The Byzantine Forelent consists of five Sundays, of which the first four are traditionally named for their Gospels, but the season builds up much more gradually than the Roman one does. The first Sunday, that of Zacchaeus (Luke 19, 1-10), consists only of an Epistle and Gospel at the Divine Liturgy, and has no presence in the Office. The second Sunday, of the Publican and Pharisee (Luke 18, 10-14), has readings for the Divine Liturgy, and its own texts in the Office, but the rest of the week is not part of Forelent, and has no office of its own. The third Sunday is named for the Gospel of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15, 11-32), and has its own office, but the weekdays that follow are also not part of Forelent. The following Saturday, however, does have its own proper liturgy, being the first of five Saturdays in the liturgical year dedicated to praying for all the faithful departed. (In English it is often called Soul Saturday, a translation of the Greek word “psychosabbaton.”)
The fifth Sunday, the last day on which dairy products are eaten, is known as Cheesefare, and is not named for its Gospel, Matthew 6, 14-21, the same words of Our Lord about how to fast with sincerity which the Roman Rite reads on Ash Wednesday. (The Byzantine Gospel is longer by two verses, for reasons which I will explain below.) The next day is known as Clean Monday, the first day of the forty-day period known as Great Lent.
To understand this arrangement, it should first be kept in mind that the Byzantine Rite, like all the historical Christian rites, has been heavily influenced by the spirituality and customs of monasticism. The first monks, men like St Anthony and St Pachomius, grasped early on that the ascetic life cannot be practiced fruitfully by just diving into it at the deep end. For all but the most exceptional souls, to simply march out one day into the harsh environment of the desert, to immediately begin keeping strict fasts and long vigils, is an invitation to quick discouragement and disaster. Such things require training, and a careful, gradual approach, which is, of course, the same wisdom that led the Church to institute Forelent in the first place.
This is why the biographers of the great monastic patriarchs make sure to tell us that their lives were the result of their careful study of other spiritual masters who went before them. As one of the responsories of St Anthony’s Latin Office says, describing the early phase of his monastic life, “The most blessed man went to the cells of the monks, paying close attention of the lives of the fathers, and the virtues of each one, and he bore great fruit, like the bees who bring forth honey after tasting (many) flowers. Eagerly did he follow the temperance of this fellow, the humility of that one, the patience of another.”
In its early years, there was a tendency for monasticism to degenerate into a very unhealthy kind of competitive asceticism, with monks dreaming up increasingly bizarre and unpleasant ways to live. (I once read part of the life of a Coptic monk of the 5th century who lived in the middle of a herd of cattle.) Again, only a very few exceptional souls are capable of embracing such a life in a spiritually fruitful way. One of the most famous such souls was St Simeon the Stylite (390 ca. - 459), parts of whose biography, the descriptions of the effects of his manner of living on his body, are truly horrifying to read. This is why one of his biographers, Theodoret, bishop of Cyrrhus, who knew him personally, states that he was to be admired, but not imitated.
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| An Arabic icon of St Simeon Stylites, unknown artist, painted before 1667. |
But monasticism matured beyond this, due in large measure to men like St Basil the Great and St Benedict, whose rules emphasize the importance of community life, and charity among the brethren, as a much more solid foundation for the monastic life. For of course, the greatest challenge of living in community is not celibacy, or bodily privation, or the repetitious character of the life (although these are challenges, to be sure.) The greatest challenge of living in community is other members of the community.
This in turn led to a great deal of careful consideration among monks of the virtues that make community life possible, and of their opposite vices, for as St Jerome wisely says, vices are recognized by contrasting them with their opposing virtues. And as far as community living is concerned, the two vices which pose the great danger to it are those on the opposite ends of the scale, Pride and Envy. Pride, as has often been observed, is the worst of the vices, because it is the foundation of the others. In a monastic context, it would be identified with the temptation to congratulate oneself for being a good and virtuous person, well-loved by God, because one is a good ascetic. Envy, on the other hand, the pain which one feels at the good of another (and here, think especially of another’s spiritual good), has the distinction of being the only one of the vices that brings the one who indulges in it no pleasure.
The Gospels of the Byzantine Forelent, therefore, gives a series of lessons on the virtues and vices based on contrasts, imparted as preparation for the tremendous austerity of the traditional Lenten discipline of the eastern monks.
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| Christ and Zacchaeus, depicted in an 11th-century mosaic in the basilica of St Mark in Venice. |
The first Gospel is named for Zacchaeus, a “chief of the publicans”, i.e. a tax farmers, one of whom, unnamed, is a character in the second Gospel, that of the Publican and the Pharisee. The earliest possible date for Zacchaeus Sunday is January 4th. This only happens very rarely, but nonetheless, perhaps it is not a coincidence that on the evening of January 5th, one of the chants for Vespers reads as follows: “To sinners and to publicans (plural) hast Thou revealed Thyself, in the magnitude of Thy mercy, o our Savior; for where should Thy light shine, if not upon those who sit in darkness? Glory be to Thee!”
The Gospel of Zacchaeus is, of course, a story about Envy, since when the Lord calls him down from the tree, “since today I must abide in Thy house,” people murmur against him, pained by his spiritual good, since he is a sinner. But the Lord Himself accepts Zacchaeus’ protestation that he is not guilty of the sins with which tax collectors were habitually charged: “I give half of my goods to the poor, and if I have defrauded a man of anything, I repay him four-fold.” (This also looks forward to the Gospel of the Last Judgment, which is about our treatment of the poor.) In other words, the judgment which people have made of Zacchaeus out of Envy is wrong.
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| The Publican and the Pharisee, depicted in an illuminated Greek Gospel manuscript of the 12th century. |
The second Gospel, of the Publican and Pharisee, makes for an obvious lesson on the virtue of Humility, and against the vice of Pride. The Pharisee goes to the temple, the place where he ought to praise God, but praises himself, and note that he does so in the first place for his fasting. The Publican, on the other hand, simply says, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner,” and, as the Lord Himself declares, “went down into his house justified rather than the other, because everyone that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”
As noted by Henri de Villiers in his recent series on the antiquity and universality of Forelent, during the week of the Publican and the Pharisee, fasting is positively forbidden in the Byzantine Rite. This custom was instituted against that of the non-Chalcedonian churches, and particularly the Armenians, who keep a very strict fast in that same week. But the Byzantine churches have retained it for a very good reason that has nothing to do with ancient controversies, as a restraint on Pride.
The Byzantine Rite often refers to Lent as a contest or a race, but it is the sort of race which one runs as a challenge to oneself, not as a competition against others. This theme is put forth on the very first weekday of Forelent, Cheesefare Monday, on which the first hymn of the canon of Orthros reads as follows: “Today is the shining forefeast of the abstinence (of Lent), the bright preamble of the fast; therefore, let us run together with confidence, brethren, and great eagerness.” By not fasting for a week before gearing up for Lent, everyone begins this contest from the same place, from the weak-willed monk who guiltily sneaks extra food from the cellar to the champion year-round faster.
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| A 16th century Greek icon of the Return of the Prodigal Son. |
The third Sunday, that of the Prodigal Son, unites these two in a lesson against both Pride and Envy. The former is seen in the person of the younger son, who humbles himself when he says, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no longer worthy to be called thy son.” At these words, his father immediately and completely forgives him, a reminder to us that God is always willing to accept the sincere repentance of even the worst sinner. The lesson against Envy is seen in the elder son, who is so angry at his brother’s spiritual good that he calumniates his own father. The Lord Himself says at the beginning of the parable that the father “divided his substance between them”, but the elder son says to him at the return of the younger, “thou hast never given me a kid to make merry with my friends.”
On Meatfare Sunday is read the Gospel of the Last Judgment, Matthew 25, 31-46; the Roman Rite places this on the first Monday of Lent, which was originally the first feria of that season. On a practical level, this indicates that Lent is also a season of almsgiving, and that what we save in expenditure on food in the fasting seasons should be contributed to the poor. (This was perhaps more obvious before modern times, when meat was often much more expensive than it is now.)
But it also a warning against Pride directed especially to monks. As mentioned above, it is a particular temptation of monastics to seek the Christian perfection in greater ascetic practice, in the austerity of fasting and other bodily mortifications, in the length of vigils, in the recitation of so many psalters and Jesus prayers, etc. The Gospel of the Last Judgment reminds us that we will not be judged on these things, but in our care for our brethren in Christ.
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| The Last Judgment, ca. 1580-1608, by the Cretan icon painter George Klontzas (1535-1608). |
Finally, on Cheesefare Sunday, the last day before Lent, the Gospel is Matthew 6, 14-21; as noted above, the Roman Rite reads this same passage on Ash Wednesday, but starting at verse 16. The first two verses are another exhortation to charity as the foundation of the common life, specifically, the need to forgive the faults of others, as we wish our own faults to be forgiven. “If you will forgive men their offences, your heavenly Father will forgive you also your offences. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your Father forgive you your offences.”
Out of this has arisen one of the Byzantine Rite’s most beautiful customs, which has given this Sunday its other name, Forgiveness Sunday. After Vespers, the celebrating priest stands in front of the iconostasis, where the other people present (clergy before laity) approach him in line. Exchanging the kiss of peace with the first person, the priest says, “Forgive me, a sinner”, to which the other says, “God forgives, and I forgive you”, and takes his place next to him. The third person does this with the priest and the second person, and then takes his place next to them, and so on, unto this exchange has been made between every person in the church and every other. On Easter night, the same ritual is done toward the end of Paschal Matins, with the words, “Christ is risen!”, and the response “He is truly risen!”
All of this is then continually reinforced throughout Lent, starting on Clean Monday, by a prayer which is added to every Hour of the Divine Office, attributed to St Ephraim the Syrian.
“O Lord and Master of my life, give me not (in Church Slavonic ‘take away from me’) a spirit of idleness, curiosity (here in the spiritual sense of needlessly inquiring into other’s affairs, including how well or not they are observing Lent), ambition, and idle talk; but grant to me Thy servant a spirit of prudence, patience, and love. Yea, o Lord and King, grant me to see mine own failings, and not to condemn my brother, for Thou art blessed unto the ages of ages. Amen.”
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| An 11th-century mosaic of St Ephraim in Nea Moni (the new monastery) on the Greek island of Chios. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.) |
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