is uttered in harmony between the tongue and the mind and the heart and the spirit and the flesh and the whole person. For this reason, you find in our hymns: “my heart and my tongue praise the Trinity” — “ⲡⲁϩⲏⲧ ⲛⲉⲙ ⲡⲁⲗⲁⲥ.” [] Prayer does not only involve the tongue. Your tongue speaks, while your mind is occupied with the same words, while your heart experiences the same feeling, while your spirit calls to the Lord. And your body also participates: in kneeling with meekness, prostrating, lifting up your hands, your eyes directed upwards. In all of this, your body participates with your spirit. Thus, prayer encompasses the whole person: mind, heart, spirit, flesh, and tongue together. For this reason, the one who prays often closes his eyes so as not to be distracted by or think about whatever is in front of him. He does not feel [] what happens around him. He leaves everything and devotes himself to God. Prayer with understanding denotes meaning every word you say. For example, when you say to Him, “Thy kingdom come,” your mind should contemplate the meaning of the kingdom of God, how His kingdom rules over your heart, how His kingdom may spread among the people, how His kingdom may spread among those nations who do not yet know Him, how His kingdom may rule over the mind and heart and flesh and spirit, how His kingdom is the longing for the eternal kingdom. And you say the word “kingdom” as you find yourself entering into the deepest depths of this kingdom. Meaning every word; praying with understanding. And if you pray with understanding, you will find that you also pray with concentration. [] Your mind will be occupied with the words, without deviation of thought or distraction. You will find yourself concentrating on the words and their meanings. You will pray with understanding, with concentration, and with depth, as David says, “out of the depths I have cried to You O Lord” (Psalms 130:1). Out of the depths! Out of the depths of my heart. Out of the depths of my mind. Out of the depths of my need for You. Out of the depths of my desires. Out of the depths in which I have fallen, I am lifted up to You and say: “Out of the depths I have cried to You, O Lord” (Psalms 130.1). You are in my inner depths, and I will to also reach Your depths. The one who prays such prayer, which is with love and understanding, will necessarily also pray fervently. Because he pours himself out before God. See Hannah, who became Samuel’s mother. The Bible says that she “prayed a prayer” (1 Samuel 1.9-10). [] What does this mean? It was not just any prayer! [] She prayed a prayer which bore all the fullness of the meaning of the word. Her lips merely moved, as her heart was ablaze for God. To the point that Eli the Priest thought her to be drunk. Because she poured herself out as an offering before God. Imagine the term “pouring” himself out; a soul being “poured” out before God. I cannot find in the Arabic language words sufficient to express how one pours himself out, but you understand it. One who pours himself out before God. His soul is wrung out and he pours it into the hearing and heart of God, telling Him, “my very self is poured out before You.” He who pours himself out before God does not have any awareness of his surroundings. If he is conscious of his surroundings, then his mind has become distracted and he is not poured out before God. The fervency of his prayer may be evident in his language, in his eyes, in his tears — from the extent of the fervency within him — in his love. He prays! You feel that this person prays. You may find two priests standing before the altar praying the Divine Liturgy, but you feel that one is praying and one is not. He is not praying, he is only saying the Liturgy. You may find two chanting a spiritual song, but only one chanting it from the depths of his heart so that you feel that he truly chants it, while for the other it is mere words. Words and musical melodies without spirit. [] She “prayed a prayer.” She poured herself out before God. Hannah. I read this very expression also concerning Elijah the Prophet in the fifth chapter of the Epistle of our teacher James. He says: “Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed a prayer that the heavens would not rain” (James 5:17). “Prayed a prayer” means not just any words. “Prayer” here means true prayer. One might stand for fifteen minutes speaking, and the angels would say, “why isn’t this fellow praying?” You might say, “You see him speaking!” And they would say, “these are just words. There’s no prayer. It is only words but not prayer.” But there is another sort of person — when he stands up for prayer, you find that the twenty four priests from the Book of Revelation take the golden censers in their hands and retrieve the prayer and take it up with them (see Revelation 8:3). If you ask one of them why, he would say, “this is a prayer, I can’t leave it. I must store it in my golden censer and lift it up to God as a fragrance of incense.” The angels sitting in heaven would smell the sweet aroma of the incense coming from earth and ask, “what is this beautiful fragrance of incense?” And they would be told, “Oh, so and so is praying.” [] For this reason, just as God rejoices in our prayer, so also do the angels. They participate with us. [] They empower us in prayer, give us spirit, and take our prayers and ascend with them. Just as it was written about Jacob’s ladder, that there were angels ascending and descending on it (see Genesis 28:12). Ascending with the prayers from the earth, and descending with God’s response to them. The angels are always ascending and descending with our prayers. The angels in heaven, when they hear someone praying, say to one another: “come, we have work today!” What is that work? “We will take [the prayers] and ascend and descend and connect heaven and earth!” Hence why it is said that prayer shakes the heavens. Not the earth. The heavens. The heavenly hosts. When a saint stands for prayer, they stand for prayer with him, participating with him, feeling that he is one of them — that he is one of the earthly angels from among the heavenly humans. Just like the angels. Or is prayer mere words? Does every person who says “I am praying” truly pray? No! What does “prayed a prayer” mean? It means not just any words. I would that you understand what prayer is and how to pray. Do you realize that if we pray for oneness with this spirit, it would be accomplished immediately? Why? Because then souls are [truly] standing before God. God — what can I say, Lord? Just as He says in the Psalms, to the soul that pours itself out before Him in prayer, “turn your eyes from me, for they have overcome me” (Song of Solomon 6:5).[4] God says, “enough, I can’t withstand it any longer. Whatever you want I will give you. Enough.” How could God tell someone, “for your eyes have overcome me?” What is this [wonder]. In language I do not know an interpretation, but in the spirit we may understand its meaning. As it was said, “God was overcome by His compassion.”[5] Out of His love. He sees before Him a person who has been transformed into an angel on earth, speaking with Him in truth. When God encounters hundreds of people, one of whom speaks to Him with a wandering mind, and another speaks to Him and then runs away, and another speaks to Him for a short while and then says “enough, I am bored of prayer,” and then finds one steadfast and speaking to Him with all love, He says “I can’t leave this person.” So what does He do? He grants that the Holy Spirit intercede for him with unutterable expressions, so that he is no longer praying but the Holy Spirit works in him and gives him the fervency (see Galatians 4:6). [] Just like one who says “heat up the car so it can run.” The Holy Spirit “heats up this car,” so it can run and ascend to the heavens. There are those who have specialized in prayer. They have become specialists in prayer. Their work is prayer, such as the monks and solitaries and hermits. And there are those on earth who give to God some of their time, and there are those who give to God the leftovers of their time, and there are those who say to God, “go away for now and when it is more convenient I will call for you again,” as the [procurator, Felix,] told Paul (Acts 24:25). For prayer to be accepted before God, it must also be offered with humility and lowliness of heart. Humility. Our Lord gave us an example in the prayer of the Pharisee and that of the tax collector. The prayer of the tax collector was accepted because it was offered with a humble heart, but the prayer of the Pharisee was not accepted. Not every prayer is accepted; the one who humbles himself before God[, that one’s prayer is accepted]. For this reason, you find some who speak to God with an unbefitting boldness, whereas we bow our heads and prostrate on the ground and sign the cross and ask Him to “make us worthy to say ‘Our Father.’” [] “I am not worthy to stand before You. Who am I? ‘I am a worm and not a man’ (Psalms 22:6), as David says. Who am I to put myself between the angels and archangels and the Seraphim and Cherubim to speak to You? Who am I? I am but dust! ‘I have taken it on myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes,’ (Genesis 18:27),” as Abraham the Father of Fathers said. For this reason the one who prays with humility prays with meekness. One might say, “I am a son, and I have my rights as a son.” What rights are you speaking of, beloved? Are we discussing rights? Tell Him, “Lord, I am unworthy of anything. ‘I am unworthy to be called Your son’ (Luke 15:19). It is true that You have called me a son out of Your love, but I have not abided as a son. I am utterly cast down. How can I speak to You?” With lowliness of heart, one prostrates, one kneels, one lifts up his hands, and begins a beginning that evidences his humility before God. It is true that God called you a son. But does His calling you a son lead you to lose your meekness or respect for Him, or to pray with a prideful heart? All of this is unfitting. Do you need more [evidence] than the Cherubim and Seraphim? They stand before God praying. How? “With two wings they cover their faces, and with two they cover their feet” (Isaiah 6:2). They stand ashamed before God, covering their faces for their inability to look toward the great glory of God. [] For this reason, when the priest prays the Reconciliation Prayer in the Divine Liturgy, he holds a handkerchief [over his eyes], and so does the deacon across from him. Why? For their inability to lift their eyes toward God; ashamed before God and the divine glory, so they cover their eyes from the glory of God. But there is another who holds the handkerchief without understanding its meaning, [saying] “well, this is what they taught us in church.” As for the person who stands before God in meekness and lowliness of heart, God does not forget his lowliness of heart. He truly prays. He recognizes before Whom he stands. He is standing before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. See Moses, after he spent some time with Him, how his face was so radiant that the people could not look to him when he came down [from the mountain]. And that only because he spent a little time with Him. John the Beloved, who leaned on His chest, when God appeared to him in the Book of Revelation, said, “I fell at his feet as one dead” (Revelation 1:17). Why? For the greatness of God. Your love for God and favor with Him should not lead you to lose your meekness before God. Your favor [with Him] might otherwise lead you to merely say words, like the one who prays while seated at mealtime. “Why are you sitting, brother? To Whom are you speaking?” He says, “I’m sitting to eat.” Are you sitting to eat or sitting to pray? Whenever I am in a foreign country and they ask me to pray before eating, I stand and they all follow suit. They are used to praying over the meal while seated. Is there no respect when speaking to God? Stand before Him with meekness. Tell Him, “thank you Lord for granting me food for my body. Grant me also food for my spirit.” And pray from your heart. Many in the church pray while seated, and if someone tells one to stand, he says, “stand? You forget that we’re in the twentieth century, the age of technology, which exhausts the flesh and robs us of our energy. Before, the people were strong and could stand, but now the people are tired.” Remain as you are, O tired one, and pray prayers that are as tired as you, which do not ascend to the heights. When you stand to pray while tired, God will grant you the strength and energy to stand, because as you give, so you receive, and you receive what you give and say to Him, “of Your own we have given You” (1 Chronicles 29:14). Prayer needs meekness; to stand before God meekly. But for the one who stands before God while his legs are moving, his hands are moving, his eyes are looking around, as if he is praying with a wind-up, this is not prayer. If this one stands in the army, and they tell him to stand still, he would. If one stands still before an officer or a sergeant, how much more should he do so before God? Pray with meekness, pray with concentration, pray with respect and reverence before God. Pray also with faith. He says, “whatever you ask for in prayer will be yours, if you only have faith” (Mark 11:24). Many times one prays but does not believe that what he asks will happen. He just prays to fulfill the obligation. But without faith. We need people to pray with faith — faith that he stands before God, and that God will respond, and that God will respond with whatever is good, regardless of the outcome. [] Prayer with persistence, never tiring. This is prayer. [] Prayer before God with spirit and thought, with love and feeling, and with concentration. This is all regarding the depth of prayer. The one who experiences the beauty and tastes the sweetness of prayer loves to pray at all times. He loves that his mind is preoccupied with God at all times. He never tires from prayer. He does not say: “I don’t have time.” How do you not have time? As I have said to some, “do you not have time? See David the Prophet. He was a king and commander in chief of the army and led the people and had a large family and difficult circumstances, but regardless, he prayed evening and morning and at noontime” (see Psalms 55:17). And he told Him, “seven times every day I do I praise You for your righteous judgments” (Psalms 119:164). Only during the day? He also told him, “I remembered you on my bed,” (Psalms 63:6), when he came to sleep, and “in the morning watches [I sang to you]” (Psalm 5:3), [] and “my eyes stay open through the watches of the night that I might meditate on your word” (Psalms 119:148), [and] “at midnight I arise to praise You for your righteous judgments” (Psalms 119.62). And after all this, he tells Him: “O God, you are my God, early will I seek You. My soul thirsts for you…” (Psalms 63:1). After all this, your soul [still] thirsts for Him? This is the one who wants to pray. He does not tire from prayer, he is patient, he prays with long-suffering, and whenever Satan says “enough,” he tells him, “depart from me, you have no business with me. This is between me and God.” [] — [1] Arabic: سلاه [2] lit. “stand intently/earnestly;” Arabic: نقف بإتصال [3] i.e. John of Dalyatha [4] In instances such as this, when His Holiness misremembers the source of a verse or passage, it is important to note that His Holiness, in his usual manner, delivers the majority of his homily from memory and without much, if any, reference to written materials). [5] See Monday Ⲑⲉⲟⲧⲟⲕⲓⲁ, Fifth Part —

Introduction Digital technologies such as Artificial Intelligence, Virtual Reality, and Social Media today predominate the non-physical online realm, transcending time and space and allowing for instantaneous communication and connectivity from any location globally. With this unprecedented technological proliferation, the notion of remoteness is quickly becoming obsolete, as even in the deserts, one can be completely engaged in and connected to a world of communication and information. Despite the overbearing inescapability of this modern immersive condition, the desert still lends her wisdom, for there can be found until today the richest Christian men and women following in the footsteps of those who have sought for centuries to fulfill through monasticism the high calling of Christianity. The founder of this monastic movement, Antony of Egypt, himself retreated to the desert in a quest to live out the Christian Faith in complete devotion, being convinced that the message of Christianity must be internalized and transfigured within himself so that he might fulfill the Lord’s command to be perfect.[1] Equipped with this conviction, Antony forsook all his possessions and began his long journey into the inner desert — a journey to perfect virtue and true Christlikeness — ultimately becoming the lamp of monasticism (as he is called in the Coptic Orthodox Tradition) and an example for all Christians. Antony recognized that Christianity properly lived requires unwavering personal devotion and complete integration into one’s life — the Christian is required to “put on Christ” (Romans 13:14) and not be “conformed to this world” (Romans 12:2). As online technological advancements continue to gain prevalence in people’s daily lives, imposing upon Christians a new “gospel,” a conscious consideration of the necessary features of the human experience according to the Christian framework is perhaps more necessary today than ever before.[2] Of these advancements, Artificial Intelligence, being by its very nature antithetical to and devoid of any measure of living experience, raises especially alarming concerns, particularly for evangelization and the Christian life. In contrast to several of those concerns, however, stands the life and standard of Antony, which remains until today a grounding example for Christian believers and emphasizes several features of the human experience which they must consciously guard within themselves in the face of the threats posed by these technologies. Encountering Antony of Egypt Journeying from his village to the desert, Antony sought to fulfill the calling of Christian discipleship to Christ, creating a balanced environment conducive to Christian formation[3] and not evading any component of the human experience. Athanasius’ description, in The Life of Antony, of Antony's emergence from the Roman fort in response to the demands of the masses depicts this state of balance that Antony achieved: “…Antony came forth as out of a shrine, as one initiated into sacred mysteries and filled with the spirit of God. It was the first time that he showed himself outside the fort to those who came to him. When they saw him, they were astonished to see that his body had kept its former appearance, that it was neither obese from want of exercise, not emaciated from his fasting and struggles with the demons: he was the same man they had known before his retirement. Again, the state of his soul was pure, for it was neither contracted by grief, nor dissipated by pleasure, not pervaded by jollity or dejection…No, he had himself completely under control — a man guided by reason and stable in his character.”[4] The balance of personal development with interpersonal communication and communal connection which Antony maintained deserves not only admiration, but also emulation,[5] for he became thereby the model of a complete Christian — “the man of God.”[6] Antony and the Self The primary resources pertaining to Antony — The Life of Antony, his sayings, and his letters — depict and emphasize the absolute necessity of sound identity formation in Christian experience, dependent upon scriptural internalization, virtue attainment, and enlightened self-understanding. This formation led Antony to order his life in submission to the Scriptures and thereby to become a conduit for the Lord to permeate the lives of his disciples. From a young age, Antony knew the Scriptures, contemplated upon them often, and took them personally. Upon hearing the Gospel being read in church shortly after his parents’ death, he submitted to its teaching and allowed it to radically transform his life. It was the Scriptures, after all, that initiated his journey into the wilderness. In his later encounters with demons, his mastery of the Scriptures is especially evident, as he used them as his shield to overcome demonic attacks.[7] His scriptural formation also flows seamlessly into his teaching: when many came to learn from him, he said to them, “The Scriptures are really sufficient for our instruction.”[8] Similarly, when asked what one must do “in order to please God,” he responded “…always have God before your eyes; whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures.”[9] His second letter,[10] moreover, is almost entirely formulated out of scriptural passages woven together. By thus internalizing the Scriptures, and that through memorization rather than relying on any exterior aids to merely read them,[11] Antony succeeded to embody them in his real lived experience. “[L]ike a wise bee,”[12] Antony built upon his scriptural grounding by cultivating within himself the good qualities he observed in virtuous people: “He observed the graciousness of one, the earnestness at prayer in another; studied the even temper of one and the kindheartedness of another…and in one and all alike he marked especially devotion to Christ and the love they had for one another.”[13] Understanding the necessity of good works,[14] he urgently worked to internalize and assimilate virtuous qualities in himself[15] rather than simply observing and admiring virtuous people. He would later teach his disciples: “Really, [virtue] is not far from us, nor is its home apart from us; no, the thing is within us, and its accomplishment is easy if we but have the will. Greeks go abroad and cross the sea to study letters; but we have no need to go abroad for the Kingdom of Heaven nor to cross the sea to obtain virtue.”[16] By pursuing virtue, Antony became a powerful witness to the Lord, so that those whom he imitated[17] identified him as “God’s Friend” even though he strove to surpass them in virtuosity.[18] His virtue thus became a powerful instrument of evangelization and exhortation, attracting many to the desert to encounter and imitate him.[19] Having learned the Scriptures and become virtuous, Antony recognized and frequently emphasized the importance of knowing oneself. Echoing the advice of Paul the Apostle to Timothy (1 Timothy 4:16), he advised his disciples to know themselves — at least six times in his first seven Letters — for “he who knows himself knows God and his dispensations for his creatures.”[20] He consequently identified any doctrinal or behavioral deviance from the Faith of the Church as a result of improper self-understanding and a failure to cultivate the fruits of the Spirit in oneself: “As for Arius…that man has begun a great task, an unsealable wound. If he had known himself, his tongue would not have spoken about what he did not know. It is, however, manifest, that he did not know himself.”[21] In knowing himself, moreover, Antony recognized his natural dependence upon his brethren in the Faith, and was for this reason deeply concerned with his neighbors in the world as they struggled against general laxity in spiritual life[22] and consequent heresy. He therefore takes up the medium of writing in order to exhort them to take personally and submit to the true Christian Faith: “I beseech you, my beloved in the Lord, who are joint heirs with the saints, to raise up your minds in the fear of God.”[23] Antony and Community Believing that “…he who loves his neighbor loves God, and he who loves God loves his own soul,”[24] Antony sought his salvation not only in the context of solitude, but also in that of interaction and communication with others. Upon commencing his monastic commitment, Antony first discipled himself to an elder, and sought to maintain this discipleship when he desired to venture deeper into the desert: “He met the old man referred to above[25] and begged him to live with him in the desert.”[26] Later, he would become a father and teacher to monks,[27] caring not only for their spiritual wellbeing, but also for their physical nourishment: “…seeing that people were coming to him again, he began to raise a few vegetables too, that the visitor might have a little something to restore him after the weariness of that hard road.”[28] Later, when he was ninety years old, Antony sought out Paul of Thebes, who had undertaken monasticism prior to him, and traveled to visit and converse with him.[29] Interestingly, the first question Paul asked Antony was “how fares the human race?”[30] While Antony and Paul retreated to the desert, seeking in its stillness to discern the voice of God, they nevertheless remained deeply connected to the city and community of believers, understanding, in Antony’s own words, that “our life and our death is with our neighbour.”[31] Evidently, Antony did not leave for the desert to escape from human interaction, but rather out of his longing for a deeply contemplative atmosphere, away from the distractions of the city, in order to live in complete relation with God,[32] recognizing that “silence is necessary for prayer and for effective communication.”[33] He therefore remained connected to and interested in the affairs of the city, saying to those who came to him, for example: “Be you, therefore, like children and bring to your father what you know and tell it, while I, being your senior, share with you my knowledge and my experience.”[34] Having heard of the spread of Arianism, Antony traveled to Alexandria to encourage the faithful in their defense of the orthodox Faith: “The entire city ran together to see Antony. Pagans, too, and even their so-called priests came to the church saying: ‘We would like to see the man of God’ — for so they all called him…and, indeed, as many became Christians in those few days as one would have seen in a year.”[35] At the time of the persecution under Maximin, Antony went again to the city, longing to suffer martyrdom, and “ministered to the confessors in the mines and in the prisons.”[36] His care for the edification and salvation of all is evident even in his interaction with Emperor Constantine, who had written to him. Although he “did not like to accept letters, saying that he did not know what to answer to such things,” he decided to write back to Emperor Constantine simply so that he could exhort him “not to think highly of the things of this world, but rather to bear in mind the judgment to come; and to know that Christ alone is the true and eternal King. He begged them to show themselves humane and to have a regard for justice and for the poor.”[37] The importance of interpersonal communication and community to Antony is therefore easily perceptible. Along with offering his guidance to the monastic community that was forming around him, seeking in the process to balance his social interaction with personal reflection, Antony communicated with Christian believers generally through visits and letters. In a word, having actively and intentionally submitted to and identified with the Christian message, Antony permitted it to mold him into an icon of the Lord Jesus, becoming in the process the image of what it means to be a truly living human, “the glory of God.”[38] His witness and life therefore became the inspiration for the monastic movement until today, converting and leading countless people into a deeper love of and life with Christ. Artificial Intelligence and the Human Experience Contrary to the immersive, incarnate, and deeply personal experience of Christianity as expressed and lived in the person of Antony of Egypt, modern technologies discarnate the human experience, being deeply formative and developmental, even at the neurological level.[39] Moreover, as Neil Postman points out: “Technology…carries with it a program, an agenda, and a philosophy that may or may not be life-enhancing and that therefore require scrutiny, criticism, and control.”[40] It is necessary, then, to examine the place of digital technologies in the human experience, especially as humanity furthers its dependence on such mediums. Indeed, “a discarnate world, like the one we now live in, is a tremendous menace to an incarnate Church.”[41] Artificial Intelligence and the Self Artificial Intelligence, more than the digital technologies that preceded it, is a deeply non-human technology, facilitating creation without human involvement and depriving products of the human element that was previously inherent to their production. Romano Guardini, in observing the rise of machine reliance, makes an important distinction: in times past, “people did, of course, use tools and aids in great numbers and with great delicacy. But these were only supports, extending the range of activity of natural human organs…and a limit was always set to make possible direct and living execution.”[42] With the availability of Artificial Intelligence, however, a human can simply command technology to produce a desired product, and within moments, that product is packaged together irrespective of that person’s knowledge, skillset, or experience, and without their contribution. Walter Ong comments: “Knowledge is hard to come by and precious, and society regards highly those wise old men and women who specialize in conserving it, who know and can tell the stories of the days of old. By storing knowledge outside the mind, writing and, even more, print downgrade the figures of the wise old man and the wise old woman, repeaters of the past, in favor of younger discoverers of something new.”[43] Because the need to internalize information is minimized by Artificial Intelligence, its user is made perpetually dependent upon it, rendering it the arbiter of truth, knowledge, and goodness: “The manner in which one asks a search engine, the algorithms of an artificial intelligence, or a computer for answers to questions that concern private life reveals that one relates to the device and its response with a fideistic attitude.”[44] Such technology therefore divests the human of humanity, substituting knowledge and firsthand experience with emptiness and reliance on exterior aids for information and fulfillment. Artificial Intelligence and Community Artificial Intelligence’s divestment of humanity’s humanity also carries communal consequences. As a powerful analytical tool, Artificial Intelligence introduces a novel way of thinking: “This knowledge does not inspect; it analyzes. It does not construct a picture of the world, but a formula. Its desire is to achieve power so as to bring force to bear on things, a law that can be formulated rationally. Here we have the basis and character of its dominion: compulsion, arbitrary compulsion devoid of all respect.”[45] Establishing a new primary residence for humanity within the virtual world and introducing a new role for humanity as spectator rather than creator, Artificial Intelligence threatens humanity’s very nature: “What takes place here is not human, at least if we measure the human by the human beings who lived before us. It is not natural if we measure the natural by nature as it once was.”[46] Having identified such trends in the early stages of the technological age, Guardini remarks: “A system of machines is engulfing life. It defends itself. It seeks free air and a secure basis. Can life retain its living character in this system?”[47] Only in the ecclesial community, “the place where the experience of God creates communion and the sharing of life,”[48] in the real, physical world, can life retain its living character.[49] Christianity, as experienced by Antony, is wholly concerned with reality, and is inherently meant for life — personal and communal experience. Through primarily physical means of encounter and perception, one most effectively “tastes” (Psalm 34:8) the Christian message and becomes transformed by it, allowing it to permeate his encounters with others. It was in this way that Antony succeeded to inspire others to venture deeper into the Faith. His effort in evangelization and exhortation flourished without the aid of any sophisticated technologies because it was purely and wholly incarnate. Michelle Borras identified that “since the Gospel is a message of the incarnate Love that alone saves, it can only be proclaimed adequately in an incarnate way…The Gospel must always have a ‘face.’”[50] Because Antony internalized the Christian message and lived through it, thereby allowing it to reflect the love of Christ to others, the Gospel in him indeed had a face — the face of Christ. Conclusion The monastic movement was inaugurated by Antony as Christian men and women imitated him by flocking to the desert to embody and live out the Christian message of discipleship to Christ. Understanding that the Faith must be taken personally, Antony and all who imitated him left the world for the desert in order to focus on fulfilling the divine commandments. Thus, in writing The Life of Antony, Athanasius exhorts his readers “to model [their] lives after his zeal”[51] and advises that his biography be read even to pagans.[52] Artificial Intelligence, being by nature an external and non-human tool of creation, is in contrast an obstacle to venturing into a personal and intimate relationship with God, developing within the human an authenticity-limiting exterior dependency in creativity, communication, and informational retention. Artificial Intelligence’s inability to capture or express human life and spirit is evident in a simple yet revealing exercise: when tasked with writing a doxology for Antony, ChatGPT produced a biographical, impersonal, and detached composition[53] in comparison to the personal and exhortatory doxology for Antony authored by Coptic Orthodox believers for liturgical prayer.[54] If we “hope for the word of God to dwell in us richly in the digital age,”[55] Artificial Intelligence and similar technologies must be thoroughly examined in light of the ethos of Christianity, with those among these technologies that do not comport with the Christian “spirit and life”[56] being actively guarded against, lest by becoming tools of evangelization and mediums for Faith delivery and formation, they compromise rather than uphold the message and spirit of Christianity. — [1] He reached this understanding through hearing the words of the Scriptures being read during the liturgical service: “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven, and come, follow Me” (Matthew 19:21); “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34). Antony understood these divinely-inspired words as being “directed especially to him” (See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 2-3, in Robert T. Meyer, Ancient Christian Writers: The Works of the Fathers in Translation, Volume 10: St. Athanasius: The Life of Saint Antony, 19-21). [2] Daniella Zsupan-Jerome notes: “After [the Word], communication of his good news becomes the Spirit-led task of the Church. This age-old mission to communicate is at the heart of the Church. From this perspective, the digital media are but the latest chapter in the long story of how the Church has gone about expressing this identity and mission to communicate” (Connected Toward Communion: The Church and Social Communication in the Digital Age, 2). [3] Daniella Zsupan-Jerome offers a definition to Christian formation as being “part of the language of articulating the task of catechesis, the process by which believers are nurtured toward conversion of mind and heart to Jesus Christ” (Ibid., 10-11). [4] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 14 (Meyer, 32) [5] See Ibid., Prologue (Meyer, 17) [6] See Ibid., 93 (Meyer, 96) [7] See e.g., Ibid., 6-7, (Meyer, 23-26) [8] Ibid., 16 (Meyer, 33) Antony sought to understand the Scriptures even through personal encounters with the saints. When he found difficulty with a passage of Scripture, for example, he did not first seek to discover its meaning in books, but rather “went out into the desert…a long way off and stood there praying, crying in a loud voice, ‘God, send Moses, to make me understand this saying.’ Then there came a voice speaking with him” (Benedicta Ward, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, 7 (Anthony the Great, Saying 26)). [9] Benedicta Ward, The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, 2 (Anthony the Great, Saying 3) [10] See Samuel Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Monasticism and the Making of a Saint, 203-205 [11] “Again, he was so attentive at the reading of the Scripture lessons that nothing escaped him: he retained everything and so his memory served him in place of books” (Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 21)). In response to those who sought to discredit him for not receiving any schooling, Antony also said: “…one who has a sound mind has no need of letters” (Ibid., 73 (Meyer, 80)). [12] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 20) [13] Ibid., 4 (Meyer, 21) [14] See e.g., Matthew 5:16; James 2:14-26; Titus 2 [15] See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 4 (Meyer, 21-22) [16] Ibid., 20 (Meyer, 37) [17] See 1 Corinthians 11:1 [18] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 4 (Meyer, 21) [19] See e.g., Ibid., 46 (Meyer, 59-60) [20] See e.g., Rubenson, 208 [21] Ibid., 211 [22] “The Peace of Constantine, which brought about mass conversions, had the paradoxical effect of diminishing the lay contribution to the activity and holiness of the Church. Monasticism is a witness to this fact; for the monk is not a layman, and his status is to be explained as a reaction against the growth of mediocrity in the ranks of the simple faithful. The fervent part took its stand deliberately, and as an institution, over against the majority of the flock. This is no matter for surprise; the ideal conditions for a full Christian life do not coincide with taking things easy” (Henri de Riedmatten, “The Part of the Laity in the History of the Church” in Blackfriars, November 1958, Vol. 39, No. 464, p. 458). [23] Rubenson, 230 [24] Ibid., 222 [25] See Athanasius, The Life of Antony 3 (Meyer, 20) [26] Ibid., 11 (Meyer, 29) [27] Ibid., 14 (Meyer, 32-33) [28] Ibid., 50 (Meyer, 63) [29] See Jerome, The Life of Paulus the First Hermit [30] Ibid., 10 [31] Ward, 3 (Anthony the Great, Saying 9) [32] “This making a City of the Wilderness was no mere flight, nor a rejection of matter as evil…It was rooted in a stark realism of faith in God and acceptance of the battle which is not against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual things of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Derwas Chitty, The Desert A City, xvi). [33] Fr. Jonah Lynch, FSCB and Michelle K. Borras, Technology and the New Evangelization: Criteria for Discernment, 30 [34] Athanasius, The Life of Antony 16 (Meyer, 33-34) [35] Ibid., 70 (Meyer, 79) [36] Ibid., 46 (Meyer, 59) [37] Ibid., 81 (Meyer, 87) [38] See Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.XX.VII [39] “Gutenberg attaches itself to the left hemisphere [of the brain]; the oral, the acoustic and consequently the electric, to the right hemisphere” (Marshall McLuhan, The Medium and the Light: Reflections on Religion, 52). [40] Neil Postman, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, 185 [41] McLuhan, 50 [42] Romano Guardini, Letters from Lake Como: Explorations in Technology and the Human Race, 66 [43] Walter J. Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, 41 [44] Pontifical Council for Promoting the New Evangelization, Directory for Catechesis 366 [45] Guardini, 44 [46] Ibid., 73 [47] Ibid., 49 [48] Pontifical Council for Promoting the New Evangelization, Directory for Catechesis 372 [49] Timothy O’Malley, emphasizing the importance of liturgical participation to evangelization efforts, writes: “Liturgical prayer is essential to the new evangelization. Precisely, because in every liturgical rite, we human beings return to our vocation as those made in the image and likeness of God. We are capacitated for the kind of self-gift, which comes to transfigure society. Those who return to our sacramental life should encounter there a beautiful and humanizing liturgy, one that elevates the desires of the human heart, allowing them to become an offering of love to the Father. We are immersed in a cosmos in which the primary narrative is not one of grasping, seizing, but the prodigal logic of self-gift. Lay communities, connected to parishes, may incarnate this liturgical life in concrete ways in cities and rural areas as we seek to manifest to the world that wisdom of a Catholic life, given over to the sacramental logic of the triune God” (Liturgy and the New Evangelization: Practicing the Art of Self-Giving Love, 132). [50] Lynch and Borras, 27-28 [51] Athanasius, The Life of Antony Prologue (Meyer, 17) [52] See Ibid., 94 (Meyer, 98) [53] The ChatGPT-produced doxology reads: “Praise be to Antony, the desert’s sage, whose wisdom guided countless souls on pilgrimage. In solitude he found divine embrace, a beacon of light for all seeking grace. With fervent heart and humble ways, he taught love, compassion, and righteous praise. In Egypt’s sands, his spirit soared high, a timeless legacy that will never die. Amen.” [54] “Remove from your hearts the thoughts of evil and the pretentious images that darken the mind. Contemplate with understanding the great miracles of our blessed father, my great lord Abba Antony — this is he who became our guide and harbor for salvation; he invited us with joy to the eternal life. The fragrance of his virtues delighted our souls, like the blossomed aroma in the Paradise. Let us truly be confirmed in the upright faith of the great Antony, proclaiming and saying: ‘I sought and I found; I asked and I was given; I knocked and I believed that it will be opened for me’ (see Matthew 7:7-8; Jerome, The Life of Paulus the First Hermit 9). Hail to our father Antony, the lamp of monasticism; hail to our father Abba Paul, the beloved of Christ. Pray to the Lord on our behalf, O my masters and fathers who love their children, Abba Antony and Abba Paul, that He may forgive us our sins” (Coptic Doxology for St. Antony). [55] See Zsupan-Jerome, xv [56] See John 6:63 — This paper is an adaptation of course work submitted for “Evangelization, Media, & Technology,” offered by Dr. Brett Robinson in Summer 2023 at the University of Notre Dame. I express my gratitude to Dr. Robinson for his helpful guidance and encouragement, and wish to acknowledge his efforts in the preparation and delivery of this course, which provided the framework of this paper and many resources used throughout. — Cover Art: Gowdat Gabra, The Treasures of Coptic Art, 94 (Coptic Icon depicting the visit of St. Antony (left) to St. Paul of Thebes (Old Cairo, Monastery of St. Mercurius)).

A blessing, indeed, belongs to the land of Egypt, which welcomed the Lord Jesus Christ into its borders as a refugee, in fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah: “Behold, the Lord sits on a swift cloud, and shall come to Egypt: and the idols of Egypt shall be moved at his presence, and their heart shall faint within them…In that day shall Israel be third with the Egyptians and the Assyrians, blessed in the land which the Lord of hosts has blessed, saying, ‘Blessed be my people that is in Egypt, and that is among the Assyrians, and Israel mine inheritance’” (Isaiah 19:1, 24-25). Egypt is recorded in the Scriptures as often serving as a place of refuge. During a time of famine, Abraham “went down to Egypt to sojourn there” (Genesis 12:10). Joseph also found refuge in Egypt, where he was eventually given authority over the whole land of Egypt under Pharaoh (See Genesis 41:41-44). His father, Jacob, was directed by God: “Fear not to go down into Egypt, for I will make thee there a great nation. And I will go down with thee into Egypt, and I will bring thee up at the end” (Genesis 46:3-4). Likewise Moses found refuge in the house of Pharaoh in Egypt (See Exodus 2:1-10). From the Gospel according to St. Matthew, we learn of the Lord’s own flight to Egypt and His taking up refuge there: “Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there till I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ And he rose and took the child and his mother by night, and departed to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt have I called my son’ (Hosea 11:1)…But when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child’s life are dead.’ And he rose and took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel” (Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23). By His presence in Egypt, our Lord Jesus Christ affirmed His coming for all people — Jews and Gentiles: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). This message, which God consistently revealed to the Israelites, most prominently in the experience of Jonah the Prophet but also throughout the Scriptures, was proclaimed by Simeon the Elder when he carried the Lord in his arms (See Luke 2:25-35) and made clear to St. Paul by the Lord when He called him to the ministry while he was on his journey to Damascus: “But rise and stand upon your feet; for I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you to serve and bear witness to the things in which you have seen me and to those in which I will appear to you, delivering you from the people and from the Gentiles — to whom I send you to open their eyes, that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (Acts 26:16-18). This gift, of being turned “from darkness to light,” is granted in the mystery of baptism, whereby the baptized is granted the grace of the Holy Spirit and the gift of adopted sonship to God: “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God” (Romans 8:14). It is according to this truth that all who are baptized and placed into the Body of Christ — that is, the Church — ought to live: no longer downcast and identifying with sin and weakness, but rather living the life of victorious resurrection in Christ by His Spirit.[1] The blessing of our Lord’s visitation to Egypt is observed immediately upon His coming to the land, at which time the idols of the pagans were destroyed and many of the gentile Egyptians believed in Him. On the 18th of Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ, the Coptic Church commemorates St. Wadamon el-Armanti, who was among those who believed in our Lord Jesus Christ while He was in Egypt, and who eventually accepted martyrdom for His sake. The remarkable account of his life, presented in the Synaxarium (the Lives of the Saints), relates: “One day, he hosted in his house some of the idol worshippers and they were saying, ‘We have heard that a lady arrived to the city of Ashmonain carrying a young Child who looked like the children of Kings.’ After the guests had left, Wadamon rose up, rode his donkey and went to the city of Ashmonain. When he arrived, he searched for the Holy Family until he found them. He saw the Child Jesus with His mother Mary and he worshipped Him. When the Child saw him, He smiled and said, ‘Peace be with you, O Wadamon. You have labored and come here to verify what you have heard from your guests about Me. Therefore I will stay in your home, which will be a house for Me forever.’ Wadamon marveled and said, ‘O My Lord, I wish that You will come and live in my house and I will be Your servant forever.’ The Child replied saying: ‘Your home will be a house for Me and My mother forever. When you return home and the heathen hear that you came to Me, they will be indignant and hurt, and they will shed your blood in your house. Do not be afraid, because I will receive you in My heavenly kingdom forever, the place of perpetual joy, which has no end. You will be the first martyr in Upper Egypt.’ Then Wadamon knelt down before the Lord Christ, Who blessed him, and then he departed and returned to his home…”[2] Despite the tribulation that our Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Family endured, it nevertheless became a joyous commemoration and an occasion for many to come to know the Lord and believe in Him, becoming the first-fruits of Christianity in Egypt. In the visit of the Lord to Egypt, the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled: “In that day there shall be an altar to the Lord in the land of the Egyptians, and a pillar to the Lord by its border. And it shall be for a sign to the Lord for ever in the land of Egypt: for they shall presently cry to the Lord by reason of them that afflict them, and he shall send them a man who shall save them; he shall judge and save them. And the Lord shall be known to the Egyptians, and the Egyptians shall know the Lord in that day; and they shall offer sacrifices, and shall vow vows to the Lord, and pay them” (Isaiah 19:19-21). The Coptic Orthodox Church today, having her foundation and roots in Egypt, also dwells outside her homeland — among those who do not believe in God and who do not walk in His way — as Christ did in Egypt. It is therefore the duty of each of her members, who have been baptized into Christ and have put on Christ (See Galatians 3:26), to emulate Him in being “christ” in “Egypt” once again — a living reflection of the Lord and a conduit whereby the life and truth of Christ may be transferred anew to the “land of Egypt” and its inhabitants, so that “they may see [their] good works and glorify [their] Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). In doing so, just as Christ established an altar in the land of Egypt (See Isaiah 19:19), those who believe in Him may become participants in the establishment and edification of His altar, upon which are offered appropriate spiritual sacrifices and where God is glorified and witnessed to not only by word, but also in manner of life and deeds, all over the world. While the cause for the Lord’s flight to Egypt was evil, especially as Herod “sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under” (Matthew 2:16), it nevertheless became an occasion of great blessing and benefit. St. John Chrysostom therefore writes: “Egypt receives and preserves Him, driven from His home, and plotted against, and obtains a sort of first impulse towards her union unto Him; so that when in after-time she should hear Him preached by the apostles, she might have this at least to glory of, as having received Him first…And now, should you come unto the desert of Egypt, you will see this desert become better than any paradise, and ten thousand choirs of angels in human forms, and nations of martyrs, and companies of virgins, and all the devil’s tyranny put down, while Christ’s kingdom shines forth in its brightness.”[3] In similarly evil, difficult, or troubling circumstances, especially today, the example of our Lord Jesus Christ shines forth as a cause of comfort and hope — in times of tribulation, He is our joy, preparing for us those things that are much better if we continue to abide in Him and live by His word, emulating His profound humility, and that of His mother and St. Joseph, in submitting wholeheartedly to the will and plan of God, even as they sought refuge in Egypt, becoming there a shining light and a powerful witness to Christ, the Savior of all people. We therefore chant with great pride: “Rejoice and be glad, O Egypt, with her sons and border cities, for the Lover of Man who existed before all ages has come;”[4] “Let us worship and ask Him to grant us a share on Judgment Day with the children whom Herod killed,”[5] lifting up our hearts in pure prayer to God, as did St. Wadamon the martyr, seeking the Lord and asking Him to abide in us as He resided in the land of Egypt, to work in us for the glory of His Name — that is, the salvation of the world through our living witness to Him in it — and to grant us the blessings of this Feast. To God is due all glory. — [1] See Antony the Great, On the Character of Men and on the Virtuous Life in G.E.H. Palmer, The Philokalia: The Complete Text vol. I, 328-355. [2] Synaxarium: The 18th Day of Ⲙⲉⲥⲱⲣⲏ. [3] John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel According to St. Matthew 8.5-6. [4] Doxology for the Feast of the Lord's Entry into Egypt, 4 [5] Verses of Cymbals for the Feast of the Lord's Entry into Egypt, 2 — Cover Art: Gawdat Gabra and Marianne Eaton-Krauss, The Treasures of Coptic Art in the Coptic Museum and Churches of Old Cairo, xii

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.”[1] One often wonders about the place of suffering in the human experience, especially as wars and bloodshed flood the news. This “problem of suffering,” as it is termed in the study of apologetics, has been examined in detail over the course of centuries by many writers — both ancient and modern. In the Christian perspective, Basil of Caesarea, Augustine of Hippo, and John Chrysostom all approach this “problem” in a similar way: struggle and pain in the world are means of strengthening humanity, purifying the human for the world to come.[2] In contemplating the sufferings encountered in daily life, however, people often wonder how rather than why — that is, while some might seek to philosophically challenge the idea of God’s goodness because of suffering, humanity generally does not face the troubles of the world abstractly, but rather encounters suffering face-to-face. In this regard, Christianity is more often challenged. The problem of suffering certainly features in abstract contemplation and philosophical debate, but is more commonly encountered firsthand as a topic of contemplation and struggle during times of war, catastrophe, and hardship. As a result, many find the pertinent apologetic stances and logical deductions unsatisfactory. Jonathan Haidt, a contemporary moral psychologist, describes in his book The Righteous Mind how people use logic to justify their emotional experiences rather than to reflect on their feelings. Furthermore, Jonathan Shay discusses in his book Achilles in Vietnam the concept of how ritual readings of ancient stories served as a means of helping many recover from encounters with tragedy and seemingly meaningless suffering. Many Christians, however, might feel stranded in this regard. The Christian predicament vis-à-vis the problem of suffering therefore seemingly remains: arguments and logical reasoning, while prevalent and pertinent, cannot fully console the human in the face of calamity. Where logic and philosophy fall short, the Church is found to be the bearer of true consolation. Indeed, she does not ignore the heart of man even as she satisfies his mind. In times of hardship, even in the absence of human instructors, the Church has long both strengthened and educated her members, through her hymnology, Lectionary, and liturgical experience, delivering to them the Faith by translating the theological, apologetic, and intellectual language of Christianity into the language of everyday life. Most evidently, the Midnight Praises of the Coptic Orthodox Church enable the Coptic Christians to embody and express the worldview that the Church forms in them. Therefore, for more than a millennium, the faithful have risen to praise God in the depths of the night, at the times of the greatest darkness. In this darkness, they are called to “Arise, [you] children of the Light.”[3] In spite of any darkness that may surround them, their attention is drawn to the source of all goodness, the True Light, who reminded His disciples: “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”[4] Notably, the Lord does not promise to remove the tribulations of the present life, but instead promises that peace is to be found in Him; He does not eliminate the darkness of the night, but enables us to become children of the Light. Continuing in their praise, the believers chant the First Canticle (ϩⲱⲥ) — the song of Moses and the Israelites which they sang after crossing the Red Sea.[5] When the Israelites needed to cross the Red Sea, God did not make the water disappear for a time, nor did He create a bridge or a strong wind that would aid them in crossing the water. In fact, when one considers the many ways that God could have enabled the Israelites to cross the Red Sea, His choice that they walk through it may seem odd. Gregory of Nyssa and Cyril of Jerusalem draw our attention to this crossing of the Red Sea as being symbolic of humanity’s drowning its sinful passions — symbolized by Pharaoh and the Egyptians — and coming out on the other side.[6] Bishop Mettaous of Dayr al-Suryan echoes this view, explaining that Pharaoh can be understood as a symbol for Satan, who is defeated by the Lord’s crucifixion, descent into Hades, and resurrection: “It is clear that the church is living now in the faith of its salvation of the sea of the world and the Pharaoh of the mind… Pharaoh and his soldiers who had enslaved the children of Israel is exactly like Satan and his soldiers enslaving the human beings. As Moses saved the children of Israel, Jesus Christ saved us from the slavery of the devil.”[7] If the Israelites did not go through the sea, the enemy would never have been overcome and abolished. Likewise, if humanity does not go through suffering in the world, the works of the devil would never be destroyed, “for whatever is born of God overcomes the world.”[8] In facing such suffering, moreover, they are consoled in finding God in their company — here, the Angel of God is seen as a pillar of fire and cloud.[9] The believers therefore chant the hymn of victory sung by Miriam the Prophetess after the Lord’s triumph over Pharaoh.[10] After chanting the First and Second Canticles, in the Third Canticle, the believers encounter a similar story in the three saintly youth as that of the Exodus. The children of Israel find themselves once again in a strange land with a ruler who declares war against their God. Refusing to submit to his decrees, they are threatened with the fiery furnace, which, as also the Red Sea, can be taken to represent the world. Because of their refusal to participate in the worship of idols, the three youth stand against the world and, as such, it becomes suffering and pain to them. They find themselves threatened with a fire that burns seven times hotter than the original punishment decreed,[11] yet despite this, they remain resilient and steadfast in their commitment to the Lord their God. Interestingly, even those who were tasked with throwing the youth into the fire are burned and killed. Truly, no one can avoid the sufferings of the world. But, as it becomes evident, those who seek to endure tribulations through the support of God are found victorious. “Then [the three youth] were bound in their coats, their trousers, their turbans, and their other garments, and were cast into the midst of the burning fiery furnace. Therefore, because the king’s command was urgent, and the furnace exceedingly hot, the flame of the fire killed those men who took up Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego. And these three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego, fell down bound into the midst of the burning fiery furnace. Then King Nebuchadnezzar was astonished; and he rose in haste and spoke, saying to his counselors, ‘Did we not cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?’ They answered and said to the king, ‘True, O king.’ ‘Look!’ he answered, ‘I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire; and they are not hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.’ Then Nebuchadnezzar went near the mouth of the burning fiery furnace and spoke, saying, ‘Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego, servants of the Most High God, come out, and come here.’ Then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego came from the midst of the fire. And the satraps, administrators, governors, and the king’s counselors gathered together, and they saw these men on whose bodies the fire had no power; the hair of their head was not singed nor were their garments affected, and the smell of fire was not on them.”[12] Once again, the solution which God finds acceptable seems strange to man’s reason. Rather than subduing the fire so that the youth would not be faced with such daunting circumstances, God instead allows them to be thrown into it, and by His presence with them in it, the fire becomes to them as a cool mist — a place of refreshment. As He walked with His people through the Red Sea, God — discerned by Nebuchadnezzar as being “like the Son of God”[13] — does not resolve the problem at hand by putting out the fire, but by accompanying the youth in their struggle. In the case of any tribulation, or when suffering is encountered, those who walk with God are strengthened and granted victory while those who reject Him and propagate suffering are consumed in their violence. The suffering itself becomes an opportunity for God to be glorified through the endurance of His people. Thus, in the Third Canticle, the believers beautifully chant: “Bless the Lord, you fire and heat. Praise Him and exalt Him above all forever.”[14] These experiences particularly elucidate the proper context of suffering and become for the Israelites the means by which they can accept the Lord Jesus Christ and understand the mystery of His Incarnation. The true healing of the human condition, which had become entirely inundated by sin, does not occur through the elimination of suffering, but rather through experiencing it with the support of God. The Angel of the Lord walked with the Israelites through the midst of the Red Sea and one “like the Son of God” walked with the youth through the fire. God Himself became Man “and dwelt among us,”[15] taking on flesh and experiencing pain, betrayal, temptation, loss, humiliation, torture, and death. In doing so, He leads His people out of their deepest afflictions by sharing with them in their sufferings. While the First and Third Canticles are hymns expressive of particular experiences amongst the Israelites, the Second and Fourth Canticles are hymns from the book of Psalms. Particularly, the Second Canticle is Psalm 136 (135 LXX) and the Fourth Canticle is Psalms 148, 149, and 150. These four Psalms call all of creation to praise the Lord — a theme that can be understood in relation to the motif of Exodus 15 and Daniel 3 which we have already addressed. If the Red Sea and fiery furnace can be understood as symbols of the world and its suffering, then the Psalms of the Second and Fourth Canticles do not exclude such elements in their exhortation to the praise of God. The world in which suffering exists is the same world in which God is glorified — even the means by which tribulation or calamity afflict the world, such as fire and heat or snow and ice, work for the glory of God. Moreover, the Psalms here are continuations of the stories that precede them in the Midnight Praises. Our earthly life is the time we spend “sojourning through” the world, just as the Israelites passed through the Red Sea and the three saintly youth passed through the furnace. At the end of the journeys of the First and Third Canticles, we therefore chant these particular Psalms, calling all of Creation to praise God. These Psalms must then represent what the believers who traverse the earthly life in spiritual soundness and safety will continue to do in the Kingdom of God, especially as they will then, in the eternal life, see His creation restored, just as these Psalms see all of creation praising God. The predicament of inevitable suffering certainly remains in the world. Every human knows suffering, which is encountered by all in varying forms and to varying extents. However, there are two perceptible approaches to the problem of suffering. The anti-theist uses suffering as an opportunity to deny the existence of God, disingenuously gathering his evidence from tragic events, news reports of horrors and extreme suffering, or harsh living conditions globally. On the other hand, those who experience the same tragedies and submit their lives to God, who supports and accompanies them in their suffering, proclaim their belief in and reliance on the beneficent God even amidst those difficulties, defending their belief in Him and proclaiming their love for Him even to their dying breaths. These must be accorded more careful consideration than the armchair philosopher who considers their behavior nothing more than an irrational coping mechanism. Through suffering, the Christian follows Christ: “Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.”[16] Thus it is not suffering, but instead comfort in and friendship with the world, that estranges us from God: “Whoever therefore wants to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God.”[17] The Christian does not hope for convenient solutions to the troubles in her life. Rather, she seeks God’s will in all things, that He might walk with His children through the difficulties they encounter in their daily lives — wars, natural disasters, tyranny, illness, grief, or any other circumstance. In all tribulations, the believers are called to seek the Truth and to find their comfort in Him alone. If they are led to stormy waters or raging fires, they are reminded, through the daily prayer life which the Church presents to them in the Midnight Praises, that God walks with them. Truly, then, the greatest antidote to suffering is praise. “Let us sing to the Lord for He has triumphed gloriously.”[18] — [1] Isaiah 43:2 [2] See Basil of Caesarea, On the Human Condition, 65-80 (Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir's Press, 2005); Augustine, On Free Choice of the Will, Book I, 1-3 (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, 1993); see also John Chrysostom, On the Providence of God (Platina, CA: St. Herman of Alaska Brotherhood, 2015). [3] The Midnight Praises' introductory hymn, Ⲧⲱⲟⲩⲛⲟⲩ [4] John 16:33 [5] Exodus 15 [6] See Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, 82-85 (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978); Philip Schaff, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Volume VII: Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory of Nazianzus, 373-375 (Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library); This event is also prominently viewed as being a type of Baptism, for through immersion in the waters of the baptismal font, a person is cleansed from their sins and "puts on" the new life of salvation in the Lord Jesus Christ. [7] See H.G. Anba Mettaous, The Spirituality of the Praises, 70-71 [8] 1 John 5:4 [9] See Exodus 14:24 [10] See Exodus 15:20-21 [11] See Daniel 3:19 [12] Daniel 3:21-27 [13] Daniel 3:25 [14] See Daniel 3:66 (LXX) [15] John 1:14 [16] Mark 8:34 [17] James 4:4 [18] Exodus 15:1, 21; see also First Canticle of the Midnight Praises of the Coptic Orthodox Church — Daniel Ibraheem serves as a Reader at St. Mark’s Coptic Orthodox Church in Jersey City, New Jersey. He is currently a medical student at the Yale School of Medicine, pursuing a career in Psychiatry. Cover Art: Coptic Psalmody – Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana: Vat. Copto 38. DossPress.com is a place for Christian men and women to collaborate for the sake of our common edification by sharing their written works. As we strive to uphold a standard of doctrinal and spiritual soundness in the articles shared, we note nonetheless that the thoughts expressed in each article remain the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Doss Press.

“Make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Luke 19:5). How honorable it is to welcome the Lord of Hosts, the uncontainable God, and His faithful ministers into one’s home! Such visitation “in the name of the Lord” (See Psalm 118:26) is a practice that is prominently featured in the Lord’s earthly ministry and an essential component of the service of the Church. When practiced within the framework provided in the Scriptures, visitation is a source of great blessing and an abundance of grace to both those who visit and those who are visited. For this reason, the Copts traditionally proclaim, upon being formally visited by a clergyman or designated servant of the Church, that “Christ has visited us today.” However, when the ministry of visitation is practiced in a manner that does not comport with the biblical model — for purely social reasons, or by those in whom is not found the spirit of God, for instance — it becomes a cause of disturbance, a danger to the integrity of the worshiping community, and an altogether harmful practice veiled behind the appearance of piety. From the many biblical examples of visitation, whether by the Lord Himself or the righteous saints, we may therefore ascertain the true meaning and purpose of, and proper approach to, the ministry of Christian visitation, so that we might guard against the snares of the enemy and practice this service with the necessary wisdom and intentionality, in a manner that befits the One whom we serve. A. Illustrative Examples of Visitation in the Old Testament Abraham, being a faithful servant of God, was granted to host Him in his house; in this visitation, God fulfilled the earnestly-desired request of Abraham and his wife Sarah, granting them Isaac their son, through whom Abraham would become a great and mighty nation, chosen and consecrated to be the people of God (Genesis 18:1-19). At another time, he was visited by Melchizedek, a type of our Lord Jesus Christ who is the true High Priest, who blessed him (Genesis 14:17-24). Lot, the nephew of Abraham, would also enjoy the blessing of hosting the Lord’s messengers, who through their visitation to his home granted him to be saved from the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19:1-29). Similarly, the harlot Rahab was granted salvation from the destruction of Jericho for welcoming Joshua’s spies into her home. Thus it was written: “But Rahab the harlot, and her father’s household, and all who belonged to her, Joshua saved alive; and she dwelt in Israel to this day, because she hid the messengers whom Joshua sent to spy out Jericho” (Joshua 6:25). Moreover, it is written about Elijah that during the time of the drought, he was instructed by God to stay at the house of the widow of Zarephath. In return for her hospitality and generosity in accepting His prophet Elijah as a guest and visitor in her home, God would work many wonders for her family through Elijah — blessing the flour and oil so that they would flow abundantly and not run out, and also raising her son alive after he had fallen ill and died (1 Kings 17). Also the commander of the army of the king of Syria and “a mighty man of valor” (2 Kings 5:1), Naaman, sought healing from the God of Israel; by visiting Elisha and heeding the words of this blessed man — after being persuaded by his own servants — he received healing from his leprosy such that “his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean” (2 Kings 5:14).[1] Visitation is not only identified in the Old Testament scriptures by way of specific examples, however. Indeed, the entire experience of the Old Testament was itself a collective anticipation by the people of God of the visitation of the Savior, by whose visitation to humanity — in His glorious incarnation — He would grant us salvation and victory over sin, corruption, and death: “Bow down Your heavens, O Lord, and come down” (Psalm 144:5). B. Illustrative Examples of Visitation in the Ministry of Christ to the Jews At the fullness of time, the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos, upon hearing that her relative Elizabeth was with child, immediately traveled to minister to her, becoming a visitor in her home for approximately three months in order to serve her. During this visitation, a great blessing was granted to Elizabeth and her family, whose son John recognized the presence of the Lord in the womb of the Virgin and leaped for joy while still in his mother’s womb. It is most helpful to observe here also the humility of the Virgin Mary, and her selfless heart — despite her most honorable calling, to be the Mother of God, she still sought to serve and minister to others in all humility and love, becoming for us a true icon of the genuineness and selflessness that mark the acceptable service (Luke 1:39-56). The Lord Jesus Christ would Himself visit the homes of many people for many purposes throughout the duration of His earthly ministry. He blessed the wedding at Cana of Galilee by His visitation to this event, granting the family established there not only to enjoy the physical presence of the True Bridegroom at their wedding, but also the abundant gift granted to them by His visitation — wine which did not encourage or further drunkenness, but rather led to a sobering and awareness on the part of the attendees such that they were able to discern and proclaim: “You have kept the good wine until now!” (John 2:1-11).[2] He, the True Physician, would also perform many acts of healing and restoration during His visitation to people’s homes. At the house of His disciples Peter and Andrew: “…Simon’s mother-in-law lay sick with a fever, and immediately they told Him of her. And He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up, and the fever left her, and she served them. That evening, at sundown, they brought to Him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered together about the door. And He healed many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and He would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew Him” (Mark 1:30-34). Later, He would raise the daughter of Jairus, who besought Him to raise her: “While He was thus speaking to them, behold, a ruler came in and knelt before Him, saying, ‘My daughter has just died; but come and lay Your hand on her, and she will live.’…And when Jesus came to the ruler’s house, and saw the flute players, and the crowd making a tumult, He said, ‘Depart; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at Him. But when the crowd had been put outside, He went in and took her by the hand, and the girl arose” (Matthew 9:18-25). Also at the house of a ruler who belonged to the sect of the Pharisees, He healed a man with dropsy on a Sabbath (Luke 14:1-6). The Lord Jesus Christ did not only heal or perform wondrous miraculous acts in the setting of the home, however; He also worked signs and wonders among many away from their homes. The faith of the Centurion was so powerful that the Lord did not find a need to physically visit him in his home: He healed his daughter by a word, “and when those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave well” (Luke 7:1-10). Near the gate of the city of Nain, He raised the son of a widow, and the large crowd “glorified God, saying ‘A great prophet has arisen among us!’ and ‘God has visited His people!’” (Luke 7:11-17). Moreover, regarding Lazarus, whom the Lord loved, when He received news that Lazarus was ill — though, as the incarnate Logos, He, being omniscient, does not need to be informed of Lazarus’ condition — He did not immediately go and heal him in his home. Rather, after Lazarus had died and been placed in the tomb, then the Lord went, first consoled those who mourned, mourned Lazarus with them — weeping “with those who weep” (Romans 12:15; John 11:35) — and then raised him from the tomb in which he had been placed for four days (John 11:1-44). Regarding such signs and wonders, and particularly those of healing — both in the context of house-visitations and other environments — many examples abound: “there are many other things which Jesus did” (John 21:25). The Lord also sought out the lost, visiting them for the sake of restoration, and by parables He revealed the importance of this ministry: “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one which is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin which I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Luke 15:4-10). It is important to note that in the very next parable — that of the prodigal son — the Lord reveals that the father did not seek after his son who had forsaken him and taken his portion of the inheritance, for he had left of his own accord (Luke 15:11-32). Rather, he awaited him patiently at the door of the house until he, of his own will, understood the value of his father’s home, recognized the error of his ways, freely decided to return, and journeyed back to his father’s home.[3] Thus, to those who freely reject the Lord and consider sin or the world more valuable than the life with God, as did the prodigal son prior to his repentance, He will say: “Behold, your house is forsaken and desolate” (Matthew 23:38). As for those who are lost for other reasons — whether their own ignorance, as was the lost sheep, or the neglect of those responsible for them, like the lost coin — they are to be diligently sought by the Church, as the lost sheep was sought by its shepherd and the lost coin was by its owner, such that they might be restored. Thus the Lord taught: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I come not to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:10-13). In exemplifying this teaching, He sought Zacchaeus only after he was first moved within himself with an earnest desire to see Him and acted upon this desire in climbing the sycamore tree. Only thereafter did the Lord specifically approach him, address him, and visit him in his home, much to the displeasure of the multitude: “And when they saw it they all murmured, ‘He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.’ And Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, ‘Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost’” (Luke 19:1-10). It was fitting also for these same reasons for the Lord to visit the Samaritans — descendants of Israel who were separated from the Jews and who disagreed with them about where God ought to be worshipped. Beginning at this point of disagreement, He engaged in conversation with the Samaritan woman, who said to him: “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshipped on this mountain; and you say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship” (John 4:19-20). During this encounter, the Lord not only corrects her misunderstanding — “the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father” — but leads her to repent from her sinful habits and to believe in Him as the Savior. Thus, by the end of this conversation, the woman is led from viewing Christ as a mere “sir,” to considering Him “a prophet,” and finally to recognizing and confessing Him to be “the Christ,” which newfound realization and confession compels her to share this Gospel with her city, so that “many Samaritans from that city believed in Him because of the woman’s testimony…they asked Him to stay with them, and He stayed there two days. And many more believed because of His word” (John 4:1-42). C. Illustrative Examples of Visitation in the Ministry of Christ to the Gentiles Being “a light for revelation to the Gentiles” (Luke 2:25-35), our Lord in His ministry sought out not only those of the people of God, but also those of the Gentiles, who did not belong to His chosen people, so that by their firsthand experience of Him, they might also accept Him and His Gospel for the sake of their salvation. In His infancy, the Lord visited Egypt as a refugee, fleeing the persecution of Herod who sought to destroy Him (Matthew 2:13-23). By His presence in Egypt, our Lord blessed the Gentile nation of the Egyptians, among whom many believed in Him during His stay in Egypt. Thus was the prophecy of Isaiah fulfilled, that “in that day…the Lord will make himself known to the Egyptians; and the Egyptians will know the Lord in that day and worship with sacrifice and burnt offering, and they will make vows to the Lord and perform them” (Isaiah 19:19-21). The Gerasene Demoniac was also healed by the Lord, who visited him and exorcised the legion of demons that had possessed him. In healing this man, the Lord granted him more than merely physical healing — he also imparted on him spiritual healing, for he was found “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind” (Luke 8:35), believed in Him, and “begged that he might be with Him; but He sent him away, saying ‘Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.’ And he went away, proclaiming throughout the whole city how much Jesus had done for him” (Luke 8:26-39). In this way, this man was freed by Christ, granted holistic healing, and transferred from being a prisoner of Satan and his kingdom to being a messenger commissioned by Christ to proclaim the joy and deliverance granted to him by the Lord amongst his Gentile community. Besides these examples, the Lord also healed the centurion’s daughter, as discussed above, and also the daughter of the Syrophoenician woman (Mark 7:24-30). In all of these instances, and many others, Christ actualized His message and mission, proclaiming by deed and word that the salvation He grants is prepared for all people, and not exclusively the people of Israel. D. Visitation in the Church According to the Example of Christ and the Teaching of the Scriptures In the example of the Lord, and the many instances of visitation found in the Scriptures, the benefits imparted by properly practiced visitation, and its importance in Christian ministry, are clear. Visitation grants the gifts of peace and joy: it is noted about Zacchaeus that he received the Lord “joyfully,” and the Lord instructs His disciples that upon entering a house, they should “salute it. And if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you” (Matthew 10:11-13). Visitation also becomes a means of providing consolation and healing, as is most evident in the Lord’s visit to Lazarus’ tomb. Among the gifts of visitation are also abundance and blessing: in the context of God’s visitation to Abraham, he was blessed and given the promise of innumerable offspring, and it was in the visitation of the Lord to the house of Simon the leper that the woman freely poured out in abundance the alabaster flask of expensive ointment on the Lord, who blessed her with a great appreciation for her sacrifice, “for she has done a beautiful thing to Me…Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her” (Matthew 26:6-13). The most important gift imparted by visitation, however, is that of salvation. By His own visitation, whether to humanity generally in His incarnation or specifically in the various instances of visitation He carried out during His earthly ministry, the Lord granted salvation to mankind, and the opportunity for many individuals to encounter Him intimately and experience Him deeply, so that they might be drawn to Him and thereby believe in Him and receive salvation from and through Him. Thus, to Zacchaeus, who believed in Him and showed a complete metanoia,[4] saying “[b]ehold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold,” the Lord responded: “Today salvation has come to this house” (Luke 19:9). It is Christ who is Himself the salvation that visited Zacchaeus here; He is the One who grants salvation to those who believe in Him. The central goal and purpose of visitation as it is practiced in the Church and by the believers today must therefore be the same — for the ones who are visited to encounter the Lord, accept Him, and live in Him and through Him for the sake of their own salvation. The Lord did not visit anyone without this purpose and mission; it was never for the sake of mere socialization that He visited a home. From the example of the Lord Himself, we are able to ascertain the proper purpose, spirit, and setting of Christian visitation. The ministry of visitation, in imitation of the ministry of the Lord, is necessary for those who are beginning new families (for the sake of guidance and to bless their newly-established homes, as Christ visited the home of those who were married in Cana of Galilee, at their wedding), the sick (for healing, as Christ healed Simon’s mother-in-law and countless others, both while He was in their homes and also while He was not), those who are lost due to their own ignorance or the negligence of their ecclesial leaders (for restoration, as He describes in the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin and as He exemplified in His intentional visit to the Samaritan woman by Jacob’s Well), those who require evangelization (for preaching, as He did in His visitation to Egypt and also in Samaria), and those who are mourning (for consolation, as He visited Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, before raising Lazarus from death). As for those who maintain their family altar[5] and have a place for the Lord amongst their families and in their homes — for the spiritually sound and thus appropriately-called Christians — there is no need for additional visitation from the Church. They have made their hearts and homes dwelling places for the Lord, which is the goal for every believer. But those who, through no fault of their own, fall short or stray from this calling and life, must be visited by the Church in order for the Church to awaken their consciences, correct their ignorance, encourage their repentance, restore them to the life in Christ, and support them as fellow members of the same Body. This is the work and responsibility of the Church — to care for the salvation of every soul, serve everyone according to their needs, and to abide not as a mere social entity, but as a sound worshipping community — the living Body of the Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom is due all glory, now and forever. Amen. — [1] In this way, Elisha became both a peacemaker between the kings of Israel and Syria and a harbinger to the Gentiles of the great message of God’s existence, truth, majesty, and power. Moreover, the healing, which was offered freely and without stipulation to Naaman by God through Elisha, led Naaman to recognize and clearly identify the truth of the God of Israel. It is evident, then, that signs and wonders are for unbelievers, intended by God to lead them to Himself; it is for their sakes that the message of the Gospel was accompanied with and confirmed by signs and wonders as the Church began to spread everywhere by the preaching of the Apostles (See Mark 16:20). As for those who believe already, fitting are the words of the Lord: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed” (John 20:29). [2] Indeed, this sign signifies the whole of Christ’s redemptive mission — His visit to earthly life through His blessed Incarnation — in which He took flesh and became Man in order to refashion and redeem humanity, not only restoring to it the Image in which it was originally created, but also granting it an even more blessed and exalted state than that which it once possessed, pouring out into the hearts of Christians the new wine of the Holy Spirit (See Acts 2:12-24), thereby granting them to become temples of the Spirit, to abide in Him as members of His Body, and to enjoy His grace and work in their lives. [3] “The grace of God to the returning prodigal is exhibited, in this parable, in the pitying and restoring aspect. The father does not, in this instance, seek his son, as the shepherd had his sheep, and the woman her piece of money. He has not to deal with an irrational being, but with a rational man, who must be brought to choose, for himself, the way of truth. The father has, however, been indirectly working for his recovery, by allowing him to bear all the consequences of his transgressions; he has, besides, been waiting patiently, and keeping both his heart and his house open to him. Scarcely does the son take his first homeward step, than the father observes him with a compassionate eye, goes to meet him […] and while he does not refuse his confession of sin, remits so much of it as was painful and humiliating. He not only testifies his joy at the prodigal’s return, but proves it; and not only pardons him, but reinstates him in the possession of the forfeited rights and privileges of sonship” (J.J. van Oosterzee, Theological and Homiletical Commentary on the Gospel of St. Luke, 72). [4] That is, a complete change of heart and mind. [5] See e.g., Eusebius of Caesarea, Church History 2.17.9-13; John Chrysostom, Homilies on First Corinthians, 43.7 —