Of the most wise and learned and in all respects most holy
Lord Saint Nikolaos Kabasilas, also called Chamaetos
On Life in Christ, (A’)
First Discourse: that it consists through the divine mysteries, of baptism, chrism and divine communion.
Life in Christ is conceived in this life and takes its beginnings here; but it is perfected in the life to come, when we arrive at that day. And neither can this life perfectly instill it in the souls of men, nor can the life to come do so unless it has first taken its beginnings here. For in the present life, the flesh overshadows us, and the cloud and corruption from it, “not being able to inherit incorruption,” as Paul says. Hence Paul considered it very preferable “to depart and be with Christ.” “To depart,” he says, “and be with Christ is far better.” And the life to come cannot benefit those it receives who do not already possess the powers and senses needed for that life. The explanation is that the light rises and the sun provides its pure ray, but an eye cannot be formed at that moment; and the fragrance of the Spirit pours out abundantly and pervades everything, but one could not acquire the sense of smell without already having it.
And it is possible for the Son of God to share the mysteries with his “friends” on that day, and for them to learn from him what “they have heard from the Father;” but it is necessary for them already to have arrived as his friends and “having ears.” For it is not possible to form a friendship here, and open one’s ears, and prepare a wedding garment and everything else needed for that wedding feast, but this life is a workshop for all these things. And those who did not acquire these before departing have nothing in common for that life. The five virgins and the man invited to the wedding are witnesses to this, since they came without having them, unable to acquire oil or a garment. Overall, this world gives birth to “the inner man, the new man created according to God,” and formed and shaped here, he is born perfect into that perfect and ageless world.
For just as the embryo, while it is in the dark and watery life, is prepared by nature for the life in light, and is formed as if according to a pattern which will receive the life to come, in the same way it happens to the saints. And this is what the apostle Paul said in writing to the Galatians: “My children, for whom I am again in travail until Christ be formed in you.” However, embryos of this life could never arrive at consciousness, but the blessed ones experience many glimpses of the life to come in the present one. And the reason is that for embryos this life does not exist, but the life to come is precisely awaiting them. For no ray of light has come into those realms, nor anything else that sustains this life. But for us it is no longer so, but that life to come has been poured and mingled into this present one. And that sun has benevolently risen for us as well, and the ointment from above has been poured out into these foul places, and “the bread of angels has also been given to men.”
That in this present life the saints live the life in Christ. Therefore, it is possible for the saints in the present not only to be disposed and prepared for that life, but already to live according to it and act. “Take hold of eternal life,” Paul writes to Timothy. And, “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” And the divine Ignatius: “There is living water speaking within me.” And Scripture is full of many such examples.
But beyond all these, when life itself promises to be with the saints continually forever, “For behold, I am with you always, to the close of the age,” what else should one think? For he did not just provide the seeds of life to the earth, and cast fire and a sword, and then immediately depart, leaving it to men to make them grow, nourish them, light them and use them, but he is truly present, “working in us to will and to work,” as the blessed Paul said. And he himself lights the fire and brings it near, and he himself holds the sword, and “in short, the axe will not boast apart from the one who wields it.” And for those for whom the Good One is not present, nothing good can come about.
And yet the Lord promised not only to be present with the saints, but also to remain with them, and, what is greater than this, to make his home in them. And why do I speak of this, when he is even said to be so benevolently united with them as to be one spirit with them. “For the one who is united with the Lord becomes one spirit with him,” and “that you may be one body and one spirit, as you were called.” This is the voice of Paul.
For just as his love for humankind is ineffable, and the love of God for our race surpasses human reason and is fitting only for the divine goodness, for “it is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding,” in the same way it is consistent that the union with those he loves surpasses every union one could imagine, and cannot be compared to any example.
This is why Scripture required many examples, so that it could make known that union, since one was not sufficient. And now it introduces the idea of an inhabitant and a house, now a vine and branches; and now marriage, now limbs and a head, none of which is equal to that union. For it is not possible to come to the full truth from these examples. Of course a union consistent with friendship is necessary above all; but what could equal divine love?
And further, even those examples that seem especially to demonstrate union and oneness, that is marriage and the harmony of limbs with the head, fall far short, and are nowhere near explaining the reality. For marriage could not unite so as to make those joined exist in one another and live in one another, which is what happens with Christ and the Church. For this reason the divine apostle, after saying about marriage “This mystery is great,” added “But I speak concerning Christ and the Church,” showing that he considered not that but the other marriage wondrous beyond words. And the limbs are indeed joined to the head, and live by being joined, and when separated they die. But even these seem more closely joined to Christ than to their own head, and to live more by him than by their harmony with the head.
This is clear from the blessed martyrs, who gladly endured separation from their own head but could not bear to even hear mention of separation from Christ. They cheerfully laid aside their limbs along with their head, but were not able, even verbally, to withdraw from Christ. And I do not yet mention the newest and most paradoxical thing. For what could be more closely joined than a thing to itself? But even this oneness falls short of that union.
That the saints are more present with Christ than with themselves. For each of the blessed spirits, while it is one and the same with itself, is more closely joined to the Savior than to itself. For it loves him more than itself. And Paul will testify to this in his words, praying to be “anathema from Christ” for the salvation of the Jews, so that Christ would receive additional glory. And if human affection is so great, divine love cannot even be imagined. For if evil men displayed such gratitude, what should one say about that goodness? Being such an excessive love, it is necessary that the union to which it draws those who love surpasses human reason, so that it cannot even be lifted up as an example. Let us also consider it this way:
Of the many things which we must associate with in life – air, light, food, clothing, the very powers and limbs of our nature – we are not always and in everything able to make use of and associate with each one. Rather, now with this one, now with that, according to the need of the moment, now one thing aids us, now another. For we put on clothing, but it would not be food, rather when we need a meal it is necessary to seek something else. And light does not provide breath, nor would air take the place of the ray of light for us. And in the activities of the senses and limbs, we are not always present and making use of them, but sometimes the eye or hand is idle when there is need to hear. And when we desire to touch, the hand will suffice, but no longer to smell or hear or see. Rather, leaving it behind we look to another power.
But the Savior is so present at all times and in all ways with those who live in him, that he provides every need; he is present in every way, so as to provide every need, and is everything to them, and does not allow them to look to or seek anything else from the entirety of creation. For there is nothing they might need which he is not for the saints. For he generates and increases and nourishes, and is light and breath. And he forms the eye for them in himself; and enlightens it again with himself. And he provides the ability to see himself. And being nourishment, he is also the food. He himself provides “the bread of life,” and he himself is what he provides. And he is life to the living, fragrance to those breathing, clothing to those desiring to be clothed. And indeed he himself is the one by whom we are able to walk, and he himself is the way, and in addition the lodging and end of the way. We are limbs, he the head. When there is need to struggle, he struggles along with us; when we succeed he is the judge; when we conquer he is the prize immediately.
In this way on every side he turns us back to himself, and does not allow our mind to cling to any of the rest or to conceive a passion for anything else that exists. For if here we rouse our desire, he himself stops it and gives it rest; and if we stir it there, again it is he; and if elsewhere, he occupies that path also, and takes us by the hand as we pass by. “If I ascend into heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me,” he said. By some wondrous and benevolent compulsion he draws us to himself alone and unites us only with himself. And I think this is the compulsion by which he compelled those he invited to the house and feast, when he said to the slave, “Compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.”
So then, it is clear from what has been said that the life in Christ belongs to the saints not only in the world to come but already in the present, and that they live according to it and act. It remains to explain how one can live thus and, as Paul says, “walk in newness of life” – I mean, what do Christ and the saints do, that he is so closely united and attached to them, in a way I do not know what to call. This must be explained next.
In what manner life in Christ is constituted in us; that it is from initiation into the sacred mysteries of baptism, chrism and the eucharist. The one part, then, is from God, the other from our own effort. And the one is purely his work, the other also contains endeavor on our part. Or rather, the only contribution on our part is to undergo the grace and not betray the treasure, or extinguish the lamp once it has been lit. I mean, not to introduce anything opposed to that life which gives birth to death. For every human good and every virtue leads to this, not to thrust the sword against oneself, or to flee happiness, and shake the garlands from one’s head.
But the very essence of that life, Christ himself ineffably plants in our souls by his presence. For he is truly present and aids the beginnings of life which he himself provided when he walked among us. But he is present not in the way he was at first, sharing our way of life and discourses and spending time with us, but in another better and more perfect way, by which we become of one body with him, and one life, and limbs, and anything else conveying this meaning. For just as his love for humankind is inexpressible, which moved him to so love his bitterest enemies, and deem them worthy of the greatest graces, so too the union by which he unites himself with those he loves surpasses every image and appellation, and cannot be compared with any example.
A summary of the power of the divine mysteries. For by dramatically portraying his death, which he truly died for our life, through certain symbols, he renews it through the actual mysteries and reshapes it and makes us sharers of his own life. For in the sacred mysteries, depicting his burial and proclaiming his death, through them we are born and molded and joined with the Savior in an ineffable manner. For these are the means by which, as Paul said, “we live and move and have our being in him.”
For baptism confers existence and the coming to be entirely in Christ. For receiving the dead and corrupt, it first introduces them to life. But the anointing with chrism perfects the one born, conferring an activity appropriate for that life. And the divine eucharist preserves and maintains this life and health. For the bread of life, in conferring what has been gained and making us continue living, saves what has been acquired. By this bread we live; by the chrism we are active, having received existence from the font.
And we live in God in this manner, transferring our life from this visible world to the invisible, not changing place but way of life. For we did not move toward God or ascend, but he came and descended to us. For we did not seek, but were sought. Because the sheep did not seek the shepherd, or the lost coin the master of the house. Rather he bent down to the earth and found the image. And he came to the places where the sheep had strayed, and picked it up and stopped its wandering, not moving it from here but making it heavenly while remaining on earth. And he implanted the heavenly life, not leading us up to heaven but inclining heaven to us and bringing it down. “For he bowed the heavens and came down,” the prophet said.
And so through these most sacred mysteries, as through windows, the sun of righteousness enters into this darkened world. And it kills the life akin to this world, and raises up the supernatural life. And the light of the world conquers the world – which he hints at in saying “I have conquered the world” – bringing in the steadfast and immortal life in a mortal and fleeting body.
For as when the ray enters a house, the lamp no longer turns the eyes of those seeing to itself, but the brilliance of the ray prevails and occupies them, in the same way through the mysteries the brilliance of the life to come, entering in and dwelling in our souls, conquers the fleshly life and hides the beauty of this world and its splendor.
And this is the life in the Spirit, whose desire conquers all fleshly desire, according to Paul’s saying: “Walk in the Spirit and you will certainly not fulfill the desires of the flesh.” The Lord cut this path to us by coming, and opened this gate by entering the world. And ascending to the Father he did not allow it to close, but ever since visits humankind by this path. Or rather, he is always present and is with us, and will be forever, keeping those promises: “Lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.”
This is none other than the house of God, and this the gate of heaven,” the patriarch would have said, by which not only do angels descend to earth – for one is present at the initiation of each person – but the Master of angels himself. Therefore, also when prefiguring his own baptism in a way through the baptism of John, the Savior himself consented to be baptized, he opened up the heavens, showing that this is the means by which we shall see the heavenly realm.
And again by declaring that one who is not baptized cannot enter into life, he hints that it itself is an entrance and gate. “Open to me the gates of righteousness,” says David, desiring, I believe, that these gates be opened to him. For this is what “many prophets and kings desired to see” – the arrival of the architect of these gates on earth. Therefore he also says that if it happened that he attained entrance and came through these gates, he would give thanks to God who broke through the wall. “For I will enter them,” he says, “and give thanks to the Lord.” As coming to the fullest possible knowledge of the goodness and love of God for our race through these gates especially.
For what could be a greater sign of goodness and love than washing the soul clean of filth through water, anointing with myrrh to be king of the kingdom in the heavens, and feasting one’s body with his own body and blood? And that human beings become gods and sons of God, and that our nature is honored with the honor of God, and dust is raised up to such glory as to become now equal in honor and divinity with the divine nature – what could equal this? What novelty could surpass it?
This I believe to be “the virtue of God that covered the heavens,” that is, surpassed with its greatness and beauty every creation and work of God, and hid the wisdom of the Creator. For of all the divine works, though they are so many and so great and beautiful, there is none that does not have less than that wisdom and power and skill. And he could produce even more beautiful and greater things, yet it is not permitted to say this at all. But if it was possible for a work of God to come to be so great and good that it could compete with that wisdom and power and skill, and be equaled in a way to that infinity, and point out the magnitude of the divine goodness like a footprint, this, I believe, would be to surpass it. For if this is always God’s work, to share the good, and he does everything for this purpose, and this is the end both of the things that have already come to be and of whatever might come to be in the future – “to pour forth and go,” he says – then in doing what he has given the greatest possible share of the greatest good, which he has nothing greater to give, this would be the greatest and most beautiful work of goodness, the final limit of benevolence.
And the work of the economy concerning human beings was of this kind. For here God did not simply share some good or other with human nature, keeping most things for himself, but “the fullness of divinity,” the whole natural wealth. Therefore Paul also said that the righteousness of God was specially revealed in the Gospel. For if there is some virtue and righteousness in God, this would be it: to generously share all his goods, and the fellowship of blessedness.
For this reason the most sacred mysteries could rightly be called gates of righteousness, because the final benevolence and goodness of God toward our race, which is the divine virtue and righteousness, made these our entrances to heaven.
And in another way, by a kind of justice and righteousness, the Lord set up this trophy and gave us this gate and path. For he did not snatch away the captives, but “gave a ransom,” and “bound the strong one,” not because he had greater power, but because he was justly condemned by a righteous judgment. And “he reigned over the house of Jacob,” destroying tyranny in the souls of human beings, not because he was able to destroy it, but because it was right for it to be destroyed. And David hinted at this in saying, “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne.”
And it was not only with righteousness that he opened these gates for us, but righteousness also came to our race through them. For in previous times, before God came among humankind, righteousness could not be found on earth. For “God looked down from heaven,” the one who could not escape notice if he existed at all, yet nonetheless he did not find any. “All have gone astray,” he says, “together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.”
But when “truth sprung up from the earth” for those “sitting in the darkness of deceit and the shadow,” then “righteousness looked down from heaven,” only now appearing fully and truly to humankind for the first time. And we were justified, first freed from the bonds and shame because the innocent one made a defense for us by his death on the cross, by which he paid the penalty for what we dared. Then we also became friends of God and righteous because of that death. For by dying he did not only free us and reconcile us to the Father, but “gave us power to become children of God” as well, joining our nature to himself through the flesh he took up, and joining each of us to his own flesh by the power of the mysteries. And in this way he makes his own righteousness and life rise up in our souls.
Thus through the sacred mysteries true righteousness came to be for humankind both to know and accomplish. For even if many righteous and friends of God are mentioned in Scripture before the sacrifice, which justified and reconciled us, this must be considered about them – first, among their own generation, and then also because of what was to come. That they were able to become such and were prepared to run to meet that righteousness when it appeared, and to be freed when the ransom was paid, and to see when the light appeared, and to rise when the symbols were accomplished and the truth revealed. And the righteous differed from the wicked in this way, though they were in mostly the same bonds and undergoing the same tyranny: the latter suffered that enslavement and slavery painfully, and prayed for the prison to be destroyed and those bonds to be loosed, and longed to see the head of the tyrant trampled under the feet of the bound. But to the former the present evils did not seem terrible at all, and they rejoiced in their servitude. Such were also in those days some of the blessed, who did not receive the sun risen upon them, but attempted to extinguish it, doing all they could by which they thought they might make the ray disappear. Hence some were freed from the tyranny of Hades when the king appeared, but others remained in their bonds.
For he entered into the holy places, offering himself to the Father, and introduces those desiring to share in his burial, not by dying as he did, but by dramatically portraying that death in baptism and proclaiming it at the sacred table, and being anointed and feasting in some ineffable way with him, the one who was put to death and rose again. And having introduced them through these gates, he leads them to the kingdom and the crowns.
These gates are far more august and beneficial than the gates of Paradise. For those would not open for anyone who had not first entered through them. But these opened though those were shut. And those could also lead out those within, but these only introduce, and lead out no one. And it was possible for those to be shut, and indeed they were shut. But for these the veil and dividing wall have been entirely destroyed and demolished.
And it is no longer possible for a fence to be rebuilt and gates fitted together and the worlds divided from each other by a wall. For they did not simply open, but “the heavens were torn apart,” said the wonderful Mark, showing that no door or gateposts or veil remained at all. For the one who reconciled and joined and made peace between the upper world and the lower, and “broke down the dividing wall of enmity,” as the blessed Paul said, “cannot deny himself.” For it was reasonable that those gates were opened on account of Adam, and then shut again when he did not remain as he should. But Christ himself opened these, “who did no sin,” nor can sin. “For his righteousness endures forever,” hence there is every necessity for them to remain open, and to introduce into life, but provide no exit from life for anyone. “For I came,” says the Savior, “that they may have life.”
For this is the life that the Lord came bearing, that by coming through these mysteries and sharing in his death and partaking of his suffering, apart from this it is not possible to escape death. For it is not possible for one not baptized in water and the Spirit to enter into life, nor can those “who do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood have life in themselves.” And let us examine this from the beginning.
What is the reason the mysteries alone can instill the life in Christ in the souls of men? For it was not possible to live without dying to sins by God. But to kill sin was possible for God alone. For to men it was owed: for we were justly conquered by voluntarily yielding, to regain the defeat. But it was not in us, or even near, since we had already become slaves of sin. For how could we become superior to that which we were enslaved by? Or rather, we would also have been greater: “But no slave is greater than his master.” Therefore, since on the one hand he was just who owed the debt to wage this war and was able to conquer, but was a slave of what he should conquer by war, and God, to whom this was permitted, was obligated to no one, and for this reason neither undertook the struggle, and sin lived on, and it had already become impossible for true life to rise for us – the trophy being owed by one but achievable by another – because of this it was necessary for this one and that one to come together, and for one and the same to be both natures, the one who both owed and was able to conquer in war.
This happens therefore. And God undertakes the struggle for humankind, for he is human. And a man conquers sin, being free from all sin, for he was God. And in this way human nature is freed from reproaches and crowned with the victory garland, sin having fallen.
But not yet has each individual human being conquered because of this or struggled, that is, been freed from those bonds. But he himself accomplished even this through what the Savior added, in which he gave each human being the power to kill sin and become sharer with him in excellence.
For after that trophy it was necessary to be crowned and celebrate a triumph. But the one who underwent blows and cross and death and such things, “endured the cross, despising its shame” for the joy set before him, as Paul says. What happens?
He who gave these things suffered no injustice, nor did any sin for which he paid the penalty, nor had anything for which the slanderer, utterly shameless, could reproach him. But blow and pain and death were devised against sin from the beginning. For why would the benevolent Master permit it? For it is not fitting that goodness rejoice in ruin and death. Therefore immediately after sin God permitted death and pain, not imposing it as a penalty on the guilty rather than providing a remedy for the sick.
Therefore, since it was not fitting to apply this punishment to the deeds of Christ, and the Savior had no trace of sickness which he took away – rather what he received was a remedy – the power of that cup passes into us and kills the sin within us. And the undeserved blow becomes a penalty for those who owe much.
And since the penalty was great and wondrous and greater than a counterweight to human evil, it did not just stop at acquitting the charge. But he added such an excess of good things that it was able to ascend into heaven itself and make those from the earth, the bitterly hostile, the bound, the enslaved, the dishonored, share in the kingdom there with God. For that death was precious, so to speak not even a tiny bit able to be reckoned by men, even if the Savior allowed it to be purchased from the murderers for a small price, so that even this would be full of poverty and dishonor for him.
Willing to undergo being completely sold like slaves, he profited by the dishonor. For he considered the dishonor on our behalf a profit. And by its being for a small price, he hints that he came freely and as a gift to the death for the world. He willingly died though wronging no one in any way, neither in life nor in his duty to the community, showing favor to his murderers, though their desires and hopes were far greater.
And why do I say these things? God died; the blood poured out on the cross was God’s blood. What death could be more precious than this? More awe-inspiring? How greatly did human nature sin, that the penalty could abolish it? How great would the wound have been, so as to be a counterweight to the power of this remedy?
For it was necessary for sin to be destroyed by some penalty, and for us who sinned against God to be freed from the accusations by undergoing the fitting punishment. For one who has punished what was brought against him would no longer accuse concerning the same things. But among men there was no one who, being himself free from liability, would suffer on behalf of others, since no one even sufficed for himself or the whole race, even if it were possible to die myriads of times, to pay the resulting penalty. For what penalty could an utterly abject slave pay, who shattered the king’s image and insulted him to such a height?
Therefore the blameless Master underwent many terrible sufferings and died. And as a man he bore the blow defending humankind, but freed the race from the accusations and gave liberty to the bound, because he himself had no need of it, being God and Master. On account of which things therefore the true life passes over to us through the death of the Savior.
But the manner in which we draw it into our own souls is this: the completion of the mysteries, the washing, the anointing, the partaking of the sacred table. For in doing these Christ visits and dwells and unites himself and attaches himself, and in us stifles sin and implants his own life and excellence, and makes us sharers in the victory. Oh goodness! He crowns those washed and feasting.
Why does Christ crown those washed and anointed with myrrh and feasting? Why, and according to what logic, do washing and myrrh and the table lead to victory and a crown, which are the fruit of toils and sweat? Because even if we do not struggle or labor in doing these things, nonetheless we hymn that struggle and admire the victory and worship the trophy and display an intense and inexpressible affection for the champion. And the excess of our love we partake of as bread, and are anointed as with myrrh, and clothe ourselves as with water.
For it is clear that if someone passing by snatches away and crowns a captured tyrant about to pay the penalty, and shouts down the laws and is upset at justice, and does this not in shame or concealing his wickedness, but openly boasting, testifying, and displaying it, what votes would we judge him worthy of? Would we not honor him with the same as the tyrant? This is wholly clear.
Is not the opposite altogether true, that if someone admires a champion and rejoices in his victory and weaves crowns for him, and raises up a clamor, and shakes the stadium, and falls at the feet of the one celebrating his triumph with pleasure, and kisses his head and embraces his right hand, and is so intensely mad for the warrior and his won victory, as if he himself would adorn his own head with the crown, would not this man justly and quite fittingly receive the crown from the war without toils and dangers, from fair-minded judges? I think he would share the penalty with the tyrant. For if we preserve what is fitting concerning evil men, and the choice and intent must be called to account, it is hardly reasonable for good men to be deprived of what happens.
And if this addition exists, that the one who accomplished that victory himself has no need of the prizes for the victory, but considers it bright reward enough to see his comrade in the stadium, and considers it his prize for the contest that his companion is crowned, how is it not right and most suitably that the latter obtains the crown from the war without sweat and dangers?
It is these things the washing and the supper and the moderate luxury of the myrrh are able to accomplish for us. For in being initiated, we condemn the tyrant, spit on him, turn away from him; but we praise the champion, admire him, worship him and love him with our whole soul, such that we partake of the excess of love as bread, and are anointed as with myrrh, and clothe ourselves as with water.
For it is clear that he chose this war on our behalf, and endured dying himself so that we would conquer. So it is nothing unreasonable or inconsistent for the crowns to come after the mysteries. For we display the zeal possible to us, and hearing that this water has the power of Christ’s death and tomb, we fully believe and gladly approach and submerge ourselves. But he – for he does not give small things or consider us worthy of small things – receives those who attach themselves to what comes after his death and burial, providing not some crown or share of glory, but offering himself, the victor, crowned in himself.
And coming up from the water, we bear the very Savior upon our souls, upon the head, upon the eyes, in the inmost being, upon every limb – free from sin, separated from all corruption, just as he rose and appeared to the disciples and ascended – the one who will come again to reclaim this treasure.
And born thus and imprinted in a way with the form of Christ, so that we introduce no alien form, he himself occupies the entrances to life. And by what we bring in air and nourishment to aid the life of the body, through these he enters into our souls. And he makes both doors his own, suitable to one as fragrance and scent, to the other as nourishment. For we also breathe him in and he becomes food for us. And mixing and blending himself with us through all things, he makes us his body and becomes for us what the head is for the limbs. For this reason we also share in all good things with him, because he is the head. For the things of the head must pass over into the body.
At which one might wonder why we did not also share in his wounds and death, but he alone struggled, yet now at the crowning he makes us sharers in what is his own.
This is on account of his inexpressible love for humankind. Nor is it far from reasonable and consistent. For after the cross we were joined to Christ. But before his death we shared nothing with him. For he was the Son and Beloved, while we were defiled and slaves and enemies in mind. But after he died and the ransom was given and the prison of the devil destroyed, then we obtained freedom and adoption as sons, and became limbs of that blessed head. From then on, what belongs to the head becomes ours as well.
And now we come up immaculate from this water, and share in his graces through the chrism, and through the table live the same life as he. But in the world to come, gods around God, and fellow heirs of the same things as him, and reigning in the same kingdom with him – if only we do not willingly blind ourselves in this life and tear the royal tunic. For toward life we contribute only this: to undergo the gifts and endure the graces and not cast away the crown God has woven for us with many labors and struggles.
This is the life in Christ, which the mysteries establish. And human effort also seems able to contribute something to it. Whence one wishing to speak about it, first setting forth the meaning of each mystery, then it would be appropriate to examine moral practice.
Kabasilas Nikolaos, Saint | A Pioneering Theologian of Orthodoxy