The Scriptures end with the description of a battle that is truly “apocalyptic” in its scale: all the forces of evil arrayed against all the forces of good. It is grand theater, having caught the imagination of countless generations (and even Hollywood). I do not know quite what to make of the description. That it describes a reality, I do not doubt. What that reality will look like to its bystanders (if any there be) is another question entirely. Things that seem hidden now will surely be made manifest – but will that manifestation have to await the completion of things? My own suspicion is that the answer is ‘yes’ – we’ll see it all quite clearly when it is all quite clear.
There is another vision – something that also has a hidden aspect.
In The Brothers Karamazov, one of the most devastating diatribes ever launched against the Christian faith comes from the lips of Ivan Karamazov in the chapters “Rebellion,” and “The Grand Inquisitor.” His argument is largely based on the so-called “problem of evil.” He does not dismiss the existence of God – instead he dismisses God Himself – preferring to have no part of a justice that would ever allow for the torment of a single child. The answer to that diatribe in the pages of Dostoevsky’s great novel is not a counter argument, but the person of the Elder Zossima, a monastic who lives in the Tradition of the Holy Elders of the Orthodox faith. He is a character in the mold of such elders as St. Silouan, St. Seraphim of Sarov, the Elder Sophrony, and a host of others. Their lives, frequently hidden from the larger view of the world, are the continuing manifestation of the Kingdom of God in our midst – fellows of the sufferings of Christ – who freely and voluntarily bear with Christ the weight of all humanity. It is this secret bearing that forms the very foundation of the world – a foundation without which the world would long ago have perished into nothing. It is the emptiness of Christ, also shared in its depths by His saints, that is the vessel of the fullness of God, the source of all life and being. We can search for nothing greater.
“Their lives frequently hidden from the larger view” … is the point which seems worth pondering here. Why should those who are having the greatest impact on the world not be the one’s who seem most hidden? Christ Himself came to us in a way that, though manifest, was all but hidden from the view of the world of that time. Galilee. Really.
Met. Kallistos Ware relates this story:
In one of his letters, St. Barsanuphios of Gaza (sixth century) says in passing that, at the present time, there are three person whose prayers protect this wicked and sinful generation from the wrath of God, and because of these three persons and their prayers, the world continues in being. And then he mentions their names. John, he says is one them; Elias is the second; and the third is a person in the province of Jerusalem. Now the third person, presumably, designates himself, living in Gaza. But the first two, John and Elias, are otherwise totally unknown to us. So here we have the word of a saint, gifted with insight, that the people who were preserving the world from destruction in his day were three persons, two of whom are entirely unknown to history and the third of whom was a hermit in the desert.
The things which seem important are often of little true consequence. Does it matter that the President of the United States had a beer with two men? Does it matter that a hollywood figure dies tragically and suddenly? Does almost anything most people treat as important matter at all?
Who sustains the universe and why does it exist?
The difficulty with political schemes and grand plans is that even at their greatest moment – they have done very little. It may be that everything they have done carries less weight than the prayers of a hermit in the desert.
And so we are called to pray – to stand quietly before that “still point of nothingness” that “disposes all things” (in the words of Thomas Merton).
Such things seem quite hidden – unless the definition of “manifest” means “what God sees.” Perhaps prayer is not about my “prayer life.” Perhaps prayer holds the entire universe in existence.
The last battle may be fought quietly in a human heart that stands sentinel before God and says, “Lord, have mercy.”