By George Mantzarides
Two days of the year are dedicated to the commemoration of Saint Gregory Palamas, Archbishop of Thessaloniki: the Second Sunday of Great Lent and November 14. On the Second Sunday of Great Lent, which comes as an extension of the Sunday of Orthodoxy, the victory of his teaching over the heretical views of his opponents is celebrated. On November 14, his departure to the Lord is commemorated. The Second Sunday of Great Lent reminds us more of the words of Saint Gregory. November 14th reminds us more of his silence.
On November 14th, 1359, Saint Gregory Palamas, who illuminated the archiepiscopal throne of Thessaloniki for twelve and a half years and guided its faithful with wisdom and self-denial, fell silent for good. The bearer of his silence is his holy relics, which constitute a priceless legacy for the Church of Thessaloniki. But the words of Saint Gregory Palamas, which are preserved to this day in his numerous writings, often refers to silence and quiet, which he himself practiced with such diligence in his life as a hesychast monk.
Silence and speech are opposite things in our daily life. Speech dissolves silence. And silence interrupts speech. Saint Gregory Palamas, as a hesychast, was basically a man of silence. He avoided speech, as well as writing. He himself notes that many great desert fathers, although they could have written great and useful things, did not do so, so as not to interrupt their silence and communion with God. He even criticizes himself and says that he himself was accustomed to writing when there was some urgent need. And we know how many and powerful texts he wrote, when this need was the danger of Orthodox teaching being falsified.
The speech of Saint Gregory Palamas, both oral and written, always had a rich reflection in his silence. And his silence was not a consequence of resignation or indifference, but the fruit of intense study and communion with God the Word. Saint Ignatius the God-bearer writes: “It is better to be silent and be than to speak and not be.”
In our daily lives, we usually associate speech with existence and silence with non-existence. Often, however, human speech is empty and reveals an essential non-existence. Moreover, one does not need to be a liar or a talker for his speech to be shown to be empty. And the mere fact that he is mortal, and death is the ultimate limit of his powers, reveals the uncertainty and essential emptiness of his speech.
At the same time, however, every human speech has great value when it has a reflection in silence. Even more, every human speech has enormous value when it is a speech of silence. The words that a father addresses to his child have their reflection and value as long as the father lives and the child listens. However, the silent presence of the father in the heart of his child, as a presence of love, is much more eloquent and much more essential than the words that he hears from his mouth. And this, because love transports man to another level that is beyond death. “We know,” says the Apostle and Evangelist John, “that we have passed from death to life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love his brother abides in death.”
Love gives man the experience of preserving his life beyond his individuality. Love gives man a sense of immortal life, the life of God. And this is natural, because God is love.
True love, however, is not expressed in words. And its essence is not limited to verbal forms. True love is expressed more in silence. Silence is often the most intense shout out. We see this above all in hesychasm. The silence of the hesychast is a cry of love. Just as his isolation is an intensification of his communion with God.
Living in the world and keeping our egoism intact, we are usually unable to know and live true love. True love comes from silence and humility. The biographer of Saint Gregory Palamas, Saint Philotheos, Patriarch of Constantinople, describing the life and virtues of the Saint in the hermitages of Athos, notes the following in this regard: ““Humility was extreme in him, and so was what the divine Apostle calls love from the heart without hypocrisy, toward God and neighbor, the first, middle, and last support and foundation of virtues.”
And truly, only with extreme humility can there be unhypocritical and “heartfelt love” for God and our fellow man. This love, which is so rare in our daily lives, was cultivated by the hesychast Gregory Palamas in the hermitages of the Holy Mountain through asceticism and prayer. The same love later brought him to the metropolis of Thessaloniki and made him a support and teacher of our Church. The love that he cultivated in silence. The love that he founded on the humility and seclusion of himself. The love he showed, when necessary, with his intense struggles and his indomitable action.
Many times we hear even pious Christians say: What do these monks do in their hermitages? What is the meaning of their otherworldly life? What is their social work, when they are far from people? What is their virtue, when they care only for the salvation of their souls?
And it is natural for these questions to arise when a person is treated as a means to an end. However, when a person is regarded as possessing intrinsic value, things are seen differently. This is how the hesychast views human beings. Saint Gregory Palamas also held and embodied this view of humanity in his life. The human flesh itself, fragile and mortal, which the monk often struggles against and disciplines, has immense value for him, and more generally for Orthodoxy, because it was honored by God Himself who became human. Thus, the Son of God became man, says Saint Gregory Palamas, to show that human nature has such a kinship with God that it can be united with Him in one hypostasis. He became man "to honor even this mortal flesh."
On the other hand, the otherworldly life of the hermit is not absolute but relative. In the silence of the desert, the monk secures a greater degree of freedom and avoids the manifold and often imperceptible social obligations. In this way, he can be spiritually much closer to people and cultivate genuine and unpretentious love for them. Through withdrawal into the desert and the deprivation of social interaction with the world, the monk strengthens and maximizes his sociability. For this reason, he can at any moment bear witness to true love in the world. This is demonstrated by the history of our Church. It is revealed by Saint Gregory Palamas, the hermit and hierarch, the hesychast and preacher of grace.
The meaning of the words of Saint Gregory Palamas lies in the nature of his silence. Saint Gregory knew that as long as he was speaking, he was not yet where he desired to be. Now, in his silence, he is there and truly exists, because he is there and exists in the Lord. The life of the saints is Christ. And our life is Christ. That is why, after all, we are called Christians. Christianity — and because distortions of Christianity occurred — Orthodoxy was and is our true identity. Our history and existence were and are identified with Orthodoxy.
When Saint Gregory Palamas came to Thessaloniki and found the inhabitants divided by the Zealot movement, he called them to peace and unity in his first sermon, saying: "Brothers, we are all united not only as human beings, but also as members of the body of Christ. Our faith is shared, our hope is shared, Christ is our common Father, and the Church is our common mother." And as his biographer, Saint Philotheos, informs us again, "He immediately turned those who had insulted him and were belligerent and rebellious into friends through that discourse."
Thus, faith in Christ, faith in the Orthodox Church, once again united the people of Thessaloniki. This faith was the identity of our nation. It was upon this faith that they relied for their unity. With this faith, they endured centuries of slavery and regained their freedom. And thereafter, - free from foreign masters - we risk losing our identity through our fascination with foreign cultures and imported ideologies. It is despairing, and yet true, that the so-called advanced societies tend to have as their sole identity a more or less well-organized and hierarchical bureaucracy, devoid of feeling and love, without meaning or purpose.
Thus opens a path whose end is the one-dimensional man and the one-dimensional society. However, such a man ceases to be truly human. And such a society ceases to be a human society. If we do not wish to let our identity lapse into a death certificate, we must remain united with our roots. And thanks be to God, in our land this is still possible. The very inability we show to conform and identify with a lifeless bureaucracy, an inability evident in all forms of our social life, confirms this truth. It affirms that we seek our identity elsewhere. And this elsewhere is not difficult to find, as long as we preserve the words of our saints and honor the silence of their relics.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
