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Cathedral of the Most Holy Theotokos - Our Lady of Grace, 1101 Howard Avenue, Utica, NY (2026)

The Cathedral of the Most Holy Theotokos - Our Lady of Grace is the Mother Church of the Holy Metropolitan Archdiocese of the Italo-Greek Byzantine Orthodox Catholic Church in the Americas and Canada. The Cathedral of the Most Holy Theotokos - Our Lady of Grace is the "Mother Church" of the Italo-Greek Byzantine Orthodox Catholic Archdiocese of the Americas and Canada. The Cathedral houses the "Cathedra" or throne of the diocesan bishop, which is a symbol of his teaching and governing authority as Chief Pastor and Shepherd of the Italo-Greek Byzantine Orthodox Catholic Church in the Americas and Canada. The Cathedral is the center of life for the Italo-Greek Byzantine Orthodox Catholic Archdiocese of the Americas and Canada, the place where the great events in the life of the Church are celebrated. It is a place too where thousands of prayers are offered each year by the many visitors who find in the beauty of this church a spiritual oasis and refuge from the trials and cares of the world. Many people over the years have come through our doors seeking something more: a way to serve, or to be challenged in their faith, or to find solace and peace in their time of sorrow, grief, anxiety, or confusion. Some come seeking a family or a way of life that is different from the hedonistic, narcissistic, and selfish world in which we live. We welcome you to our home and hope that you will find peace, love, and comfort within its walls. We invite you to make our home your home and hope that you will visit us soon. Know that when you do, you will be welcomed with open arms in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, and Savior.

09/13/2026

Homily for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,

Christ is in our Midst!

The Gospel placed before us today begins with a question that seems to concern the Law of Moses, but before the conversation ends, our Lord brings His hearers face to face with a much greater question: Who is the Christ?

A lawyer approaches Jesus and asks Him, “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?” Saint Matthew tells us that the question was intended as a test. By this point in the Gospel, the religious leaders have approached Jesus one after another, trying to catch Him in His words. They have questioned Him about His authority, about paying taxes to Caesar, about the resurrection of the dead. Now the question concerns the Law itself. Our Lord answers without hesitation: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” Then He joins to it another commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And He adds words that should make us listen very carefully: “On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

Christ does not abolish the Law. He reveals its heart.

Every commandment God has given His people is ultimately concerned with restoring a relationship that sin has disordered. Human beings were created to live in communion with God and, within that communion, to live rightly with one another. Sin disrupts both. It turns the heart away from its Creator and, inevitably, distorts our relationship with those around us. This is why Christ can gather the Law into these two commandments without diminishing anything that God has revealed. Love of God and love of neighbor are not two convenient summaries placed over the commandments; they reveal what obedience was always intended to accomplish within the human person.

But the love of which Christ speaks is demanding. He does not say simply, “Love God.” He says, “with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” There is a completeness to those words that leaves little room for the divided life we so easily learn to live.

We can believe in God and still keep certain rooms of the heart closed to Him. We can pray and worship while quietly deciding that some choices belong entirely to us. We can profess faith in Christ and nevertheless allow our ambitions, anxieties, resentments, possessions, or attachments to exercise greater influence over us than the Gospel. It is possible to give God a place in our lives without actually giving Him the first place. And this is where today's Gospel touches the First Commandment so naturally: “You shall have no other gods before Me.”

We will begin our weekly catechesis on the Ten Commandments this coming Thursday, and perhaps today's Gospel has been given to us at precisely the right moment. Before we begin examining what the Commandments mean individually, Christ reminds us of the disposition with which all of them must be received. God did not give Israel the Commandments simply to regulate behavior. He was forming a people who belonged to Him. The Commandments arose within a covenant, within a relationship between the God who had delivered His people and the people whom He called to be His own.

Saint Irenaeus understood God's commandments in this healing and formative sense. God does not need our obedience in order to become greater or more complete; we need obedience because we have been created for communion with Him. The commandment serves the human person by directing life toward the One in whom life itself is found. When God commands us to love Him, He is not seeking something that He lacks. He is calling His creature back to the source from which the creature receives life.

That is important, because Christianity can become distorted when faith is reduced principally to rules. A person may become very accomplished at identifying what is permitted and what is forbidden and still remain far from the transformation of heart toward which the commandments are directed.

The Pharisees themselves stand before us as a warning. These were men who knew the Scriptures. They knew the Commandments. They knew the traditions surrounding the Commandments. They could discuss the Law with great sophistication. Yet the Messiah for whom Israel had waited was standing directly before them, and their knowledge had not opened their eyes to recognize Him. That is why the second part of today's Gospel is so important.

After answering the lawyer, Jesus now asks the questions. “What do you think about the Christ? Whose Son is He?” They answer correctly: “The Son of David.” Then Jesus brings them to the Psalm of David: “The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at My right hand, till I make Your enemies Your footstool.” And He asks them: If David calls the Messiah “Lord,” how is He merely David's son? They cannot answer Him.

Notice what has happened. They began by asking Jesus about a commandment. Jesus ends by confronting them with the mystery of His own identity. They know what the Law says, but do they recognize the One standing before them?

Saint John Chrysostom sees in this exchange Christ gently leading His opponents toward a truth they have resisted. The promised Messiah is indeed descended from David according to the flesh, but He cannot be understood merely as one more descendant of David. David himself calls Him Lord. The Messiah stands within human history, yet His identity reaches beyond human ancestry. The Church will confess with clarity what is already being unveiled here: Jesus Christ is truly man and truly God, the eternal Son of the Father who has taken our humanity upon Himself. Suddenly the first words of Christ's answer acquire even greater depth: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart.”

The Lord whom we are commanded to love is not distant. He has come among us. The Lawgiver has entered the world governed by His Law. The One whom the prophets proclaimed has become flesh. The Son of David is David's Lord. And the men questioning Jesus about fidelity to God are standing in the presence of God incarnate without understanding whom they are addressing.

There is a spiritual danger here that concerns us just as surely as it concerned them. We too can become familiar with religion while remaining insufficiently attentive to Christ. We can know prayers, observe fasts, attend services, defend teachings, discuss canons, and understand the outward shape of Orthodox life, while somewhere along the way the living encounter with the Lord Himself becomes obscured.

The problem is not with prayers, fasting, services, teachings, or canons. We need them. The Church gives them to us precisely because they lead us more deeply into Christ. But the means must always bring us toward the end for which they exist: communion with the living God.

Saint Isaac the Syrian repeatedly directs the Christian toward this interior transformation. The evidence that grace is working within us is not simply an accumulation of religious knowledge, but the gradual softening and purification of the heart. Prayer begins to make us more merciful. Repentance makes us less eager to condemn. Awareness of our own weakness makes us more patient with the weakness of others. Love of God enlarges rather than contracts the heart. Then we begin to understand why Christ immediately joins love of neighbor to love of God.

“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The Second Commandment is “like” the first because the person before us bears the image of the God whom we claim to love. Our neighbor is not an interruption of our spiritual life. Very often our neighbor is where the authenticity of our spiritual life is revealed.

It is possible to appear devout before an icon and be merciless toward someone made in God's image. It is possible to speak beautifully about Orthodox Christianity and behave cruelly toward another human being. It is possible to defend truth without charity and then convince ourselves that our harshness is zeal. Christ will not permit us to make such a division. Love of God must gradually teach us how to see the human person differently.

This does not mean that Christian love abandons truth. Our Lord Himself never did so. Love sometimes corrects, sometimes warns, sometimes refuses, and sometimes requires us to establish necessary boundaries. But Christian love never delights in another person's humiliation or destruction. Even when relationships become painful, we are called to guard the heart from becoming a place where hatred is welcomed and nourished.

Perhaps, then, before we begin our catechesis on the commandments this week, today's Gospel asks us to consider something deeper than whether we know them. To whom are the Commandments leading us? They lead us to Christ.

The Commandments teach the heart how to be freed from everything that prevents it from belonging completely to Him. They expose the false loyalties that compete with God, the desires that deform us, and the ways in which self-love can masquerade as freedom. Yet their purpose is not simply to produce well-behaved people. God desires something infinitely greater: sons and daughters restored to communion with Him.

This is why Orthodox Christianity can never be reduced to morality. Christ did not become man merely to make bad people behave better. He assumed our human nature to heal it. He entered death to destroy its dominion. He rose from the tomb so that human life might be opened once again to the life of God. The commandments belong within that great work of salvation because they teach us to turn away from everything that resists the life Christ is restoring within us.

And that brings us finally to the Holy Eucharist. Here the question Christ asks the Pharisees becomes intensely personal: “What do you think about the Christ?” We answer that question not only with words but by approaching the Chalice. We come because we believe that the One born in the lineage of David is David's Lord. We come because the Jesus who spoke these words in Jerusalem is the same Lord who gives Himself to His Church. We come because Christianity is ultimately not our search for an absent God, but our response to the God who has come looking for us. Soon you will hear the proclamation: “With the fear of God, with faith and love, draw near.”

With love. The very word with which today's Gospel began accompanies us to the Chalice. Yet even here, we discover that our love is always a response. Before we could offer ourselves to Christ, Christ offered Himself for us. Before we sought Him, He sought us. Before we could approach His Table, He prepared the Banquet.

Beloved, as we leave today, perhaps we should carry with us not only the lawyer's question—“Which is the great commandment?”—but Christ's question as well: “What do you think about the Christ?” For if He is merely a teacher, His commandments may remain admirable principles.

But if He is truly the Son of David and David's Lord, the eternal Son who has come among us in the flesh, then He cannot remain at the edge of our lives. He must become their center. And from that center everything else begins to find its proper place: our worship, our choices, our relationships, our repentance, our obedience, and our love.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.”

May the Lord grant that these words become more than a commandment we remember. May they become the direction of our whole life, until the Christ whom we confess with our lips is also the Lord who reigns within our hearts.

Amen.

+Archbishop Stephen

09/11/2026

ARCHPASTORAL LETTER
On the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of September 11, 2001

To the Reverend Clergy and Faithful of the Italo-Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of the Americas and Canada, and to all people of goodwill:

Beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Twenty-five years have passed since the morning of September 11, 2001, yet there are certain days in the life of a people that the passage of time can never make ordinary. They enter deeply into our common memory because they reveal something about the human heart, exposing both the terrible darkness of which humanity is capable and the extraordinary goodness that can emerge when men and women choose love over fear, courage over self-preservation, and sacrifice in the service of another.

On that September morning, nearly three thousand innocent lives were taken in New York City, at the Pentagon, and aboard United Airlines Flight 93 in Pennsylvania. Behind that number were individual human beings, each known and loved, each possessing a name, a family, a history, and hopes for a future that would never come. Children grew up without mothers and fathers; parents buried sons and daughters; husbands and wives suddenly found an empty place beside them; and families throughout our nation and beyond entered into a grief that twenty-five years has not erased.

As we commemorate this solemn anniversary, our remembrance must also embrace those whose courage and sacrifice became a light amid the darkness of that terrible day. Firefighters climbed stairways while thousands were descending, knowing the danger into which they were going. Police officers, emergency medical personnel, Port Authority officers, military personnel, chaplains, physicians, nurses, construction workers, volunteers, and ordinary citizens placed themselves at the service of people they had never met. The passengers and crew of Flight 93 displayed a courage that prevented still greater loss of life, while in the days and months that followed, thousands labored amid the ruins, many later suffering illnesses that would alter or eventually claim their lives.

We remember as well the survivors, for survival did not mean that September 11 ended when the smoke cleared from the sky. Many have carried wounds of body, mind, and spirit for a quarter of a century. First responders and recovery workers have endured serious illnesses resulting from their service, while countless families continue to live with the consequences of a morning that divided their lives forever into what came before and what came afterward. Their suffering, perseverance, and quiet courage deserve not only our remembrance, but our enduring gratitude and honor.

Our Lord tells us, “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends” (John 15:13). On September 11, we witnessed something of that love in ways both heroic and profoundly ordinary. Some gave their lives, while others gave their strength, their health, their time, their blood, their homes, and whatever they possessed that might help another person. Strangers carried strangers through streets covered with ash; churches opened their doors; people stood in long lines to donate blood; families welcomed those who could not return home; and across the nation people turned instinctively toward one another. In the midst of an act born of hatred, love refused to surrender.

Perhaps this is one of the most important truths September 11 leaves to us. We remember what hatred destroyed, but we must also remember what love was willing to sacrifice.

For us as Orthodox Christians, however, remembrance cannot remain only an expression of national sorrow or patriotic gratitude. The tragedy of September 11 confronts us with a profound spiritual truth concerning the destructive power of hatred. Hatred may disguise itself beneath the language of righteousness, loyalty, justice, or religious zeal, yet it remains a corruption of the human heart. Once we allow ourselves to cease seeing another person as someone created in the image and likeness of God, it becomes frighteningly easy to regard that person's suffering as unimportant and, eventually, to persuade ourselves that his destruction can somehow be justified.

Among the most grievous forms of this corruption is the weaponizing of religion in the service of hatred and violence. The Holy Name of God can never be invoked to make the murder of innocent people sacred. Religion separated from love of God and love of neighbor ceases to lead the human person toward holiness and can instead be distorted into an ideology of division, domination, and death. Whenever the name of God is used to justify hatred, terrorism, or the deliberate taking of innocent life, something holy has been profoundly betrayed.

Yet precisely because we understand the evil of hatred, we must be careful that hatred does not find another home within us. The condemnation of religious extremism must never become an excuse for condemning an entire people or faith. We cannot honor those who died because of hatred by allowing hatred to take root in our own hearts. Christ calls His disciples to the far more difficult path of resisting evil without becoming what we oppose, of defending truth without abandoning charity, and of seeking justice without surrendering ourselves to vengeance.

Saint Paul teaches us, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). These words contain nothing sentimental or naïve. They describe one of the most demanding struggles of the Christian life, because evil seeks not only to wound those against whom it is directed, but also to reproduce itself within the wounded heart. If hatred succeeds in producing more hatred, then its destructive work continues long after the original act has ended. When suffering instead gives birth to courage, compassion, service, forgiveness, and love, evil encounters something it can wound but can never finally conquer.

Twenty-five years later, this leads us to consider more deeply what we mean when we promise that we will never forget. Certainly, we must never forget the men, women, and children whose lives were taken that day, nor those who entered burning buildings, searched through ruins, tended the injured, comforted the grieving, and placed themselves in harm's way for the sake of others. We must remember the survivors and the families who continue to carry an empty place within their lives, and we must teach the generations born since September 11 what happened on that morning and why the lives and sacrifices of those who came before them still matter.

There is, however, something even more fundamental that we must never forget, because without it all other remembrance eventually loses its foundation. We must never forget God.

Holy Scripture warns us, “Beware that you do not forget the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 8:11). This warning was spoken to a people who were about to enjoy prosperity and security, because prosperity carries with it a subtle spiritual danger: the temptation to believe that we are sufficient unto ourselves. A nation may possess tremendous wealth, extraordinary technology, military strength, magnificent institutions, and influence throughout the world, but none of these can replace the moral and spiritual foundation that comes from recognizing that human life is sacred because it comes from God.

When a people forgets God, it eventually begins to forget the true dignity of the human person. If we no longer recognize one another as men and women created in the divine image, human worth becomes something that society itself believes it may define, measure, grant, or withdraw. Truth then becomes subordinate to convenience, freedom becomes separated from responsibility, power becomes its own justification, and the weak and vulnerable inevitably pay the greatest price. A people or nation that forgets God may remain prosperous for a time and may even imagine itself secure, but it has begun to lose the spiritual foundation upon which any lasting civilization must rest. History repeatedly teaches us that no society can indefinitely abandon what is true, good, and sacred without eventually suffering the consequences of that abandonment.

This does not mean that God belongs to one nation, one political party, or one human cause, nor can His name ever be recruited to sanctify our divisions. Indeed, that would repeat in another form the very error we condemn when religion is weaponized. Rather, to remember God is to remember that we belong to Him, and that every human person—friend and stranger, citizen and foreigner, Christian and non-Christian alike—possesses a dignity that comes not from the permission of governments or societies, but from the One who created us.

Perhaps, then, the most worthy memorial we can offer on this twenty-fifth anniversary is not found only in the monuments we build or the ceremonies we observe, necessary and meaningful though these are. Our remembrance must also be visible in the kind of people we choose to become. If we truly wish to honor those who sacrificed themselves for others on September 11, then we must recover within our own lives that same understanding of responsibility toward one another, learning again that freedom requires virtue, that strength is most noble when it protects the vulnerable, that courage often expresses itself through service, and that love of country reaches its highest expression not in hostility toward others but in a willingness to seek what is good, just, and honorable for the human family.

Today our prayers embrace all those who perished on September 11, 2001, together with those who have since died from illnesses connected with their service and sacrifice. We commend to God's mercy the grieving families who have lived through twenty-five anniversaries without those whom they loved, and we ask His healing and consolation for the survivors and first responders who continue to carry visible and invisible wounds. We pray also for those who continue to serve our communities and nation in dangerous and demanding professions, and for all people throughout the world who live beneath the shadow of terrorism, war, religious persecution, hatred, and violence.

Twenty-five years ago, we witnessed buildings fall and innocent lives taken in an act intended to inspire terror and despair. Yet amid that devastation we also witnessed men and women rise to extraordinary heights of courage, compassion, and self-sacrifice. Some entered places from which they knew they might never return because someone they did not know needed them. In those acts of courage, the darkness of that morning did not have the final word. Love did.

May we therefore honor those who died not only by remembering the manner of their death, but by allowing the witness of sacrifice we saw that day to teach us how we ought to live. May their memory remain eternal, may God continue to comfort those who mourn and strengthen those who bear the wounds of September 11, and may He grant peace to our nation and to a world still desperately in need of reconciliation.

As the years continue to pass and living memory gradually becomes history, may we never permit September 11 to become merely another date upon the calendar. May we remember its sorrow, its heroism, its sacrifice, and the remarkable love revealed amid its ruins. Above all, may we remember the God in whose image every human life is created, for only by remaining faithful to Him can we become a people capable of choosing love over hatred, sacrifice over selfishness, and honor over indifference.

May we never forget. And may God grant that we shall never forget Him.

With paternal love and prayers in Christ,
+ STEPHEN

Archbishop
Italo-Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of the Americas and Canada
September 11, 2026

Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of September 11, 2001

09/10/2026

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS
A Weekly Catechesis on the Christian Life

Introduction: The Way of Life

“If you love Me, keep My commandments.” (John 14:15)

For many people, the words Ten Commandments immediately bring to mind a list of rules: things we must do and things we must not do. We may remember learning them as children, perhaps memorizing them for religious instruction, and we may still think of them primarily as God's laws—ancient commands given to Moses on Mount Sinai thousands of years ago. But if we understand the commandments only as rules, we have not yet understood their deepest meaning.

Before God gave Israel the commandments, He first delivered His people from slavery. He heard their cries in Egypt, brought them through the waters of the Red Sea, sustained them in the wilderness, and called them into covenant with Himself. Only then, at Sinai, did He give them His commandments. This order is important. God did not say, “Obey Me so that I will rescue you.” He rescued them and then taught them how a people who belonged to Him were called to live.

The commandments, therefore, were given within a relationship of love and covenant. They revealed a way of life. The same truth remains important for us as Christians. We do not keep God's commandments in order to persuade Him to love us. God has already revealed the immeasurable depth of His love in Jesus Christ. The eternal Son of God took our human nature upon Himself, entered our fallen world, accepted the Cross, descended into death, and rose victorious from the grave so that humanity might be restored to communion with God.

Christian obedience is our response to that love. This is why Christ can say, “If you love Me, keep My commandments.” He does not separate love from obedience because genuine love changes the way we live. If we love God, that love gradually begins to shape our desires, our choices, our relationships, our speech, and even the hidden movements of our hearts. The commandments show us what that life looks like.

Christ and the Commandments

Our Lord Jesus Christ did not come to discard the Law given through Moses. He tells us plainly, “Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill” (Matthew 5:17). In the Sermon on the Mount, Christ leads us into the deepest meaning of the commandments.

The commandment “You shall not murder” does not concern only the physical taking of another person's life. Christ leads us deeper, into the anger, hatred, contempt, and refusal to forgive that can take root within the human heart.

“You shall not commit adultery” reaches beyond the outward act into the way we look upon another human being and whether we regard that person with purity and reverence or reduce him or her to an object of our desire.

“You shall not bear false witness” calls us not merely to avoid lying under oath but to become people of truth—people whose words do not destroy another person's reputation through gossip, accusation, exaggeration, or slander.

Christ takes the commandments from tablets of stone and brings them into the human heart. This is why the Christian life can never be reduced simply to saying, “I haven't broken any of the rules.” The deeper question is whether our hearts are becoming like the heart of Christ.

Commandments and Freedom

Our culture often tells us that freedom means being able to do whatever we desire. Christianity understands freedom very differently.

A person can possess enormous freedom of choice and still be profoundly enslaved. We can become slaves to anger, possessions, alcohol, lust, resentment, ambition, pride, approval, money, or countless other passions. We may insist that nobody is telling us what to do while being controlled from within by desires we can scarcely resist. The Fathers of the Church understood this very well. True freedom is not simply the ability to choose anything. True freedom is the ability to choose the good because our hearts are being healed.

God's commandments protect that freedom. When God tells us not to worship idols, He is protecting us from giving our hearts to something that can never give us life. When He tells us not to murder, He protects the sacredness of the human person. When He tells us not to commit adultery, He protects the holiness and fidelity of human love. When He tells us not to steal, He teaches us to respect what belongs to another. When He tells us not to bear false witness, He protects truth and the reputation of our neighbor. And when He tells us not to covet, He begins healing something even deeper—the restless heart that continually believes happiness will come if only we possess what someone else has. The commandments are, therefore, not arbitrary restrictions placed upon human happiness. They are medicine for the human heart.

The Commandments Begin and End in Love

When someone asked Christ which commandment was greatest, He answered: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” And then He added: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” “On these two commandments,” the Lord says, “hang all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22:37–40). Here Christ reveals the inner unity of the Ten Commandments.

The first commandments teach us how to love God. The remaining commandments teach us how love for God must become visible in the way we treat one another. This is why Saint Paul can say that “love is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13:10). But Christian love is not simply an emotion. It is a way of living. Sometimes love comforts; sometimes love sacrifices; sometimes love forgives; sometimes love tells the truth; sometimes love requires us to deny ourselves. Ultimately, Christian love has a face: Jesus Christ crucified and risen.

A Journey of the Heart

Over the coming weeks, we will walk through each of the Ten Commandments together. We will ask not merely, “What does this commandment forbid?” but something much more important: What is God trying to create within us through this commandment? When God says, “You shall have no other gods before Me,” what does that reveal about the things to which we give our hearts?

What are the idols of modern life? What does it mean to honor God's holy Name in a culture in which sacred things are treated casually? What does Sabbath rest teach us about worship, work, and our need to belong to God? What does it really mean to honor our father and mother? Can we violate the commandment against murder through hatred and contempt? Can we steal someone's dignity as surely as we can steal his possessions? Can gossip become a form of false witness? And why does the final commandment concern something nobody else can see—our desires? These questions take us far beyond Sinai. They take us into the human heart.

And there we begin to understand why the commandments remain so important for Christians. They reveal those places within us that still need healing, conversion, and transformation. We will inevitably discover that none of us keeps them perfectly. That discovery should not lead us to despair. It should lead us to repentance and to Christ.

Christianity is not the story of morally perfect people presenting their achievements to God. It is the story of fallen human beings being healed, restored, forgiven, and transformed by the grace of God.

The commandments show us the road. Grace gives us the strength to walk it. Repentance brings us back when we wander from it. And Christ Himself is both our companion along the way and the One toward whom the entire journey leads.

So, as we begin this weekly journey together, perhaps the best place to begin is not by asking how many commandments we have managed not to break. Let us ask something deeper: Is my life becoming a life of love for God and for my neighbor? For this is the life toward which every commandment ultimately points—the life of the Kingdom, the life of communion with God, and the life for which each one of us was created.

+Archbishop Stephen

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