The most common rendering of the word ‘prayer’ in Holy Scripture is generally agreed to correspond to the term ‘worship’ (latreia, leitourgia, proskynesis). Systematically linked to one another, prayer and worship place us before the most important and marvellous events of the New Testament.
From the Jewish tradition, the early Christians adopted and carried forward the practice of communal prayer or liturgical worship. In this regard, there is a logical acceptance of the main liturgical practices inherited from the Old Testament tradition. The Saviour Himself observed these customs, being in the habit of praying and preaching in the temple or in the synagogue, and of blessing the order of larger or smaller gatherings, in which He often took part together with His disciples. ‘The Synoptic Gospels also describe the Last Supper as a Passover meal, suggesting that Jesus shared in the practices of the Jewish household in this respect too’1). In this context, before carrying out the traditional rite, Christ the Saviour would say a prayer, which invariably included the invocation of the word ‘Father’ (in Aramaic: ‘Abba’).
I. Prayer in the Jewish tradition
The frequent use of the word ‘abba – Father’ in traditional Jewish liturgical prayer was very easily transferred into personal prayer. The Saviour taught those who came to Him about this form of prayer: ‘But when you pray, go into your inner room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you’ (Matthew 6:6). This exhortation to private prayer, with its intimate benefits, was by no means alien to Jewish practice, ‘which recognised that God knows all things’. Nevertheless, the Saviour was not referring here to practice, but to the inner assimilation of a state of being. ‘The Jewish people related to God differently from the way the Greeks worshipped their own gods (even though their monotheistic faith was not always what it ought to have been). In Judaism, God was the Father who took pleasure in fulfilling the needs of His people; Judaism also recognised that God knows all human thoughts. Jesus places the condition of an intimate relationship at the heart of effective prayer, rather than the model of a business partnership, which was closer to ancient paganism2”.
One of the places of public prayer in the time of the Saviour was the synagogue (from the Greek ‘synagoge’ – a gathering for prayer). In the writings of Josephus, the Jewish synagogue appears in association with the term ‘proseuche’ (literally meaning ‘prayer’), and is also referred to as ‘sabbateion’ (from the religious gatherings dedicated to the Sabbath), as well as ‘bet tepilla’ (‘house of prayer’), ‘bet midras’ (‘house of study’) or ‘bet kenesset’ (‘house of assembly’). ‘As an important building for the community, the synagogue was not only used for services on the Sabbath, Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and other special days, but also for various community functions. Children were to be taught there by the hazzan, and funds could be kept in a communal treasury at the synagogue. Accused persons could be tried before the elders in the synagogue and receive forty lashes minus one from the hazzan (cf. Mark 13:9; 2 Corinthians 11:24). Apostates could be excommunicated (John 9:22; 12:42; 16:2)’3
Returning to the order of prayer in the Jewish synagogue, on the Sabbath it was structured as follows: the Shema Yisrael (a prayer based on the verses from Deuteronomy 6:4–9; XI, 13–21 and Numbers XV, 37–41), Ha Tefila (the Amidah or Shemoneh Esreh – a highly complex prayer), as well as readings from the Old Testament, accompanied by subsequent interpretations. In a different form, the early Church adopted the anamnetic character of the synagogal prayer services, linking them in particular to the fulfilment of the Old Testament messianic message.
As regards the ‘Jewish Temple’, its definition as a place of worship is far more complex than that of the synagogue. This is made very clear by the accounts in the New Testament. From the very beginning of His earthly life, the Lord appears in the Temple: as an infant at His circumcision and presentation, at the age of 12 when He spoke to the scribes, when He preached in the Temple, and also when He drove the herodians and money-changers out of the Temple (Matthew 21:1–11). The Temple in Jerusalem was therefore the ‘centre of spiritual life’ for the Jewish people, a fact attested to many times by Christ the Saviour Himself. He speaks, for example, of the fact that ‘salvation comes from the Jews’ (John 4:22), supplementing this statement with the necessity and benefit of true worship, ‘in spirit and in truth’ (John 4:23). This aspect is of great importance for the authentic connection that must exist in liturgical prayer. In other words, the Saviour may have been referring here to ‘the identification, common in ancient Judaism, of the Spirit with prophetic inspiration and empowerment, as well as to the Old Testament passages concerning charismatic, prophetic worship (1 Samuel 10:5; 1 Chronicles 25:1–6). Given the widespread belief that the prophetic Spirit was no longer fully active, Jesus’ words must have been truly shocking to his listeners in ancient times. The hour that is to come is both present and future; Jesus makes the nature of the world to come accessible to His disciples in their present lives. For the oppressed Jews and Samaritans, who longed for the future promise, this statement is particularly striking”4
II. The Psalms of David – a manual of prayer
Regarded as the most popular book of the Old Testament, the Psalter has for thousands of years remained the prayer book, the prayer guide and the companion of those who call upon the name of God for help. It is the indispensable spiritual weapon in the monk’s prayer and, at the same time, the consolation of every Christian in times of fasting and sorrow. The 150 psalms of which it is composed encompass ‘all that is most useful in every respect’, defining it entirely as ‘a true treasure trove of sound teachings, placing within everyone’s reach, according to their diligence, everything that is of use to them”. The spirit and letter of the Psalter have found particular expression in the theology of the Holy Fathers, who have provided numerous explanations regarding the profound spiritual meanings derived from man’s mystical dialogue with God in prayer.
II.1. The nature of prayer in the Psalms as both praise and supplication
The entire Psalter is an unceasing prayer through which the ascetic soul manages to lift its spirit to the highest spiritual peaks and, at the same time, to bring heaven down to earth. Nevertheless, there are several representative psalms in which we find precise references to the order and benefit of prayer. Through these references, Holy Scripture also clarifies the terminological content of ‘prayer’, whilst highlighting its functional nature. Furthermore, patristic exegesis provides clarification of the general context, going so far as to analyse the most subtle details of the text in depth.
‘… have mercy on me and hear my prayer!’
The first place in the Book of Psalms where we find a direct mention of the term ‘prayer’ is Psalm IV, 1: ‘… have mercy on me and hear my prayer!’. Regarded as a song of praise offered by David in response to God’s wonders, ‘which exalted him above the tyrannical apostasy of Absalom, his son’, the message of the text has a general significance, being suitable for ‘every Christian who wishes to be delivered from danger’5 Raised up as a cry from one weighed down by affliction: ‘When I called upon You, You heard me, O God of my righteousness. Have mercy on me and hear my prayer’ (Psalm 4:1) – the prayer is offered for the healing of ‘those whose hearts are heavy’ (Psalm 4:2). St John Chrysostom says in this regard that ‘David calls those who live in wickedness and those inclined towards idolatry “sons of men”, for those who are not such are by nature sons of God; and by ‘those whose hearts are heavy’ he means that they are hard-hearted, carnal, rooted in earthly things, pursuing wickedness and wallowing in sensual pleasures; for the heart is by nature light and inclined to rise towards the things above, whilst we make it heavy contrary to nature’6
‘Hear the voice of my prayer’
From a contextual perspective, Psalm V offers the following reference to the term ‘prayer’: ‘Hear my words, O Lord; give heed to my cry. Hear the voice of my prayer’ (Psalm 5:1–2). At first glance, it appears that man’s dialogue with God unfolds in stages. The Psalmist confirms here that the first stage is ‘spoken prayer’, which is also a general expression of the intensity and expression of the Church (in its capacity as a liturgical community): ‘for those who pray from the heart are accustomed to say the same things, whether they call prayer “words” – since it is expressed through words and speech – or “crying out” – as something done with vigour and strength; whilst a voice is described as that which is articulated and has clear meaning. For a cry seems to be meaningless and inarticulate, but the other forms of speech were also aptly described by the Prophet, who said: ‘Hear my prayer,’ and not only that, but also ‘understand’, that is, know what these words mean, and furthermore, he heeds them and does not regard my prayer as something to be disregarded, whether it is uttered with the lips or from the heart; it is a characteristic of Scripture to distinguish the works of God from the works of men, as it does here too’7 The entire dialogical content of prayer, revealed through the terminological progression from ‘speech’, ‘cry’ and subsequently ‘the voice of prayer’, serves to confirm divine authority: ‘My King and my God. For to You I will pray, O Lord. In the morning You will hear my voice; in the morning I will stand before You, and You will see me’ (Psalm V 2–3).
‘The Lord has accepted my prayer’
Psalm VI expresses a transition of the soul from a state of deep lamentation to a state of prayer and conversation with God: ‘Depart from me, all you who practise iniquity. For the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord has heard my plea; the Lord has accepted my prayer” (Psalm VI, 8–9). From a linguistic perspective, the connection between the two themes through which the psalmist’s prayer is described (lamentation and praise) also confirms the unified character of the psalm. This is evident from the contextualised use of two imperative verbs (‘let them turn back’ and ‘let them be put to shame’): ‘Let all my enemies be put to shame and be troubled; let them turn back and be put to shame very quickly’ (Psalm VI, 10). Beyond their harsh wording, the two verbs are interpreted by the Holy Fathers as a reflection of shared prayer, for the benefit of those who ‘fear the Lord’, so that they ‘may turn from their wickedness, and thus, through this, repent and be set aright’8 In conclusion, Psalm VI is a very clear example of a transition from a prayer of supplication/lamentation to a prayer of praise. ‘Both elements are very clearly distinguished within the psalm, with the lamentation occupying the first part and the supplication the second. The transition from one to the other is abrupt. However, this does not make the psalm a composite one. Moreover, as no change in tone is in any way perceptible, the psalm’s focus is clearly centred on prayer’9.
‘I will recount all Your wonders’
Whilst we previously observed the transition from a prayer of supplication (or lamentation) to a prayer of praise/thanksgiving, in the context of Psalm IX/X the progression of the prayer is this time presented as moving from thanksgiving to supplication. For the first stage, the analogous term is ‘confession’: ‘I will confess to You, O Lord, with all my heart; I will recount all Your wonders’ (Psalm IX, 1). ‘It is not so much the Sacrament of Confession that is referred to here, but rather the devout soul’s need to glorify the works of God and, through them, their Author’10). The transition from a prayer of praise to the tone of a lamentative prayer thus sees the verb ‘have mercy on me’ (Psalm IX, 13), which is subsequently rendered in the reflexive mood: ‘Arise, O Lord, lest man grow strong; let the nations be judged before You!’ (Psalm IX, 19). In conclusion, from a structural point of view, ‘Psalm IX/X contains strong linguistic links that highlight a composition that is both complex and unified. The flow of the text runs counter to the classical lament-praise composition. When read in its entirety, we can observe a composition full of tension11’s work.
In its explicit context as a dialogue with God, the term ‘prayer’ also appears in other passages of the Book of Psalms: ‘Blessed be the Lord, for He has heard the voice of my prayer!’ (Psalm XXVII, 9); ‘All flesh shall run to You, for You hear my prayer’ (Psalm LXIV, 2); ‘But I run to You with my prayer’ (Psalm LXVIII, 16); ‘Let my prayer come before You’ (Psalm 84:2); ‘He will hear the prayer of the helpless’ (Psalm 101:18); ‘I rejoice that the Lord has heard my voice and my prayer’ (Psalm CXIV, 1); ‘Let Your ears be attentive to the voice of my prayer’ (Psalm CXXIX, 2); ‘Let my prayer rise before You like incense’ (Psalm CXL, 2).
II.2. The psychosomatic benefits of the Psalter. The patristic perspective
Confirmation of the Psalter as the cornerstone of the spiritual life of the believer comes from the very words of Christ the Saviour, Who told His disciples after the Resurrection that He had to fulfil all that was written about Himself ‘in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms’ (Luke 24:44). Delving into the depth of the content of this work, filled with divine grace, the Holy Fathers sought to capture and interpret the benefit and spiritual fruit it brings to both soul and body. Among them all, Saints Basil the Great and Ephrem the Syrian have remained the most prominent exegetes of the Psalter, their words of teaching still accompanying the liturgical content of this work to this day.
‘Care for the sick and keep the healthy whole’
An unrivalled ascetic and enlightened theologian of the Church, Saint Basil the Great has left us a unique commentary on the Book of Psalms. His words highlight the special benefit of this holy book, through which the Fathers of old performed miracles, cast out demons and brought angels down to earth. From him we learn that prayer from the Psalter ‘heals the old wounds of the soul and brings about, as swiftly as possible, the healing of those recently wounded. It cares for the sick and preserves the healthy in good health. In general, it ensures that the passions, which throughout human life seek to take root in souls, be driven out; and it achieves this through the careful cultivation of a state of mind filled with joy and delight, which brings about the emergence of wise thoughts within the soul’12 The words of the Psalter are a remedy for both body and soul. In the teachings of the Psalms, the Holy Spirit mixes in the ‘medicine’ so very necessary for our salvation. ‘Indeed, wise physicians do the same when they give bitter medicines to the sick: for they first mix them with honey and only then give them to those who could not otherwise take them. Thus, this is the reason why these harmonious psalms have come to be composed for us as well, so that those who read them may believe they are singing songs, whilst in reality they are cultivating their souls’13’ In this state, the Christian attains ‘peace of mind’ and drives away from himself the ‘tide of thoughts’, weakens the ‘anger of the soul’ and restrains the ‘impulse towards passions’.
“The psalm is the light of the soul, the sanctification of the body”
The greatest theologian and hymnographer of Christian Syria, known as the ‘Harp of the Holy Spirit’, Saint Ephrem the Syrian, in turn praises the psycho-somatic benefits of the Psalter. Like Saint Basil, the Syrian poet sees in the Psalter the spiritual medicine that heals the hidden sufferings of the soul and gives the body the strength to do what is for the sake of salvation. ‘The Psalm is the solace of the soul, the bestower of peace; the Psalm is the gatherer of friendship, the unifier of those who are separated, the peacemaker of those who are at odds. The Psalm is the bringer of the angels’ help, a weapon against the fear of the night, rest for the weary of the day, a foundation for infants, an adornment for the elderly, a comfort for the very aged, and a most fitting adornment for women. The Psalm turns desolate places into dwellings, brings wisdom to the markets; it is a lesson in the Word for those just beginning, growth for those who have advanced, strength for the perfected, and the voice of the Church. It lends splendour to feasts; it builds up godly sorrow. For the Psalm draws tears even from a heart of stone. The Psalm is the work of angels, the heavenly feast, the spiritual incense. The psalm is the light of souls, the sanctification of bodies’14
Psalms with miraculous effects
From a structural point of view, we can classify the Psalms according to the main idea they convey. In this regard, there are: dogmatic or worship Psalms, Psalms with moral content, Psalms of thanksgiving and repentance, historical Psalms, liturgical Psalms, messianic Psalms, the ‘Psalms of Ascent’ and thaumaturgical Psalms. The effect they have on the psycho-somatic nature of human beings is best reflected in the content of the thaumaturgical Psalms.
Among these, Psalm XXII (numbered XXIII in some editions of the Scriptures) is counted amongst the ‘psalms of healing’, alongside Psalm CII. It is recommended as a spiritual remedy for any kind of psychosomatic disorder. It is to be read in a state of utter inner tranquillity. The effects it produces flow from the soul to the body. The power imparted by the psalmist’s words is a testament to divine paternal protection: ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me’ (Psalm XXII, 1–4). More often than not, the soul ‘can become estranged from itself, from its own authenticity’15). In this case, ‘the return to oneself is effected through God’. ‘If our King Christ were distant from us in space’ – says St John Chrysostom – ‘you would be right to ask how you might be near Him; but as He is present in every place, He is close to every person who desires Him, to every person of pure heart”16 Through His presence in the soul, the Lord drives out all fear and, with it, all bodily suffering.
Psalm 102, through its content, offers powerful insights into the human psyche. The message is one of spiritual regeneration and rejuvenation: ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all His benefits. He who blots out all your transgressions, He who heals all your diseases’ (Psalm 102:1–3). In one of the most beautiful Athonite commentaries on this text, Archimandrite Emilianos Simonopetritul highlights several elements of psycho-somatic interaction: “Everything that is most authentic and powerful within me, especially the spirit, which governs all the higher powers of man that turn towards God, glorifies God. But why does it express itself in this way? Why does it urge itself on? Why does it command itself? Because the body is weak, and because, more often than not, we have a tendency towards spiritual slumber. So he tries to rouse himself, to awaken the dormant powers of his soul, his sluggish nature. ‘Hurry,’ he tells himself, ‘get up, rise, walk, wake up from the lethargy that torments you!’ Even the most spiritual person is in daily danger of falling into numbness, for that inclination of the soul is never absent from us, which causes us to turn towards the things of this world and seeks to lay us low, to return us to the earth from which we were taken’17”.
III. Prayer as an existential necessity: the liturgical and confessional dimension
Going beyond the formalism of Jewish rituals, the Lord bestows a personal dimension upon prayer. He teaches of the need to rekindle our spiritual sonship through a complete return to dialogue with the Father (Abba): ‘And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, who love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others; truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go into your inner room, and having shut the door, pray to your Father, who is in secret; and your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you; ‘When you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the pagans do, for they think that by their many words they will be heard’ (Matthew 6:5–7). For his part, Saint Paul the Apostle also emphasises the mysterious spiritual strength of personal prayer, pointing out that: ‘The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words’ (Romans 8:26).
In the very depths of his being, man discovers and experiences a constant longing for spiritual renewal in the joy of the Holy Spirit. Step by step, freeing himself from the bondage of sin and standing firm in the struggle against temptation, the ascetic comes to adorn his life with unceasing prayer, weaving together martyrdom and holiness.
The enduring realities of church life have always been ordered according to our spiritual capacity and potential. There is an inner growth and decline, a multiplication or depletion of our spiritual capacities. At every stage of a life truly lived in faith, prayer occupies an essential place. Its value remains indisputably intrinsic, being unique to and familiar only to the spiritual person. The true prayerful person no longer counts on this world, but on a different kind of life, on an existence full of spirit and truth. However, ‘great vigilance is needed, lest we be deceived by falsehood’, says Abba Dorotheus of Gaza, in order to fully cultivate this state. In other words, the exhortation of Saint Paul the Apostle, ‘Pray without ceasing’ (1 Thessalonians 5:17), has a communal value and dimension. The vigilance of personal prayer is by no means isolated; rather, it is shared with others so that it may truly acquire value and benefit. ‘Even when I say “Lord, have mercy” in the singular, I am thinking of my sins, which were not committed in individual isolation, but in relation to others, leading them too into sin, or in connection with others. So, to a greater or lesser extent, I am also praying implicitly for them when I pray for my own forgiveness. God does not receive me into His presence if I lack love for others; therefore, I must also pray for others. Prayer for another is one of the ways in which our responsibility for one another is manifested’18”.
To speak of the sacramental value of prayer, one must first and foremost consider its liturgical dimension. If we refer specifically to the period of Lent, the church order tends to be understood formally as the fulfilment of a set of requirements, mostly formulated in negative terms. In each of these, we most often find exhortations and recommendations regarding ‘abstinence’ and ‘self-restraint’, as well as the specific requirements for fulfilling the numerous liturgical prescriptions. Nevertheless, the sacramental dimension within which liturgically celebrated prayer is situated paradoxically transports us into the joy of a ‘luminous sorrow’. ‘Even a person with limited knowledge of prayer, upon entering a church during a service in Lent, understands almost immediately, I am sure, the meaning of this contradictory expression. On the one hand, an atmosphere of sadness pervades the service: the vestments are dark in colour, the services are longer than usual and more monotonous, and there is almost no movement. There is an alternation of readings and chanting, and nothing seems to be happening. At regular intervals, the priest steps out of the sanctuary and recites the same short prayer over and over, whilst the whole congregation responds to each petition of this prayer with bows. Thus, for a long time, we remain in this monotony, in this ‘mysterious sadness’19
In this atmosphere of mystery, the worshipper gradually transforms liturgical sadness into spiritual joy. One thus enters a state of contemplation, warmed and illuminated by the grace of the Holy Spirit. ‘The love of the Lord,’ says Saint Silouan the Athonite, ‘can only be known through the Holy Spirit. By contemplating creation, a good man with a pure conscience comes to know God, the Creator of heaven and earth. And this is a work of grace, albeit still feeble; without grace, our mind cannot know God, but is ceaselessly drawn towards earthly things, towards riches, towards glory, towards pleasures’20’ Through the power of divine grace, prayer becomes metanoia, that is, it takes on the capacity to transform and sanctify human nature: ‘I have seen people coming to the monastery with faces disfigured and marred by passions, but who, through repentance and a life of prayer, have been transformed and have become pleasing to the eye… Thus, sin disfigures man, but grace makes him beautiful’21”.
In its simplest form, prayer means martyrdom and sacrifice. Hours on end of ascetic struggle and tears, countless prostrations, spiritual labours and severe fasting, whole nights sacrificed by candlelight and ceaseless cries of ‘Lord, have mercy!’, this, then, is a martyr-like dimension of prayer. Moreover, rich in anamnetic content, liturgical prayer has drawn heavily on the examples found in the earliest Christian martyrologies. In this ‘luminous sorrow’, as Father Schmemann called it, the ascetic penetrates with spiritual eyes beyond the threshold of fasting, contemplating the marvellous deeds of martyrdom and confession of the holy martyrs. ‘As an altar, a sacrifice and a priest, the martyr resembles the wondrous bush that burned but was not consumed. The miracle is due to divine grace, which is present and anoints the warrior, whose heart is set ablaze by the great fire of love for Christ. The theology of ecclesiastical hymnography views the martyr’s sacrifice as a liturgical offering’22’.
With this preparation of prayer, holiness and martyrdom, we arrive at the perfect reception of the encounter with the Eucharistic Christ. As the source of our existence, in the Holy Eucharist we find the dynamic necessity of a liturgical permanence, directed unconditionally ‘towards the forgiveness of sins and towards eternal life’. ‘All this, let us be sure, will not happen overnight. It will take a long time, much effort and a great deal of patience’23).
- 1
The New Testament Dictionary: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Teaching in One Volume, edited by Daniel G. Reid, published by Casa Cărții, Oradea, 2008, p. 776.
- 2
Craig S. Keener, A Cultural-Historical Commentary on the New Testament, translated by: Silviu Tatu, Raluca Mirăuță, Teofil Stanciu, Luca Crețan, Dorin Axente, Timea Pop, published by Casa Cărții, Oradea, 2020, p. 62.
- 3
The New Testament Dictionary…, pp. 1188–1189.
- 4
A cultural and historical commentary…, p. 311.
- 5
The Venerable Eftimie Zigabenul, Saint Nicodemos of Mount Athos, The Psalter with commentaries by the Holy Fathers, vol. 1, transliteration, emendation and revision based on the Greek edition, with notes by Ștefan Voronca, Published by Cartea Ortodoxă, Ed. Egumenița, n.d., p. 81.
- 6
Ibid., p. 81.
- 7
The Psalter with commentaries by the Holy Fathers, vol. 1, pp. 88–89.
- 8
Ibid., p. 103.
- 9
Federico G. Villanueva, The ‘Uncertainty of a Hearing’. A study of the sudden change of mood in the Psalms of Lament, Brill, Leiden/Boston 2008, p. 64.
- 10
Fr. Ioan Sorin Usca, Prof. Ioan Traia, The Old Testament as Interpreted by the Holy Fathers – XIII. The Psalms, Christiana Publishers, Bucharest, 2009, p. 63.
- 11
Federico G. Villanueva, ‘The “Uncertainty of a Hearing”…’, pp. 106, 111.
- 12
St Basil the Great, ‘From the Preface to the Psalms’, in The Psalter of the Prophet and King David, published by IBMBOR, Bucharest, 2017, pp. 8–10.
- 13
Ibid., p. 10.
- 14
‘Commentary on the Psalms by Our Most Venerable Father Ephrem the Syrian’, in The Psalter, published by Cartea Ortodoxă, Alexandria, 2007, pp. 15–17.
- 15
Fr. Ioan Sorin Usca, Prof. Ioan Traia, The Psalms as Interpreted by the Holy Fathers, p. 129.
- 16
St John Chrysostom, ‘Homilies on Matthew’, LIV, 5, in PSB 23, translation, introduction, indices and notes by Fr D. Fecioru, published by IBMBOR, 1994, p. 630.
- 17
Commentaries on the Psalms. Come, let us rejoice in the Lord, St Nectarius Press, Arad, 2011, pp. 251–252.
- 18
Rev. Prof. Dumitru Stăniloae, Philokalia, vol. XI, 1990, p. 364, note 514.
- 19
Alexander Schmemann, Great Lent: Steps Towards the Resurrection, translated and with an introductory study by Rev. Dr Vasile Gavrilă, Ed. Sofia, Bucharest, 2013, pp. 58–59.
- 20
Between the Hell of Despair and the Hell of Humility, published by Deisis, Sibiu, 2001, p. 123.
- 21
Ibid., pp. 151–152.
- 22
Archimandrite Spiridon Bilalis, The Martyrs of Orthodoxy (The Theology of Martyrdom), translated from Modern Greek by Rev. Dr Ciprian-Ioan Stanciu, Christiana Publishing, Bucharest, 2016, p. 195.
- 23
Alexander Schmemann, Lent…, p. 220.