So working my part-time job at Starbucks, I often find myself getting up before the sun. While I find the lack of sleep frustrating, after mulling over some concerns about the state of the world, the darkness this morning reminded me of a few truths of my faith. As I was getting dressed, I thought about an article I read by an environmentalist group which talked about mourning for the Earth, and the need to process our grief about climate change in order to effectively do what we can to minimize loss of life (both human and animal) in the days to come. A spine chilling line described how our task is “keeping the hearth on the far side of despair.”
How sobering, and yet also, I thought, what an honor. It reminded me of a practice in the Orthodox Church, that of keeping vigil lamps. In many parishes and in some home altars, we keep an oil lamp perpetually lit. From this lamp, we light all of our candles, whose lights remind us of the light of Christ and whose smoke reminds us of the prayers of our siblings in Christ around the world ascending to Heaven, along with the prayers of those who have gone before us in faith. At the Resurrection Vigil on Pascha night, we chant, “Come, receive the light from the Light which is never overtaken by night, and glorify Christ!”
I believe in the Resurrection, and in the hope of Christ’s life. However, in these times I often find myself looking towards the Second Coming. Maybe one symbolic resonance of the vigil lamps (albeit one not talked about often by the church) is to symbolize the Parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25:1-13), some of whom were neglectful and some of whom kept their lamps burning until Christ the Bridegroom returned to carry them (and us) into the wedding feast.
This passage and other apocalyptic images of the Kingdom of God have often been used as a kind of escapism. God will save us, so let the world burn. I don’t presume to know how the Kingdom of God will come to earth (though all evidence suggests that it *will* come to *Earth*, this making the idea of a disembodied escape to Heaven a misguided one). But I do wonder what Christ would expect of us in these trying times. Even if we cannot save the Earth in its present form, I think the vigil lamp serves as a poignant reminder that we as Christians cannot shirk our responsibilities to the cosmos, to our fellow creatures. On the Bridegroom Vespers services at the beginning of Holy Week, we display the icon of Christ the Bridegroom (above) and chant the hymn, “Behold, the Bridegroom cometh in the middle of the night, and blessed is that servant whom He shall find on watch. Unworthy the one whom He finds sleeping. Take care therefore, my soul, lest you be shut out of the Kingdom.”
With the growing sense of unrest and suffering in the world, I am pursued by the sinking feeling that “it’s later than it seems”. And it makes me think in light of our consumerist society (which I am complicit in) about what really matters. I have been pursuing a career in ministry with my canonical archdiocese. For the time being, I am staying this course, but as my seminary career continues, I am often disheartened by the ways in which I and my peers are set up for failure by our institutions. Academy, parish, workplace, etc. I’ve learned valuable things at seminary, but the workload is demanding and not always focused on depth of formation over magnitude of information being crammed into us. I love my parishes, but on a diocesan level, many lack the vision to raise up new leaders who can bring the gospel into creative witness with our times.** Rent is going up, and even as the world is at times literally burning around us, businesses care more about increasing profit and draining their workers for every last drop of cash than about caring for the laborer and providing services for those who need them. Survival, let alone thriving and pursuing our dreams, visions, and God-given vocations, is a struggle. I don’t know where my journey will lead me, but as I see my peers taking the wisdom of the ages and the Light of Christ and rebuilding the Church from the ground up, I’m beginning to feel that whatever “tending the hearth” looks like in these times, something of our old way of doing things has got to give way.
In light of our climate crisis, these words take on new meaning for me as well. So many people (myself at times included) have given in to despair and “slept” while the world bleeds. Perhaps “keeping vigil” or “keeping the hearth” means not so much standing aloof from suffering and waiting for Christ, but continually working to alleviate suffering while we anticipate His return. Perhaps the ones who will be “found sleeping” are not merely or primarily those who weren’t spending every waking moment thinking about Christ’s return*, but those who saw the suffering of God’s creation and continued to slumber. Obviously, each of us has a different capacity to help. But it seems that if the Kingdom is to come to Earth, it would behoove us to do everything we can to make sure as many of us make it to the finish line as possible. Rich and poor, young and old, needy and self-sufficient. A hearth is a place for friends and family to gather. A vigil lamp, no matter how small, pushes back the darkness. Maybe we can all keep watch together, despite our fear, and hold out for the hope that in the wedding feast of the Kingdom, God will “heal that which is infirm, and complete that which is lacking”***
*Though to do so is a valuable ascetic discipline in its own
**Whether or not I have the potential to be one of those leaders remains to be seen. I am, as the song goes, “just a beggar who gives alms”. But I can’t help but feel that many young people wanting to serve the Church and God’s people (particularly those who do not have my advantages of being cis, white and male) are kept from realizing their gifts for the benefit of the Body of Christ
***Text from the Service of Holy Orders
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