Here’s an excerpt from my online Bible Study. In this discussion of Luke 4, we delve into the second half of Luke 4:17-19, where Jesus reads from Isaiah’s prophecy and declares His Messianic mission. The passage states that the Spirit of the Lord is upon Jesus, anointing Him to preach the Gospel, heal the broken-hearted, deliver the captives, and give sight to the blind. In this discussion, we link Jesus’ mission to the concept of the Jubilee Year, a time of liberty and restoration in Israel, symbolizing the Messianic reign.
In this excerpt from my online Bible Study, we explore Luke 4:14-15, where Jesus returns to Galilee empowered by the Spirit and begins teaching in synagogues, earning widespread praise. Saint Ephraim the Syrian and Origen emphasize Jesus’ spiritual power and the significance of teaching within the synagogue. The discussion highlights the centrality of the worshiping community in experiencing and learning the faith. The episode concludes with a reflection on facing temptations with God’s strength and becoming ambassadors of His grace.
Just as Jesus faced 40 days of temptation after His baptism, we too can expect spiritual struggles when we get serious about our faith. Being in the wilderness isn’t a sign of failure.
When we give our lives over to Christ, one of the first places He begins working is in the people we meet. It’s easy to say, “Thank you, God, for bringing this person into my life,” when someone is helpful, supportive, and inspiring. But what about those people who test our patience, who annoy us, or who we’d rather avoid? Can we still say, “Thank you, God, for bringing this person into my life”? Every person Christ sends our way is there for a reason—either so we can serve Christ through them, or so we can learn something about ourselves that’s needed for our spiritual healing and growth. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” (Proverbs 27:17) Whether a person brings us joy or frustration, every encounter is a chance to break free from our egos and selfishness, and to truly live for others. The only thing we need to ask God is for the wisdom to discern why He brought us together. Even those who annoy or persecute us are there to teach us compassion, kindness, and forgiveness. They help us learn to deal with negative emotions without letting bitterness take root. And sometimes, we’re the ones God has sent into someone else’s life to help them grow in patience and love.
Visit an Eastern Orthodox worship service, and you’ll see how much we love the prayer, “Lord, have mercy.” In this short phrase, we find everything we need in our prayers.
We call God “Lord.” This word may not carry the same weight for us in the modern world, but in biblical times, to call someone “Lord” was to acknowledge their authority over our lives. By addressing God as Lord, we are declaring our obedience and allegiance to Him as the one who is truly in charge.
Next, we ask for His mercy. Understanding the ancient meaning of this word deepens our prayer. In Hebrew, the word for mercy is hesed, which can also be translated as “steadfast love.” For example, in the Psalms, you might see “God’s mercy endures forever,” or in other translations, “God’s steadfast love endures forever.” Both phrases translate the same Hebrew word. To call upon God’s mercy, then, is to trust ourselves to His loving embrace.
In Greek, the word is eleos. There is only a one-letter difference between eleos (mercy) and eleon (olive oil). This connection is significant. In the Old Testament, olive oil was poured over the heads of kings, prophets, and priests during their anointing. This ritual symbolized that, by themselves, human beings are insufficient for these ministries, but through God’s wisdom and strength—His grace—they are able to fulfill their calling. Even today, in the Orthodox Church, we pray that God’s grace will “fill that which is lacking and heal that which is broken” during ordination.
Olive oil, then, becomes a symbol of God’s strength and wisdom. In the story of Noah, the dove returns with an olive branch, signaling that the floodwaters are receding and that God is offering humanity a new beginning—a chance for renewal. Olive oil was also used in the ancient world as a salve to heal wounds, protecting and cleansing them. This, too, reflects God’s mercy as His healing grace.
When we pray, “Lord, have mercy,” we are asking God for the most essential gifts: His strength and wisdom, His forgiveness, and His healing grace. All of these flow from His steadfast love for us, enabling us to embrace and live out the gift of salvation given to us by Jesus Christ, every day of our lives.
What do we mean in the Eastern Orthodox Church when we talk about the fear of God? The following quotes offer important insights into this question. Saint Dorotheos of Gaza wrote: “A godly man fears and keeps to God’s will, not for fear of punishment or to avoid condemnation, but because he has tasted the sweetness of being with God, and fears he may fall away from it. He fears to be turned from it.”
Saint Theodorus the Great also writes: “The greater our longing for God, the greater grows our fear. And the more we hope to attain God, the more we fear him. For as nothing is more blessed than to attain God, so nothing is more terrible than this great fear of losing him.”
The 20th-century elder, Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica, said: “The fear of God is when you love him, when you truly love him with all your heart, and you strive never to offend or sadden him—not only with your deeds, actions, and words, but also with your thoughts. You try to please him in everything you do or say. That is the fear of God, the fear of doing anything that might sadden or offend our parents.”
And in the book The Mountain of Silence, Kyriakos Markides sums it up like this: “The fear of God of the saints refers to the fear of losing their connection with God, the divine lover, not the fear of a patriarchal despot who rules over the universe with an iron fist.”
We do not have, in the Eastern Orthodox Church, the image of God as Zeus—a powerful, mighty being waiting for people to mess up so he can lower the boom on them. For us, the fear of God arises when we realize, even if just for a moment, the beauty and fulfillment we find in communion with God. Then, we do not want to lose this Divine connection, and we do not want to conduct ourselves in a way that would result in losing it.
It is the fear of losing God, not the fear of God himself.
Whenever I post something like this, at least a couple of people respond with the quote, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” These words are repeated several times in the scriptures. One place we find them is in Proverbs 9:10. And yes, the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. It can be an effective wake-up call and a good starting point. It is the natural response of a humble heart before the Lord, his saints, and his angels.
But it is not a place that God expects us to be stuck in forever. He does not need us to fear him. And we remember that in the scriptures whenever an angel visits someone and the person is afraid, what is the first thing the angel says? “Don’t be afraid.”
St. Anthony the Great, referencing 1 John 4, said: “I no longer fear God, but I love him, for perfect love casts out fear.”
So, fear can be a starting point for us. It can be what we need to take this whole thing seriously, but it is not where we must remain. It is a beginning, but ultimately everything must be driven by love.
Because frankly, if the reason I come to church, pray, read the Bible, and do all these things is simply because I am afraid of being punished, then I am making it about me. I do not want to get punished, so that is why I am doing these things.
In truth, our motivation should be the love of God and the desire for an intimate fellowship with him unto the ages of ages.
For first-time visitors to an Orthodox Church, one of the most striking aspects of the worship experience is the absence of musical instruments. This isn’t merely a stylistic choice; it’s a deliberate theological expression rooted in the history and beliefs of Eastern Orthodoxy.
The roots of Eastern Orthodoxy trace back to the earliest Christian communities, offering worship practices that have remained consistent for nearly two millennia. Historically, early Christians were influenced by Jewish synagogue practices, which had already moved away from instrumental accompaniment by the first century AD. The Early Christians associated instruments with pagan rituals and secular entertainment, leading them to favor a cappella singing as a way to distance themselves from these practices.
In Eastern Orthodoxy, the human voice is considered the perfect instrument. Created as we are in God’s image, our voices are seen as the purest form of musical expression. When Orthodox Christians sing, they are not merely performing music; they are offering their very breath as prayer. The voice, emerging from within the body, symbolizes prayer rising from the heart.
The term “Orthodox” itself is significant, with “doxa” meaning glory in Greek. This word carries two meanings: to praise and to make clearly known. The human voice is believed to be the most perfect way to offer God glory, as it allows for both praise in words and music and the proclamation of Christ’s Gospel through hymns and chanted prayers.
Orthodox worship aims to create an “icon of sound,” a window into heaven, not only through what is seen but also through what is heard. The unadorned human voice captures the essence of angelic worship. In a world increasingly dominated by electronic and produced sound, there is something refreshingly authentic about spaces where human voices alone fill the air.
Through psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, Orthodox Christians offer praise to God and make His truth — that truth that sets us free — known to all who experience the timeless, angelic beauty of the Orthodox Christian liturgy.
Much has been written about the Lord’s Prayer and you can find hours and hours of podcast episodes on it. It’s worth taking the time to look these sources up (this lecture by Fr. Thomas Hopko is a great place to start).
St. John Chrysostom said:
The Lord teaches to make our prayer common, in behalf of our brethren also. Because he does not say: “My Father, in Heaven,” but, “Our Father,” offering up his supplications for the body in common, and in no way only looking out for his own good, but looking out in all things for his neighbor’s good. And by this he at once takes away hatred, and quells pride, and casts out envy, and he brings in selfless love – the mother of all good things, and exterminates the inequality of human things…
What St. John is pointing out is that we don’t say, “My Father,” we say, “Our Father.” The Lord’s Prayer is the great equalizer in Christianity. Regardless of our race or cultural heritage, of our station in life, or of any other demographic into which we can be separated, we are all united in calling God: Our Father.
An ancient Christian saying states that “One Christian is no Christian.” Christianity is relational at its core. The word for Church in the New Testament, “ecclesia,” literally means a people called together. This is how the Lord Jesus Christ defines his people: as one Body, united by his grace.
In my journey through life, I don’t walk alone. I walk together with all of my brothers and sisters, untied through Christ as a family of faith, children of Our Father in heaven.
God calls us to a life of faith and holiness, but if we’re being honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that we fail at it quite regualrly. Fortunately, God’s mercy endures forever, and his has given his children a way back to him. Every time we fall, we get back up again with the assurance of God’s forgiveness. __ Want to learn more about Eastern Orthodoxy? → https://fostrorthodoxy.podia.com
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