Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Great Lent #
The days draw near when the Holy Church commemorates the saving Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, in today’s Gospel reading, the Lord foretells to His disciples His coming sufferings: “Behold, we go up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man shall be delivered unto the chief priests and unto the scribes; and they shall condemn him to death, and shall deliver him to the Gentiles: and they shall mock him, and shall scourge him, and shall spit upon him, and shall kill him: and the third day he shall rise again” (Mark 10:33).
The Lord speaks to His disciples about His forthcoming trials, describing in detail His humiliation, sufferings, and death. He is prepared, of His own will, to drink this bitter cup of suffering for the sake of the world, revealing immeasurable love and long-suffering for our salvation. The entire earthly life of our Lord Jesus Christ—from infancy to His death upon the Cross and His Resurrection—is a wondrous and loving service to the salvation of mankind. As He Himself said: “The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).
The Lord suffered for our sins, because our salvation could not otherwise be accomplished. He suffered that we might come to know the path of salvation, toward which we must strive with all our strength. He, the sinless One, voluntarily took upon Himself our sins—that is, He bore the responsibility and punishment that we, as sinners, ought to have endured. “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), says the Gospel. And the Apostle adds of the Savior: “Who was delivered for our offences” (Romans 4:25).
The thought that the Son of God suffered for each one of us, for our very own sins, fills the heart with gratitude and compassion for the Divine Sufferer, and with hatred for sin—if only we understand that our sins, which we so often overlook or forget, cost the Son of God His blood and His death.
Now the days of our Savior’s Passion draw near—the days in which He offered up the final sacrifice for the sins of the world, fulfilled upon the Cross, where He cried out: “It is finished.” His most pure Body and His precious Blood bring us cleansing and renewal, enliven our souls, and serve for our salvation.
But why was it necessary for the Son of God to suffer for our sins? Could not the Almighty and All-wise God have found another way to save us, apart from the suffering and death of His Only-Begotten Son? Could not the Merciful and Man-loving God have simply forgiven us, or saved us through teachings alone, through commandments, through fear of future torments or promise of Paradise, without offering the Cross as a sacrifice?
To this, St. Athanasius the Great answers, saying: “We must consider what is beneficial for mankind, not merely what is possible for God. Of course, God could have saved man by a single word; but then only the power of God would be shown, and man would remain unchanged in himself. When new temptations to sin arose, having already known sin, he would sin again. And so, God would have to forgive him again—and so on endlessly.”
Indeed, what kind of salvation would it be if God were to uphold His own laws, while man remained uncleansed from sin? No—our Savior had to walk the path of the Cross, which became a model for our salvation, and offer Himself as a sacrifice to cleanse and heal our soul and conscience, sickened by sin and estranged from God. The Apostle speaks of this: “The blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, shall it not purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living and true God?” (Hebrews 9:14).
Therefore, only the blood of Jesus Christ, as the blood of a spotless Sacrifice, could reconcile us to God. Thus it was accomplished, and for this reason the Apostle says: “For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus; who gave himself a ransom for all” (1 Timothy 2:5).
The above-quoted words of Saint Athanasius the Great—“We must consider what is beneficial for mankind, not merely what is possible for God”—resonate strongly with today’s Gospel, which recounts how Christ was going up to Jerusalem to be crucified. Yet His disciples, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, thought He was going to assume a throne—to become King of the Jews. And so, filled with ambition, they sent their mother to the Lord with a request to share in His kingship. Then they themselves approached Him, saying that when He would reign over Israel, they desired to sit with Him—one on His right hand and the other on His left—so that they might share in His glory: “Grant unto us that we may sit, one on thy right hand, and the other on thy left hand, in thy glory” (Mark 10:37).
Christ answered His disciples, His kinsmen James and John: “Ye know not what ye ask”—that is, you do not understand what you are asking. They desired what ought not to be desired, for Jesus Christ came to serve men in the work of salvation: “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). They made their request to the One who was going up to Jerusalem not to rule, but to die; not to sit upon a throne, but to be crucified; not to be crowned with gold, but with thorns. Here is no glory or honor, but rather suffering and humiliation: “They shall mock him, and shall scourge him, and shall spit upon him” (Mark 10:33).
The Apostles, who had recently said, “Behold, we have forsaken all, and followed thee” (Matthew 19:27), were now seeking honors and positions, making their request to Him whom the people had once tried in vain to make a King, and who would soon be condemned to death.
Here we see that Christ does not bestow honor based on kinship or friendship, but only according to worthiness. In His Kingdom shall be those who labor, who suffer, who walk His path of the Cross.
We come to God, hoping that He can grant us what we need, “for great is our Lord, and of great power” (Psalm 146). As All-wise, He knows what we need—“For your Father knoweth what things ye have need of” (Matthew 6:8); and as All-good, He desires to grant us all things necessary for salvation, for “the Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy” (Psalm 101). And yet, many turn not to the paths that lead to God. Thus, when afflicted by illness, some may seek healing from so-called “healers”—that is, psychics or sorcerers—instead of turning to God in faith, who, in His almighty power, heals the sick and raises the dead. But concerning sorcery and divination, the Apostle says: “Evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse, deceiving, and being deceived” (2 Timothy 3:13). Therefore, we Christians, in times of trouble or sickness, must not step onto the path of the devil’s magic, but rather turn to God with prayer, with hope, and with faith: “Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass” (Psalm 36), for He is almighty, all-wise, and all-good.
But having turned to the Lord, what should we ask of Him? To this, Saint John Chrysostom gives answer: “Ask for those things which are beneficial to you who ask, and which are proper for Him who grants them.” That is, ask only for what is useful for the salvation of your soul, and what is worthy of God. The difficulty, however, lies in the fact that we often do not know, as the Apostle Paul says, what is truly beneficial, nor what we ought to ask of God: “For we know not what we should pray for as we ought” (Romans 8:26).
The Apostle says: “All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient” (1 Corinthians 6:12). With these words, he teaches us not to regard everything that seems good to our limited minds as truly beneficial. We ought to pray that God would send us the grace of the Holy Spirit, guiding us to understand what is truly fitting to pray for. The psalmist David pleads: “Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me” (Psalm 142). And the Apostle assures us that God grants this grace to those who pray, saying: “The Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered” (Romans 8:26).
The reason we often do not know what is truly beneficial lies in the fact that the human will, by nature, is unstable and easily swayed—it desires one thing today, another tomorrow. Our will is often corrupt and blind; at times we see evil as good, and frequently fail to distinguish between what is helpful and what is harmful, between virtue and sin. In the penitential troparia read with the kathismata, we hear these words: “Thou madest me blameless, yet taking up my own will, I defiled myself entirely. Thou gavest man free will, O Lord, but give it not unto me. Though man is by nature rational, by disposition he is worse than the beasts… Grant me to obey Thy will, that I may be cleansed from sin.”
Our desires and tastes are varied and fickle; we often want to do things our own way. As the saying goes, “As many heads, so many minds.” If God were to fulfill the desires of every person, the world would descend into chaos. God created man last of all His creatures, and man, seeing what was already made, ought to be content with the works that God declared to be “very good” (Genesis 1:31), and not demand that God fulfill his every whim.
Truly, Saint John Chrysostom said wisely: “Not knowing what is truly beneficial, we often ask for what is useless.” Someone may ask God for health—but perhaps, with time, that health will lead to more sin. One may ask for wealth—but it may become the cause of their ruin. Another may ask for glory—but the higher one rises, the farther and more painfully they may fall. Thus, our desires are often mistaken, while only the will of God is ever directed toward what is good and saving for us. Therefore, it remains for us to submit to His will, to desire only what God desires, and to pray with these words: “Our Father… thy will be done.” Or as Saint Peter of Studion prayed, addressing the Mother of God: “Do not permit, O Most Holy One, my will to be fulfilled, for it is unseemly; but let the will of thy Son and my God be fulfilled in me.”
When we entrust ourselves to the hands of God in sickness, sorrow, need, and deprivation, we give ourselves into the care of the all-wise and all-good Father, who knows what is truly beneficial and necessary for us. He alone knows what is best for us in this life—whether to be sick or healthy, rich or poor, wise or unlearned, exalted in honor or living in quiet obscurity, to have children or to remain childless, to be loved by all or hated by all, to live long or to die young. We often do not know what is truly good for us—but God knows. Therefore, let us trust in Him, saying: “Not as I will, but as Thou wilt… Thy will be done.” So then, in all our needs, let us turn only to God, asking only for that which is pleasing to Him and, therefore, truly beneficial to us. Otherwise, the words of Christ may apply to us: “Ye know not what ye ask” (Mark 10:38).
Let us, then, pray that the will of God be done—but let us offer this prayer with great reverence and fear, for we remain sinners. Let us hear what God says through the mouth of the prophet Isaiah: “When ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood” (Isaiah 1:15). The prophet speaks here of our sinful defilement—of the blood and corruption of the flesh. And God Himself says: “Wash you, make you clean” (Isaiah 1:16).
Our cleansing takes place in confession, in repentance, in tears shed over our sins. And if in confession we cry out to the priest—and through him, to God—“I have sinned,” and if we shed tears, then by this we shall be cleansed, washed, and forgiven. Saint John Chrysostom speaks of this renewal, saying: “O great love for man! O immeasurable kindness! God fully justifies the sinner once he confesses his sins and gives a promise concerning the time to come.” But we must not delay, nor postpone confession, especially now, as we draw near to the end of Great Lent, as we ascend with Christ to Jerusalem, and approach the holy days of His Passion. If we purify and wash ourselves from sin through repentance, then God will assuredly grant us forgiveness and all the blessings of the Heavenly Kingdom, just as He did in the life of Saint Mary of Egypt, whose memory we celebrate today.
During the weeks of Great Lent, the Holy Church now commemorates Saint Mary of Egypt. The Orthodox Church shows her special honor, remembering her name several times throughout the year. Just recently, on the past Wednesday, we celebrated “The Vigil of Mary,” during which her Life was read, along with the Penitential Canon of Saint Andrew of Crete. That Canon is a lament of repentance from the soul. In it, we are shown the instructive tale of a human soul stumbling over the stone of sins and temptations, of struggle against the passions. We hear a desperate cry to God for help, and the response of His power and love. The Penitential Canon calls us to find the strength to break free from the captivity of passions and temptations, and to turn our life into thanksgiving unto God. We must remember, as the Apostle Paul says, that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13), and that “the power of God is made perfect in weakness.” Yet not in a lazy, helpless, fruitless kind of weakness, but in that other kind of weakness—that which is born when we, with all the strength of our soul, strive to do good works, to live according to the commandments of the Gospel, and to ascend the ladder of virtue. But knowing our faintheartedness, our laziness and despondency, and not relying on our own feeble strength, we must meekly and obediently entrust ourselves to the hands of God, seeking only His will, and hoping that by His power alone will all our aspirations toward salvation be accomplished. Then the strength of the Lord will support our weakness, as the wind fills the sagging sail, and shall bring us—as a ship to harbor—into the Kingdom of Heaven. Yes, all things are possible through the Lord who strengtheneth us, and the power of God is made perfect in weakness.
We may briefly say of Saint Mary of Egypt that she was a resident of Alexandria, who from her youth lived a life of sin, filled with passions, temptations, and ruin. Not recognizing her own sinfulness—because there was nothing in her life that resembled purity or the love of God—she dared to enter the temple of God in order to venerate the Life-giving Cross of the Lord. But as she approached the doors of the church, an unknown power stopped her and cast her back. This happened several times. Then her conscience was stirred. She was struck with horror as she became aware of her great sinfulness. Seeing an icon of the Mother of God in the narthex, she fell before it in bitter tears of repentance, begging for intercession, for help and mercy. She promised to forsake her sinful life and to dedicate it entirely to repentance and prayer—to the Mother of God and to her Divine Son. She entreated the Most Holy Virgin to be her Advocate and Guide on the path to salvation.
And a miracle occurred, as is sung in the Psalm: “The Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping” (Psalm 6). Mary was then allowed to enter the church and venerate the Holy Cross. The next day, after receiving Holy Communion, she left the world forever and entered the desert. There she remained for forty-seven years, until the end of her life, bearing unspeakable labors of complete solitude, enduring hunger, thirst, nakedness, heat, and cold. Yet her greatest trials were not bodily, but spiritual: demonic temptations and tormenting thoughts—memories of the passions and sinful pleasures of her past. In the wilderness, she ate only sparse herbs and spent her days and nights in tears, in prayer and repentance, praying under the burning sun and in the killing cold, without shelter or clothing.
Her fiery prayer reached such spiritual power that she would rise into the air while praying. Having left the world and mortified her flesh, she made her life a likeness of an incorporeal being, living only by the Spirit of God, who was made alive in her through repentance.
What can we learn from the life of Saint Mary of Egypt? She has shown us an example of great repentance and steadfastness in the struggle against the passions—an image of fervent prayer and unwavering hope in God’s help. Her sins were grievous, but great also were her labors of purification through fasting and prayer. In her repentance, she remained faithful to the end; through ascetic struggle and with the help of God, she conquered sin within herself. She fulfilled the vow she made to the Mother of God and corrected her life.
We also must learn to courageously and consistently set our lives in order according to the commandments of God. How often we fail to keep our faith firm, lacking heartfelt repentance and trust in the will of God. When we fall short of the perfection we long for, we often lose heart and place the blame on our circumstances or on others. And instead of entering into battle with our sinful habits, instead of pushing forward to God with longing and hope, we show spiritual weakness and surrender to the spirit of the age, excusing ourselves by saying that the ascetic feats of Saint Mary of Egypt and other saints are no longer possible in today’s world.
Yes, it is difficult today to withdraw from the world, to go into the desert—not everyone can, and not everyone is required to. But we can discipline our flesh in ways that are within our reach: by moderating our food, working more, indulging less in entertainment and sleep, and praying more frequently, by day and by night. In this way we subdue our sinful flesh and put the passions to death. And to withdraw from the world while living in it—as Saint Andrew of Crete teaches us in his Canon—we must turn our soul into a desert, forsaking the customs of the world, measuring every thought and every step by the Gospel, renouncing worldly attachments. Then, even while living among worldly habits, we will dwell as in a desert, fenced off from the world by the walls of fasting and prayer.
Mary of Egypt had been a harlot, but the sin she overcame was not merely one of the flesh or bodily defilement. Fornication, in the broader sense—as Scripture teaches—is also spiritual error: when a person departs from God, strays from the straight path to Him. Fornication, in the spiritual sense, is idolatry, attachment to the visible world, unbelief or wavering faith. It is when we give our soul, our heart, and our will not to what is most important—namely, pure and holy love for God and for others—but scatter our will in all directions, serving worldly idols and our own desires. In such fornication, our person becomes fragmented; our soul grows small and scattered, though it was created to love God and neighbor with all our mind and being.
Are we not often afflicted by this very sickness of spiritual fornication—when our will wavers, our minds are divided, our thoughts scatter, and our prayers bear no fruit? How often our life resembles the sea’s waves, crashing upon the rocks, rising only to fall again into the abyss, having accomplished nothing.
If we find ourselves in such a state, we should be filled with fear and trembling, just as Mary of Egypt was. We must turn to God for help, pleading for His mercy and forgiveness.
Perhaps we cannot match the ascetic feats of Saint Mary of Egypt—we may only stand in awe of her strength and steadfastness over 47 years in the desert. But if only we could spend not 47 years, but the 40 days of Lent and the 7 days of Holy Week as we ought—in repentance and prayer! That alone would be a great blessing and a pledge of future victory.
So let us, like Saint Mary of Egypt, take step after step away from spiritual fornication and all other sins, directing all our will toward God, and with His help overcoming our weakness. And when we begin to grow faint in the struggle against the passions, let us call upon Saint Mary, who has great boldness to intercede for us sinners before the throne of God: O holy mother Mary, pray unto God for us! May the example of her spiritual strength serve as a model of repentance for us, and may it strengthen us on the path of salvation!