Who Is My Enemy?

Ask me who my neighbor is and I can rattle off the parable of the Good Samaritan. The Holy Scriptures teach to do the good to others that one wants for oneself. They teach that what we do for or against the "least of these, My brethern" we do unto Christ. Asked how I should respond to my enemies and any number of Scriptures can be cited as to the Christian attitude towards those who dispitefully use us or speak evil of us. We are instructed to turn the other cheek, resist not evil, do good to those who abuse us, to overcome evil with good, to be innocent and as guileless as babes, lambs, and doves. The question I have though is who is my enemy?

If no one is persecuting me, if no one that I know of speaks evilly of me, if no one seeks to use their power or influence to injure or thwart me in some way, if everyone is more or less nice to me....who is my enemy that I may turn my cheek to, do good in the place of evil for, and pray for when dispitefully used? What if the worse that another does to me is at best mildly annoying or inconvenient?

Is not having enemies of the right sort a spiritual danger sign. By the right sort I mean those who are one's enemies for no good reason...not the ones who we may have given ample causus belli (or other high fallutin' Latin words to that effect). Does not having enemies mean I'm doing something wrong, or to put it conversely, am I not doing enough right? Woe to you when all men speak well of you. Well...I doubt "all" men speak well of me, and of those that don't they are not altogether without cause. But that said, so far as I know...most people I know do speak well of me. That can't be a good thing can it?

What I mean is, if I prayed more, and prayed more earnestly, if I sacrificed more for the sake of the poor or the needy, if I fasted more fully and rigorously with unfeigned prayerful humility, If I gave myself to extensive reading of the Scritures and the lifes of saints at every other spare moment not spent buying groceries for the elderly, drying orphan's tears, and swapping out weekends at missionary outposts in India and the Amazon, and still do my job with generous and joyful abandon... if I did all these things it would be expected that our enemy would try to set up any number of snares and temptations as well as enemies who hated me just for being a Christian and had no compunction about hurting me in some way. But I don't begin to make a dent in any of those or a dozen other good things...and I remain without any enemies that I know of.

Who shall inspire my gentle martyred sighs if I don't have an enemy? Is this respite the Lord's mercy or the fruit of my own spiritual laziness? So how do I know who our what my enemy is when none declares himself.

But then perhaps the answer to who is my neighbor resolves who is my enemy as well. The ancient Chinese philosopher Lao-tse said, "I am good to all men, therefore all men get to be good". If, in the depths of my heart I see all men as my neighbor then even my enemy, declared or not is my neighbor. My calling is to treat all men as Christ, to love and care for them as I would Christ, to suffer and forbear them as Christ does me. If I enter that state of mind and heart deeply enough, might I not be rendered incapable of telling friend from foe since to my heart , they are all friends, the love of Christ in me for them swallowing up every other consideration? I don't know.

I'm not sure I want to know, but I think perhaps I need to.

Who is my enemy? Sometimes I think he might be the one staring back at me in the mirror.

Suffer the Children

One of the things I find myself doing during the Divine Liturgy is watching the children. Maybe I shouldn't but I do. There is something profound when I see a little one enter the temple and his mother or father gently takes a little hand and teaches it to make the sign of the cross. Then the little ones rush to the candle box grab a candle or two and look up with expectant faces while mommy or daddy drops in a few quarters and gets some candles of their own and together, parents and children approach the icons. The children are so eager to be lifted up to kiss the icons and to set their candles among all the others.

There is a little girl in our parish, maybe three or four, who is not quite tall enough to get her candle in the stand without help, but she tries ever so hard. Recently she discovered that she can set her own candle in two of the stands if she gets behind them on the steps before the iconostasis. She has a little brother, just turned two, just learning to talk, just getting steady on his own feet. During the liturgy he likes poking mommy in the eye and saying "eye" or in the nose and saying "nose". But after a while he tires of that game and scrambles down and toddles over to the nearest icon and trys to pull himself up to kiss it. Daddy lends a hand before something topples over. Then he goes back to sit next to brother and sister at his parents feet...for a little while. Big brother is interesting to watch too, hes five or so. He's old enough to remember most of what he is supposed to do. Most of the time...sometimes with a verbal nudge he remembers to cross himself when entering the temple, and I've seen him cross himself sometimes when he moves from one side of the temple to the other. And when kissing the icons he remembers to make his metanoias first, just like mommy and daddy. Recently I've observed him looking up at his parents during the "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal" and doing the metanoia's with them.

The other thing like to watch is the relationships that form between the children and the adults in the Divine Liturgy. Little boys and little girls are perpetually standing with or being held by other adults or older children. It is definately a relief for the mommies and daddies whose arms are tired, but it is a joy for the adults who have a little one at their side or asleep on their shoulder. And it is a joy for the children too I think, to know that they are accepted and safe in a larger circle than that of their immediate family. They receive love from everyone around them. The temple for them is a place of love and acceptance, of joyous renewal of friendships, and of comfort, a place where they belong. Even the kid's whose parents are a little too strict and fussy with them find relief in the embrace some sweet lady who takes pity on them and lets them stand with her while she gently directs their attention to what is happening next in the Divine Liturgy. In these days where children are routinely taught to fear and flee strangers for their own safety, it is good to see a place where no one is a stranger for long and adults are loved and trusted even if they aren't mommy and daddy or grandma and grandpa. Maybe in a much larger parish things would be different, but for now they are not and it refreshes the heart to see that they are not.

Then there the moments that are just precious in their own right, the little boy who pretends to direct the choir when he thinks no one is looking, the toddler who is fascinated by the sunbeam on the floor that he can't quite figure out how to step on, the little girl sitting on the floor very carefully folding a red bandana.

And then there are the older children who begin to take reponsibilites as adults. The older boys of course routinely assist at the altar and when they do not they are often the favorite companions of the little boys who like to stand with them from time to time. The older girls too are favorite surrogates for little children both girls and boys. They also help with collecting the offering. And both older boys and girls stay behind a little after Divine Liturgy to clean up, to pluck out the candle stubs, trim wicks on the lamps, sweep the floor, etc. whatever needs doing. There are a couple of adults who help as well and direct things but the kids over the past year have taken on more and more of the responsibility for the cleanliness of the temple on their own.

A memory I think that sums it all up was something I saw at a party at a fellow parishoneer's house last Christmas. Several families were over with their children. And I remember one little girl who was standing on a sofa leaning across the back so that she could get to all the pretty things on the desk behind it. Her mother tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention to have her turn around and sit down, to which the little girl replied, "I'm busy". She had found a cross on the desk and was kissing it.