white suit

Immediately after the triple immersion is complete, the approved garment is put on. white suitIn liturgical texts and patristic commentaries, it is called: the radiant robe (1)The royal robe(2)The garment of eternity(3) etc…

As the priest places this robe on the catechumen, he says: – The servant of God is clothed with the robe of righteousness, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

The following hymn is sung: – Grant me a radiant robe, O You who are clothed in light like a garment, O Christ our God of great mercy.

This is one of the oldest baptismal rites in our liturgy, and it has occupied an important place in ancient interpretations of this sacrament. (4)But these interpretations, and the very concept of the ritual, have been reduced over time to a mere external symbol. We are told that the white robe symbolizes spiritual purity and righteousness, which every Christian should strive for in their life. Clearly, there is nothing wrong with this interpretation, but the flaw that makes it similar to all other allegorical interpretations is that it leaves the fundamental question unanswered. What is the nature of that purity and righteousness? And what is their content? We have learned that the characteristics of the liturgy, and the characteristics of each rite and act within it, lie in the fact that they not only symbolize something, but also proclaim andGive what it symbolizesThus, the rite of the white robe is not merely a reminder and an invitation to a pure and virtuous life. If it were only that, it would add nothing to baptism. It is self-evident that we are baptized in order to live a Christian life, and that this life should be as pure and virtuous as possible. But what this rite proclaims and conveys is... Grandmother The radical nature of that purity and that righteousness, that is, that new spiritual life for which the victor is renewed by immersion in the waters of baptism, and which he will immediately receive by means of (Seal of the Gift of the Holy Spirit).

We need not provide proof that we are living today amidst a profound moral and spiritual crisis. On the one hand, we hear lamentations over the "moral crisis," and it becomes clear that Christians themselves are divided about its nature and the measures that should be taken to address it. One group defends the (old) moral law and calls for a return to it, but they are confronted by another group that denounces its hypocrisy and legalistic approach and calls for a new ethic they call "situational ethics" and "ethics of love," etc. On the other hand, there is a renewed interest in and search for "spirituality." This term "spirituality" carries within it a clear and irrational spiritual confusion. This confusion, in turn, generates a great diversity of dubious spiritual "teachings" and "prescriptions." There are groups that affirm spirituality (the "celebration of life" group) and groups that deny spirituality (the "end of the world" group). There is the Jesus movement, a charismatic movement, and a number of different types of elders and gurus. There are groups practicing transcendental meditation, the gift of tongues, and Oriental mysticism. Some seek to rediscover the devil and engage in witchcraft, while others are obsessed with exorcisms, and so on. Our parishes, however, which have not yet been influenced by these prevalent spiritual trends, are still dominated by the usual reduction of Christian life to various external obligations and prohibitions. But the compliance of (our good people) with these (duties) and their abstention from (prohibitions) does not prevent them from actually living a completely worldly life, or from adhering to standards and criteria that are far removed from the Gospel.

All of this reveals a profound confusion and a lack of authentic spiritual standards, the foremost of which is sobriety, which Orthodox tradition considers the essential condition for all genuine spirituality. This deficiency has reached such a point that even the most authentic research is susceptible to misdirection and led to spiritual catastrophe. Our age is one in which spiritual charlatanry, deception, and forgery take the form of an "angel of light" (2 Corinthians 11:14). However, the fundamental danger and deficiency in this phenomenon is that many—including those who often appear to be traditional distributors of spirituality—view it as a self-contained entity, completely detached from Christian experience and the Christian worldview, and entirely separate from the fullness of the Christian faith. I have seen the Philokalia read and practiced in groups and circles with secret teachings that have no relation to the Christian worldview, but are in fact completely opposed to it. This separation between full faith and spirituality, with its traditional and orthodox appearance, exposes it to the danger of becoming a one-sided and reductive spirituality, that is, heretical (from the Greek word ςισερіα, meaning selection, and therefore reduction), and thus it becomes a false spirituality.

The danger of false spirituality has always existed. Saint John condemned it, addressing Christians: “Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God.” He then established the fundamental principle of this “testing,” which is that “every spirit that confesses Jesus Christ incarnate is a spirit from God” (1 John 4:1-2). This means that the measure of “spirituality” is found in the Incarnation, the central Christian doctrine. I say central because it encompasses and contains the entirety of the Christian faith and all dimensions of the Christian worldview: creation, the Fall, salvation, God, the world, and humanity. But where else can this true spirituality, this comprehensive vision of humanity, its nature, and its vocation, be better revealed than in this mystery, which aims specifically to restore humanity to its true nature and to grant it new life through regeneration (by water and the Spirit)? It is within this context that the ritual of the white robe takes on its true significance and reveals its secret meaning, a ritual that seemed secondary to the point of not being mentioned in the pamphlets that speak of moral and doctrinal theology.

The fundamental principle of liturgical theology, a principle rarely applied in (symbolic) interpretations of worship, lies in the fact that the true meaning of each liturgical act is revealed through the framework within which it takes place—that is, through its place within the liturgical order and its position in the sequence of acts that constitute the liturgy. In other words, each rite derives its meaning and power from the rites that precede and follow it. The rite of the white vestment concludes and seals Baptism itself. The dressing in the radiant vestment corresponds to the undressing of the catechumen before Baptism, that is, his nakedness as he enters the water of salvation. On the other hand, this rite inaugurates the second part of the liturgy of initiation into the Church, namely, Christ through consecration with holy chrism and the bestowal of the gift of the Holy Spirit upon the convert. This dual function of the rite reveals the true content of the new life and the very essence of its newness.

We know that the removal of clothing from the catechumen before baptism is a sign of his rejection of the "old self" and the "old life"—a life of sin and corruption. Indeed, it was this sin that revealed Adam and Eve's nakedness, forcing them to cover it with clothing. (5)But why were they not ashamed of their nakedness before the sin? Because they were clothed in the true nature of humanity, that is, divine glory and light, and indescribable beauty. This was the first garment they lost, for they "knew they were naked" (Genesis 3:7). But the wearing of the "garment of light" after baptism signifies that humanity has returned to its paradisiacal perfection and innocence, regaining the true nature that sin had concealed and distorted. Saint Ambrose compared the baptismal garment to Christ's robe on Mount Tabor, stating that the transfigured Christ reveals that perfect humanity, innocent of sin, is not "naked," but clothed in a garment "white as snow" in the uncreated light of divine glory. (6)For it is paradise, not sin, that reveals the true nature of man. And in baptism, man returns to paradise, to his true nature, and to the robe of glory he had in the beginning.

Thus, the rite of the white robe fulfills the baptism that preceded it and inaugurates the liturgical act that follows. We put on the (glorious robe) in order to be anointed. The early Church did not need to explain the organic and intuitive connection between the two rites, because it knew the three basic meanings of this act and the three basic dimensions of the (heavenly calling) to which man was called in Christ, namely the (royal) dimension, the (priestly) dimension, and the (prophetic) dimension. The ephod of King David the linen merchant (2 Samuel 6:14), the priestly garments of Aaron and his sons (Exodus 28), the mantle of Elijah (2 Kings 2:14), the separation of king and priest by Christ, and the prophetic gift as an anointing—all these are fulfilled in Christ, who has made us kings and priests (Revelation 1:6), a chosen people, a royal priesthood, and a holy nation (1 Peter 2:9), and who poured out his Spirit on humanity in the last days so that they might prophesy (Acts 2:18). The person who is born again in the baptismal font, renewed in the image of his Creator, and restored to his indescribable beauty, is now ready to be separated for his new heavenly calling in Christ. He was baptized into Christ and put on Christ, and thus became ready to receive the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, and the gifts of Christ – anointed as king, priest, and prophet – and the Trinitarian content of all authentic Christian life and all Christian spirituality.

Seal of the Gift of the Holy Spirit

After immersion in baptismal water and putting on the white robe, Wipe The convert, or in liturgical terms: It is sealed With holy chrism.

The second of the two mysteries of initiation into the Church has sparked more controversy than any other liturgical act, and has received more interpretations than any other. (7)It is known that Catholic Church She transformed it into (confirmation), so it became the sacramental act that allows the (adult) to enter the life of the Church, and thus she severed his connection with baptism. (8)As for... Protestant They rejected its sacramental nature, arguing that it undermines the self-sufficiency of baptism. (9)These Western developments have influenced Orthodox (academic) theology, which, as we mentioned earlier, had long since adopted the same spirit and methods of Western theological thought. As in many other areas, Orthodox theology employs a style of "verbal warfare" in its discussions of the sacrament of chrismation. For example, Bishop Sylvester, one of the most prominent Russian theologians, devoted only twenty-nine pages of his monumental five-volume doctrinal work to the sacrament of chrismation. He confined his entire discussion to just two points: first, to refute the Catholics regarding the liturgical connection between chrismation and baptism, and second, to refute the Protestants regarding its status as a sacrament independent of baptism. (10).

Such a “war of words” could be beneficial, even necessary, if it simultaneously revealed the positive Orthodox understanding of the second sacrament and its unique significance in the Church’s faith and experience. However, the tragedy of our academic theology, under Western influence, is that while it condemns and combats Western errors, it adopts the very causes that led to these errors—the same assumptions and the same theological framework. In the West, the debate surrounding Confirmation stemmed from a broader phenomenon: the disconnect between the “Lex orandi” (the liturgical tradition of the Church) and theology. This disconnect, which we have condemned as the “original sin” of all scholastic theology, has led theologians to create—so to speak—their own definitions of the sacraments. Instead of deriving the meaning of the sacraments from liturgical tradition, they have created their own definitions. In light of these definitions, they began to interpret the liturgy of the Church, and (crammed) into their interpretations the premise they had previously adopted.

We have learned that the basis of these definitions lies in a specific concept of grace and the means of grace. From this comes the definition of anointing as the sacrament that bestows upon converts the gifts (χαρισματα) of the Holy Spirit, that is, a grace essential to their Christian life. This definition is found in most theological texts, both Eastern and Western. (11)But the real question that Orthodox theologians fighting on two fronts—Catholic and Protestant—failed to ask is whether this definition is sufficient, and even more so, whether it is accurate. The fact is that this definition, as it stands, makes the Western “predicament” inevitable. Either the grace we receive in Baptism makes bestowing any new grace an unnecessary act. The Protestant Solution، Or perhaps the grace granted in the second sacrament is...A completely different aunt from the first, and therefore can – indeed should – be “separated” from baptism. The Catholic solution. But Is it not possible that this predicament is erroneous and illusory, the product of incorrect assumptions and flawed definitions? This is the question that Orthodox theology can answer, and must answer, but it will only be able to do so if it frees itself from Western “reductionism” of secrets And it returned to its original, fundamental source: that is The liturgical truth that embodies and conveys the faith and experience of the Church.

إنّ الدليل الليتورجي واضحٌ. Holy anointing It is not only an organic part of the sacrament of baptism, but it is performed as investigation For him, just as the act that follows the holy anointing – participation in the Eucharist – is the realization of it.

After the priest clothes him in the vestments, he says the following prayer: – Blessed are You, O Lord God, Almighty God… You who have granted us, unworthy as we are, blessed purification by holy water, and divine sanctification by the life-giving anointing. You who have now been pleased to renew the birth of Your enlightened servant anew by water and the Spirit, and have granted him forgiveness of his voluntary and involuntary sins, You, O Lord, King of all, the Compassionate, grant him also the seal of the gift of Your Holy Spirit, Almighty and Worshipful, and the partaking of the Holy Body and Precious Blood of Your Christ…

Our current liturgy, though differing from the ancient liturgy in several ways, and though greatly lacking in comparison to the glorious Paschal celebration of Baptism, contains no gaps, no break between immersion in the waters of Baptism and the rite of the white robe and anointing with holy chrism. The convert wears the white robe because he has been baptized, and in order to be anointed.

But it is clear that the sealing with holy chrism is a new act. It is true that baptism prepared for it and made it possible, but it gives the liturgy of belonging to the Church an entirely new dimension. Therefore, the Church has always recognized it as a gift and a sacrament distinct from baptism.

The novelty of this sacrament is evident in the phrase uttered by the priest (when he anoints the convert on his forehead, then on his eyes, then on his nostrils, then on his mouth, then on his ears, then on his chest, then on his hands, and finally on his feet), that is, when he (seals) the whole body with the precious chrism that the bishop had previously consecrated, and says: (seals the gift of the Holy Spirit).

إذا كان المعنى الحقيقي لهذه العبارة، أو بالأحرى للموهبة التي تعلنها هذه العبارة، مخفياً عن كثيرٍ من اللاهوتيين، فذلك عائد إلى أنهم – بسبب تكيُّفِهم مع مقولاتهم الفكرية – لا يسمعون ما تقولُهُ الكنيسة، ولا يرَوْن ما تفعلُه. وإنه لأمرٌ بالغُ الدلالة أنْ تكون اللفظة المستعملة في السر قد وردتْ بصيغة المفرد: (موهبة = δωρεά) في حين أنّ اللاهوتيين عندما (يعرِّفون) هذا السر يتحدثون، دون استثناء تقريباً، عن (مواهب χαρισματα) بصيغة الجمع، فيقولون إنّ المتنصّر يُمنَحُ (مواهبَ الروح القدس)، معتقدين أنّ هاتين اللفظتين بالمفرد والجمع –  يمكن أنْ تتبادلا المكان. ولكنّ النقطة الأساسية أنهما، في لغة الكنيسة وخبرتها، تشيران إلى حقائق مختلفة. لقد وردتْ لفظة χαρισματα (مواهب الروح القدس)، (مواهب روحية) مراراً كثيرة في العهد الجديد وفي التقليد المسيحي القديم (12). و(تعدُّدُ المواهب) الآتية من الروح الواحد (إنّ المواهب على أنواع وأما الروح فواحد) 1كو4:12) هو أحد النواحي الأساسية المُفْرِحَة في خبرة الكنيسة الأولى. ولكن في وسعنا الافتراض أنه لو كانت الغاية المحدّدة لسر المسحة المقدّسة هي منح أية (مواهبَ) خاصة، أو منحُ (نعمة) ضرورية لمحافظة الإنسان على حياته المسيحية (وهذه النعمة تُمنح فعلاً في المعمودية التي هي سر التجدّد والاستنارة) لوَرَدتْ اللفظة بصيغة الجمعِ. وإذا كانت لم تَرِدْ بصيغة الجمع، فلأنّ جِدَّةَ هذا السر وفرادَتَه التامة، تنبعان من كونه لا يمنحُ الإنسان موهبةً خاصة أو مواهبَ من الروح القدس، بل يَمْنَحُ الروحَ القدسَ نفسَه بوصفه موهبة.

Gift of the Holy Spirit!

The Holy Spirit as a gift! Can we continue to understand the depth of this indescribable mystery, and its true theological and spiritual implications? Can we understand that the strange uniqueness of this personal Pentecost is that we We receive through talent what Christ alone received by nature.Is this the Holy Spirit, whom the Father bestowed upon the Son from eternity, and who descended upon Christ, and upon him alone, in the Jordan, proclaiming him to be the Anointed One, the beloved Son, and the Savior? In other words, can we understand that we receive the Spirit as a gift, belonging to Christ because it is his Spirit, and dwelling in him because it is his Life? But the Holy Spirit descends upon us in this anointing—Pentecost—and dwells within us as Christ's personal gift from his Father, the gift of his Life, his Sonship, and his communion with the Father. Christ said when he promised him: “He will take what is mine and make it known to you. All that the Father has is mine; therefore I told you that he will take what is mine and make it known to you” (John 16:14-15). We receive the gift of Christ's Spirit not only because we have become Christ's through faith and love, but because our faith and love have made us desire his Life so that we may be in him. We were baptized into Christ, and thus we put on Christ. Christ is the anointed one and we receive his anointing; Christ is the Son and we are taken as sons; Christ has the Holy Spirit as his life in himself and we are given participation in his life.

In this unique, wondrous, and divine anointing, the Holy Spirit gives us Christ because He is the Spirit of Christ, and Christ gives us the Holy Spirit because His life is the Holy Spirit: (the Spirit of Truth, the gift of adoption, the pledge of our future inheritance, the firstfruits of eternal blessings, the life-giving power, the fountain of holiness…) (Prayer of the Offering in the service of St. Basil the Great), or as an ancient liturgical phrase says: (the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father, and the communion of the Holy Spirit). What is given to man and bestowed upon him in this mystery is the Triune God Himself, and the knowledge of Him and communion with Him as a kingdom and eternal life.

It should now be clear why we say that the seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit is simultaneously the fulfillment of baptism and a new mystery that leads the convert beyond baptism. It fulfills baptism because only the person restored to their true nature in Christ, freed from the sting of sin, reconciled with God and with God's creation, and restored to their true self, can receive this gift and be granted a more complete calling. But the seal is a new mystery, another mystery and another manifestation, because the Holy Spirit of Christ themselves and the heavenly calling of Christ are given to the convert as a gift. This (gift) does not pertain to human nature insofar as it is human nature, even though God created man to obtain it. Rather, after baptism has prepared it, made it possible, and realized it, it leads man to something beyond baptism and beyond (salvation): it opens before him the door of (deification), by making him a (Christ) in Christ, and anointing him with the anointing of the anointed one.

These are the meanings of this indescribable mystery, this seal. The word sphragis (seal) had many meanings in the early Church. (13)But its main meaning, as it appears in Holy Chrism AnointingIt is perfectly clear: it is our imprint with the mark of the One who possesses us; it is the seal that preserves and defends our precious content and fragrance; it is the sign of our unique, heavenly calling. In Christ, who is the equal seal (σφραγις ισότυπος), we are the Father's own and are taken as His children. In Christ, who is the true and unique temple, we become temples of the Holy Spirit. And in Christ, who is King, Priest, and Prophet, we are made kings, priests, and prophets, or as John Chrysostom says: "We possess the riches of all these exalted ranks, not just one of them." (14).

We Kings, priests, and prophetsBut our estrangement from the ancient tradition has reached a point where our minds have ceased to connect these (high ranks) to our understanding of our Christian life, spirituality, and their content. We apply them to Christ, who is King, Priest, and Prophet. It has become customary in our doctrinal theological texts to divide Christ's office according to these three categories: kingship, priesthood, and prophethood. But as soon as we turn to ourselves, to our new life—which we affirm is our life in Christ and Christ's life in us—we completely disregard them. We ascribe kingship to Christ alone, and we establish priestly identity only for the clergy. As for prophecy, we view it as an (extraordinary) gift bestowed upon a select few, but certainly not as an essential dimension of Christian life and spirituality. This is the real reason why we have come to regard the mystery of the Holy Spirit as an (extraordinary) act. It is either subordinate to baptism, if not identical to it, or entirely distinct from it, that is, (confirmation). This, in turn, has led to a narrow and superficial understanding of the Church and our life within it. What we must strive to do is to restore the true meaning of these three dimensions that constitute authentic Christian spirituality: the royal dimension, the priestly dimension, and the prophetic dimension.

the king

Christ has made us “kings and priests to God his Father” (Revelation 1:6), and in him we have become “a royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9). But the question is: what does this mean for our lives in the church, in the world, and in the tangible, personal way of our existence?

The primary and fundamental content of the idea of ​​kingship is that of power and authority, by which we mean the power and authority granted from on high, from God, and indicative of His power. (15)In the Old Testament, the divine source of kingship was symbolized by the anointing, which demonstrated that the king was the bearer of divine authority and the executor of its decrees. Through this anointing, the king became the benefactor of those under his rule, entrusted with their lives, tasked with defending them and ensuring their victory, glory, well-being, and happiness. This concept of kingship was common to all (primitive) societies and all (monarchies). However, the unique biblical revelation clarified that kingship, before becoming the private power of specific individuals, belonged to humanity itself, as its human calling and rank. It is the royal power that God bestows upon humankind, whom He creates in His image—that is, in the image of the King of Kings, the image of the One in whose hands lies all power and all authority. Therefore, the first power given to man was intended to “subdue the earth and have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and every living creature that moves on the earth” (Genesis 1:27-28).

I have Man was created as king over creation.This is its first and fundamental truth, the source and foundation of Christian spirituality. It is in human nature to be a king and to possess the gift of kingship, for it is through this that one attains a higher state. Image of GodAnd the power that enables him to shape creation as God wills it to be. He is the bearer of divine power and the benefactor of the earth given to him as his kingdom, for whose good and perfection he must strive. The Orthodox tradition has always emphasized this view, which elevates humanity to the highest station, and has defended it against every attempt to diminish or belittle humanity, whether from the East or the West. For humanity bears the marks of its original royal rank, even in its fall and relinquishment of its kingship.

The second spiritual truth concerning humanity is that it is a fallen king. Its fall stems primarily from the loss of its kingship. Instead of being the King of creation, it becomes its slave, for it rejects the power from on high and abandons its anointing. Through this rejection and abandonment, it ceases to be the benefactor of creation, striving instead to exploit, possess, and own it for itself, rather than guiding it toward its perfection. But humanity does not possess life within itself; in this respect, it is like creation. Therefore, its fall marks the beginning of the reign of death, and it becomes a mortal slave within its own kingdom.

Hence the third fundamental truth: the preservation of human sovereignty.In Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of the world, man is restored to his essential nature.This means that he is made king again. We often forget that Christ's title of king—a title confirmed by his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, the people's greeting of him as "the king who comes in the name of the Lord," and his acceptance of it when he stood before Pilate: "You say that I am a king" (John 18:37)—is his human title, not merely his divine one. He is king, and he proclaims himself king because he is the new Adam, the perfect man who has regained in himself human nature in its indescribable glory and power.

All of this is revealed, relinquished, and realized in the mystery of Baptism, which renews humanity, re-creating it as a king, for it is in its very nature to be a king. We have already mentioned that the consecration of water in thanksgiving reveals the entire universe as God's gift to humanity, and as its kingdom, and that the oil of gladness proclaims to the new Christian that the new life is power and authority. We now recall that in the seal of the Holy Anointing, one is clothed in a royal garment and receives the kingship of Christ. If the determination in Baptism is the source of Christian life and spirituality, and if spirituality is, above all else, the realization of the gift received in Baptism, then the foundation of this spirituality and its two primary and essential dimensions are affirmed here, in the restoration of humanity's kingship. This means that it is first and foremost a positive spirituality, not a negative one, because it stems from joy, acceptance, and affirmation, not from fear, rejection, and denial, and because it is universal and glorifying in its content and orientation.

It is important to state this, for alongside this positive spirituality, there has been, and still is, a negative spirituality, appearing as its shadow and counterpart, but whose primary source is fear, and consequently, a rejection of God's creation as the realm of humanity, and a deep-seated denial of the ontological goodness of creation. Our present age is the most receptive to this negative spirituality, and the reasons for this are clear. This is an age weary of the confusion and bewilderment it has brought about, an age shattered by its own progress, wounded by the apparent triumph of evil, disillusioned by all theories and interpretations, and enslaved by technology. Therefore, humanity instinctively seeks an escape from this evil world, searching for a spiritual refuge or a form of spirituality that affirms and justifies its hatred and fear of this wicked world, while simultaneously granting it the spiritual security and solace it craves. Hence the current surge and astonishing success of all forms of escapist spirituality, both Christian and non-Christian, united by fundamental common themes: rejection, visionary thinking, fear, and a Manichean hatred of this world.

Such a "spirituality," even if it adopts Christian appearances and is cloaked in Christian terminology, is not Christian spirituality at all, but rather betrayal. Salvation cannot be escape, mere rejection, or a delight in "withdrawing" from the evil world and then claiming righteousness as a result. Christ saves us by restoring our true nature, which makes us part of creation and calls us to be its stewards, a role from which there is no escape. Christ is the Savior of the world, not a savior from the world, and He saves it by restoring us to our original state. If this is the case, then the fundamental spiritual work—the work from which all "spirituality" arises—does not lie in equating the world with evil, the essence of things with their deviation from and betrayal of that essence, or the ultimate cause with its evil and corrupt effects. It lies not merely in distinguishing between good and evil, but in discerning the inherent goodness of all that exists and is active, however corrupt and subject its existence may be to evil. "The whole world is under the power of the evil one" (1 John 5:19), yet the world is not evil. While the temptation of early spirituality lies in equating one thing with another, Christian spirituality begins with discernment. Certainly, we live in an evil world, and its evil, pain, and cruelty, confusion, falsehood, sin, crime, injustice, and tyranny seem boundless, to the point that despair and hatred appear to require no justification, or even to be considered signs of wisdom and morality. But the first fruit of the restored kingship within us is that we can, or rather, must, in this evil world, rejoice in its intrinsic goodness, and make joy, gratitude, and the knowledge of the goodness of creation the foundation of our lives. We must discover, behind every deviation, every evil, and every wickedness, the essential nature and calling of humanity, and the nature of creation given to humanity as its kingdom. Humanity misuses its calling, and through this terrible misuse, it disfigures itself and the world, but its calling itself is good. It misuses its creativity in the realms of art, science, and life, leading it to empty, dark, and diabolical ends, but its creativity and its need for beauty and knowledge, for purpose and self-realization, are all good. It satisfies its spiritual thirst and hunger with poison and falsehood, but its thirst and hunger are good. He worships idols, but his need to offer worship is valid. He names things incorrectly and misrepresents the truth, but the gift given to him for naming and understanding is valid. His passions, which ultimately destroy him and govern life itself, are merely gifts of power that have been diverted from their purpose and misused. Yet this man, mutilated and disfigured, bleeding and enslaved, blind and deaf, remains the King of Creation (abdicated from his throne), and remains the object of God's infinite love and veneration. The essential work of authentic Christian spirituality, that is, of the "new life" within us, is to see this, to reveal it, to rejoice in it as we weep for our fall, and then to give thanks for what we see, discover, and rejoice in.

Having established this, what should we do? And how do we achieve this kingship? This question leads us to another dimension, or rather to the very depth of the mystery of baptism itself, namely the central theme occupied by the cross of Christ within it.

The crucified king

If our kingship is restored to us in the mystery of baptism, it is restored on the cross and by a crucified king. And if, at the end of the story of salvation, we have been "appointed to the kingdom" (Luke 22:29), it has been declared that it is "not of this world," but a kingdom to come.

It is precisely at this point, when Christian spirituality clashes with the fundamental contradiction of Christ's kingship, and consequently with our new kingship in him, that spirituality is threatened by two reductions, each precluding the other. Either this restored kingship will be reduced and confined to this world alone, or it will be reduced and confined to the coming kingdom. There are those who readily accept all that we have mentioned above regarding the positive and universal royal inspiration of Christian spirituality, but they conclude from it that spirituality is primarily concerned with this world and with the possibility that allows humanity to "develop" it into the kingdom of God. Others insist that the Kingdom proclaimed and promised in the Gospel is "other than this world," and they reject any spirituality that calls for involvement or participation in it, thus erecting a rigid barrier separating the spiritual from the material. However, these two visions, experiences, and spiritualities actually encompass two different conceptions of the Church and of the Christian life.

The cross of Christ, however, reveals them to be mere reductions, for ultimately they reject the cross and render it, in the words of the Apostle Paul, “meaningless” (1 Corinthians 1:17). If, in Christ, I am restored to my kingdom, and if the kingdom over which I have been given is “not of this world,” then the question upon which my entire Christian life depends is: How can I reconcile these two truths and these two affirmations, which apply to the monk in the desert and to the Christian living in the world, the one with an earthly calling? How can I love the world that God created, and love it deeply, while simultaneously embracing the apostolic commandment: “Do not love the world or anything in the world” (1 John 2:15)? How can I affirm Christ’s sovereignty over all that exists, and at the same time place all my faith, hope, and love in the coming kingdom? How can I assume my kingship and at the same time die to the world so that my life may be “hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3)?

Human thought, the language of abstract logical propositions, and our human spirituality are incapable of providing answers to these crucial questions, leaving the contradiction unresolved. For this reason, our spiritual and religious choices, despite the Christian appearances we readily adopt, remain, in reality, pre-Christian and un-Christian, often reduced to mere escapism or mere pragmatism. The only answer that never changes, yet is new to each person who discovers it, comes from the mystery that constitutes the very depth and heart of the Christian message—a mystery that cannot be reduced to an idea, a prescription, or a set of moral rules applicable to all circumstances, because it is revealed to us only to the extent that we accept it. This is the mystery into which we must enter if we wish to embrace its meaning and power: the mystery of the Cross.

The kingship of Christ and our new kingship in Him cannot be understood or accepted apart from the mystery of the Cross. Moreover, the Cross—and the Cross alone—remains forever the only true symbol, that is, the manifestation and bestowal of that kingship, the proclamation of its power, and its transmission to us. The mystery of the Cross alone unites the two affirmations that human thought cannot reconcile: the affirmation of humanity and its call to be king over God's creation, and the affirmation of the Kingdom, which is "not of this world." The Cross unites them because it always appears as the way of life and the invincible and indescribable divine power that makes faith life and life kingship possible.

The cross accomplishes all this because it is the true and final revelation of this world, as a fallen world whose fall and evil lie in its rejection of God and His kingship, and consequently, in its rejection of the true life given to it in creation. In the crucifixion of Christ, this world reveals itself clearly and unveils its ultimate meaning. Calvary is indeed a unique event, but not in the traditional sense where any event, no matter how significant, is considered unique: confined to those who participated in it, limited to a single moment in time and a single point in space, leaving the rest of the world untouched. Calvary is unique because it is the decisive and comprehensive expression of humanity's rejection of God, a rejection that the Bible says began in Paradise and caused the world God created to change, becoming "this world"—a place dominated by sin, corruption, and death, where the law of its existence is the rejection of and transgression against God's law. The cross reveals that every sin committed from the beginning to the end of the world, at any time and in any place, by any person—whether they lived before or after Christ, whether they believed in him or not—is a rejection of God and an acceptance and surrender to the reality of evil, which is expressed in the rejection and crucifixion of Christ. If, as St. Paul says, "those who fell after the crucifixion crucify Christ a second time" (Hebrews 6:6), and if, as Pascal says, Christ is "in suffering until the end of the world," it is because the cross demonstrates that the rejection of God is the essence of all sin, and that this rejection is the law of this world, which is contrary to God's law.

The cross is the ultimate proclamation of this world and its evil, but the second dimension of the mystery of the cross lies in its decisive and final judgment of this world and its evil, for revealing and exposing evil means that we condemn it. The cross, which shows that this world is a rejection of God, and therefore sin, and a rejection of life, and therefore death, condemns this world, because sin cannot be rectified, nor can death be redeemed. This world is condemned because, on the cross, it condemns itself, revealing itself as a dead end, having nothing to offer, nothing to live by except the vanity of mortal life and the absurdity of death. Thus, the cross of Christ reveals and points to the end and death of this world.

Here we arrive at the third dimension of the mystery of the Cross, a joyful and glorious dimension. The Cross, which reveals that this world is sin and death, and condemns it to death, becomes the beginning of the world's salvation and the inauguration of the Kingdom of God. It saves the world by liberating it from this world, and by showing that this world is not the essence or nature of the world, but rather a manifestation or form of its existence. The Cross itself is the beginning of the passing away (1 Corinthians 7:31) of this manifestation. It is true that the Cross inaugurates the Kingdom of God. But it does not reveal it as another world or another creation replacing this creation, but as creation itself, but after its liberation from the prince of this world and its restoration to its true nature and its ultimate destiny, where God will be all in all (1 Corinthians 15:28).

We can now understand why the cross in the Christian faith—as embodied and conveyed by the Church's liturgical experience—appears as a true manifestation of Christ's glorification and coronation as King. "Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him" (John 13:31). With these words, the Church begins the celebration of Easter, from the moment of Good Friday. Here I emphasize once again that Easter begins on Friday, not Sunday. In ancient tradition, the word "Easter" did not refer to Sunday as it does today, but rather to the undivided triduum paschale: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. This unity, this reciprocal relationship between the day of the Cross, the day of the burial, and the day of the Resurrection, are what reveal to us Christ's victory and coronation as King, and consequently, the nature of the kingship he bestows upon us.

In this liturgical manifestation, Friday—the day of the crucifixion—is truly the day of this world, the day of its final self-revelation, its apparent victory and ultimate defeat. When this world rejects and condemns Christ, it reveals its absolute evil, proclaiming itself to be evil itself. When it removes Christ from its path and leads him to death, it triumphs outwardly. But in reality, it suffers a decisive defeat. Christ, who stands before his accusers, is condemned, mocked, humiliated, nailed to the cross, suffers, and dies, is the only one who truly triumphs, for his obedience, love, and forgiveness all proclaim their victory over this world. Therefore, from the depths of its apparent defeat, we hear the first acknowledgment of his kingship: in the tablet Pilate placed on the cross, in the dying thief's cry, and in the centurion's creed: "This man was truly the Son of God" (Mark 15:39).

Then comes the great and holy Saturday, the blessed Saturday, the day of death's apparent victory and ultimate defeat before Christ. For when death—the law of this world—appears to swallow Christ and achieve its universal dominion, it is swallowed up by victory (1 Corinthians 15:54), because he who willingly surrenders himself to death is freed from death, and thus destroys death with life and love, which are the death of death.

And when God raises him from the dead on the third day, his life, over which death no longer has dominion, reveals the presence of the Kingdom of God in our midst. This is precisely the essence of Paschal joy: in this very world, the Kingdom (which is not of this world) is proclaimed, revealed, and inaugurated as new life, in our world where, from now until its final fulfillment in God, the divine cry resounds: Rejoice!

Here we can answer the question we posed at the beginning of this chapter concerning the meaning of the new kingship bestowed upon us in the sacrament of Holy Unction. We can now answer it because the Cross of Christ has revealed to us the content of this kingship and granted us its power. Holy Unction does indeed make us kings, but the Holy Spirit grants us the kingship of the crucified Christ—that is, the Cross as kingship, and kingship as the Cross. The Cross, which crowns Christ as King, reveals to us that it is the only way for us to be crowned with Christ and restored to our kingship.

Saint Paul described this approach perfectly when he wrote: “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14). These words express the novelty and uniqueness of the Christian view of the world, and of humanity’s calling and life within it. Its novelty lies precisely in its transcendence of polarization, reductionism, and the black-and-white view of things that those “spiritualities” and “worldviews” adopt when they either accept the world unconditionally or reject it unconditionally, and when they transform religion into either an active force “in this world” or an escape “outside this world.” Thus, in these spiritualities and religions, the cross of Christ appears, as Saint Paul described it, to be “futile” and unnecessary. For this reason, it remains – even within religion – a stumbling block to some and foolishness to others (1 Corinthians 1:23).

For the world to be crucified for me means, first and foremost, that the cross is the sole measure of everything in the world, the standard by which all life and action are judged. This means rejecting the world as "this world" that enslaves humanity with sin and death, and rejecting the world as "the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of wealth." On the cross, Christ revealed the corruption and evil of the world, which stem from its being "this world," and this revelation will forever remain a judgment upon it. But He is not condemned in the name of any other world, nor for the sake of any other world, but in the name of and for the sake of His true nature and calling—the very nature and calling revealed by the cross through the faith, obedience, and love of the Son of Man. The cross reveals the world's self-condemnation, its end, but at the same time, it makes possible the acceptance of the world as God's creation and the object of God's boundless love and care. This is the meaning of the world being crucified for me. Within the Christian faith and the Christian worldview, the rejection and acceptance of the world exist together, mutually supportive and intertwined to the point of contradiction: rejection is the only way to accept, and acceptance is what reveals the true meaning and purpose of rejection.

But this worldview remains a contradiction, or merely a dogma, unless I am crucified to the world. Within me, in my faith, my life, and my work, this dogma can become life, and the cross of Christ can become power. For, according to the Christian faith, knowledge is not an abstract, impersonal idea or concept, but always a unique gift to a unique individual: God has given me the world as my life, my mission, my calling, my work, and my responsibility. No idea or dogma can save the world, but the world is either destroyed or saved in each person. It is saved whenever a person accepts the cross and is willing to be crucified to the world. This means steadfastness, continuous discernment, and a mortal struggle for the triumph of one's calling. It also means a continuous rejection of the world as "this world," that is, a rejection of its self-sufficiency, selfishness, evil, and corruption, and of everything the Bible calls "pride." But at the same time, it means a continuous acceptance of the world as God's gift to us, the means by which we grow in it, and our communion with Him.

(That the world be crucified to me, and I to the world) is the true description and definition of the kingship we regain in the royal anointing, which we receive from the Holy Spirit. (All things are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s) (1 Corinthians 3:22). Everything is ours: the world is ours again, and we can rule over it. Every human calling is blessed and holy, and each is unique because every human being is unique. Everything is acceptable, except evil and sin. And everything must be made a source of knowledge of God and communion with Him, reflecting and expressing the goodness, truth, and beauty of God’s kingdom. If the wisdom of this world seems to contradict and misunderstand the inner law of this new kingship and power, it is because it is completely contrary to the law that this generation accepts as self-evident.

The new and true royal power that Christ bestows upon humanity is the power that enables them to transcend and overcome the finality of this world, its natural limitations, and its closed horizons. It is the power that enables them to make the world divine again, instead of making God earthly. It is the power that enables them to continue rejecting this world as an end in itself, a value in itself, a beauty or meaning in itself. It is the power that enables them to continue to recreate the world as an ascent to God. Sin lies not only in the misuse of this power, or in its partial deviations and shortcomings, but also in humanity loving the world for its own selfish purposes and wanting to make everything, even God, a servant to the world. It is not enough to believe in God and make this world religious. Rather, we should say that true faith in God and true religion are found in our secret and intuitive certainty that the Kingdom of God, the object of all longing, hope and love, is not of this world, but is the (higher) Kingdom that alone can give meaning and value to everything in the world.

To restore humanity to its former glory does not mean endowing it with superhuman powers or skills, nor does it mean giving its worldly activities a new direction, nor does it mean making it excel in engineering, medicine, and literature. Non-believers may, in fact, be more adept in science, technology, medicine, and so on. To restore humanity to its former glory means, first and foremost, liberating it from the belief that these fields are the ultimate goal and meaning of human existence, or that they represent the sole horizon of human life. This liberation is what contemporary worldly man needs above all else. While he has become increasingly adept at making things work, he has lost all understanding of the true nature of these things and has become enslaved to the idols he has created. Humanity—and the entire world—needs this freedom, which stems from knowledge of the Kingdom (which is not of this world), not from the pathetic displays of self-preservation and entanglement we offer, nor from our surrender to this world with its fleeting philosophies and terminology. When the taste of the Kingdom is on a person's lips, the world becomes for them a sign, a promise, a thirst, and a hunger for God. When we seek the Kingdom above all else, we truly begin to enjoy the world and our power over it. Then the purity of things is restored, along with the clarity of our knowledge and vision of them, and the rightness of our use of them. Whether our mission, calling, or profession is glorious or humble, meaningful or trivial, according to the standards of this world, it acquires meaning and becomes a source of joy, because we then do not perceive or experience it in itself, but in God and as a sign of His Kingdom. (For all things are yours—the world and life and death, the present and the future. All things are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.) (1 Corinthians 3:21-23)

This is the new kingship we receive in the anointing with holy chrism; it is the kingship of those who have been "appointed to the Kingdom" (Luke 22:29), and who have tasted its joy, peace, and righteousness. These are the ones who can overcome this world by the power of the glorious Cross and present it to God, after they have truly transformed it. This now leads us to the second rank bestowed upon us in the mystery of the Holy Spirit: the priesthood.

priest

صار البعد الكهنوتي للحياة المسيحية المعطاة لنا في موهبة الروح القدس منسياً أكثر من ملوكية الإنسان الجديدة في المسيح. وقد نُسي هذا البعد لأنه امتُصَّ وذابَ في التقسيم القديم، السابق للمسيحية، وهو التقسيم الذي يفرّق بين الإكليروس والعلمانيين، ويشدّد على أنَّ العلمانيين ذوو طبيعة غير كهنوتية. وعندما قَبِلَ الفكر المسيحي هذا الاختزال الذي يعني العودة إلى مقولات العهد القديم، ورَفَضَ المعنى الحقيقي للمسيحية، وهو أنَّ كل شيء يتغيّر ويتجدّد جذرياً في المسيح، حتى المقولات والدين نفسه، انتهى به الأمر إلى الوقوف أمام مأزق مغلوط: فإمّا أنَّ المؤسسة الكهنوتية تُبعد عن الكنيسة كل فكرة تقول بالصفة (الكهنوتية) لكل المسيحيين، وإمّا أنّ (الصفة الكهنوتية) لكل المسيحيين، وبالتالي لكل الكنيسة (التي عرّفها الرسول بأنها (كهنوت ملوكي) يجب أنْ تمنع وجود مؤسسة كهنوتية في الكنيسة. وهكذا نرى، مرة أخرى، أنَّ المنطق البشري المجرد الذي طُبِّق على سرِّ الكنيسة تسبّب في تشويه هذا السر، وأدَّى لاحقاً إلى إفقار اللاهوت والليتورجيا والتقوى.

The early Church, however, held fast to and emphasized both: there is a priestly institution within the Church, and there is a "royal priesthood" belonging to the Church. These are the two essential and complementary dimensions of their very life. They are essential because they arise from the Church's experience of Christ and his unique priesthood, and complementary because each reveals the reciprocal relationship between them, and the place and importance of the other in the life and work of the Church. (16).

Therefore, we are called to rediscover the true meaning of Christ's priesthood. The gradual corruption we mentioned earlier began only after Christ's priesthood was reduced to (clerical) categories and viewed solely as the source of the priestly institution. This reduction undermined the initial experience and ancient tradition, making it imperative for us to understand that Christ's priesthood—like his kingship and prophethood—is rooted in his human nature above all else, being a part of it and its perfect expression. Christ is king, priest, and prophet because he is the new Adam, the perfect human being who restores humanity to its fullness and wholeness. In theological terms, the salvific meaning of these three roles arises from their ontological nature, that is, from their belonging to the human nature that Christ assumed in order to redeem it. This means that human nature has a priestly dimension, a dimension that humanity betrayed and lost through sin, and which Christ then restored and fulfilled. This raises the question: What does it mean for a person to be a priest? Indeed, our answer to this question, which inherently includes the meaning of Christ's priesthood for us, enables us to simultaneously understand the meaning of the "royal priesthood" as the Christian way of life, and the meaning of the priestly institution as the necessary form of the Church.

We say “royal priesthood,” not priesthood alone, nor kingship alone, because they are intertwined, each fulfilling and being fulfilled in the other. This “royal priesthood” is the mystery of humanity revealed in Christ. If it is the nature of a king to possess power and authority, and if it is the nature of a priest to offer sacrifice—that is, to be a mediator between God and creation, and to sanctify life by integrating it into the divine will and divine order—then this dual function has been humanity’s function from the beginning. Yet it is a single function, in which humanity’s natural kingship is realized in the priesthood, and in which this natural priesthood makes humanity king over creation. Humanity possesses power and authority over the world, but it realizes this power by sanctifying the world and bringing it into communion with God. Human power is not merely power from God or power inferior to God, but rather God, and the ultimate goodness which we have seen as the inner law of all power, are its goal and content. Thus, this power is realized in the offering, which, long ago, before becoming synonymous with atonement, was the fundamental expression of humanity's desire for communion with God and of creation's yearning to realize itself in God, because the offering was essentially an act of praise, thanksgiving, and union. For this reason, humanity is, by its very nature and vocation, both king and priest.

The fall of humanity lies in its rejection of this priestly calling, its refusal to be a priest. Original sin lies in humanity's choice of a non-priestly relationship with God and the world. Perhaps no word better captures the essence of this new, fallen, and non-priestly way of life than "consumer," a term that has gained unprecedented popularity in our time. After glorifying itself as "Homo faber" (working man) and then "Homo sapiens" (thinking man), humanity seems to have found its ultimate calling in being a "consumer." Some modern people even consider defending "consumer rights" a great and heroic cause! Do we need proof that this "example" simply precludes the idea of ​​offering and humanity's priestly vocation? The unfortunate achievement of our age—and it is true in this respect—is that it proudly confirms what previous civilizations tried to conceal. But the obvious truth is that the "consumer" was not born in the twentieth century. The first consumer was Adam himself, for he did not choose to be a priest, but rather to engage with the world as a consumer: to partake of it, to use it, to dominate it for his own benefit, and to profit from it, without offering it up, presenting it, or possessing it for God and in God. The most tragic consequence of this original sin is that it transformed religion itself into an objective commodity, designed to satisfy our religious needs, to serve us as a remedy or a security shield, and to provide us with cheap righteousness that appeases our desires, and with a cheap, selfish, and self-serving spirituality. The priest, of course, must be the obvious supplier of all this, and his special, sacred powers must be used to secure the interests of religion in a society and civilization far removed from any concern for the divine calling to which humanity and all of creation have been summoned.

It goes without saying that this concept was not—and never will be—the true Christian concept of humanity, religion, and the priesthood. Christ, who became incarnate and offered himself to God for the salvation of the world, revealed the true nature of humanity, that is, the priestly nature. He gives us his life in baptism and the sacrament of holy anointing, restoring us to our priesthood: that is, to our capacity to offer ourselves as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1), and to our capacity to make our whole life a spiritual worship (Romans 12:1), an offering, a sacrifice, and a communion.

But the Church is the gift of this new life and its presence in the world; it is therefore an offering, a sacrifice, and a communion. Thus, it is also, necessarily, priestly in its entirety as the Body of Christ, and in its members as members of this Body. It is priestly in its relation to itself, because its life is the offering of itself to God, and priestly in its relation to the world, because its mission is the offering of the world to God, that is, its sanctification. (What is yours we offer to you on all things and for all things.) Placing this offering at the heart of the Eucharist, the sacrament in which the Church becomes truly "Church," is because it embodies and expresses the whole life of the Church and the very essence of humanity's mission and vocation in the world. We are called to sanctify and transform ourselves and our lives, as well as the world given to each of us as our own kingdom. We sanctify and transform ourselves by offering our lives, our work, our joys, and our sorrows to God always, by keeping ourselves open to His will and grace, by being as Christ intended—temples of the Holy Spirit—and by transforming our lives according to the direction the Holy Spirit has set them: liturgy, service to God, and communion with Him. We sanctify and transform the world by truly being "men for others," not in the sense of constant involvement in social or political affairs, as we often reduce Christianity to today, but by always being, everywhere, and in all things, witnesses to the truth of Christ, which is the only true life, and messengers of that sacrificial love which is the very essence and content of the priesthood.

In light of this royal priesthood, which we receive and redeem in the mystery of the Holy Spirit, we can understand the true and renewed Christian meaning of the priesthood—the priesthood of those whom the Church has set apart from the beginning and ordained, in an unbroken continuity since the Apostles, as priests, pastors, and teachers. The Church needs priests in order to be priestly in itself, in all its members, and in its entire life, and so that its members may realize their royal priesthood. If human nature itself redeems its royal priesthood in Christ, so that every human vocation and every human life can truly be priestly, it is because Christ himself had no other vocation or life than to proclaim to humanity the Gospel of the Kingdom, to reveal divine truth to them, and to grant them—through his own self-giving—forgiveness of sins, salvation, and the gift of new life. In this sense, the priesthood of Christ is unique and personal. Christ builds his Church on the foundation of his one and only personal priesthood and his one and only personal sacrifice. Therefore, the Church, as the fruit of his priesthood, sacrifice, and gift, is not dependent on anything earthly or human, nor is it dependent on the extent of our response, achievements, or growth. From the beginning, it is the fullness of grace and truth, and there is no change or growth in it, for it is the gift of Christ, who remains forever its one and only High Priest, Shepherd, and Teacher. But he raises priests within it so that his one and only priesthood may remain present in it, and it may become "the fullness of him who fills all in all" (Ephesians 1:23). However, the priesthood of these priests does not belong to them but to Christ, and their calling is to have no calling other than Christ's personal calling, and to ensure the presence and power of his priesthood in the Church, and its continuation until all things are accomplished in God. Just as the Father sent his Son to save the world, so the Son chooses and sends those whom he trusts to continue his salvific mission and perpetuate the power of his unique priesthood.

The uniqueness of this vocation lies in its being a distinct calling, not one of the human vocations. However, its distinctness does not imply that it surpasses other vocations in power, privilege, or glory, nor that it is a "sacred" vocation in contrast to "worldly" ones. Rather, it is the vocation that brings the one priesthood of Christ to life, and all other vocations to fulfill the royal priesthood of humanity. Priests exist in the Church so that the Church can realize itself as a "royal priesthood." It cannot be a royal priesthood unless it has priests, and unless these priests embody the one priesthood of Christ. The priest does not act solely through his own administration, but through the renewal and divinity of the Holy Spirit, he does what Christ did: he preaches the Gospel, fulfills the Church in the sacraments, and "feeds the flock." The Church, which is the gift of Christ himself, can bear witness, through all its members, to Christ and to the salvific work he accomplished in the world.

We have become (kings and priests…) and finally we become prophets. In this third rank, that is, the third gift and calling, which appeared and was restored in Christ, we must discover the final dimension of Christian spirituality.

The Prophet

Theological texts label Christ's third role as prophetic, asserting that the Christ in whom all prophecies were fulfilled is the prophet. However, we are called upon to understand what these texts overlook: that Christ's prophetic role, like his kingship and priesthood, is the fullness of his human nature, and that he is a prophet precisely because he is the perfect and complete human being.

Humanity, created as kings and priests, is also called to be prophets. If this title in the Old Testament was reserved for certain individuals whom God called to a special purpose and endowed with exceptional gifts and functions, it was because sin caused humanity to reject and lose its innate prophetic potential, refusing to be a prophet. But in the beginning, when Adam was in Paradise, God spoke to him (when the daytime breeze blew) (Genesis 3:8), and Adam heard His voice, for hearing and responding to God's voice are inherent to humanity. The Bible declares that salvation is the restoration of humanity to its prophetic calling: “God said, ‘In the last days there will be a flood of my Spirit which I will pour out on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy…’” (Acts 17:2, quoting Joel 2:28).

So what is prophecy? We usually reduce it to a mysterious ability to predict the future, but we must see it as the Bible reveals it: the power given to humankind to always discern God's will, to hear His voice, and to be—in creation and the world—a witness and instrument of divine wisdom. The prophet is the one who hears God's voice so that he can convey God's will to the world. He is the one who interprets all events and situations through God's eyes so that he can reduce all that is human and temporal to what is divine and eternal. In other words, the world becomes transparent to the prophet so that he can see God through it. This is the true calling and nature of humankind.

But the man who rejected his kingship and priesthood also rejected the gift of prophecy. In his pride—and sin is the fruit of pride and a misunderstanding of the phrase "you will be gods"—he thought he could know and possess the world without prophecy, that is, without God. This non-prophetic knowledge is what man eventually came to call "objective," seeing it as the sole source of all truth.

And so, generation after generation, humanity has abandoned the dreams and visions of childhood for the grand structures of this "true knowledge": the schools and universities whose professors and teachers—confident in possessing the sole access to truth—transform people into blind worshippers of this "objectivity," or rather, into blind disciples of blind teachers. Is it necessary, in this tragic second half of our century, to demonstrate that the astonishing accumulation of this "objective" knowledge, and the technologies built upon it, has not prevented our civilization from becoming a general crisis encompassing society, politics, the environment, and energy, but has, in fact, been the primary cause of this crisis? And is it necessary to demonstrate that, despite the liberated aspirations of this knowledge and all these technologies (the favorite slogan of our time), humanity now feels more enslaved, isolated, lost, confused, and despairing than at any other time in its history? And that a dark cloud of despair, and a terrible feeling of utter emptiness, permeate the air we breathe, and that the superficial euphoria of our consumer society is unable to dispel them? And that a meaningless rebellion challenges a meaningless institution, in the name of ridiculous “freedoms,” whose content is terrorism, blood, sex, lust, hatred, and bigotry?

The sad and ironic truth is that humanity, having denied and rejected the gift of prophecy bestowed upon it by God for the sake of true knowledge and freedom, has enslaved itself to a host of false prophecies, the foremost of which is the belief in "objective knowledge" and its ability to transform and redeem the world. Never before has the world been so saturated with ideologies promising to solve all problems as it is today. Never before have there been so many "messianic calls" claiming to possess—scientifically and objectively—the cure for all evils. Our age is, in reality, the age of prophetic deception, an age of false prophecies and false prophets in both science and religion. The more these false prophecies fail on intellectual and scientific levels, the more the search for false prophecies and false religions on the irrational level intensifies. The proof of this lies in the resurgence of certain phenomena in our technological and intellectual society, including astrology, magic, esoteric doctrines, and various forms of interest in uncovering the hidden. All of this demonstrates one thing: prophecy, as a natural human faculty, cannot be eradicated. If its positive, divinely bestowed essence is destroyed, it will inevitably reappear, but as a fallen, dark, and demonic obsession.

The Christian concept of salvation includes the idea that Christ restores humanity as a prophet. However, the gift of prophecy we receive in the mystery of the Holy Spirit does not imply the bestowal of strange, magical power, or supernatural knowledge that differs from or contradicts natural knowledge. It is not an irrational ability added to or replacing our human intellect, turning the Christian into a religious seer or a Nostradamus (a 16th-century French seer). It is not the glorification of visions and dreams as irrational and intellectual phenomena that supplant reason, or as various secret revelations and signs. Perhaps the best way to define this gift is to use the term "spiritual awakening," which ascetic literature considers the first and essential foundation of all true spirituality. Spiritual awakening is the antithesis of false prophecy, which is always the product of inner turmoil and a scattering of one's abilities and talents. Sobriety is inner perfection and peace, that is, harmony between soul and body, and between mind and heart. This harmony alone can discern, understand, and possess truth in its entirety, as it is, in order to lead humanity to the only true objectivity. Sobriety is understanding because it distinguishes good and evil in everything, in the unconscious movements of the soul and in momentous events alike, and because it recognizes evil even when, as always, it is disguised in the garb of light. Sobriety is possession because—being the whole of humanity open to God, His will, and His presence, and being a constant awareness of God—it enables one to accept everything as coming from God and leading toward Him. In other words, it enables one to give meaning and value to everything.

This is the gift of prophecy we receive in Holy Anointing: the gift of discernment and understanding, the gift of truly possessing ourselves and our lives in Christ and with Him. But discernment and understanding do not mean knowing everything, for "it is not for you to know the times or dates which the Father has appointed by his own authority" (Acts 1:7). Therefore, the Church has always been very cautious in dealing with (future) prophecies, which are becoming increasingly popular among (the religious). Furthermore, the gift of prophecy does not make us (experts) in performing miracles in all areas. Christ himself "grew in wisdom and stature" (Luke 2:52). The Church has always affirmed that human intellect is the highest faculty that God has bestowed upon humanity, and it has rejected and condemned all glorification of what is irrational, and all contempt for knowledge, science, and wisdom in all their aspects. The gift of prophecy is not superior to, nor separate from, the true human nature restored in Christ. Rather, it is the necessary and fundamental dimension of all its parts, and of all human gifts and vocations. In Christ, we receive essential knowledge—the knowledge of the truth about God and humanity, and about the world and its ultimate destiny. This truth is what truly sets us free, enabling us to discern and understand. It empowers us to be—in all circumstances and situations, in all professions and vocations, and in the use of all our human gifts—witnesses to Christ. This witness is the meaning, content, and ultimate goal of our existence and actions.

The anointing with holy chrism is our elevation to kingship, our ordination to the royal priesthood, and the bestowal of prophetic gifts. We receive all this because it is the Holy Spirit whom Christ gives us: King, Priest, and Prophet. Therefore, we must now turn to the second aspect of this sacrament, namely, to the Holy Spirit himself as Christ's gift to us. If the Holy Spirit gives us Christ, and if his indwelling makes us partakers of Christ's life, members of his body, and participants in his saving work, then it is the Holy Spirit whom Christ sends to us from his Father as the ultimate gift and the very reality of the Kingdom.

Holy Spirit

Theology defines the Holy Spirit as the third person of the Holy Trinity. In the Creed, we confess that He proceeds from the Father, and the Gospel teaches us that Christ sends Him to be the Comforter (who guides us into all truth) (John 16:13) and to unite us with Christ and the Father. We begin every liturgical service with a prayer to the Holy Spirit, invoking Him as the Heavenly King, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, the One who is present everywhere, the One who fills all things, the Treasury of Blessings, and the Giver of Life. Saint Seraphim of Sarov described the entire Christian life as the acquisition of the Holy Spirit. Saint Paul defined the Kingdom of God as righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17). We call the saints "bearers of the Holy Spirit," and we strive to make our lives spiritual.

The truth is that the Holy Spirit occupies the very heart of divine revelation and Christian life itself. Yet, finding the right words to speak of Him is incredibly difficult. This difficulty is so profound that, for many Christians, the Church's teaching of Him as a Person has lost its tangible, lived meaning. They come to see Him as a divine power, addressing Him not as a person, but as an abstract concept. Even theology itself—while maintaining the doctrine of the Trinity in its discourse on God—prefers, when addressing the Church and Christian life, to speak of grace rather than of the personal knowledge and experience of the Holy Spirit.

But we, in the mystery of the anointing, We receive the Holy Spirit himselfIt is not merely "grace." This has always been the teaching of the Church. The Holy Spirit Himself, not one of the divine powers, descended upon the Apostles at Pentecost. In prayer, we implore Him, not "grace," and it is He Himself that we receive through spiritual striving. Thus, it becomes clear that the ultimate mystery of the Church is to know the Holy Spirit, to receive Him, and to be in communion with Him. The realization of Baptism in the Holy Anointing is the personal coming of the Holy Spirit to the person, His manifestation to them, and His indwelling within them. But the question that arises here is: What does it mean to know the Holy Spirit, to receive Him, and to be in Him?

The best way to answer this question is to compare knowing the Holy Spirit with knowing Christ. It is self-evident that knowing, loving, and accepting Christ as the content and ultimate joy of life requires some knowledge of Him. No one can believe in Christ unless they have heard something about Him and His teachings. This kind of knowledge is acquired through the apostolic proclamation, the Gospel, and the Church. But it is no exaggeration to say that this gradual process of knowing—beginning with knowing something about Christ, then knowing Christ, and culminating in communion with Him—is the exact opposite with regard to the Holy Spirit. There is nothing we can truly know about the Holy Spirit. Even the testimony of those who have truly known Him and been in communion with Him means nothing to us unless we ourselves have experienced what they have experienced. What, then, is the meaning of the words spoken of the Holy Spirit in the ministry of St. Basil: “the gift of adoption, the pledge of future inheritance, the firstfruits of eternal blessings, the life-giving power, the fountain of sanctification…”? When a friend of Saint Seraphim asked him to explain the Holy Spirit, he did not offer an explanation, but rather shared an experience that the friend described as “unfamiliar beauty,” “unfamiliar joy filling the heart,” “unfamiliar warmth,” and “unfamiliar fragrance.” This is the experience of the Holy Spirit that Saint Seraphim himself described in the following words: “When the Spirit of God descends upon a person and overshadows them with the fullness of His outpouring, the human soul overflows with indescribable joy, for the Spirit of God transforms everything it touches into joy.”

This means that we only know the Holy Spirit through His presence within us, a presence that manifests itself above all in indescribable joy, peace, and perfection. Even in ordinary human language, these words—joy, peace, perfection—denote indescribable states, for by their very nature they transcend words, definitions, and descriptions. They point to those moments when life is overflowing with life, when there is no lack of anything, no desire for anything, and consequently, no anxiety, fear, or failure. Humans constantly speak of happiness, and life itself is a pursuit of happiness, a yearning for self-realization. In this sense, it can be said that the presence of the Holy Spirit is the realization of inner happiness within us. But this happiness does not come from an external (cause) that can be identified – as is the case with our miserable and fragile worldly happiness, which disappears with the disappearance of the cause that caused it – nor does it come from anything in this world, but rather it transforms everything into joy. Therefore, this happiness must be the fruit of the coming, presence, and dwelling of Him who is life, joy, peace, beauty, fullness, and bliss.

It is the Holy Spirit who has no icon or image, for He was not incarnate nor became human. Yet everything becomes an icon and an image of Him when He comes and is present within us. The Holy Spirit is the one who makes life life, joy joy, love love, and beauty beauty; He is therefore the life of life, the joy of joy, the love of love, and the beauty of beauty. He is higher than all things, and He transcends all things. Therefore, He makes all of creation a symbol, a mystery, and an experience of His presence—that is, of humanity's encounter with God and communion with Him. The Holy Spirit is not separate or external; He sanctifies all things, but in sanctifying all things, He reveals that He is higher than the world and all that exists. Through sanctification we know that He is a divine person, and not a non-personal divine thing – despite the absence of human words that can define Him or make Him an object – because He manifests Himself personally when He reveals the uniqueness and personality of every human being and everything, and the fact that each is a subject and not an object, and when He makes everything a personal encounter with the indescribable divinity.

Christ's promise of the Holy Spirit coming upon us is the fulfillment of His saving work. He came to restore us to the life we ​​lost through sin, and to make life overflow in us (John 10:10). The Holy Spirit is the content of this life, and consequently, the content of the Kingdom of God. When He comes on the great Last Day, the Day of Pentecost, what begins then—what is revealed and transferred to us—is the overflowing of life and the Kingdom of God. The Holy Spirit, who was with Christ from the beginning as His life, is given to us as our life. We remain in this world, continuing to share in its mortal existence, but receiving the Holy Spirit makes our true life hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3), and we become, from now on, partakers of the eternal Kingdom of God, which, for this world, is a kingdom yet to come.

We now understand why the coming of the Holy Spirit unites us with Christ, makes us His body, and shares in His kingship, priesthood, and prophethood. For the Holy Spirit, who is the life of God, is also the life and Spirit of Christ. When Christ gives us His life, He also gives us the Holy Spirit. And when the Holy Spirit comes upon us and dwells in us, He gives us Christ, who is His life.

This is the gift of the Holy Spirit, and this is the meaning of our personal Pentecost in the Sacrament of Holy Chrismation. Chrismation seals us, that is, it makes us, reveals us, and confirms us as members of the Church, which is the Body of Christ, as citizens of the Kingdom of God, and as partakers of the Holy Spirit. Through this seal, it restores us to ourselves and shapes each of us to be as God intended us to be from eternity, revealing our true nature—the only nature in which we realize ourselves.

The gift is given abundantly and overflowingly, (for God gives the Spirit without measure) (John 3:34), and (from his fullness we have all received grace upon grace) (John 1:16). Now we must accept it, truly take it, and make it our own. This is the goal of the Christian life.

We say "Christian life," not "spirituality," because the latter has become vague and confusing. For many, it implies a mysterious activity, a self-contained content, or a secret accessible only through the study of certain "spiritual methods." The world today is abuzz with a restless search for "spirituality" and "mysticism," but not everything in this search is true, nor is everything a fruit of the spiritual awakening that has always been the source and foundation of genuine Christian spiritual tradition. Indeed, a great number of self-appointed "elders" and "spiritual teachers" exploit what may be a genuine spiritual thirst or hunger, leading their followers down dangerous and dead-end spiritual paths.

Finally, we must reiterate that the very essence of Christian spirituality lies in its encompassing and pervasive nature of life itself—the new life, which is "living in the Spirit and walking according to the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25), as described by St. Paul. It is not another life, nor an alternative life, but the very life that God has given us, but renewed, transformed, and revealed in the Holy Spirit. Every Christian, regardless of their vocation—whether a hermit or someone involved in worldly activities—is not required to divide their life into two parts, one spiritual and the other material, but rather to restore it to its fullness and sanctify it entirely through the presence of the Holy Spirit. Saint Seraphim of Sarov was happy in (this world), and his earthly life eventually became an outpouring of radiant joy. He enjoyed every tree and every animal, and greeted everyone who came to him with the words: (Oh, how happy I am!), because in all these things he was able to see and enjoy the Holy Spirit who transcends all these things without limits, but at the same time makes them an experience of His presence, a joy in this presence, and a fullness of Him.

(The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, meekness, and self-control…) (Galatians 5:22). These are the elements of true spirituality, the goals of all genuine spiritual striving, and the path to holiness, which is the ultimate goal of the Christian life. What distinguishes the Holy Spirit is His holiness, not His being a spirit. The Bible also speaks of evil spirits. The attribute of holiness, which is the name of the divine Spirit, makes it impossible to define in human terms. It is not synonymous with perfection, goodness, righteousness, and faithfulness, although it contains and encompasses them all. Holiness is the ultimate expression of all human words, for it is the truth in which all existence is realized.

(There is only one Holy One). But in the anointing of the Holy Spirit, we receive His holiness as the new content of our lives. And by this holiness growing continuously within us, we can transform our lives and make the life that God has given us manifest, that is, appear complete and holy.

1- Wenger, Sources Chrétiennes, 101.

2- Saint John Chrysostom, (Teaching on Baptism) 8, 25.

_ Wenger, Sources Chrétiennes, 50, p. 147.

3- St. John Chrysostom, (Teaching on Baptism), 8, 35.

4- _ Almazov, History, pp. 430ff;

_Finn, op. cit., 191ff;

_E. Peterson, (Religion and Clothing) in Rhythms of the World, 1946, and For a Theology of Clothing, Lyon, 1943.

5– _Peterson, (Religion and Clothing), p. 4.

6-Saint Ambrose, (On the Mysteries) 34.

See also: St. Gregory of Nyssa, in Hamman, Baptism, p. 122ff.

7- Regarding the history of these debates, see:

_B. Neunheuser، Baptism and Confirmation، tr. J. Hughes، The Herder History of Dogma، New York، 1964;

_J. Chrehan، S.J.، (Ten Years’ Work on Baptism and Confirmation: 1945-1955)، in Theological Studies 17 (1956) 494- 516.

8- _B. Neunheuser, Chep. 11.

9- _ B. Neunheuser, chep. 10.

10-_Bp. Sylvester، op. Cit.، p. 425ff.

See:

_Cavin, op. Cit., p. 316ff.

_Trembelas، op. Cit.، p. 132.

11- _Trembelas، op. Cit.، p. 132.

Also:

_Cavin، p. 317ff.

12- Regarding the word talent (δωρεά), see:

_F. Buchsel, article (δίδωμι, δώρον…δορεά etc.), in G. Kittel Theol. Dict. of The New Testament, vol 2, pp. 166ff.

Regarding the word (χαρίσματα), see:

_H. Conzelmann، article ()، in G. Friedrich، Theol. Dict. of The New Testament، vol 9، pp. 402ff.

13- About:

_F.J. Dölger, Sphragis, Paderborn, 1911;

_Daniélou، Bible and liturgy، chap. 3;

_J. Ysebaert، Greek Baptismal Terminology; its origin and Early Development، Nijmegen (1962);

A. Stenzel, Baptism. A generic explanation of the baptismal liturgy, Innsbruck, 1957.

14-  _In II Corinth. Hom. 3, 4; Patr. Graeca 41, 411.

15- Regarding the religious origins of monarchy and its implications, see:

G. Van der Leeuw, Religion in its Essence and Manifestations, vol. 1, p. 13.

16- About:

Paul Daubin, SJ, The Royal Priesthood of the Faithful in the Ancient and Modern Tradition, Paris 1950.