Sermon

Pascha 2008

St. John, Tampa, FL

by Fr. Stavros Akrotirianakis

 

I will love You Lord, my strength.  The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer.  These words from Psalm 18 would serve as a great answer to the question, what place does God hold in your life, especially if they were true.  If this answer were true for each and every single member of the human race, there wouldn’t be much despair in the world, or violence, or hunger, or pettiness.  Perhaps this statement seems irrelevant, or outdated to be important in contemporary times.  I prayed a couple of hours ago for an inspiring verse of scripture to center my Paschal sermon around, and this is what God brought into my mind and heart. 

 

At this moment we stand in darkness.  There are no conversations at this moment, no electronic gadgets in use, no awards on display, no fancy cars in church tonight.  The church takes us back to the basic humanity—the Light of Christ.  The human being is conceived in a miraculous moment when God unites human matter to create new life.  And when the human being dies, he goes back to His creator, and stands in His presence, and is told that He will either spend eternity around the Light of Christ, or will be doomed to spend eternity in darkness. 

 

Imagine the candle you hold in your hands represents your soul.  At conception, it is lit aflame with the light of Christ.  And at the end of your life, you present it to God for evaluation—is it burning brightly?  Is it flickering?  Did it go out a long time ago?  Throughout life, most of us will change jobs, will live in different homes in different cities, will make new friends and have new adventures, will leave our parents to start families of our own, and we’ll watch them grow and leave us, we’ll fight through pain, sickness, grief, loss and sorrow; we’ll have triumphs and joys—but the common thread throughout each life is supposed to be the light of Christ burning in one’s soul—as one’s strength, rock, fortress and deliverer—from the moment he is born until the moment he dies, so that he can enjoy the Light of Christ, in the fullness of His glory unto the ages of ages.

 

As we stand here in the darkness, there isn’t much else to do for a couple of moments but think about the role of God in your life and the state of the Light of Christ in your own soul.  Some have flames which burn brightly—they come to God in joy—He their strength, rock, fortress and deliverer, each and every day.  Some come to God only in times of crisis—He is their crutch, their path of last resort.  Some come to God out of a sense of Tradition—the seed of Christ is there but there is no real root, and the flame is flickering.  Some spent this Lent and Holy Week searching and perhaps are on the verge of spiritual breakthrough.  Some have seen their relationship with Christ become estranged because this year was not a good one.  Some are lost and need some motivation to start the journey back.  And some have lights that have been extinguished—some do not love God the way they should; and even more sad, are those who think God does not love them. 

 

Tonight ends our Holy Week journey—however, it is not a night of endings, but rather new beginnings.  Each of us has the opportunity to receive God’s grace in two special ways this evening—first in the light of the Resurrected Christ which you will receive in a moment.  This is an opportunity for you to rekindle the flame of your soul.  God gives each of us, those who came from the first hour and those who came only at the 11th hour, the same chance, the same blessing, the same grace.  Whether you are on your knees praying every day, or haven’t bent your knee to God in a long time, each of us has the same chance tonight to start over again, anew.  The question becomes, will we be able to keep the new start going for a day, a week, a year, or make it into a lifestyle change? 

 

And each of us has the opportunity for a second gift, and that is the gift of spiritual sustenance, available to us through Holy Communion.   God’s grace comes to us in abundance when we partake of Holy Communion frequently with proper preparation and spiritual disposition.  The difference between preparing to receive, including regular prayer and confession, and partaking frequently, versus partaking only occasionally or not at all is the difference between making a journey with a flashlight or in the sunlight.  The problem with the flashlight is that the battery eventually dies—that’s because man created the battery.  The thing about the sun is that you are either in it, or only a few hours away from being in it.  And the sun is never extinguished—that’s because God made it.  The door of paradise is open to those who make God their strength, their rock, their fortress and their deliverer by walking in the light of the Son of God on a daily basis. 

 

As we mark another Pascha together, those who come frequently and those who don’t; those who had a good year and those who didn’t; those whose lights are ablaze and those whose lights have gone out—rejoice together in a new beginning, and end this journey with a commitment to focus on making God your strength, your rock, your fortress and your deliverer in this coming year.  Think how your life will change for the better, how the lives of those around you will be made better, how our church of St. John will be made better.  And think of this, in 100 years, most of what we are doing in life won’t really matter at all—it won’t matter where you lived or what you did for a living, how much fun you had or how much you owned—all that will matter is that you and those who you hold dear are standing in the presence of Christ, beholding His Light and His Glory, just the way we are tonight. So come receive the light of Christ again, whatever state you find your soul in this Pascha, and think about how much of a priority you’ll make keeping this light burning in the year to come.  My prayer is that it become your strength, your rock, your fortress, and in 100 years, your deliverer.  Come receive the Light, from the everlasting light and glorify Christ, who is risen from the dead.