Giusto de Menabuoi, Vision of an Angel with a Millstone, 1378 And a mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all (Rev. 18:21). Think of how a huge stone falls into the sea—rapidly falls and immediately sinks to the bottom. That’s how Babylon will be destroyed, with nothing left of it. The earth will open up and the sea will swallow it.
And the voice of harpers, and musicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters, shall be heard no more at all in thee; and no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee; and the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at all in thee; And the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the Bridegroom and of the Bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived. And in her was found the blood of prophets, and of saints, and of all that were slain upon the earth (Rev. 18:22–24).
This is a tragic description of the fall of the great city of Babylon, which achieved such great glory, but glory anchored in sin and fornication, in apostasy from God. And it fell from the height of its glory, crashed down suddenly, and everything and everyone who had placed their hopes in it, who had been close to it, who had communicated with it, was destroyed.
—I’d like to ask about grievances and injustice. Sometimes people don’t realize that they’re hurting you. You can’t go up to them and say you forgive them. Is it enough just to pray for someone who’s offended you: “Lord, Jesus Christ, forgive so and so?”
If someone offends you and doesn’t know it? If he’s offended us, then he’s offended others. Let us pray: “Lord Jesus Christ, forgive your servant.” It’s perfection not to say anything to him, not to show that he hurt you. However, there’s another side. He offends me, and I say: “Lord, forgive him; I don’t hold anything against him.” But the offender also offends himself. That is, he does evil to himself. He may say to you: “Why didn’t you say anything to me if I was sinning? You pray for me, you don’t hold a grudge, meanwhile I kept on sinning and sinning without even realizing it.” Maybe it would be good to pray for him to stop doing that, but we can tell him when we’re at peace: “I don’t want to hurt you, insult you, humiliate you, but I just want to say that you hurt me with this behavior. You’re acting unfairly.” And that’s something, because someone who does evil to another defiles and harms himself. Shouldn’t someone tell him about it? Draw his attention to what he’s doing wrong.
Do you think you’re his victim and that someone else will say it better, while you’ll just be praying? Do you think you’re his only victim? While he hurt others later? It’s good to say: “O Christ, forgive and have mercy upon him, and direct his steps towards every good deed.” This is a virtue; this is how the Gospel instructs us to act. It’s not bad if we have peace and passionlessness and can tell someone about it with love. But if we go in ready to argue and fight, it’s better to let someone else speak, and God will enlighten us.
—There’s something I don’t understand about this topic. If someone offends us, we try to go and ask forgiveness. He’s the one who’s guilty, but we ask forgiveness. What good does that do him?
We’ll say to him: “Forgive me, but you’re to blame!” Don’t we act exactly like that? We say: “Forgive me, but you drove me to it.” I’m joking.
We give alms, and those who ask for money laugh at us on the inside and look at us like we’re simpletons: “Come here, you fool, give me more!” He can say whatever he wants—alms are still alms. I’m not giving money to him, but to Christ. If I believe that then I’ll have a reward from God. Let him do as he sees fit. He’ll eat, throw it away, and find another simpleton. But whoever gives alms has his reward from God.
If I come to ask forgiveness, I say that he’s right, that I’m to blame. Let him say whatever he wants—it’s to my benefit to humble myself and ask forgiveness. The Lord tells us not to take revenge on others—perhaps it’s the same thing? I can crush him if I want to. But I don’t. He’s goading me to do it, but I don’t give in and I don’t do it. I look stupid in his eyes. Let’s be aware of this: Following the Gospel doesn’t work according to worldly logic. The Gospel has its own logic. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense in people’s eyes. The Apostle Paul says: We are fools for Christ’s sake (1 Cor. 4:10). For the love of Christ, we seem to be mad, senseless, a laughing stock. But it’s not so. We act this way by our own will. A man comes and insults me. I don’t answer him. He says: “You see, he doesn’t answer because he agrees with it.” But I have both a tongue and a mouth. If I wanted to, I could answer you ten times more harshly. But I don’t want to. It’s not that I’m afraid of you, or that I dare not speak, or that I don’t know what to say. I’m not afraid of you and I know how this game is played, but I don’t want to. Let me appear a laughingstock, a victim—let others think that. I ask for your forgiveness, and you say: “I mocked him and he’s asking for forgiveness!” Okay, we’ll see who will be the laughingstock in the end.
—You often say it’s good to pray for others. But you also often say: “God grant us to learn to pray for ourselves,” and that when we pray for ourselves, it’s the same as praying for others. How should we pray for others?
Prayer is a total state. It begins simply from: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on Thy servant,” and reaches the state where my heart burns with love and grief for my brother. Someone comes and says: “Pray for me, I’m sick.” You say: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on Thy servant.” You pray—that’s prayer. But you can approach it more fervently and pray for him for an hour, or keep a vigil to pray for him. Right? Different degrees. It’s the same with ourselves. Let’s say someone makes the sign of the cross and goes to sleep. He says: “I pray every night!” And another prays for hours on end. Each according to his own strength.
However, it’s good and useful to pray for our brothers. When they ask you to pray, perhaps you can’t keep vigil, read the Paraklesis service, but you can say a few words: “My Christ, help Thy creation! Have mercy on Thy servant.” Say a prayer for this person two or three times. Don’t say: “I’ll pray for myself, and he’s included in that!” Of course, when we pray for ourselves, our prayer embraces the whole world. But in the state we’re in now in the world, making do with simple and poor means, it would be good to say: “Lord, help Thy servant” (it cultivates love and compassion within us and an awareness of the other person as one with us).
Or if I hear that something bad’s happening in the world, it’s good to say inwardly: “Christ, help Thy world! Help those who are in difficult circumstances right now.” Or remember those who are sick, who are in the hospital now, abandoned. It’s important for us to empathize with the difficulties and hardships of the whole world. Of course, everything according to our strength.
Elder Paisios kept all-night vigils, praying for the whole world. We read the Lord’s Prayer one time and think we’ve reached the level of St. Anthony the Great. And we don’t even say the Our Father all at once, but in three goes. Let us at least say, “Lord, have mercy” for our brother. First of all, it helps us, and then it helps others. We have to pray for our brothers.
—When’s the best time?
Prayer is for every place and every time. But you asked well, even though it might seem like a simple question. It’s always more fruitful to pray in the evening. During the day, you rush off to do what you have to do; everything’s moving around you, the phone’s ringing. But at night, there’s peace. Everything’s calm. Where do I have to go at night? Of course, now people even go places at night.
The silence of nighttime, the night hours really help. You know, we have to understand that we have to have the right conditions for prayer (at least in our reality). You can’t say: “I’ll turn on the TV and stand and read Compline.” I’ll watch the game at the same time so I don’t miss anything. It doesn’t work that way. Turn off the TV. We need an icon of Christ and some other things. We’re people. If we were perfect, maybe we wouldn’t need anything. But we’re weak people; we need icons of Christ and the Theotokos, a lampada, incense, and the Psalms, and hymns, and hesychasm. At least something, whatever I can. If that’s not possible, then as it is.
I know people who are persecuted in their own homes, and they pray—in the bathroom, in the shower. And their prayer is heard and even works miracles. They don’t have any other place; they can’t do it any other time. Someone knocks at the door: “How long can you sit there? What are you doing in there?” But he prays. And that’s not an isolated case. Many people pray like this at home and endure persecution. If we have the opportunity, then the conditions, atmosphere, and surroundings all help. Go to church. No matter what you do at home, everything’s different in church anyways; there’s another atmosphere there. Because it’s a sacred place—everything there is for prayer: the icons, lampadas, incense, and Liturgies—everything. It all matters.
