EMBRACING THE SACRED JOURNEY FROM PRE-LENT TO PENTECOST

The Christian calendar unfolds like a journey walked with intention.

Each season slows our pace, draws our attention, and gently shapes who we are becoming. From the quiet threshold of Pre Lent to the radiant light of Pentecost, the path leads through discipline, joy, surrender, and renewal, as living experiences that form everyday life.

Pre-Lent and the Call to Begin

Pre-Lent marks the quiet shift from ordinary time to intentional living.

Fat Tuesday, also known as Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras, is the final pause before restraint. Traditionally, it was a day to use up rich foods before fasting began. Pancakes, laughter, and community carried a deeper meaning. Gratitude before discipline. Joy before sacrifice.

Ash Wednesday follows with soberness. Ashes on the forehead speak plainly: we are mortal. We need mercy. Lent begins not with perfection, but with honesty.

Prayer deepens. Fasting refines desire. Self-examination clears the ground for renewal.

Holy Week

Holy Week draws us into the final movements of Christ’s earthly life.

Palm Sunday opens the way. Crowds rejoice. Palms wave.

Holy Monday confronts fruitlessness. The fig tree reminds us that faith must bear fruit, not only appearance.

Holy Tuesday calls for vigilance. Jesus teaches with urgency. Truth is spoken without dilution.

Spy Wednesday turns our attention to betrayal. Quiet. Calculated. Costly. It warns how easily loyalty erodes.

Maundy Thursday centers on love in action. Feet are washed. Bread is broken. Power kneels. Service becomes the measure of greatness.

Good Friday is silence and sorrow. The Cross stands. Love gives everything. Nothing is held back.

Holy Saturday waits. Trust in the Almighty holds sway even when all seems still.

The Easter Triduum: The Heart of the Faith

The Triduum gathers Holy Thursday evening, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday into one sacred movement.

These are the holiest days of the Christian year. They carry us from table to cross to tomb, and finally to light. Death does not have the last word. Waiting is not wasted. Resurrection is coming.

Easter and the Unfolding Joy

Easter Sunday proclaims victory. Life defeats death. Hope rises.

The joy does not end in one day. The Octave of Easter stretches the celebration across eight days. In Orthodox tradition, Bright Week removes fasting entirely. Joy is allowed to be full.

Resurrection reshapes everything.

Ascension and Pentecost: The Mission Continues

Forty days later, Ascension Day reminds us that Christ’s work is complete, but ours is not. Heaven opens. Responsibility remains.

Pentecost commemorates the Spirit’s presence. Courage descends. The Church is born. Fear gives way to boldness. Witnessing begins.

This is where the journey leads. Not to ritual alone, but to transformation.

From indulgence to discipline. From discipline to surrender. From surrender to power. From power to service.

May we walk these seasons attentively. May our lives bear real fruit. And may our resolve to follow the Word proclaimed by Jesus continue to form us into people of love, courage, and quiet faithfulness.

Amen.

WHAT YOUR LAUGHTER SAYS ABOUT YOU

Laughter is one of the most unguarded human responses. We can control our words. We can curate our opinions. We can edit our public positions. But what we laugh at often slips past the filters. It reveals reflex before performance. And reflex tells the truth.

What makes a person laugh says something about how they see the world.

If someone laughs easily at cruelty, humiliation, or the pain of others, it suggests a certain moral distance. They are entertained by what diminishes another human being. That does not automatically make them wicked, but it does suggest desensitization. The suffering of others has become spectacle.

If someone laughs at cleverness, irony, or subtle wordplay, that points to a mind that enjoys pattern, surprise, and intelligence. Their laughter is cognitive. It comes from recognition.

If someone laughs at themselves, that reveals security. Self-deprecating humour requires inner stability. You cannot laugh at your own flaws if you are terrified of being exposed. There is strength in that kind of laughter.

If someone rarely laughs at all, that too tells a story. It may reflect discipline. It may reflect burden. It may reflect a temperament that processes the world through analysis rather than amusement. But it can also signal a spirit that has grown heavy.

Humour is moral philosophy in disguise.

Satire, for example, is not just about jokes. It is about power. Who is being mocked? The weak or the strong? Good satire punches up. It confronts arrogance, corruption, and hypocrisy. Cheap humour punches down. It mocks the vulnerable. The direction of the laughter matters.

In a society, what trends as funny is deeply diagnostic. When deception becomes comedy, integrity is in decline. When vulgarity becomes mainstream humour, standards are shifting. When kindness becomes the subject of ridicule, cynicism has taken root.

Even in relationships, laughter is revealing. Couples who laugh together often share a common worldview. They find absurdity in the same places. They interpret events through a similar emotional lens. That alignment builds intimacy. Conversely, when one person finds something hilarious and the other finds it offensive, you are not just seeing a difference in taste. You are seeing a difference in values.

Children provide a purer example. They laugh at surprise, exaggeration, and playful incongruity. Their laughter is rarely malicious. As we grow older, our laughter becomes layered with ego, insecurity, ideology, and social conditioning.

The evolution of what you laugh at may be one of the most honest indicators of your maturity.

There is also a deeper question. Do you laugh more at people, or with people? The preposition matters. Laughing with someone builds connection. Laughing at someone creates hierarchy. One unites. The other divides.

None of this means we must over-moralize every joke. Joy matters. Play matters. Absurdity is part of being human. But if we are honest, our sense of humour is a mirror. It reflects our compassion, our intelligence, our biases, and sometimes our wounds.

Perhaps that is why certain jokes unsettle us long after the laughter fades. Something inside us knows that humour is not neutral. It carries a worldview.

So it is worth asking, quietly and without defensiveness: What makes me laugh?

Because in that answer, there is a portrait of who you are becoming.

And perhaps, who you already are.

What kind of humour do you gravitate toward?

PUBLISH AND BE DAMNED: A REFLECTION FOR THE ALGORITHMIC AGE

In 2017, I wrote a short piece titled Publish and Be Damned, at: https://samueli.blogspot.com/2017/01/social-media-news-moguls.html  reflecting on the responsibility we carry whenever we share information. At the time, my concern was simple: too many people were in a hurry to be first, to forward unverified stories, shocking images, or slanderous claims, often hiding behind phrases like “as received.” 

Nearly a decade later, the problem has evolved. We are no longer just careless messengers. We are participants in a vast, invisible system that rewards outrage, speed, and sensation.

Social media platforms are not neutral notice boards. They are engines designed to keep attention. And attention is most easily captured by fear, anger, scandal, and shock. The more disturbing the content, the faster it spreads. The faster it spreads, the more the system rewards it. In this way, ordinary people become unwitting distributors of distortion.

Today, misinformation is not only shared by enthusiastic amateurs. It is sometimes generated by artificial intelligence, amplified by coordinated networks, and pushed by algorithms that do not distinguish between truth and falsehood, only between what engages and what does not.

This changes the moral equation.

In the past, one might have shared a false story out of ignorance. Today, every share is also a small act of participation in an economy of attention. We are no longer just passing along information. We are feeding a system.

This means the old excuse, “I only forwarded it,” is even less convincing now. The digital world has made each of us a publisher, an editor, and sometimes a broadcaster. With that power comes responsibility.

The question is no longer only, “Is this true?”

It is also, “What system am I strengthening by sharing this?”

Am I contributing to clarity, or to confusion?

To understanding, or to outrage?

To peace, or to suspicion?

Publishing has always carried consequences. In 1953, Hugh Cudlipp captured this truth in the provocative title of his book, Publish and Be Damned! His warning feels more urgent today than ever before.

In this algorithmic age, the greatest act of responsibility may not be speaking first, but pausing. Not forwarding instantly, but verifying patiently. Not amplifying noise, but choosing what edifies.

Perhaps the new digital ethic is simple:

Share only what you would be proud to defend as true, fair, and necessary.

Everything else can stop at your phone’s doorstep.

GIVING WAY TO ONE’S OWN WEAKNESSES: ARE WE TRULY AWARE OF THE COST?

 

For too long, we have been superficial in our understanding of our weaknesses. We speak of them lightly, as if yielding to our impulses is harmless, a private indulgence that only affects us. But here is the truth: giving way to our own weaknesses is not a private matter. It is a quiet but potent force that ripples outward, touching everyone around us.

We may enjoy everything Creation offers, we may taste of life in all its variety, but it must never come at the expense of our fellow human beings. However, yielding to weakness does precisely that. Not merely the desire for wealth, comfort, or physical pleasure, but also the subtler inclinations such as distrust, envy, irritability, coarseness, rudeness, and the urge to undermine others are all forms of giving way to one’s weaknesses. These are not trivial flaws; they are acts that impose suffering, disquiet, and limitation on those around us.

Consider this: every time we act without restraint, every time we let anger, jealousy, or self-interest rule, we knot invisible threads that weigh down our own spirit. Harmony, the delicate weaving that sustains life and progress is disrupted. Creation itself demands balance, and that balance begins with self-control and refinement, with an active consideration for the well-being of our fellow-men.

Ignoring these weaknesses is deceptively easy. They appear small, even insignificant. Yet the cost is profound: harm is done, relationships are strained, and the radiant guidance of our spirit dims. When we give ourselves fully to our weaknesses, we become isolated, vulnerable, and unprotected, and damage - sometimes irreparable is done.

This is why self-mastery is not a luxury; it is a necessity. It is not about denial or austerity, but about cultivating awareness, restraint, and a deep respect for the interconnectedness of all life. Every small act of self-discipline is a reinforcement of harmony. Every small indulgence that ignores the impact on others is to our own detriment for what we do unto others we do indeed for ourselves!

Let us, therefore, be severe enough with ourselves to confront our weaknesses. Let us act deliberately to refine our character, to check our impulses, and to consider the well-being of those around us. In doing so, we do more than protect ourselves, we uplift the world.

May we all resolve today to start making the effort to recognize and restrain our weaknesses. May we choose refinement over recklessness, harmony over self-indulgence, and wisdom over fleeting satisfaction. The path is not easy, but it is necessary. And it is the path that ensures our actions bring light rather than harm into the lives of others.

THE LAW OF THE POWER OF EVERY SIMPLIFICATION: WHY TRUE GREATNESS LIES IN SIMPLICITY

 

We often complicate life unnecessarily, as if meaningful achievement demands struggle, complexity, or endless toil. But nature whispers a different truth: greatness comes effortlessly when it aligns with the laws that govern Creation. Birds do not struggle to fly, they simply fly. The Earth does not strain to rotate, it simply turns. And in the same way, we can live fully, act rightly, and pursue our desires without harming others effortlessly if we embrace simplicity.

The truth is uncomfortable for many: what is not inherently simple will never endure. True power, real nobility, and lasting success emerge only where focus is undiluted, where effort is concentrated, and where action flows from clarity rather than confusion. Every achievement, every enduring structure, every form of greatness rests on a single principle: simplification.

All too often, we overlook this. Complexity fascinates us; we assume the work of life must be intricate, difficult, and hard to attain. So we scatter our energies, split our attention, and obscure our thinking with unnecessary layers. The result? Confusion, frustration, and the slow collapse of what could have been magnificent.

But simplicity is not weakness. On the contrary, it is the source of strength. When we strip away the artificial and the superfluous, we discover clarity, naturalness, and power all intertwined. Children understand this instinctively. Calm, clear, and unburdened, their perception is immediate and precise. The world, for all its complexity, becomes accessible, navigable, and full of potential when approached with simplicity.

The lesson for life, for work, and for personal growth is clear: greatness does not reside in struggle or in elaborate schemes. It lies in alignment with what is natural, in focusing on the essential, in acting with intention, and in cultivating clarity of thought. 

It is simplicity that is identical with clarity and also with naturalness! One cannot exist without the others. Therefore, simplicity, clarity, and naturalness form a triad that expresses a single, unified concept. Make this triad the foundation of your search, and everything else will naturally follow.

So, look carefully around you. The tools, the path, and the wisdom you seek are not distant or hidden. They are already within reach, waiting for you to recognise them. Move forward calmly, without haste, and embrace the elegance of the simple. In that simplicity, you will find strength, freedom, and greatness that endures.

May we have the courage to embrace simplicity; the clarity to see what truly matters and the naturalness to act in harmony with the Laws of Creation. Through this alignment, we connect with real power, the Law of the Power of Every Simplification.

ARE YOU GOING TO QUIT WORSHIPPING YOURSELF THIS YEAR? Exploring the Gentle Idolatry of the self and the Path to True Devotion

There is a quiet idolatry that thrives without temples, incense, or hymns. It requires no public declaration, but it demands daily devotion. It is the worship of self. We kneel before it in our thoughts, defend it in our conversations, and protect it fiercely whenever it feels threatened. As a new year begins, the most important question may not be what we plan to achieve, but what we are finally willing to dethrone.

Self-worship rarely announces itself as arrogance alone. Sometimes it wears the mask of confidence, sometimes the armor of defensiveness. It shows up when correction feels like an attack, when feedback is dismissed as ignorance, when every failure must be explained away and every success loudly claimed. It is present whenever we refuse to accept that we might be wrong, and deeper still, whenever we refuse to acknowledge anything greater than our own understanding.

Our culture often confuses self-admiration with self-care, but the two are not the same. Self-admiration is a fixation on our image, our righteousness, and our narrative. It is the impulse to cast ourselves as the hero in every story, to edit our memories so that blame always rests elsewhere. Over time, this quiet devotion exacts a heavy cost. Learning becomes impossible because learning begins with admitting that we do not yet know. Relationships grow thin because intimacy requires vulnerability, not performance. Leadership deteriorates because service is replaced by vanity. The ego builds a hall of mirrors, and while we admire our reflection, the world outside grows distant and dim.

The danger of a bloated ego is that it rarely feels dangerous to the one who carries it. It feels like knowing one’s worth, standing one’s ground, or refusing to be diminished. Yet slowly and quietly, it suffocates the soul. Curiosity is replaced with certainty. Empathy gives way to evaluation. People become either supporters or critics in our personal mythology, not fellow human beings with their own complexity and dignity. Eventually, teachability disappears, and when teachability dies, growth soon follows.

To quit worshipping oneself is not to descend into self-hatred. That is merely another form of self-obsession turned inward and made cruel. True growth rests on humility, not contempt. Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. It is the strength to say “I was wrong” without your identity collapsing, the grace to listen without rehearsing a rebuttal, the openness to be shaped by truth wherever it appears. Where ego builds fortresses, humility builds bridges. It creates space for learning, for correction, and for transformation.

The most enduring liberation from self-worship comes from a reordering of devotion. When the self sits on the throne, everything else becomes distorted. Love turns possessive. Success becomes corrosive. Legacy becomes an obsession. But when the Almighty is placed at the center, life regains its proper proportions. Career, family, achievement, and ambition are not despised, but neither are they enthroned. Reverence reorders the soul.

To think of the Almighty always is to be freed from the cramped prison of self-preoccupation. We are too small to be endlessly occupied with our grievances, our insecurities, and our selfish desires. The soul was made for something larger. In loving the Almighty, we learn what love truly is, patient, kind, and not self-seeking. In seeking His will, our purpose expands beyond the narrow boundaries of ego. In worshipping Him, and He alone, we are finally free to be fully and humbly human.

The true purpose of life is the ascent of the spirit, a miraculous journey away from the noisy altar of self toward the Eternal Gardens of Paradise. It is not a single choice but a daily surrender to the Will of the Creator. So this year, ask yourself: will you continue to worship yourself, or will you step down from a throne you were never meant to occupy? Think upon God and His Will at all times, and let that reflection guide every step of your journey.

JESUS AND IMMANUEL: TWO DISTINCT PERSONALITIES IN SCRIPTURE

 

Clarity is essential when reading sacred texts, for understanding grows when we carefully attend to the distinctions Scripture clearly preserves. Before us stand two sacred names, to be approached with the utmost reverence and humility, and it is in that spirit that our contemplation and reflection take root. As we read with care and attention, a more precise and faithful vision emerges: Scripture reveals two distinct personalities- Jesus, the Son of God, and Immanuel, the Son of Man. Recognising this distinction does not diminish faith; rather, it enriches understanding and cultivates deeper reverence.

Isaiah prophesies Immanuel, and he does so with precision. The prophet introduces Immanuel as a sign:

“Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14).

Again, Isaiah declares,

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder” (Isaiah 9:6).

Later still, the land itself is addressed as,

“thy land, O Immanuel” (Isaiah 8:8).

Isaiah never names this figure Jesus. Immanuel is presented as God with us—a divine presence associated with authority, territory, and governance. The prophecy stands on its own terms and must be read with that integrity.

This stands in contrast to other prophetic passages that Christians rightly associate with Jesus. In this regard we note that Isaiah also speaks of the suffering servant:

“He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief… he was led as a lamb to the slaughter” (Isaiah 53:3, 7).

Here, the emphasis is not on governance or territorial authority, but on rejection, suffering, and selfless sacrifice—themes the New Testament clearly applies to Jesus.

When we turn to Matthew’s Gospel, the angelic message is equally precise. The angel does not reinterpret Isaiah; he delivers a direct instruction from heaven:

“And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

This is not a symbolic designation but a personal name, expressly given. Isaiah proclaims Immanuel. The angel names Jesus. These are distinct acts of revelation, and Scripture does not present them as interchangeable.

Matthew later writes,

“Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying… they shall call his name Immanuel” (Matthew 1:22–23).

Here, Matthew offers an interpretive connection. Respectfully, the text itself does not demonstrate that Isaiah explicitly named Jesus, nor does Isaiah’s prophecy require that identification. Matthew assumes fulfilment, but the Scripture he cites maintains its original naming. The distinction remains intact.

The meanings of the names themselves reinforce this clarity.

Immanuel means “God with us” (Isaiah 7:14), expressing divine presence and nearness.

Jesus means “the Lord saves,” as the angel explains, “for he shall save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

Presence and salvation are related, but they are not the same function. Scripture assigns them carefully.

Jesus Himself reinforces this separation. Throughout the Gospels, He repeatedly speaks of the Son of Man, often in the future tense, as one who is to be revealed, glorified, and invested with authority:

“For the Son of man shall come in the glory of his Father with his angels” (Matthew 16:27).

“Hereafter shall ye see the Son of man sitting on the right hand of power” (Matthew 26:64).

This language echoes Daniel’s vision:

“I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven… And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom” (Daniel 7:13–14).

The book of Revelation removes any remaining ambiguity. Throughout its visions, two personalities consistently appear: the Lamb and He who sits upon the Throne. They are never confused. God Himself cannot fully descend into creation, for the boundless power of the Almighty would overwhelm it. Yet He can send forth a part of Himself into creation, as occurred in the incarnation of Jesus. In a similar manner, God manifested another aspect of Himself as the Son of Man. These are the two personalities revealed in Revelation: Jesus, the Son of God—the Lamb—and Immanuel, the Son of Man—He who sits upon the Throne.

“And I saw in the right hand of him that sat on the throne a book” (Revelation 5:1), and “I beheld, and lo, in the midst of the throne… stood a Lamb as it had been slain” (Revelation 5:6). The Lamb approaches the Throne, receives from the One seated upon it, and is worshipped alongside Him (Revelation 5:7–13). The equal reverence and honor shown to both the Lamb and He who sits upon the Throne highlight their shared origin in God the Father, revealing that though distinct in role and manifestation, they are united in divine essence. Distinction is maintained without division, showing both the individuality and the unity in God.

 Jesus also promises the Spirit of Truth, not as Himself, but as another divine presence:

“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter” (John 14:16).

“But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth” (John 15:26).

Seen this way, the Holy Trinity becomes clearer.

God the Father.

God the Son.

God the Holy Spirit.

Jesus is the Son of God.

Immanuel is God with us, revealed through Jesus as the Son of Man.

Both belong fully to God. Both operate within divine unity. The Son redeems. The Spirit abides. God remains one.

The Trinity of God is not a division into separate beings. God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit are not separate entities, but belong to God as a unity-much like the arms of a body which may act independently yet remain inseparable from the body itself. Without them, the body is incomplete.

At God’s right hand is God the Son, Jesus- Love! At His left is God the Holy Spirit, Justice! Both emanate from God the Father and belong to Him as one harmonious whole, the Trinity of the one God. This understanding deepens reverence, revealing divine omnipotence, wisdom, and the perfect balance of Love and Justice.

Let us finally discard the habit of seeing Scripture through the lens of inherited assumptions or tradition. The Bible reveals that Jesus, the Son of God, and Immanuel, the Son of Man, are two distinct personalities. Let us prayerfully and in all reverence recognise that these two Sons of God - Immanuel and Jesus are one in the Father, and only in the nature of their work are they two.