Closing the Distance Between the Mundane and the Holy

[Opening]

Good morning, everybody, and welcome. God bless all of you on this beautiful Sunday morning.

Today is the Sunday called Poon Paregentan. Poon Paregentan is the gateway to Great Lent. It is the equivalent of what is called Carnival in the Western Church and of other celebrations found in Orthodoxy as we enter the Lenten period. Poon Paregentan is translated as the Feast of Good Living: pari meaning “good,” and gentan referring to gyank—life or living. Today is the true celebration of good living. It is the gateway leading us into the Great Lenten period, and we will consider why the curtain was closed this morning as we celebrated the Divine Liturgy.

Եւ հասկնալ եւ ընդունիլ։ Եւ դժուար է ատիկա հաշտեցնել մեր եկեղեցական, հաւաքական կեանքին մէջը։ Որովհետեւ մենք ի՞նչ կ’ըսենք. «Եկէք այստեղ, միասին աղօթենք, որ ամէն մարդ տեսնէ»։

Today, on this day known as Poon Paregentan, we closed the curtain—the varakur—on the Holy Altar. The curtain is a fascinating element of the worship life of the Armenian Church. It is not found today in most Orthodox churches. There is instead something called an iconostasis, a more permanent structure separating the inner altar space from the outer altar space, perhaps with smaller curtains as part of it. Very few churches today, like ours, continue to use the curtain. For us, however, it is absolutely essential to our Christian identity.

The curtain does not come from nothing. It comes from the biblical account of the tabernacle, the temporary pavilion built around the movable Ark of the Covenant while the Jews were in exile, as we read in the Old Testament. The account details what the priest should wear, what the tabernacle should contain, how it should be built and oriented, and even the size and dimensions of everything. No matter where the people were, they would have a place where the Holy of Holies could reside. That was the Ark of the Covenant—the promise between God and his people, made manifest in the laws presented to Moses.

Today we have priests like me who wear vestments based primarily, at least in part, on the biblical accounts of what the holy priesthood of Aaron wore when the tabernacle was used during the period of exile. We also have a place of worship that echoes the tabernacle.

But we do not have the Ark of the Covenant. We have the New Covenant, which is the body and blood of Jesus Christ. It, too, is kept in a place worthy of the Holy of Holies. Here we have this anointed sanctuary, a raised altar space that sets it apart, and the curtain. The curtain becomes a physical reminder of the distance between us—a separation between the mundane and the Holy of Holies.

The curtain is used at certain moments during the Divine Liturgy, sometimes for practical reasons when movements or transitions might distract the faithful. Most particularly, the curtain is closed during the consecration of the gifts, as they become the living body and blood of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The miracle of the Holy Spirit coming into our lives, and the moment when the promise is made manifest through the Eucharist, occurs behind the altar curtain as a reminder of its sanctity.

Now we enter the Great Lenten period. The curtain has been closed and will remain closed until Palm Sunday, according to our custom. Here at St. John, and at some other churches in the diaspora, the altar curtain has customarily remained open until the first Sunday known as the Sunday of the Expulsion, which is next Sunday. Each Sunday during Lent has a particular theme. However, according to the canon and ancient traditions of the Armenian Church, it is on this day and during this Badarak that the curtain remains closed, because we have already begun our transition into the Great Lenten period. Today we chose to follow that canonical way of honoring the Great Lenten season by closing the holy altar curtain.

Why do we close the curtain during Lent? As I explained, it is a significant reminder of the separation between what is supremely valuable—the Holy of Holies—and what is mundane in the everyday world. It is a physical, sensory reminder of that reality and separation.

During Lent, we strive to focus on the separation between the mundane world and the holy, and to close that gap in our lives. How can we take our everyday, mundane lives and bring them closer to the holy? How can we discover the holy when it may be present in our everyday lives but not apparent, and bring it closer through the discovery and exploration of our spiritual lives?

This is the mission of the Great Lenten season: to close the distance between what is fallen and corrupt and what is holy, so that we can approach the Holy One when we meet him again during Holy Week.

Today’s Gospel reading begins with an exhortation from Jesus Christ not to be a hypocrite. In Matthew chapter 6, Jesus says, “Do not be like the hypocrites.” What do the hypocrites do? They stand before everybody and heap up lofty prayers in the synagogue so that everyone can see how devout and holy they are. Do not be like them, he says. Do not be like those who use fancy language but say nothing and do not mean what they say.

Instead, when you want to speak with your Father in heaven, go to your room, speak with him in secret, and pray in this way. Then he teaches us the Lord’s Prayer—the most valuable tool Jesus Christ gave us for our spiritual lives and the most potent weapon in our spiritual arsenal. It is the Lord’s Prayer, the Hayr Mer, which begins in both English and Armenian with “Our Father.”

It is important to remember that Christ spoke to God not merely with the formality of “Father,” but intimately as “Abba”—Dad or Daddy. He teaches us to speak to God in that same familiar, intimate, and loving way. This is the prayer life Jesus calls us to cultivate, and he places it in direct contrast with hypocrisy.

This is important because hypocrisy and spirituality are at odds with one another. The opposite of hypocrisy is sincerity. The hypocrite is someone who is fake, while the sincere person is someone who is not fake. The hypocrite does not present reality to the world—or, in this case, to God—because he thinks he can hide something that is already known and revealed to his Creator. The sincere person is willing to let the self, with all its flaws and shortcomings, be seen.

It is in that intimacy that we find true connection: among ourselves, in our personal lives, in the life of the Church, and especially with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He is not asking us to present a false image of ourselves to him, because he knows the reality within our hearts. Instead, he asks us, by faith, to place our trust in him and expose the fullness of ourselves to him.

Several weeks ago, we spoke about St. Gregory of Narek. This is the lesson of the Narekatsi. This is what the Narekatsi is: the full revelation of the self—with all its faults, cracks, and shortcomings—to the Creator, offered as a movement of faith and love, believing that it will be accepted as it is because this is how God has made us.

This is a powerful movement in the life of a Christian, and this is what the Lenten period is for. This is what closing the distance is for. When we close that curtain, we ask ourselves: How can we draw closer to what is on the other side? How can we make the Holy of Holies more present in our lives?

Another way of looking at it is this: Which curtain do I need to close in my own life to separate what is holy within me from what is corrupting me? What do I need to keep holy? What can I keep sanctified by creating a barrier around it, so that I may be more closely and intimately united with the presence of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and the manifestation of his promise and covenant with his people, for his glory?

Amen.