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Matt 6:14-21
Today, we stand on the threshold of Great Lent. The Gospel encompasses two great themes of this day – forgiveness and fasting. Forgiveness Vespers this evening will mark the beginning of the fast with that necessary moment of asking forgiveness of one another and forgiving one another. This morning, however, let us contemplate the other great theme of the Gospel and epistle readings – that of fasting. The saints who are experienced in this struggle and who have labored more intensely than many of us have wonderful things to say about fasting and so let us hear the meditations of St Nikolai Velimirovic – his 41st entry in Prayers by the Lake:
With fasting I gladden my hope in Thee, my Lord, Who art to come again.
Fasting hastens my preparation for Thy coming, the sole expectation of my days and nights.
Fasting makes my body thinner, so that what remains can more easily shine with the spirit.
While waiting for Thee, I wish neither to nourish myself with blood nor to take life – so that the animals may sense the joy of my expectation.
But truly, abstaining from food will not save me. Even if I were to eat only the sand from the lake, Thou wouldst not come to me, unless the fasting penetrated deeper into my soul.
I have come to know through my prayer, that bodily fasting is more a symbol of true fasting, very beneficial for someone who has only just begun to hope in Thee and nevertheless very difficult for someone who merely practices it.
Therefore, I have brought fasting into my soul to purge her of many impudent fiancé’s and to prepare her for Thee like a virgin.
And I have brought fasting into my mind, to expel from it all daydreams about worldly matters and to demolish all the air castles, fabricated from those daydreams.
I have brought fasting into my mind, so that it might jettison the world and prepare to receive Thy Wisdom.
And I have brought fasting into my heart, so that by means of it my heart might quell all passions and worldly selfishness.
I have brought fasting into my heart, so that heavenly peace might ineffably reign over my heart, when Thy stormy Spirit encounters it.
I prescribe fasting for my tongue, to break itself of the habit of idle chatter and to speak reservedly only those words that clear the way for Thee to come.
And I have imposed fasting on my worries so that it may blow them all away before itself like the wind that blows away the mist, lest they stand like dense fog between me and Thee and lest they turn my gaze back to the world.
And fasting has brought into my soul tranquility in the face of uncreated and created realms, and humility towards men and creatures. And it has instilled in me courage, the likes of which I never knew when I was armed with every sort of worldly weapon.
What was my hope before I began to fast, except merely another story told by others, which passed from mouth to mouth?
The story told by others about salvation through prayer and fasting became my own.
False fasting accompanies false hope, just as no fasting accompanies hopelessness.
But just as a wheel follows behind a wheel, so true fasting follows true hope.
Help me to fast joyfully and to hope joyously, for Thou, my Most Joyful Feast, art drawing near to me with Thy radiant smile.
Therefore my brothers and sisters, let us fast not just outwardly, but inwardly, bringing the fast to every part of our being – to the heart, the mind, the tongue, to our worries, and to the very soul itself that it might prepare us to joyfully receive the Great Feast of our Lord’s Resurrection and His victory over sin, death and the devil by which he freed us from our captivity and set us again on the path of salvation.
Forgiveness is the great theme of the day. If we do not humble ourselves and ask forgiveness of others, pride will never leave us. If we do not forgive others then the grace of God will depart from us as well. An example of the great necessity and power of forgiveness is illustrated for us in the life of the Holy Martyr Nicephorus. Nicephorus was a layman of Antioch and he had a dear and close friend, the priest Sapricius. The evil one, seeking to sow discord among the servants of God planted the seed of animosity between them and whereas they were once great friends, now they would not even speak to one another and actively avoided one another. Eventually, the grace of God penetrated the heart of Nicephorus and he sent to his friend Sapricius a message begging forgiveness. Sapricius, however refused to respond and his heart hardened towards his former friend even more.
At that time a great persecution arose in Antioch and as a priest Sapricius was singled out and taken before the representatives of the Roman emperor. Sapricius courageously and valiantly proclaimed his faith in our Lord Jesus Christ before the tribunal and so was subjected to torture and imprisonment. Nicephorus, who remained at liberty continued to plead with Sapricius to forgive him but even in prison, even facing death, Sapricius refused to forgive and spurned the pleas of Nicephorus. Even as he was being led to place of execution to be beheaded, his heart remained hardened towards his former friend and his ears deaf to the pleas for forgiveness. Because he ignored the word of the Lord, “Forgive and ye shall be forgiven…” the Lord, exercising His righteous judgement, withdrew his grace from Sapricius and the would-be martyr fell away from the Lord. As the executioner raised the sword to behead Sapricius, as if awaking from sleep he cried out, “Stop! Why are you doing this?”
“Because you refuse to sacrifice to the gods and regard the emperors decree with contempt.” Answered the executioner.
“Don’t harm me! I will worship the gods and offer them oblations; I will do whatever the emperors demand!” Having endured all this for Christ, because he would not forgive, he lost his eternal reward.
Nicephorus, seeing his friend turn away from Christ, cried out begging his friend to repent and return to Christ so as not to lose his reward. When Sapricius refused to listen to his former friend, Nicephorus cried out to the guards, “I am a Christian, I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ Whom Sapricius denied. Behead me instead of him. I am a Christian and refuse to sacrifice to your gods.”
The soldiers were astonished to heard this, however, after receiving permission from the tribunal, they released Sapricius and executed the martyr Nicephorus in his place. Because of his refusal to forgive, Sapricius lost his reward in the Kingdom of heaven, and because he did not abandon forgiveness and humility, St Nicephorus received the crown of martyrdom and stands with the choir of the martyrs in paradise glorifying God.
My brothers and sisters, as we enter Great Lent, let us forgive and ask forgiveness of one another that we might be filled with the grace of God and not deprive ourselves of the riches and glory of the Kingdom of heaven.
Forgive me a sinner.
As God came to the completion of His creation on the sixth day, we read: “Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of heaven, over the cattle, and over all the earth, and ever every creeping thing that moves on the earth.’ So God made man; in the image of God He made him; male and female He made them. Then God blessed them; and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of heaven, and over every living thing that moves in the earth.’”
Man is created to image God, to manifest Him in the created order. He is made a lord over creation, in order to continue God’s work of expanding the work of His Creation, and establishing order in Creation as God’s servant and co-laborer.
Even as the world sank into sin, and continues to wallow in it, we are the image of God in the midst of all of this. All of the sin of this world can do nothing but obscure this image which remains. We may look at the Saints who shone so brightly with the uncreated light of heaven and see clearly the image of God, and we may look at tyrants, mass murderers, or abusers of children and struggle to see any of this image, but we are all created to image God in this world. Indeed the martyrs were cruelly tortured because their persecutors did not see what is clearly evident to us, and they saw tyranny as an image of being like a god.
In the parable of the Last Judgment, our Lord says to those on His left hand, those who are condemned in His righteous judgment: “’Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; 'I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me.'”
When they objected, when they claimed to not remember ever seeing Him in such conditions, He replied “'Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.'”
They didn’t see God in these people, and so they felt justified in not acting. But notice that it doesn’t say, “I was a tyrant, or a mass murderer, or an abuser of children, and you didn’t minister to me.” Rather simply -- I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was a stranger, I was naked, I was sick or in prison. The more obscured the image, the more we might be forgiven for not seeing the image. But why are these things barriers to us seeing the image of God in our fellow man? All of us are hungry or thirsty at times. How often have we been strangers whether in a foreign land, or even among people of our own who treat us as strangers? Have we never struggled to provide for ourselves, or been brought low through sickness? Even if we have never been imprisoned, have we really never found ourselves in captivity?
We struggle to see the image of God in these situations because we are uncomfortable with them. We don’t want to be any of these things. We labor and toil, we kill and steal, we are consumed with envy, jealousy, and covetousness so that we don’t have to look at these things. The image of a hungry God, or a thirsty God, or a God who is a stranger, or a naked God, or a God who is sick or in prison is not the God we want to worship. And yet this is precisely our God.
In Saint Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which some of you should know a little about by now, we read: “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.” God doesn’t just take on the very best of humanity. He doesn’t descend to earth as an emperor dressed in the finest clothing, standing apart from our human weakness and foreign to our suffering, though He certainly would deserve to do so. He takes on our poverty, and enters into our weaknesses, even into suffering and death. So now especially, our weaknesses are places where God’s image can be clearly seen. But we still must be willing to look.
Part of this looking begins with not looking away. We need to stop recoiling automatically from human suffering, and be willing to look toward it with compassion and love. So feeding the hungry or giving clothing to someone in need, or welcoming someone, or spending time with a sick or dying person, or visiting the prisons are all good things even if we don’t see the image of God there yet. We are at least looking.
Another part of this is to embrace our suffering. We are quickly approaching Great Lent. We will purposefully encounter hunger. We will weaken ourselves to feel the limits of our mortal flesh. We will strive to voluntarily experience what others do because of their circumstances. When we fast, we are closer to our Lord Who also fasted; Who after forty days of fasting was hungry. He draws nearer to us when we fast; when we hunger and thirst after righteousness; and He fills us. If this is the God that we experience during fasting, how can we look at a hungry brother or sister and think that God has forsaken them?
Man was given dominion over all things on earth, not so that we might exploit it, but so that we should serve it as God serves His creation. We should bear fruit in the world, by doing good works, by virtuous living, by venerating the image of God in this world wherever we find it. We should work to set fallen creation in its proper order. The same God who feeds the birds of the heavens, and clothes the grass of the field, who cares for all of His creation, has put into our hands the doing of some of His great work. We are the hands that care and provide for others. If someone is poor and in need, it is because I have not provided for him in his need. If someone is walking around without shoes, perhaps it is because I have not given her a pair of shoes to wear. If someone is alone in their sickness, solitude, or imprisonment, and despairing of God’s love for them, it is because I have not gone to them and loved them for Him.
The epistle reading for today always seems appropriate because it references the eating of meat – specifically meat offered to idols. But there is a greater significance here which ties into the parable of the Last Judgment. Saint Paul says: “But food does not commend us to God; for neither if we eat are we the better, nor if we do not eat are we the worse. But beware lest somehow this liberty of yours become a stumbling block to those who are weak.” Notice we are caring for the weak, for the lowly, for those who need our help. He continues, “For if anyone sees you who have knowledge eating in an idol's temple, will not the conscience of him who is weak be emboldened to eat those things offered to idols? And because of your knowledge shall the weak brother perish, for whom Christ died? But when you thus sin against the brethren, and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ.” We sin against God when we sin against His weak brethren. But Saint Paul is clear that this isn’t really about food. It is about our love for others.
If you have nothing to share, if you yourself are poor and destitute, which most of us truly aren’t, you still can approach a suffering person, a person in need, and minister to them. Show them God’s love and care by being His love and care. In doing so, you may begin to see the image of God in them, and you make clearer the image of God in you.
Luke 15:11-32
This parable of the prodigal son is familiar to us all since we hear it every year just before the beginning of Great Lent. The younger son, thinking that he can take care of himself, asks his father for his share of the inheritance early. He then goes and wastes his riches on riotous living – that is on the satisfaction of his passions – only to find that when his funds are exhausted he has nothing and is reduced to extreme poverty. Coming to his senses, he repents of his foolishness and returns to his father’s house where his father welcomes him with open arms and great joy. Indeed this is a great reminder of the love of God and our own need for repentance before Him for our own sinfulness, having wasted our spiritual inheritance as children of God on worthless worldly passions and pursuits.
The younger son’s behavior is marked by a very prominent quality which afflicts all of us – self will. He rebelled against his father’s will and insisted instead of acting on his self-will. We all have at one time or another turned our backs on God’s will and have insisted on living our lives according to our own will. But as the parable informs us, self will always leads to poverty and only when we return to our Father’s will can we regain that which we have lost.
The son, acting on his own self-will, could not benefit from the wealth he had received from his father. He was wasteful and in one sense deserved what he got. Now one might say, “What if the son had used his funds differently, what if he had decided to build Churches or hospitals or establish charities. Then he would have benefited from his wealth.” But this is not the case either. He might have done great things with his wealth, but those things would all have been tainted by his self-will and would have given him no eternal benefit. Indeed no matter what we do out of self-will, whether wasteful or profitable in the eyes of the world, will bring us no benefit, for we are doing these things for our self-gratification and self-aggrandizement rather than for the glory of God. All the benefit, even from seemingly “good” actions are limited to this world only and have no eternal value. Saint Eudocia was a wealthy Samaritan woman who acquired her riches by immoral means. She was well known for her immoral life. When she encountered the Gospel, her first thought was that perhaps she could continue to enjoy her wealth and give some alms and build a church or a monastery. But the elder from whom she heard the Gospel told her that all her wealth was tainted by sin and even those “good” works which were accomplished with it would also be tainted by that sin. Only by forsaking all her worldly wealth and following Christ would she be able to obtain the grace of God and be healed of the sickness of her sin (as our Lord said in the Gospel. sell all that you have, and give it to the poor, then come and follow me). Only when we sacrifice our own will and order our lives according to God’s will and act for His glory do our actions have any eternal benefit.
For example, the Divine Liturgy is a great “good work” full of spiritual wealth. However, if I were to come to Church and put on all my finest vestments – taking care to look magnificent and imposing, seeking to appear “good” and “perfect” to you. And then I serve the Divine Liturgy with great care to have the perfect sound and inflection to my voice, to have all my movements and actions perfectly executed with grandeur so that all will see me and know that I am a great and wonderful priest. Even if I say and do all the right things on my own will for my own benefit, then I have not only lost any spiritual benefit from this the greatest spiritual action (the Divine Liturgy), but will have called condemnation down upon myself for unworthily approaching the throne of God. However, if, recognizing my own sinfulness and unworthiness, I approach the service with fear – trembling at my own unworthiness even as I don my priestly vestments, doing so not for my own glory, but out of obedience to the will of God for His glory. If I take care to serve as beautifully as possible not because I seek praise, but because I wish for you to be able to approach the throne of God and glorify Him. If with all awareness of my own unworthiness, my own sinfulness, and in an attitude of profound repentance and prayer, I approach the Holy Mysteries – seeking only the mercy of God. Then there will be great spiritual benefit. For I am not glorified but God is glorified.
The difference here is not in the outward action – but on the inward attitude of my heart. Do I act according to the will of God or according to my own self will? It is this that determines whether or not I will receive any benefit from my spiritual labor. It is necessary to set aside one’s own will and love of self, and act only for the glory of God, according to His will.
This then begs the question as to how do we know if we are acting according to God’s will or according to our own will. There are some simple indicators that we can look for in our own lives to see if we are acting according to God’s will for His glory or according to our own self-will for our own ego and pride. The overall quality that we are looking for is humility – the quality of seeing our own self, our own opinions, our own ideas, our own actions as being worthless before God and offering God the only things we can offer him – repentance and obedience.
One concrete thing we can look for to see whether or not pride is governing our actions, is the demand for perfection – mostly in other people. When I am acting out of pride, then I know that I know the best and only way that things should be done. Therefore, if I want to look good, if I want to build up my own self-image then it is important that everything be “perfect” – my own actions certainly but more importantly, that others around me conform perfectly to my desires. My concern is that if they make a mistake it will reflect on me and point out my flaws. And so I become demanding and intolerant. Some of the indicators of this self-willed perfection is impatience, frustration, irritation and even anger towards others. When we see these things in ourselves, then we are seeing our own self will. Another related symptom is that when something does go wrong, our first reaction is to try and find out who (not me) is at fault; where can I put the blame.
However, if I am acting not out of my own will, but in submission to the will of God, then I know that I am only His servant, not acting out of what I want to do, but rather fulfilling His will. My own will is put on the cross and crucified. Rather than become angry at mistakes and errors of others, rather than seek a way to blame them, my first (and only) impulse should be to find my own deficiency, my own error, my own lack and immediately repent. Remember the essential quality for which we seek is humility.
This brings us back then to the prodigal son. It is only when he recognized his own worthlessness, his own poverty, his own sinfulness which was brought on by his own self will, only when he accepted that he was the one who was responsible for his own wretched state, that he could then begin to repent. He had to completely sacrifice his own self and in humility return to his father not as a son but as a beggar asking to be taken on as a servant. St John of Damascus, when he was in the monastery once acted out of his own self-will. Even though his act was motivated by compassion for his brother’s sorrow, still he disobeyed his elder and by his own will composed hymns of lamentation for his brother’s comfort. When St John was chastised by his spiritual father for his disobedience and self-willed action, he first had to recognize his own sin and return to his elder begging forgiveness and seeing himself as nothing but a disobedient servant. He abased himself and gladly accepted the penance given him of cleaning all the latrines in the monastery by hand. Only in this way was he able to return to the path of his own salvation – sacrificing over and over again his own self will until all that was left was complete submission to the will of God.
Our self-will is the great enemy of our salvation – and it is imperative that we constantly sacrifice it, time and time again until we are in complete submission to the will of God. This is a constant battle that we all face and which will continue throughout the whole of one’s life. Our constant heartfelt prayer must be: “not my will, O Lord, but Thy will be done in me.”
Great Lent is a time set aside and designed for the denial of self – that is for the setting aside of self will. We are constantly called to deny ourselves in the arena of food, in the arena of pleasurable diversions, in the arena of forgiving one another, in the arena of ascetic labor, in the arena of increased prayer, fasting and almsgiving. This constant moment by moment practice of self denial gives us an unequaled opportunity to set aside our own will and to submit ourselves to the will of God. It is to this that the prodigal son calls us, for only in this way can we approach our Heavenly Father and be reconciled to Him. In this way we take up our cross, crucify ourselves and die to the world. In this way we are buried with Christ that we might rise with Him in the newness of life – the divine life of the heavenly kingdom which is opened to us by the Glorious Resurrection of Christ. This is our goal – the way is hard, but the end is the fulfillment of our calling to live in union and communion with our Lord.
When Saint John the Forerunner began preaching repentance and baptizing in the Jordan river, great multitudes of people rushed to him. Among this crowd of people were a number of Pharisees (and Sadducees). Saint John singled them out saying,
“Brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Therefore bear fruits worthy of repentance, and do not think to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I say to you that God is able to raise up children to Abraham from these stones. And even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees. Therefore every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
They came to him as children of Abraham, inheritors of a promise, and as a group, the Pharisees were known for their rigid adherence to the Law. They were the ones that people would think righteous because they did all the right things and avoided all the wrong things. But they had no repentance, and their hearts far from God and far from bearing fruit.
As our Lord began to preach and to work wonders, he called to Himself twelve disciples. One of those disciples was a man named Levi, or as we know him, Saint Matthew the Evangelist. Saint Matthew was a tax collector, a despised profession among the Jewish people, not merely because they didn’t want to pay taxes, but because those taxes supported the occupying Roman government. To make matters worse, tax collectors had so much authority and power that they were able to extort money out of people that they didn’t really owe. Our Lord seeing this man at work, says to him, “Follow me.” And Saint Matthew did. Saint Matthew even invited Christ into his own home to meet some of his tax-collector friends.
The Pharisees, as much as any one else, followed Jesus. Or rather, they followed Him around. They listened to every word He said, but trying to find fault with Him and so they did not really hear Him. They watched everything that He did, every miracle, every healing, every righteous rebuke that He gave. They watched but they refused to really see Him, and so they found fault with nearly everything that He did. At one point, Jesus ate at the house of a Pharisee named Simon, and while He was there, a harlot came and anointed his feet and washed them with her tears. Simon was more concerned that they would all be made unclean by her presence among them, and our Lord’s sole concern was that she would be made clean by her tears of repentance.
As our Lord drew near to His hour, the time of His crucifixion, He spoke some very harsh words : “Woe to you. Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” He detailed the many ways that they fail to draw near to God despite knowing all the law and the Scriptures – the way they prayed, the way they proselytized, the way that they made promises and vows, the way that they tithed, the way that they kept clean the way that they showed respect to the prophets. They did all the right things, and were insistent on all the right forms, but they didn’t know God, nor care about Him, nor show this by their love for others.
And then, our Lord told a parable – the one we heard this morning. Two men did the right thing, they went up to the temple to pray. The Pharisee saw nothing wrong in himself. He saw nothing but his accomplishments, nothing but his own righteousness, and in this he felt that he was better than all other men, most especially the tax-collector. Because of this, the Pharisee didn’t really pray. He spoke to God, but only of his own greatness.
The Publican on the other hand saw his sins, and could not even lift up his eyes to heaven. He beat his breast and said, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” He didn’t look at others to compare himself to them, he didn’t try to justify his sins, he didn’t remind God of even one good thing he had done. He just asked for God’s mercy for a sinful man.
Last week, we began a cycle that leads us to Great Lent, which leads us to Pascha, and we heard in the gospel about another tax-collector, Saint Zacchaeus. This account comes just a short while after the parable of the Publican and the Pharisee in the gospel of Luke. Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus, but because he was short of stature and there was a large crowd, he climbed a sycamore tree to see, and he in turn was seen by Jesus. Jesus called him and invited Himself to dine at Zacchaeus’ house. Zacchaeus offered as his repentance half of what he had as alms to the poor. He also repaid anyone that he defrauded fourfold. The law of Moses demanded restitution be made with one fifth added to whatever a person stole. Zacchaeus made abundant restitution. Salvation came that day to the house of Zacchaeus, and he is called a Son of Abraham, in contrast to those Pharisees who came to Saint John the Forerunner without fruits worthy of repentance.
As we approach Great Lent, the Church gives us this lesson every year. During the fast, we pray the prayer of Saint Ephraim every day, in which we say, “grant me to see my own sins, and not condemn my brother.” This is the call for all of us. See your own sins. The publican saw his own sins and couldn’t even look up. Zacchaeus saw his own sins and wanted to blot them out with an abundance of good works. Saint Matthew saw his own sins and followed Christ out of them. The more we see our own sins, the less we can see the sins of others. But sometimes we see our sins and despair on account of them. How can I follow Christ, how can I be saved, how can I even pray with the multitude of my sins? The answer is simple. God already knows your sins. He loves you and desires to bring you to repentance and to come into your house. You have only to confess what He already knows, ask Him for mercy, and then follow Him in love and service to Him and to others.
There is a tendency to approach the fast as a list of rules to follow. We will eat only the things that are approved, and avoid everything that is not. If we are successful, we will be tempted like the Pharisee to point this out to God. “God, I have faithfully done all the things that I have been told to do.” We will also be tempted to judge those who out of weakness, carelessness, or sinfulness don’t manage to fulfill all the rules. But when we fall, we have the opportunity to see our failings, to see our weakness, to see our own sins. Is it better then to fail to keep the fast? No. It is better to keep the fast with humility, repentance, and love of God. But when we fail, we use that to increase our humility, to see our sins more clearly, to repent of them, and to seek God more fervently.
I have said many unkind things today about the Pharisees, but we also see in the Scriptures Pharisees who embraced Christ. Saint Nicodemus came by night to Jesus to ask Him about salvation and became a secret disciple of the Lord He ministered to the Lord during His burial. Saint Paul was a Pharisee who even persecuted the Christian Church, consenting to the death of Saint Stephen. From this he became one of the foremost apostles and the one who labored more than the others.
For some of us, our sins are blatant. They stare us in the face. For others, our sins are hidden by a thin veneer of piety. The good that we do covers over the pride, arrogance, or lack of love that eats away at us. Whatever kind of sinner you are. Look at it. Don’t look away, don’t distract yourself with the sins of others. Don’t think about how much better you are now than you used to be (after all that’s just comparing yourself to another person anyway…) Look at your sin – even if it is as terrible as Saint Paul’s sin. Confess your sin before God who knows your sins but wants you to acknowledge them. Ask the Lord to have mercy on you, and then follow Christ away from it. For the most part, we know how to do that. We just need to decide that that is what we will do. We will use the disciplines and sacraments of the Church, and we will ask for help from the Church militant and the Church triumphant. Every day, we can go down to our house justified like the tax-collector; every day we can encounter Christ and have salvation come to our house like Saint Zacchaeus the tax-collector; and every day we can follow Christ like Saint Matthew the tax-collector.
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