Time and the World of Decay
By Photios Kontoglou
By Photios Kontoglou
The most dreadful and most inscrutable power in the world is Time, the Kairos. What this power truly is — no one knows. And all who have tried to define it have struggled in vain. The mystery of Time has remained incomprehensible, even though Time itself seems so natural to us. We cannot understand Time in itself — what it is — but we sense it only through the energy it exerts, through the marks it leaves upon creation. Its mysterious breath changes everything. Nothing remains stable — not even what appears stable and eternal. An unceasing motion whirls all things around, day and night, and no power can halt this elusive and hidden movement.
This thing we call Time is something we have grown accustomed to; we are familiar with it. Otherwise, terror would seize us if we were truly able to grasp what it is and what it does. As we have said, it works day and night, for ages upon ages, ceaselessly, silently, secretly, and it changes everything with an underground force — intangible, invisible, disobedient — so much so that one forgets it and thinks it does not exist, though it is the only thing that truly exists and that our mind, in no way whatsoever, can comprehend as ever not existing — how it could ever be destroyed, how it could ever cease. For how could that “someday” exist, when that “someday” is Time itself? How can one imagine that this very “someday” could ever cease to exist?
If Time were to vanish, everything would vanish. It gives birth to all things, and it also dissolves them, breaks them into fragments, and makes them disappear. That is why the ancient Greeks said in their mythology that Kronos — Time — devoured his own children. Birth, growth, decay, and death are its unceasing works. Though it surrounds us, presses upon us, and dwells within us, we do not fully perceive this incomprehensible master of ours — this friend and enemy alike — because it brings us all the good things that gladden us and all the evils that embitter us. It grants us birth, the sweet word of life, the joy of youth, the strength of courage; it bestows children, grandchildren, brilliant works that deceive us, every kind of pleasure and rest. And then, the same Time gives us sorrow, grief, pain, illnesses, the unbelievable alteration and ruin of our bodies and of the works we labored to create. And finally, it makes us drink the poison from the same cup from which it once gave us the sweet wine of joy, granting us death — both to us and to those we love.
Oh! Who will seize this thief who, day and night, winter and summer, while we sleep and while we are awake, ceaselessly, without pausing even for the blink of an eye, roams everywhere — around us, within us, in light and in darkness — entering every place: into the heavens where the stars revolve, into the depths below, into every land and every sea, into every crevice, into every living and lifeless thing, into every joint of rock, into every heart — aging everything, grinding it like a millstone, turning it to dust? And yet, on the other hand, the very same Time fashions every kind of structure and every creature, every body, everything that exists in this world!
Thus, like all things, we human beings too are playthings in the hands of this irresistible giant, who is at once our benefactor and our tyrant. And we accept the cup it offers us with one hand, filled with sweet wine, and we drink — and we also accept the other cup it holds in its other hand, filled with bitter poison. What, then, is this cruel game played with us by this monster, which has neither form nor voice nor anything of what the creatures it gives birth to and destroys possess — and which plays without laughing or weeping, indifferent and expressionless, cold as a ghost — this same power that ignites the flame of life?
Alas! This merciless millstone that grinds everything in the world, we celebrate every New Year, thanking it for what it has done to us before and for what it will do to us afterward — for the many evils we shall suffer from it, alongside the few good things it will bring us and snatch away swiftly. We are like condemned prisoners flattering their executioner, like the Roman gladiators who greeted Caesar before slaughtering one another, crying out: “Hail, Caesar, those who are about to die salute you!” So too we greet the new Time that will bring us closer to its mouth to devour us, and we leap and sing in our misery, like Aesop’s snails, at the very moment they were being roasted.
This material world is the kingdom of Time, which makes it bloom and wither unceasingly. Decay is the harsh law imposed upon it by this tyrant. With this unbreakable chain it also binds man, holding him as a helpless slave beneath its feet.
Only one hope exists for humanity to escape decay: Christ, the Redeemer, the destroyer of corruption. He who trampled down death and said:
“He who believes in Me, even if he dies, shall live. I am the living bread that came down from heaven; if anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever.”
The Apostle Paul, the key-bearer of the mystical world, says:
“Creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious freedom of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. And not only creation, but we ourselves, who have the Spirit within us, groan inwardly as we await adoption — that is, the redemption of our body.”
And elsewhere he says:
“If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.”
Yes. Only Christ — the Word of the Father, who has received all authority from Him — will grant incorruption to His beloved, abolishing both time and the spatial limits of matter from the world of decay. Behold what Saint Peter says about this transformation:
“The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night, in which the heavens will pass away with a roar, the elements will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and the works in it will be burned up.”
And in the Apocalypse are written these words concerning the new world of regeneration:
“And night shall be no more; they will need no lamp nor light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light, and they shall reign forever and ever.”
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.