All Saints of North America and Antioch
St. Matthew 4:18-23
On the Sunday of All Saints of North America and Antioch, Fr. Anthony reflects on how the same American instincts that often lead people to Orthodoxy can become obstacles to spiritual growth once they arrive. While habits of inquiry, comparison, and evaluation help many converts discover the Church, the Christian life requires a transition from constantly judging and analyzing to trusting the Church’s proven path of formation. Drawing on examples from marriage, culture, and the lives of the saints, he argues that the Church has been making saints for two thousand years and invites us to relax into that process of transformation.
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In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Glory to Jesus Christ!
This is the Second Sunday after Pentecost, which means we celebrate the saints. Now, some of you are thinking, “Father, wasn’t that last Sunday?” Yes—but this Sunday we celebrate the saints who are the fruit of the Christian faith in particular places.
Here in the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, we commemorate both the Saints of Antioch and the Saints of North America. Antioch is where the followers of Christ were first called Christians. North America is where that same faith has borne fruit in our own land. Today we celebrate what happens when the Holy Spirit takes root in a people and a place and brings forth holiness.
The saints were not abstractions. They were not merely names in books or faces in icons. They had families, homes, occupations, and daily struggles. They lived in particular places and faced particular temptations, just as we do. Their lives remind us that holiness is not reserved for another age or another people. It is the calling of every Christian.
I know some people who are jealous of Christians who lived in other times and places. I understand the temptation. We imagine what it must have been like to live in a culture where everyone was Christian, where theology, marriage, friendship, and worship were reinforced by the world around you. It can seem as though faith would come naturally in such a setting.
But every culture has its own strengths and weaknesses. Every age has its temptations. Ours certainly does.
This is one reason I often speak about the long, slow slog of salvation. It takes time for Christ to gain traction in our lives. It takes time for the Holy Spirit to draw us out of our sins, reorder our desires, and teach us to see the world according to the truth. As much as we may romanticize other places and times, the reality is that the whole world groans under the weight of sin.
Consider the relationship between Church and state.
Some Christians look with envy at times when governments openly supported the Church. One of my favorite examples is Saint Volodymyr of Kyiv. The church he built became known as the Church of the Tithes because he dedicated a tenth of his wealth to support it. That kind of patronage can be a tremendous blessing. It keeps the doors open. It provides a place where people can encounter Christ.
But there is also a danger.
If people do not intentionally offer themselves to the life of the Church, they can begin to take it for granted. Historians, sociologists, and political scientists have repeatedly observed that when the Church becomes too dependent on state support, participation often becomes passive. The buildings remain full, the clergy remain funded, but the active fellowship of the faithful can become hollowed out unless people are deeply intentional about their commitment.
In modern language, we might say that people need some “skin in the game.” Faith must become personal. It must become sacrificial. We cannot simply inherit it; we must offer ourselves to it.
The same pattern appears elsewhere.
My Greek friends often point out that Hellenistic culture provided many of the intellectual tools that helped people understand and articulate the Christian faith. Concepts such as the Logos and the philosophical vocabulary of the ancient world became powerful instruments in the service of theology.
And yet those same intellectual strengths carried their own dangers. Some Christians were tempted toward Gnosticism. Others drifted into excessive rigorism. The very strengths of a culture can become weaknesses if they are not transformed by Christ.
The same is true for us as Americans.
There is much about our culture that I celebrate. We are approaching the 250th anniversary of our nation, and as a son of the American Revolution, I appreciate the freedoms we enjoy. The First Amendment protects our ability to seek the truth and worship God according to our conscience. Many of us found Orthodoxy precisely because we were free to look beyond the assumptions of our surrounding culture.
But there is another characteristic of American life that deserves our attention: consumerism.
Consumerism is not merely an economic system; it is a pattern of thought. It trains us to compare, evaluate, and choose. Every trip to the grocery store involves a series of cost-benefit analyses. We compare quality and price. We examine options. We decide which product best meets our needs.
That habit of evaluation has actually helped many converts find Orthodoxy.
Most of us arrived here because we became dissatisfied with something. We sensed that something was missing. We began asking questions. We read books, listened to lectures, watched videos, and compared alternatives. We weighed ideas the same way we weigh products. Eventually, we discovered Orthodoxy and recognized that it offered something we had not found elsewhere: a way of life capable of leading us into deeper communion with Christ.
For many of us, that process was a blessing. Without it, we might never have escaped the assumptions we inherited from our surroundings. We might never have realized that another way was possible.
Now here is the challenge.
The same habits that helped many of us find Orthodoxy can become obstacles once we are inside the Church.
Let me explain through an analogy.
Think about the way Americans approach courtship today. We live in a culture of options. Dating apps, personality profiles, compatibility scores, and endless advice all encourage us to evaluate potential spouses through a kind of cost-benefit analysis. We compare possibilities and try to determine which person is the best match.
Now, thank God, many people eventually find someone they love. They build a life together, get married, and begin a family. But what happens if they never leave behind that consumer mindset?
What happens if they continue to evaluate their spouse the way they once evaluated potential spouses?
Sooner or later they discover something unexpected. They find an imperfection they did not anticipate. They encounter a habit they dislike. They discover a weakness that was not apparent before.
At that point the consumer instinct kicks in.
Some begin looking around, wondering whether there might be something better. Others begin trying to “fix” their spouse, treating the relationship like a renovation project.
After thirty-six years of marriage, I can tell you that my wife became much happier when she gave up trying to fix me. There are some things that simply cannot be fixed.
More importantly, that is not how healthy relationships work.
A good marriage is not built through constant evaluation. It is built through trust, commitment, patience, sacrifice, and love. At some point you stop analyzing the relationship from the outside and begin living it from the inside. You relax into it. You allow yourself to be formed by it.
That does not mean you stop growing. It means growth happens through love rather than manipulation.
The same principle applies to the Church.
I celebrate the fact that many of us found Orthodoxy because we were willing to ask questions, compare alternatives, and search for the truth. Those habits served us well.
But once we arrive, we must be careful.
If you have ever been a catechumen with me, you have heard me say something that may sound strange: don’t become a catechumen unless you are ready to trust.
You do not have to know everything before becoming Orthodox. No one does. We make sure people understand the essentials. We address the major questions and objections. But eventually there comes a point where a person must decide whether this is a place where he can be formed.
If we carry the spirit of consumerism into the Church, we begin treating everything the same way we treated products on a shelf. We evaluate constantly. We compare constantly. We judge constantly.
Combined with the polarization that already infects our culture, this can become spiritually destructive.
We begin dividing ourselves into camps. We become critics rather than disciples. Instead of allowing the Church to form us, we place ourselves above it as evaluators.
Now, that does not mean we stop improving things. We are always working to improve parish life. We renovate buildings. We develop ministries. We solve problems.
But there is a profound difference between building up and tearing down.
One spirit seeks to serve. The other seeks to dominate.
One spirit acts from love. The other acts from judgment.
One spirit strengthens communion. The other undermines it.
At some point we must surrender the very habit of analysis that helped bring us here, just as a husband and wife must eventually stop evaluating one another and begin living together in trust.
Once you have given your life to Christ and entered His Church, relax. You are in the right place.
This is not a pig in a poke.
Most of my catechumens know that expression. For those who do not, a “poke” is an old word for a bag. If you were buying a pig at market, you always looked inside the bag before handing over your money. Otherwise you might discover later that someone had sold you something entirely different.
Orthodoxy is not a pig in a poke.
You have looked inside the bag.
You have examined the evidence.
You have read the books.
You have asked the questions.
You have seen what the Church is.
Now trust it.
The Church has been forming saints for two thousand years. It has done so in Syria and Lebanon, in Greece and Romania, in Kyiv and Moscow, in Alaska and North America. It has formed saints in every culture, every language, and every century.
It can form saints here.
It can form saints out of us.
But only if we allow it to do its work.
There are very few places left in modern life where we can lower our defenses, let go of constant evaluation, and simply receive. The Church should be one of those places.
This is one reason our worship is so carefully ordered. The prayers have been tested by generations. The hymns have been handed down through centuries. The services have been shaped by the wisdom of the saints.
The Church knows what she is doing.
Now, I still tell my catechumens and students to keep a little filter active during the homily. The prayers have been vetted by the Church. The sermon comes from me, and I am still a work in progress.
But the larger point remains.
Let the Church form you.
The Church has been creating saints for two thousand years. It is not a cookie-cutter process. Saint Nicholas, Saint Tikhon, and Saint John were very different men. Yet all were united in Christ.
The Church knows how to confront our sins.
It knows how to heal anger, lust, despondency, pride, and despair.
It knows how to help us become more patient, more loving, more peaceful, and more faithful.
You do not need a guru.
You do not need another internet rabbit hole.
You do not need endless searches for the next great spiritual secret.
The saints have already shown us the way.
Pray.
Love sacrificially.
Open yourself to God’s grace in the sacraments.
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
This is the calling of every human being. This is the vocation of the royal priesthood. This is the path walked by the saints of Antioch, the saints of North America, and the saints throughout the world.
And it is the path set before us today.
May God strengthen us as we walk it together.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
