O Soul, You Were Meant to Be a Sanctuary – Monday of Holy Pascha 2025

In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, One God. Amen. May the blessing of the Father who calls us and His Only Begotten Son Jesus Christ who saves us, and the Holy Spirit who sanctifies and transforms us be with us all, that we may hear His word and bear fruit—thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold. Amen.

O beloved of God,

Today we pass through the gate of a holy journey.
It is not paved with stone nor covered in dust,
But it stretches through the chambers of the soul.
This temple we enter is not made with hands—
It is formed of heart and marrow, of mind and mystery.

The Gospel thunders with a fire not of anger but of grief:

“Do not make My Father’s house a house of merchandise.” (Matthew 21:13)

O soul, hear this and tremble!

For this voice is not only for Jerusalem of old,

But for every heart that has turned prayer into profit,

And the inner altar into a trading floor.

Christ Comes Not with a Whip of Hate, but the Fire of Holiness

He who sits above the cherubim entered the temple,

Not to gaze, but to purify;

  • Not to destroy, but to reclaim.
  • He overturned not only tables of silver and scales of deceit,

But the shadows in our thoughts:

  • Greed hidden beneath offerings,
  • Pride veiled in prayers,
  • Glory stolen in service.

The Temple Is Not Stone—It Is You, O Soul

St. Paul cries out:

“Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16)

And I, the unworthy, weep with trembling lips:

“Woe to the heart that forgets it was meant to be a sanctuary.” (St. Ephraim)

If the Lord cast out merchants from stone walls,

What shall He do with the market we built in our thoughts?

When He enters, will He find incense or arguments?

Will He hear psalms or the clinking of self-glory?

The Readings Are a Mirror for the Soul

The Scriptures this day lead us by the hand,

From Eden to the Abyss—

From Adam to Job,

From rebellion to lamentation.

But behold the mercy of God!

He smites not the temple,

He knocks.

He does not silence the fig tree without reason—

He shows His hunger.

“He came to it, seeking fruit, but found only leaves.” (Mark 11:13)

And so He cursed—not out of wrath,

But to reveal its deception.

The Lord is hungry for repentance.

He comes to each heart at dawn,

Saying: “Show Me your fruit, O soul.

Not your rituals, not your robes—

But your mercy, humility, and contrition.”

A Lament Over the Temple Within

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem… how often I wanted to gather your children…” (Matthew 23:37)

He did not cry as Judge,

But as a grieving Bridegroom.

He wept not over walls, but over hearts.

His tears are the ink of our repentance.

By What Authority?

The priests asked:

“By what authority do You do these things?” (Mark 11:28)

Blind are those who question the Light with darkness in their eyes.

Mute are those who challenge the Word with lifeless words.

O my soul, do not resist the One who cleanses you.

Let Him overturn every table within you.

Let Him scatter the coins of your calculations.

Let Him silence the noise in your temple courts.

When Ministry Becomes Merchandise

Woe to us when the altar becomes a platform,

When the censer swings for applause,

When service smells of profit and not sacrifice.

O Lord, do not allow me to preach with a cold heart.

Do not let me sing what I do not live.

Do not permit me to turn the bread of life

Into the bread of gain.

As it is written:

“Our fears become policies. Our ministry becomes a job.”

And yet You come—not with wrath—but with restoration.

Return, O Soul, to the True Temple

The fig tree had leaves but no fruit.

The temple had rituals but no reverence.

And you, O soul—what do you have?

Do not stand proud in your garments—

For Adam too covered himself with fig leaves.

Let your tears be your welcome to the Lord.

Let your silence be your incense.

Let your confession be your cleansing.

Do not wait for Him to pass by.

Invite Him in—today.

A Prayer with Tears

O Christ our God,

Cleanse the temple of my heart.

Scatter the dust of my pride.

Sweep out the merchants of ambition.

Close the gates of argument.

Tear down the veil of vanity.

Let Your fire fall—not to consume,

But to consecrate.

Make me once again

A house of prayer.

And not a den of thieves.

May the Lord bless us, transform our hearts and minds, that our homes may stand on the Rock, our hands serve in the harvest, and our hearts long for Heaven. Amen.