St Gregory of Narek's Double Kinship

By Yerevantsi - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77080480

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ope Francis declared St Gregory of Narek a Doctor of the Church in 2015. He was educated by the famous school of the monastery and spent the rest of his life there, being ordained priest and eventually becoming abbot. If Augustine was known for his Confessions, Gregory was famous for his Book of Lamentations (also called Book of Sadness), which is a unique prayer book filled with raw honesty and profound Christian sorrow—not of despair or discouragement but of redemption. It is called salvific sadness or sorrow which stirs the soul to deep healing and deep joy. What is an example of salvific sorrow?

I read a commentary written by American Pastor John MacArthur. During Oliver Cromwell’s rule as Lord Protector of England, a young soldier was sentenced to death. His execution was set to take place when the curfew bell rang. Desperate to save him, his fiancée pleaded with Cromwell for mercy, but he refused. The execution would proceed as planned. As the hour approached, the sexton climbed the belfry tower and pulled the rope to sound the bell. But something strange happened—there was no sound. He pulled again. Still, silence.

Unbeknownst to everyone below, the soldier’s fiancée had climbed into the belfry ahead of time. Wrapping her body around the heavy clapper inside the bell, she absorbed every impact, muffling the sound. The force of each swing battered her against the thick metal walls, bruising and wounding her, but she held on until the bell stopped moving.

When she finally climbed down, bleeding and shaken, she stood before the gathered crowd and explained what she had done. Moved by her incredible sacrifice, Cromwell was overcome with compassion.

That day, the curfew bell never rang—and the soldier’s life was spared. A poet beautifully recorded the story as follows:

“At his feet she told her story,

showed her hands all bruised and torn,

And her sweet young face still haggard

with the anguish it had worn,

Touched his heart with sudden pity,

lit his eyes with misty light.

‘Go, your lover lives,’ said Cromwell;

‘Curfew will not ring tonight.’”

In Oliver Cromwell’s time, soldiers could face execution for various military and civil offenses. If the young soldier in the story was scheduled for execution, he must have been guilty of something. In his Prayer book (Prayer 11E), Gregory describes himself as having been found guilty and deserving of death like the soldier in the story. But St Gregory declares, side by side with his deep wounds, his own deep restoration:

I who was broken, am restored, who was wretched, am triumphant, who was dissipated, am healed, who was desperately outlawed, find hope, who was condemned to death, find life, who was mortgaged by damnable deeds, find the light, who was debauched by animal pleasures, find heaven, who was twice caught in scandal, again find salvation, who was bound by sin, find the promise of rest, who was shaken by incurable wounds, find the salve of immortality, who was wildly rebellious, find the reins of tranquility, who was a renegade, find calling, who was brazenly self-willed, find humility, who was quarrelsome, find forgiveness.

For my second point, Gregory of Narek’s idea of double kinship or double bridge between God and human beings. It is deeply rooted in early Christian thought. The Greek Fathers (Athanasius, Irenaeus, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus) all explore this theme. On one hand, God and man are kins because we are made in God’s image and likeness. This is also called theosis or deification, a transformative process whose aim is likeness to or union with God. The other kinship is Christ’s Incarnation or kenosis. His namesake St Gregory of Nyssa argues that Christ’s Incarnation is what completes and perfects our divine kinship.

At the heart of his thought is this sacramental affinity or privilege: the grace we have been given to share in and participate in the life of Christ. Whether through Baptism or the Eucharist, both are, in essence, a real participation in Christ’s life. For St Gregory, this privilege is overwhelming, almost beyond comprehension. To him, it is too much of a reality, so profound that it surpasses human understanding.

How many of us look at the Eucharist as a reality of real participation in Christ's life and union with God? A big part of my life as a Christian, I have to admit, was not like St Gregory, who had a deep devotion to the Eucharist. Now in my retreat giving ministry, I always give to my retreatant as the first prayer point a Eucharistic Meditation. If there is meditation by inhaling and exhaling, then there is meditation by receiving the Blessed Sacrament. I tell my retreatant to approach the Holy Communion like one's first. To bring back the deep hunger and thirst for the Lord. I recommend to my retreatant not to bite or chew the Blessed Sacrament out of deep reverence. Since, the time I started doing this, I was liberated from a routinary, dry and irreverent way of approaching the Real Presence. We need to break the wall that separates us from entering into a deep union with God in every Eucharist. St Gregory criticizes those who believe they can attain union with God without the Church, without the Eucharist, or by downplaying the significance of the sacraments that the Church offers.

Finally, St Gregory had an intense love for the Blessed Virgin Mary. In his praises and prayers to Mary, he uses over a hundred images to express her fundamental role in salvation. Dr Roberta Ervine has this list: She is the Ark of Noah, preserving life; the Ark of the Covenant, carrying God's presence; and the Church, sheltering the faithful and bringing forth new life. Every sacred vessel in Scripture—whether the Tree of Life, the rod of Moses, or the Tree of the Cross—points to her as the embodiment of divine fruitfulness.

Ervine continues, "Yet, among all these images—altar, tabernacle, chariot, harbor, cup, cloud, burning bush, sealed spring, pearl, field, door, ladder, mountain, key, and diadem—her most cherished role remains Mother. Gregory calls her not only Birth-giver of God and Mother of the Lord, but also Mother of the Indescribable Light, Mother of the Word, and Mother of all the living—including us."

Closeness to God is closeness to Mary. Let us not be afraid to be close to Mary because anyone who comes close to her will be brought closer to God. When we are with Mary we are not only safe, we are saved precisely not because of her but because of the One who loves her through eternity.

There are times when I would ask myself, Am I loving the BVM more than I should? Shouldn't that be reserved for God alone? Then I recalled what St Maximillian Kolbe OFM once said, "Never be afraid of loving Mary too much. You can never love her more than Jesus did."

I pray that during this part of your retreat, you get closer to the salvific sorrow and joy of the Lord through the sorrow and joy of God’s Mother, our mother. St Gregory of Narek, pray for us. Amen, Fr JM Manzano SJ