Angels are everywhere in Scripture. According to Paul they were sent to minister to the heirs of salvation (Heb. 1.14) – going out on a limb I’m going to say that’s us. The Psalmist (91.11-12) says: “God commands the angels to guard you in all your ways. With their hands they shall support you lest you strike your foot against a stone.” Jesus, when warning not to cause other believers to sin, said (Mt. 18.11): I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father.” And Deuteronomy suggests that each “nation” (read – ethnic group or race) has its own protecting angel (Dt. 32.8).

Traditionally the “hosts of heaven” the Angels are conceptualised according to three hierarchies, with three divisions (orders) each.

First – Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones

Second – Dominions, Virtues, Powers

Third – Principalities, Archangels, Angels.

For a more detailed exploration of this arrangement read Pseudo-Dionysius’ “Celestial Heirarchy”.

I’m a bit behind on things – including posts. It’s half way through Lent and I’ve not much to show for it here on site – sorry about that.

Yesterday was the fifth Sunday of Lent – St. Mary of Egypt, one of my favourite saints because her story is so interesting. She was a linen weaver, who enjoyed sex a bit too much. On one occasion she journeyed to Jerusalem, she joined a throng of pilgrims entering the church of the Resurrection, she found herself prevented by some “invisible force” entering the church itself. At that moment she realised some things had to change, and she had to re-claim her humanity.

The link between Mary’s debauchery and her loss of person-hood is one that is closely tied to asceticism. Athanasius says of humanity’s fall that they became like animals, unreasonable, violent, and greedy. Origen describes how idolatry is shaping one’s being according to an image other than that of the Logos, usually animals – asceticism trains the individual and refines his or her reflection of the Logos, and throught that process empowers the individual to realise the fullness of being.

In the church, St. Mary turns to an icon of the Theotokos and “repents”. She is then allowed into the shrine, and from there made her way to the desert where she spent the rest of her life. Two years before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert. She recounted her story to him, and he gave thanks for having finally met a true “God-bearer”. Mary asked him to return the following year and give her communion at the banks of the Jordan. He did, and she walked on the water to meet him on the other side. She asked him to return the following year to the place they had first met. When he did Zosimas found that Mary had died.

Zosimas found that Mary had scrawled in the dirt a request that he bury her there. The problem was that the earth was baked hard, and he could not dig it. A lion passed, and Zosimas ordered the large cat to dig a hole using his powerful claws. He then returned to his monastary to tell everyone about the glorious St. Mary of Egypt.

The year before she died Mary encountered Zosimas, a priest who was spending Lent in the desert.

Today we commemorate the expulsion of Adam & Eve from Paradise – in preparation for the beginning of Lent tomorrow (Monday), and Cyril & Methodius Enlighteners of the Slavs. Notice something missing (ha ha ha)?

The expulsion from Paradise cannot, must not be seen as “history” in the strictest sense of the word. Rather it can only be appreciated as mythology – and there is nothing wrong with that – indeed it is through the imagery of mythology that some of our most nuanced perceptions of the divine-human relationship can be communicated, reflected upon, and even acted upon.

Adam & Eve’s exile is not about a petulant divinity having a bad hair day and giving the first humans a very long time out in the cosmic no no corner. This overly simplistic view of the opening narratives of scripture only leads to some very bad theology – such as the abominable belief that humans are intrinsically evil, naturally bad, or loathsome. To be sure we often act that way towards one another but it is certainly not the natural state of play.

The exile from paradise is about a loss of trust, a breakdown in confidence, and its consequences. Eve was persuaded by the slick presentation style of the Serpent and in a momentary lapse of good judgement, reason, and trust in God – she lost everything. Eve was not evil, nor was she treacherous, or deceitful, rather she heard the argument, and made a choice, thinking that the grass just might be greener on the other side.

What she and Adam soon discovered however, was that there was nothing but dust and rocks on the other side and now they were very much alone.

There is another piece of the puzzle here. When we loose confidence in another, and the intimacy once shared dissipates, or is held in suspension, our sense of who we are shifts, our identity is altered. Adam & Eve were created out of an expression of love. As such the finite nature of created things was intolerable to God, and so he infused them with the image of the Logos. When Adam & Eve instead chose a relationship with Death (through the deception of the Serpent) their identity shifted, and that infusion of divine reason, of Life itself, was lost. Thus, Adam laments his nakedness: “before the gates of Paradise, bewailing his nakedness and crying out – “Woe to me the loser who have listened to wicked deceit and have been driven away from glory!”

Nicephoros was the friend of a priest called Sapricius. However, shortly before Sapricius was outed as a Christian during the persecution of Valerian, their friendship failed bitterly. Nicephoros tried to reconcile with his friend both in person, and through intermediaries, but Sapricius would have none of it. Sapricius was seized by the authorities, and was being tortured. Nicephoros heard of this, and sent intermediaries to Sapricius begging his forgiveness. But his friend still refused to forgive him. As Sapricius faced beheading, Nicephoros tried one final time to be reconciled with his friend, and met him on the way to his execution, prostrated himself before him and begged his forgiveness; but Sapricius was obstinate to the very end.

Sapricius’ refusal to follow one of the central teachings of the faith meant that his suffering and immanent martyrdom would be meaningless – because the simplest act, the most meaningful act of reconciling with his friend and neighbour went unfulfilled. As such – he was abandoned – his confidence slipped away – and in order to save his own life, he told his executioners he would sacrifice to the gods. Nicephoros on the other hand, confessed his faith in Christ, and was immediately beheaded in Sapricius’ place – receiving the martyr’s crown that Sapricius cast aside.

The hagiography of Nicephoros is interesting, falling as it does this year, just after Forgiveness Sunday. Nicephoros’ story is a multi-layered one. At first glance it addresses the teaching on forgiveness so prevalent in the Gospels; and falling, as it does this year just after Foregiveness Sunday, it is a highly relevant story. Nicephoros sought to be reconciled with his estranged friend before the persecution broke out, and once he learned of Sapricius’ impending death, that desire for forgiveness became all the more pressing. Forgive one another as God has forgiven you.

There is another avenue of interpretation – not entirely un-related; this time focussing on the actions of Sapricius, rather than Nicephoros. Jesus criticised the religious leaders of his day for their fastidious attention to points of law and custom that, on the scale of what is important, and what is not important, don’t even rate. “You pay tithes of mind and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity. But these you should have done without neglecting the others. Blind guides, who strain ou the gnat ans swallow the camel!” (Mt. 23.23-24). Here we find Sapricius bearing witness to Christ as a confessor, while simultaneously not bearing witness to the core of the faith itself: to love God, to love one’s neighbour, and to forgive as one has already been forgiven.

Finally the story serves as a warning. Sapricius’ bravery and boldness in the face of persecution and death slip away as he remains obstinate before Nicephoros’ simple request to be forgiven. Thus, through his hardness of heart in the face of this, the simplest, and quietest of Christian acts – forgiving his estranged friend Nicephoros, Sapricius’ bold “confession” of his faith is rendered meaningless. And he is now remembered not as a martyr or confessor, but as a fool, and a traitor.

Theodore was a general in the early fourth century during the reign of Licinius. He was renowned for his skill as a strategist and commander of men. However, he was a believer. Licinius wanting to pursuade Theodore to revert to paganism, and through him those who honoured and respected him, went to see the general in person at Heraclea.

The two men recieved one another with great honour, finally the emperor asked Theodore to make an offering to the gods. Theodore asked instead that he might take the emperor’s personal idols home with him to worship in private, and that the following day he would restore them, and make a public offering. Licinius was re-assured that his plan was working and granted Theodore’s request.

At home, the general, far from worshipping the gods, broke up the gold and silver statues and distributed the pieces to the poor. The next morning a centurion reported to Licinius that he had seen a pauper carrying the head of Artemis (goddess of the hunt, wilderness, fertility and virginity).

Theodore confessed his faith in Christ, and the enraged emperor had him crucified, and tortured while on the cross. The following day, he sent soldiers to dump the body in the sea, but they found the saint whole, and alive. Seeing that his own entourage were beginning to be persuaded themselves, Licinius ordered Theodore to be beheaded.

Today is also cheesefare, and the seventh day of the feast of the Presentation.

Martyred in AD 251 Agatha was a Virgin from a noble Sicilian family and lived in Catania. She was tortured to death in part because she refused to abandon her asceticism and marry the local governor. Legend says that when she was buried an angel placed a stone inscribed with the words: “A righteous mind, self-determining, honour from God, the deliverance of her father-land” over the grave. The following year Mt. Etna erupted Catania was spared the devastation of the surrounding region. The belief is that it was through Agatha’s intervention that Catania was spared. She is now the protectress of Sicily.

My question is – surely there were saints and martyrs buried in the other areas around Catania – so  . . . um . . .what were they doing at the time? . . . Step away. I hear the flapping of wings!

Today is also Meatfare the run up to the Great Fast.

The story of Symeon & Anna is told in Luke 2. Symeon was an old man, righteous and devout, who recieved the revealation that he would not die before seeing the Messiah (Lk. 2.27). Symeon was in the Temple when Jesus was presented for his circumcision; he took him into his arms and declared:

Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the people, a light for revelation of the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.” (Lk. 2.29-32)

Symeon’s utterance forms one of the main chants of Vespers.

Anna an elderly widow who spent her time in prayer and fasting came forward too, gave thanks to God and prophesied about the child. Sadly Luke does not include any of her utterances in the text – which might suggest that Symeon’s words had already served some liturgical function when Luke was compiled?

Traditionally today commemorates the translation of the remains of John Chrysostom from his original burial place in Armenia to Constantinople. What is interesting about this feast day is the underlying issue of reconciliation, and restoration.

Chrysostom was a stormy character, invoking the ire of the imperial court because of his uncompromising attitudes towards among other things their decadence. He is famous for having the archepiscopal palace stripped of a gift of fine marble, selling it, and using the proceeds to feed and house the poor. Flying in the face of “propriety” Chrysostom maintained his (overzealous) ascetic practice even after having been elevated to the archepiscopacy – and as such he did not host the expected lavish banquets for someone of his rank at the heart of the imperial court.

In 403 Chrysostom was deposed and sent into exile for the last time. His memory however continued to pose problems for his immediate successors in order to restore unity within the church at Constantionple, and – more importantly – to “apologise” for the wrongs he endured in life. Chrysostom’s relics were translated to Constantinople, and his name restored to the dyptychs around AD438.

The Synod of the Oak that condemned him in the first place is recognised as having been not so much a synod as a political lynching. Which does not take a trained theologian to tell you is not an activity faithful to the ethos of the Gospel. Chrysostom’s translation and restoration which took place during the lifetime of some of those who condemned him, is largely a recognition of this failing of “the church” and was an explicit demonstration of the falibility of even the most faithful leaders of the community. Likewise it would seem to demonstrate that intransigence is not Christian.

So while normally I would look to highlight one of the other saints commemorated today – Peter of Egypt for example – rather than an event, on this occasion I think that it is worth reflecting on some of the ramifications of “simply” moving the relics of John Chrysostom from A to B and the thinking or discernment that went into that act.

Today is the Synaxis of John the Forerunner – it is a sensible place for a feast commemorating John, prophet, precursor of Christ, and the one who plays a key role in the Theophany event.

It is however, curious that John gets at least four feast days in the liturgical cycle three of them are focussed on the losing of, or finding of his head: the beheading of the Forerunner is traditionally celebrated on 29 August, the first and second finding of the head of the Forerunner is commemorated on 24 February, and the third finding of his head is 25 May. All of this losing and finding of the poor prophet’s head leaves one wondering if the early church was capable of keeping valuables safe at all! Or perhaps they were unable to decide if he was truly such a key figure in the history of the faith?

Oh and we celebrate his birthday on 24 June.

Perhaps it is time to pick a day – and really make a day of it – like today, the event that marks the pinnacle of John’s role in the Christian story. We call this feast a synaxis – or coming together. It makes sense that it ought to be the coming together of all of John’s feasts in to one big blow out.

Perhaps the second most important feast in the liturgical cycle (Pascha being the first) today we celebrate the manifestation of the Trinity, and the philanthropy of God.

“When you enlightened all things at the time of your manifestation, . . . the Jordan reversed its course, flowing uphill and carrying us to heaven.”

Today is also the annual great blessing of water – and the blessing of homes for the coming year. Whereupon much partying ensues.