The first thing I think
of in this regard is simply that Scripture
never seems to speak of God as “alone.”
He is the Lord God
of Sabbaoth (Hosts) – He is the “God of a
huge crowd” to render it into the vernacular.
This is first disclosed to Isaiah in his
prophetic vision in chapter 6 of his work –
but it is, to some degree, reflected in the
fact that the Hebrew word for God is
frequently rendered in the plural (Elohim). The
Fathers rightly saw in this a veiled
reference to the Trinity – but it is also
proper to see in this a plural that
surrounds God. We do not worship a plural
God – but a Triune God – Who is nevertheless
surrounded by a great Host.
Much of our modern world,
governed as it is by images of the dominance
of the individual, tends to focus on God as
individual. Islam (in certain forms) is
radical in this respect – and some forms of
modern Christianity have, for all intents
and purposes, followed suit. The doctrine of
the Trinity is reverenced but not truly
understood, much less made the basis for
worship. With this has come a radical shift
in the understanding of heaven, our life in
the Church, the meaning of prayer, the hope
of salvation, even the understanding of what
salvation itself means.
Orthodox worship and
prayer, on the other hand, is simply
crowded. Though we worship only the Triune
God, we nevertheless do so in company with a
“great cloud of witnesses,” whom we
frequently acknowledge in our prayers,
asking for them to join us in our prayer,
seeking their prayers for us, just as
assuredly they are urging us on from the
life in heaven and interceding constantly
before God for us.
This is probably the
greatest change in my consciousness since
becoming Orthodox. We are never alone, nor
are we even simply alone with God. I am
always with many even when I draw into my
closet to pray.
Encouraged by the many
stories of the lives of the saints, I am
also encouraged by the holy icons, whose
images of the saints remind me of these
great heroes and heroines. More than that I
am truly aware of their presence with me
(us). My prayers seem to echo and to
crescendo, joined as they are with those who
now pray ceaselessly.
Many times there are
saints whom one seems to know personally –
either because you have frequently asked for
their prayers – or for some aspect of their
story that seems important – and even
occasionally because something has happened
that can only be described as having been
“sought out” by a saint. An example of this
last case is (for me) the not too infrequent
phenomenon of simply being “found” by an
icon. By this I do not mean buying an icon –
but that an icon has come to me by some
other means, accompanied by the sense that
“this is no accident.” Such stories are not
uncommon in Orthodoxy. Some of the greatest
icons known to the Church were simply
“discovered,” their origins remaining
completely unknown to the Church. An
excellent example of this is the famous
wonder-working “Kursk
Root-Icon of the Mother of God.”
I was once asked by an
Anglican friend if I ever thought about
returning to my former life. There are a
thousand reasons I could have given him for
“no,” not the least of which being, “I have
found the true faith, etc.” But as I recall
I simply said to him, “I couldn’t bear the
loneliness.” How could I pray without the
Mother of God? without the saints? And not
in some secretly held “pious opinion” that
might be allowed by the Church – but as the
Church’s true worship, because it is the
revelation of the Lord God of Hosts?
No. “God is with us,
understand all ye nations and repent
yourselves, for God is with us.”
