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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Today we commemorate in the Church the Holy Fathers of the first Six Ecumenical Councils. These commemorations also have specific days on the calendar when they’re celebrated, but today they’re celebrated all together. The first Council of Nicaea in 325 is celebrated on the Seventh Sunday of Pascha and also on May 29; Constantinople (381) on May 22; Ephesus (431) on September 9; Chalcedon (451) on the Sunday falling between July 13 and 19; Constantinople II (553) on July 25; and Constantinople III (680–681) on January 23.
For the Seventh Ecumenical Council, we have the first Sunday of Lent—the Sunday when we celebrate the icons being returned to the Church. One explanation for why the first six are remembered together and the Seventh is separate is that it’s such an ancient celebration that the Seventh Council hadn’t happened yet, and they just never updated this feast. But these Councils are important.
A couple of years ago, they had the council in Crete. And some people were saying, “Oh, this is going to be an ecumenical council.” But you don’t look at ecumenical councils going into them. It’s only an ecumenical council if the decisions are well-pleasing to the Holy Spirit and the Church. Because you could say a council is going to be ecumenical but then it turns out to be a disaster, and its decisions aren’t binding. So it’s only when the Church has ratified the whole thing as something the whole Church believes. Because sadly, there were councils that were, as I said, disasters, and were rejected wholesale. We remember them as points of history because they were not of God and His Church.
People ask me, especially inquirers or skeptics, “Why do we have to be so detailed in our religion? We believe in Jesus. That’s enough, right?” My return question always is, “Tell me about this Jesus Who you believe in. Is He human or divine? Is He both? Is He created or uncreated? Equal to the Father or subservient? One will, energy, nature? Same humanity as ours, something different? Tell me about Him.” “Umm, well, I mean...” Details are important, right? “What about the Father and the Holy Spirit? How do they fit into all this?” And usually it’s followed by blank stares and people are unsure what to say afterwards.
My favorite analogy that I always use in my catechism classes is that I’m married to Matuskha Anastasia, right? Would any good-looking brunette do? No. That one only. The details of her person really matter. Or what if a loved one has an allergy to shellfish? You’d know that. You’d remember that or else there could be a real problem, right? These might seem like ridiculous exaggerations, but it’s the truth. Details about what we love matter. Think of it another way. If your sweetheart likes a certain kind of ice cream, you remember and make a point to know the brand and flavor and get it every time you can, because you love that person, right? We make note of details in the lives of the ones we love, and I think that’s the point here.
And our Lord, Who so loves the world, comes into it and becomes everything that we are, save for sin. St. Gregory of Theologian says what is not assumed is not healed. He takes on everything that we are, so these details of Who He is and what He has become for our salvation are so important. When we talk about God, do we just know about Him or do we know Him? I can know all about something but not know that thing by personal experience. I always say that I have a diploma in my office that says I know all about God. Master of Divinity, right? But do I know God? It’s only by the experience of prayer and the spiritual life of the Church that I come to know Who God actually is.
That’s the beautiful thing. God invites us in a relationship with Him to know Him as a Person, not just some concept up there or something in a book, but someone to be in contact with and know, to have a profound and intimate relationship with. I know Him as a Person. The Second Person of the Trinity became man for my sake and yours, with the express purpose to save me and you. With theology we can know all these details, which are important. But the problem is that sometimes we just know all the details without knowing the actual Person, and that misses the whole point.
Many of the heresies we remember with contempt. They knew all kinds of stuff logically: “This is how it should be because it makes sense to me,” but it’s not what the Church taught. They missed the point, and often they were condemned. Last night, if you paid attention during Vespers, not only did we reject heresies, but we actually named them: the Arians, Sabellians, Apollinarians, Nestorians, etc.
We make mention of them because we have to know not just what we believe, but also what we don’t believe, what we reject. I can’t tell you how many times people have come up to me and said they believe something, and I said, “Well, the Church condemned that hundreds of years ago.” These people didn’t know any better. And what’s worse is that people outside the Church who have no concept of any of this stuff think they’ve come up with a new idea, and the Church already has a playbook saying, “We’ve already been through this and this has been rejected.” It’s terrible because it’s like not seeing the signs that the bridge is out so you go right off the cliff. We already have the signs that say, “Don’t do that.” This is an important thing—knowing what is truth and knowing what is error.
Error defended with pride then becomes heresy. Once in seminary, one of us was pontificating about something, and he was wrong. And as seminary students do sometimes, we ganged up on him saying, “Oh, you’re a heretic.” And Fr. Alexander Golubov corrected everyone and said, “No, no, he’s just wrong. If he’s corrected and holds his point, then he’s fallen into heresy.” We can be wrong—that happens. When I was first ordained, I said something to the effect of, “Jesus was created in the womb of the Virgin.” And as I said it, I thought, “Oh no, I’m a heretic!” I got home, I called my spiritual father: “I can’t believe I said this.” He said, “Father, you just misspoke.” But if someone were to say, “Father, you said this,” and I defended that point, then that would cross the line and the bishop would to get involved, and so on. But sometimes we can misspeak. It’s when our pride comes in and we say, “I know better than the Church” that the problem comes in.
And all these heretics we talk about in the hymns knew what the Church taught but thought they knew better than the Church. That’s the problem. And then it spread to everybody else, other people fell into it, and it became a huge problem. And that’s why any time our pride gets in the mix of things, we have trouble. It’s the, “I think; I know; you should know what I know,” kind of thing, rather than asking what God has revealed to His Church. Can we in humility submit to and accept the things He has revealed?
Fr. John Meyendorff of blessed memory, who reposed thirty-three years ago this coming week, said that God is not a concept to be grasped, but a Person to be met. And that’s an important thing. Our faith is an encounter with a Person, not a concept—the God-Man Jesus Christ, the God Whom we know personally with detail; not some wishy-washy abstract thing, but the God Who comes into this world to come in contact with us. And if you engage Him in a real relationship of prayer, you understand this.
The heart of the Church calls every one of us, every person, to encounter the same Jesus, and it teaches us Who He is, what He’s done, and what He’s done for us. And not just about Him, but how He Himself, the Lord God, reveals Himself to us. “God is the Lord and hath revealed Himself to us.” He wants us to know this about Him. It’s not that He was hiding and we discovered it or something. The Lord reveals it; He shows us Who He is, more than we can handle sometimes.
In the hymns for my favorite feast day, the Transfiguration, when Peter, James, and John were shown the full glory of Christ on Mt. Thabor, it says that they beheld His glory as far as they could bear it. The icon has them literally falling off the mountain, their sandals falling off their feet; it’s a knocked-their-socks-off kind of thing. As far as they could stand it, He showed His glory to them. And I think that’s the beauty of it. God doesn’t hold anything back from His end. We do. We give God Sunday morning, maybe. But God gives us everything that He is, with a desire that we would do the same and give back to Him. That’s what He wants. But He won’t force it on us. He won’t demand it of us. That’s not how God works. God puts everything on the table and says, “Come.” And if we respond to that, that’s beautiful. If we don’t, that’s our own condemnation.
So on this day, let’s give thanks for the gift of the holy and Ecumenical Councils and the Fathers who gathered to clarify, defend, and proclaim our faith. Let’s be worthy recipients of that faith. Because this faith is not ours. It doesn’t belong to us. It’s His. Ours is just to be stewards of it, take care of it, and proclaim it. And not just for the sake of being true. That’s all well and good. But that truth is literally a Person Who has come and has saved us, and for that we all should rejoice.
God so loves the world that He does all this for us. And the Holy Fathers defined what all that meant; the implications for us, of our physical bodies, our mind, our will—all these things. They’ve defined it to help us understand that God has a great plan and what He does for our salvation, to save the entire person. It’s an amazing thing.
May the God Who has revealed Himself to us, the God Who so loved the world that He would become part of it, bring all this to fruition.
To Him be glory and honor with the Father and the Spirit unto ages and ages. Amen.
