The Shepherd, November 2009
With the hope that I am not tiring you, I would like to forestall a misunderstanding: as we proceed and delve into this astonishing principle of Orthodox spirituality, perhaps you are thinking that gratitude, on the basis of all that we have expounded hitherto, is a simple and easy matter. Let us dispel this misunderstanding. When the Saints exhort us to thank our Lord not only in words, but also with deeds and actions,16 they present us with a vast arena in which to practice gratitude; that is, we must give thanks unceasingly and for all things: for our illnesses, for poverty, for pleasant and unpleasant things, for visible and invisible things, for all the things we know and do not know, for the seen and unseen benefits that come to us,17 giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.18
The Divine Chrysostomos asks: What then? Are we to show gratitude for all that happens to us? And he immediately replies:
Yes. Even if it be disease or poverty..., for seen and unseen benefits..., and for those which we receive against our will; ...but also whenever we are either in poverty, or in sicknesses, or are being insulted, then let us intensify our thanksgiving; thanksgiving, I mean, not in words, nor with the tongue, but in deeds and works, in mind and in heart; let us give thanks to Him with all our souls.19
The height of holiness to which thanksgiving exalts us, especially in unpleasant occurrences, is so great that the Saints consider those who show gratitude to be equal to the Holy Martyrs:
Have you fallen seriously ill? [asks St. John Chrysostomos]. This brings you the crown of martyrdom [through thanksgiving].20 Nothing is holier than that tongue which gives thanks to God in evil circumstances; truly in no respect does it fall short of that of Martyrs; both alike are crowned, both the former and the latter.21
While we are on this subject, we should not forget that St. John Chrysostomos himself, whose end was truly martyric, did not cease, until his dying breath, to exclaim those famous words: Glory to God for all things; I will not cease from saying this always, in all that happens to me: Glory to God for all things!22
Now, I hasten once again to anticipate the objections of some, that these demands of gratitude are excessive and unattainable, given the realities of life today; and so, before I attempt my final ascent to the highest peaks of blessed gratitude and thanksgiving, it would be good for us to receive some encouragement and fortification. In response to these objections, therefore, I will not bring to mind things that took place in times of old, such as the astonishing gratitude shown by a lion towards St. Gerasimos of the Jordan,23 lest I make my speech too lengthy, but rather a very moving and instructive event from our own day and age.
The Athonite Elder Philaret, who was Abbot of the Holy Monastery of Kostamonitou and who reposed in 1963, had the particular spiritual gift (charisma) of love. His love was not restricted only to human beings, but extended further, to inanimate objects, animals, and nature. We perceive this empathy for irrational nature as a typical feature of the Grace-filled lives of God’s chosen servants.
One day, there was great commotion outside the Elder’s cell: two swallows had started a fierce fight with each other! The Elder was troubled. He went outside and beheld a distressing spectacle: the stronger swallow was attacking the other with its beak and literally plucking out its feathers. Without wasting any time, he chased the stronger swallow away. He lovingly took the injured bird in his hands and rescued it; as a result of his nursing, it survived.
Thereafter, just as the lion of St. Gerasimos used to follow the Saint everywhere, showing its gratitude and dedication, so also did this swallow: it flew in front of the Elder, fluttered its wings, frolicked, and sang.
One day, the Elder went outside, either to marvel at God in His works or to pray in silence. The swallow, his faithful friend and companion, was happily flying beside him.
The Elder sat down in the fruit-drying room a short distance from the monastery, and fell asleep without realizing it; but the swallow suddenly began to flutter rapidly above his head, chirping loudly, as if it wanted to wake him up and warn him of some danger.
And in very truth, when the Elder awoke, what did he see? A large reptile not too far away from him. His companion had in turn performed its own act of charity for the merciful Elder.24
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