Let us embrace the fast that sets us aright, pleasing to the Lord – a true, righteous, and pure fast: estrangement from evil, restraint of the tongue, the casting away of anger, separation from passions… And together let us cry out: O Christ God, raise us up from our fall, for You are the Lover of mankind!
There exists a moment in the Church year when everything changes – not suddenly, not with noise, but with the quiet power of forgiveness, a power stronger than any other, for it does not destroy but renews; it does not condemn but heals. That moment is the Tender Vespers of Forgiveness – the final evening service before the beginning of Great Lent, when the Church, like a mother, gathers all her children and says to them: Forgive. Forgive one another, so that God may forgive you. Free yourselves from the burden of judgment, hatred, and grievances, so that you may set out unburdened upon the narrow and salvific path of Lent.
This evening, in the sanctuary of Bigorski, that moment took place once again – as it does every year, and yet always as if for the first time. At this Vespers service, unique in its spiritual beauty, presided our beloved Elder, His Grace Bishop of Antania, sir Parthenius, whose voice, more accustomed to prayer than to speech, guided souls to that place where a person stands before God with empty hands – without excuses, without masks, with nothing except a thirst for renewal.
At the conclusion of Vespers, the Elder marked the beginning of the Lenten services with the ancient and compassionate prayer of Saint Ephrem the Syrian – that prayer which, unlike any other, unveils that which is most essential in the human heart.
After the prayer, it was as though a veil fell between the festive and the ascetic, and everyone sensed that they were stepping onto different ground – holy ground, more demanding yet also more tender. For Great Lent is not a punishment but healing; not a burden but liberation. Then followed the meal of love for all present, a continuation of the service itself, with a single thought – that we are one family, that together we will fast, together we will journey through the forty-day pilgrimage, and together we will bow before the salvific sufferings of Christ. And then came the rite of forgiveness – that moment when words become unnecessary, when everything is reduced to a single glance, an embrace, a simple “Forgive me” and “God forgives.” First, the Elder, with his deep meekness, asked forgiveness from all; he who gives so much and asks so little, he to whom we owe more than we can repay, stood before us with head bowed and said: “Forgive me, fathers, brothers, and children, for everything in which I have erred in word, deed, or thought, knowingly or unknowingly, in all the days of my life.” And in that moment, his humility became our lesson. For if the Elder asks forgiveness, who then are we to cling to pride? Then, one by one, monks, clergy, and faithful – old and young – approached the Elder and one another, asking forgiveness and wishing each other a light and God-pleasing fast.
May this fast be for all of us a time of quiet joy and not of gloomy sorrow; a time of inner liberation and not outward severity; a time in which we discover that the one who fasts with love loses nothing and gains everything. May the prayer of Saint Ephrem the Syrian become our daily companion. May the prostrations soften our hearts. May the forgiveness we have spoken this evening not remain merely a word, but become a way of life throughout this holy Lent – and beyond. And may our Lord Jesus Christ, who for our sake fasted forty days in the wilderness, grant us strength and steadfastness, patience and meekness, and at the end – the joy of His all-radiant Resurrection.
Forgive us, and have a blessed Lent, everyone!
