Rich man Lazarus 2014 - Fr Seraphim Aldea

last evening. And you know that this is my best

voice. I have nothing else to give you. So if

you can't hear me, oh God. Now I know I'm in

America. Well, you have no idea how much I wish

I was there and someone else were here doing

what I'm doing. But... God, in his strange sense

of humor and wisdom, decided that I should travel

the world trying to found a monastery, so I have

to talk. There is a good thing about doing it

in the West, though, in America or in the United

Kingdom. I was thinking now, listening to the

Gospel, that a sermon in my monastery or a sermon

delivered by my father confessor on this Sunday

In the best case, about an hour. The best case,

if he's not in a good mood. If he were in a good

mood, it would be much longer. Here I've got

ten minutes. So what do you say in ten minutes?

I remembered one thing that happened to me in

my monastery, and I will tell you that. And then

if I don't forget, I won't... To go to an idea

about what it actually means to be human. Because

that's what the apostles were asking at the beginning.

What sort of man, what manner of man is this?

That the sea and the winds and the rain listen

to him. So I'll just tell you these two things

because that's what God put in my heart now.

When you look at Lazarus and the rich man. What

I like about this particular gospel is that it

is so obvious. There's no smart, witty interpretation

about it. It is a gospel about sacrifice. It

is a gospel about helping each other and helping

the poor. And the usual questions, how, how much,

up to what point? And the answer seems very clear.

it must hurt you. If it doesn't affect you, if

it doesn't hurt you, it's not a sacrifice. I

think it was somewhere at St. John Chrysostom

that I read that Lazarus got into heaven not

because he was poor, but because he was so generous.

And St. John says that His generosity is seen

in the fact that all he had were his wounds.

And he allowed the dogs to feed on his wounds.

That's how St. John interprets that bit. A sort

of generosity where if you don't have anything

to give, you just give yourself in a very physical

way. And because you are... a parish dedicated

to Saint Seraphim. And because my name is Seraphim,

remember Saint Seraphim in the forests when the

nuns would come to visit him and they found him

all covered up with mosquitoes and flies. And

they said, Batushka, what are you doing? And

he said, well, they are the creation of God.

They have to feed. There's no difference. There's

no difference between that and what we've heard

today. If it doesn't hurt you, then it's not

a sacrifice. Somehow, I don't know why, the idea

of giving, of helping, for us today, is very

much about the other one. You're giving to him,

or you're helping her. But the gospel seems to...

say that sacrifice and giving is much more about

you, about what it does to you, the one who gives,

the one who helps. And if it doesn't hurt you,

it hasn't changed you on the inside. It hasn't

made you into something else, something better

than you were, you know, just before you gave

something. The story that came back to me in

the altar is about the villages in Moldavia,

very close to where my monastery was. I was tonsured

as a monk in Moldavia. And a bad summer in Moldavia

with no rain and horrid sun is very close to

being purely hungry and, you know, hunger. And

it happened one year that in such a horrible

summer, the villagers nearby came to our monastery

and they asked us to go to their villages with

the icon of the Mother of God in the monastery

to read the prayers for the rain to come. So

our abbot blessed that we should take our icon

of the Mother of God, just as you would take

your icon out of the iconostasis. Something that

changes you. When you come to pray, you see it's

missing because you've given it to someone else

who needed more. And he sent me with the icon.

And we went through countless villages seeing

animals dying of hunger, animals being sacrificed

just because otherwise they would have died in

a day or two. And you must understand that in

a village in Romania, at least in northern Moldavia,

each household will have one cow. one pig for

the winter and a few chickens. If those die,

you're in deep trouble. And we went from one

village to another and I prayed and nothing happened.

Nothing happened. And I was sinking more and

more in my own feeling of being completely useless

and unable to help. And then we got to this village

where the villagers did something that I found

My first instinct was, this is so dumb of you.

They came out of their houses with half their

buckets half full with water, or glasses of water,

or bottles of water, or whatever water they had

left. The very last remaining source of water

they had. They came out before the mother of

God, before the icon. And they just threw it

all out. They just poured it in front of the

icon. And I thought, this is not normal. This

is not normal. You're supposed to hold on to

everything. You're supposed to make the most

of it. I was honestly in pain because I knew

what it means for them. And he got to the church

and I still remember that they had made this

outside altar and we were praying on this outside

altar. And I was feeling so helpless and so useless

and so... And we didn't get through the Trisagion.

We did not get to the end of our father when

rain started pouring. Just pouring, drenching

us. And I knew... I just knew the way you kind

of, sometimes you just know that this has nothing

to do with me. It has to do with those people

who had abandoned everything. Who had sacrificed

their last remaining hope to the mother of God.

And she had not deserted them. While the other

villagers in the other villages, they hadn't

done so. They functioned the way I functioned

with their brains. They held on to what made

them safe. And their sacrifice was not painful

for them. Did not change them. And I know these

stories seem to come out of a different world

somehow. The way... The way the story about Christ

coming out on that ship, on that boat, and just

reprimanding the sea and the wind. And they are

in some way out of this world. Because the reality

is that we are out of this world. Remember what

St. John said today. The world hates you. Because

you are not of this world. If you were of this

world, then the world would love its own. And

this is something we forget very often. And I

assume monastics find it slightly easier to remember

it. Because once you've given up on everything,

you can no longer put your hope in this world.

You can no longer understand yourself and define

yourself through things of this world. As Saint

Silouan said, it's completely irrelevant if you

are a doctor or an emperor or a beggar. It's

completely irrelevant. Because that's not what

defines you. What you do, what you make, who

you are here is completely irrelevant. What defines

us, what makes us who we are, is Christ and the

values He put forward for us. We are not of this

world and this is not a metaphor. It's the reality

of it. We are flesh, yes, and bones, yes. And

these flesh and bones function in time and space

like everything else, like any other object.

But our deeper meaning, our deeper selves are

not of this world. You are so blessed. Just look

around you to have these beautiful icons. And

by the way, these are some of the most beautiful

icons I've seen. At least in America, I don't

remember another place. And the ones you worship

are scandalously beautiful. You are so fortunate

to come into the church and to see these images

around you, to be reminded that these are human

beings like you and myself. And when the priest

comes out and he senses them, he senses human

beings that have defined themselves through things

not of this world. But of Christ. And then when

the priest comes and senses you. He's not mad

to do it. He's doing it because in you. There

is the same image. The same divine image. Not

of this world. That you see in these icons. Don't

forget that. That's why you have them. To learn

from these icons. And then if you were to come

to my first monastery in Moldavia, you would

see that we also paint the outside with icons

as well. And this is not something recent. Our

monastery was painted in 1561 -64. And it's completely

covered with icons on the outside as well. Because

Christ's image is not restricted to here, to

these walls. Christ's image is reflected outside

as well. And when you look at people, when you

shake hands with people, when you embrace them,

when you meet your co -workers in your office

or your neighbours or people in the street, hold

on to this understanding that you are facing

the image of Christ, no matter how sinful those

people are. If God made them, God wants them.

And if you are in front of them, then you have

a mission for those people. Nothing is by accident.

If you are facing that human being, you'd better

be praying for that human being. Because the

time will come when Christ will say what we've

heard today. I came to you and I told you. You

cannot say you didn't know. What have you done

for that human being whom I created out of love?

I think I'm past my ten minutes. I really think

I am. But I am supposed to tell you something

about my monastery, but I'll do that at the end.

I'll do that at the end, just after we finish

the divine liturgy. And I promise not to bore

you more than three, maybe five minutes. Forgive

me for anything wrong I might have said. And

glory be to God for anything right.