『OrthoAnalytika』のカバーアート

OrthoAnalytika

OrthoAnalytika

著者: Fr. Anthony Perkins
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Welcome to OrthoAnalytika, Fr. Anthony Perkins' podcast of homilies, classes, and shows on spirituality, science, and culture - all offered from a decidedly Orthodox Christian perspective. Fr. Anthony is a mission priest and seminary professor for the UOC-USA. He has a diverse background, a lot of enthusiasm, and a big smile. See www.orthoanalytika.org for show notes and additional content.Common courtesy. キリスト教 スピリチュアリティ 聖職・福音主義
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  • Homily - Repent, Transcend Boredom, and Change the World
    2026/01/04
    Homily – Repent… and Change the World (Embrace Boredom) Sunday before Theophany 2 Timothy 4:5–8; St. Mark 1:1–8 This is the Sunday before Theophany, when the Church sets before us St. John the Baptist and his ministry of repentance—how he prepared the world to receive the God-man, Jesus Christ. John was the son of the priest Zachariah and his wife Elizabeth, the cousin of the Mother of God. When Mary visited Elizabeth during her pregnancy, John leapt in his mother's womb. But what we sometimes forget is what followed. While Zachariah was serving in the Temple, the angel Gabriel appeared to him and foretold that his son would be filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb, that he would turn many of Israel back to God, and that he would go before the Lord in the spirit and power of Elijah—preparing a people ready to receive Him. That preparation came at great cost. When the wise men later alerted Herod to the birth of the Messiah, Herod ordered the slaughter of all male children two years old and under. John would have been among them. Elizabeth fled with her son into the wilderness. When soldiers came seeking the child, Zachariah refused to reveal his whereabouts and was martyred between the temple and the altar. Elizabeth soon died, and John grew up in the wilderness, emerging years later to preach repentance and prepare the way of the Lord. John's ministry brings us toward the heart of Theophany. This feast reveals humanity's true relationship with creation. From the Fall onward, mankind failed to live according to his calling. Creation continued to respond as God ordained, but human sin distorted that relationship. Christ alone entered creation without sin, and so creation responded to Him with blessing, not resistance. As we sing at Theophany, "The Jordan was driven back." The corruption in the water fled from His presence, and the waters became holy. This is not only Christ's work—it is also our calling. United to Him, we are meant to bring healing and grace to the world. But first, we must listen to John. First, we must prepare. And preparation begins with repentance. This is the calling of the Baptizer: "REPENT!" Why is repentance so necessary? Because even when we want to do good in the world, our inner lives are disordered. Without healing, our efforts—however sincere—can miss the mark or even cause harm. This is not because we are evil people, but because we are wounded people living in a wounded world; because we are corrupted people living in a corrupted world. Without repentance, our action in the cosmos – here represented as the Jordan – is corrupting rather than salvific. A story may help. In nineteenth-century Vienna, infant mortality was tragically high. Doctors were educated and well-intentioned, yet many babies died under their care. Ignaz Semmelweis discovered why: doctors who washed their hands before delivering babies had dramatically better outcomes. Those who did not—even with the best intentions—were spreading disease. Many doctors resisted this discovery. They were offended by the suggestion that they were unclean. But the truth remained: no matter how good their intentions, if they did not wash their hands, they caused harm. It is the same with us. We have tremendous power to change the world—with our time, our money, and our love. But if we have not allowed God to heal us, we will unintentionally pass along the wounds we carry. The Church teaches that this wound affects and disorders every part of us. This includes the three parts of our mind. First, it affects and disorders our desires. We were created to desire what is good, true, and beautiful, but over time those desires become confused. We begin to crave things that promise comfort or distraction, yet leave us restless and unsatisfied. Much of modern life is built around amplifying these cravings, which makes it difficult to recognize how shaped we have been until we step back. Second, it affects and disorders our thinking. We all rely on ideas and narratives to make sense of the world, but we absorb far more than we realize—from media, culture, and the people around us. Even when we know manipulation exists, we often assume it affects others more than ourselves. Learning to think clearly and truthfully takes time, patience, and humility. Third, it affects and disorders the heart—the spiritual center of the person, which the Church calls the nous. It is meant to perceive God and discern what leads to life. But the heart, too, becomes clouded. Instead of clarity, we experience confusion; instead of peace, anxiety. This does not mean the heart is useless—it means it needs healing. This is why repentance is required. Repentance is the decision to stop pretending we are already whole and to place ourselves where healing is possible. So repentance cannot remain a vague desire. It must become practical—like doctors washing their hands. That means first ...
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    18 分
  • Homily - Our Herodic Responses to Christ
    2025/12/28
    Homily for the Sunday after Nativity The Child Christ in the World—and in Our Hearts Gospel: St. Matthew 2:13–23 [Retelling the Lesson] God humbles Himself to save mankind. He leaves His rightful inheritance as God and becomes man, born as a child in Bethlehem. And how does the world receive Him? Is He born in a temple? In a palace? Places that might seem fitting for the Ruler of the Ages? No—He is laid in a manger, in a stable. And even that is not the worst of it. When the leaders of the day learn of His birth, do they submit to Him? Do they nurture and protect Him so that He may grow into manhood as prophet, priest, and king? No. In today's Gospel we hear that the Holy Family must flee into Egypt to escape assassination. Christ the Logos, the awaited Messiah, the answer to all the worlds ills, enters the world, and the world tries to kill Him. The slaughter of the innocents becomes the terrible offering laid on the altar of human evil and hard-heartedness. [This Story is OUR Story] This is a shameful story, and it is told to us each year at this time as a warning. It is tempting to imagine ourselves as the angels, the wise men, or the shepherds. But Scripture is far more useful when we recognize that we are often the ones who belittle Christ, who persecute Him, and who push Him to the margins. Just as Christ humbled Himself to enter the world as a child in Bethlehem in order to transform it, so He humbles Himself now to enter the temple of our hearts in order to transform us. And the parallel continues: what kind of place does He find this time? Is our heart a dwelling fit for the Ruler of the Ages—or is it more like a forgotten corner of our lives, our own version of the manger? And once we realize that it really is Christ who dwells within us, how do we respond? Do we give Him the due He deserves and reorder our lives around Him, or do we quietly push Him aside—to the periphery of our thoughts, our plans, and our priorities? [Gnostic America] Many scholars have noted that the dominant religion in America has never truly been Christianity, but a kind of modern Gnosticism. Gnosticism teaches that the divine already dwells within us, that we are already enlightened, already whole. This belief permeates our culture and is magnified by consumerism and – dare I say it - Orthodox triumphalism. When clothed in Christian language, this belief sounds familiar—and dangerous. Whether consciously or subconsciously, when we hear that Christ dwells in our hearts, we are tempted to hear confirmation we already knew: that not only are we basically good people, and not only are we right pretty much all the time, we are already divine. But this is not true. God is God, and we are not. Yes, His desire is to transform us—that is the meaning of the Nativity—but when we claim divinity for ourselves, we do exactly what Herod did: we place ourselves on the throne and push Christ to the margins. Why did Herod seek to kill the Christ Child? Out of self-preservation. Christ was a threat. And if we are not careful, we will do the same. Our pride constructs a false reality in which we are the good ones—the good gods, if you will—and God merely works through us. This is spiritual delusion. It is prelest. We convince ourselves that we have built a glorious temple for God in our hearts from which He rules in glorious benevolence, when in fact we are still really only worshiping ourselves, no matter what words we use. [A Restatement] Let me come at this a different way. Christ truly has been born within us. He lives at the center of our souls. But our souls are clouded by thoughts and passions, and so we often fail to notice Him. If we do not struggle against our fallen nature, we will nurture our pride or our fallen conscience and call it "God." But the god of pride cannot save—it can only deceive and our conscience is rarely more than our feelings. So how do we tell the difference? How do we know whether Christ reigns within us, or whether it is our ego? The answer is not abstract; it is clear from scripture. Christ did not live for Himself. Every action of His life was offered in sacrificial service to others—especially to those who did not understand Him or appreciate Him. He did not act out of fear of punishment or hope of reward. He acted out of love. He was Love. If our lives are truly marked by this kind of self-giving love, then Christ is indeed growing within us. But we must beware: pride is a master illusionist. Encouraged by the enemies of the air, the master marketers and manipulators, it will always try to convince us that we are more generous, more loving, more sacrificial than we really are. Here is a practical test for us: Are we willing to leave our comfort zones, deny ourselves, and take up the cross? Are we willing to give without expecting anything in return? Are we willing to love even those who cannot repay us? What are we willing to give up so that some may be saved? ...
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    13 分
  • Homily - The Name of Jesus
    2025/12/21
    St. Matthew 1:1-25 Why was the Son of God commanded to be named Jesus—the New Joshua? In this Advent reflection, Fr. Anthony shows how Christ fulfills Israel's story by conquering sin and death, and calls us to repentance so that we may enter the victory He has already won. --- Homily on the Name of Jesus Sunday before the Nativity In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. "They named Him Jesus, because He would deliver His people from their sins." (Matthew 1:21) Names matter in Scripture. They are never accidental. A name reveals identity, vocation, and mission. And so when the angel commands that the Child be named Jesus, we are being told something essential about who He is and what He has come to do. The name Jesus is simply the Greek form of Joshua. And that is not incidental. So we should ask: Who was Joshua? And why did the angel of the Lord insist on that name? Joshua was the successor of Moses, the one chosen by God to lead His people when Moses could not. Long before Joshua's time, God had made a covenant with His people and promised them a land—a place of rest, inheritance, and blessing. But that promise had been obscured by centuries of slavery in Egypt, under pagan gods who claimed power but offered only bondage. God sent Moses to remind the people who they truly were: not slaves, but God's own people. Through signs and wonders, God revealed His power over Pharaoh and over the false gods of Egypt. The people were delivered. They were free. They were heading toward the Promised Land. And yet, because of their disobedience and unbelief, that generation—including Moses himself—was not worthy to enter the land. And so God appointed Joshua to do what Moses could not: to lead the next generation into the inheritance God had promised. Joshua defeated the enemies of God—not by his own strength, but by God's supernatural power—and led the people into the Promised Land. All of this matters, because it prepares us to understand the name of Jesus and the mission it announces. "They named Him Jesus, because He would deliver His people from their sins." Now consider the situation at the time of Christ's birth. In many ways, it looked very much like the time of Pharaoh. God's people were again under foreign rule, again surrounded by pagan power, again longing for deliverance. The prophets had promised a Messiah, and the people waited for one who would set them free. But here is the crucial difference: this Joshua would not come to conquer territory. This Joshua would come to conquer the true enemy. Not Rome. Not armies. Not borders. But sin itself. In his homily on this Gospel reading, St. John Chrysostom says: "He did not say, 'He shall save His people from their enemies,' but 'from their sins,' showing that this is a greater and more fearful tyranny than any foreign power." (Homily on Matthew 2) And this is precisely why the Son of God had to be born as a child. In his homily on the Nativity, which, Lord willing, you will hear on Thursday, Chrysostom draws the connection between the Nativity and our salvation with striking clarity: "He became Son of Man, that He might make us sons of God. He took what was ours, that He might give us what was His." (Homily on the Nativity) Jesus is the New Joshua—not leading one people into one land, but opening the Kingdom of God to all who would receive Him. He conquers not by the sword, but by the Cross. He defeats not nations, but death itself. And we know how He did it. By obedience where Adam fell. By humility where pride ruled. By offering Himself fully to the Father, even unto death. As the Fathers remind us, the victory was not loud or coercive, but hidden and faithful—won through righteousness rather than force. So what, then, is our situation? It is tempting to compare our world to Egypt, or to the time of pagan occupation, and to imagine that we are still waiting for deliverance. After all, many of us know what it is like to feel tired, burdened, or trapped in patterns we cannot seem to break, even while outwardly everything appears fine. We live in a culture that constantly distracts us, that teaches us to manage our desires rather than heal them, and that quietly encourages us to accept forms of bondage as normal. Like God's people of old, we forget who we are and whom we belong to, and so we begin to live as though freedom were still far away. But the truth is far more sobering—and far more hopeful. We are not waiting for the Messiah. He has already come. If we live as slaves, it is not because Pharaoh rules us. It is because we have refused the Deliverer. Christ has already opened the doors of freedom. Advent is the season in which the Church calls us to turn back, to repent, and to remember who we are—so that we may step again into the life He has already given us. Christ lives within the heart of every believer. He comes into the midst of all who gather in His name. He is present here, now, in the ...
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    10 分
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