God’s being and actions are one. I’ll repeat that: God’s being and actions are one.

This is essentially the teaching of the Church on the topic of the divine energies. When I read discussions about this, on the internet or wherever, it seems to get lost in the twists and turns of medieval metaphysics or passes into the territory of seeing the uncreated light. Both approaches are, for me, unhelpful, in that they obscure something that should be far more transparent.

Some of the obscurity comes from the use of the word “energies.” It’s the literal Greek term, energeia, but it conjures up some pretty problematic images in a post-Einstein world. I remember when I first read about the divine energies: my mind wandered over to some vision of God sending out rays and beams of radiating light and such. The focus on the uncreated light in the Transfiguration of Christ on the holy mount probably helped nurture that reading and understanding, but it’s also misleading.

Another simple term for “energies” (energeia in the Greek) is “actions” or “doings.” It’s literally what the word means: “the doings.” The root of the Greek word simply means “doing.” Indeed, it is most often translated as “deed” or “work.” “Workings” would be another accurate way of rendering “energies.” Understanding this points us towards the heart of the Church’s proclamation. Who God is, and what God does, are not two separate things. “God acting” is God. His actions are not a means of hiding himself; instead, they are the means of his self-revelation. Indeed, this is the heart of the Church’s teaching on the energies. The Church says that God can be fully known in his energies but cannot be known in his essence, that is, in the heart of his being.

We cannot pierce beneath the veil and see or comprehend the very essence (the ousia) of God. He is God, “ineffable, inconceivable, invisible, incomprehensible,” in the words of St. John Chrysostom that we hear every Sunday in the Liturgy. However, he can be known—‘and participated in—in his energies: his actions, his doings. It is this that St. Paul references when he says in Romans 1:20:

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead.

But how do we encounter God’s actions? Are we looking for him to part the waters or move the sun backwards? Abp. Alexander (Golitzin), who’s my bishop, paraphrases Dionysius the Areopagite: “Providence is God so far as the creature is concerned.” I’ll repeat that: “Providence is God, so far as the creature is concerned.” And, “All things share somehow in Providence as their universal source and cause: ‘the divine Providence is in all things and no one of the things which exist [is] without it.’ ”

Much of what Dionysius says about providence is under the heading of the divine names. God’s creating, his sustaining, his working towards goodness, nurture, love, etc., and all the names by which he makes himself known—Ancient of Days, King of Kings, and like that—all these things are his providence. And it is in these actions, or names, as Dionysius calls them, that he makes himself known to us.

I will now come down from the clouds and try to get practical. We live in the midst of the providence of God. That we exist, and how we exist are his providence. Everything around us reflects the working of his good will towards our well-being and salvation. St. Paul will describe it like this in Ephesians 1:

The mystery of God’s will, according to his good pleasure which he purposed in himself, that in the dispensation of the fullness of the times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth—in him.

Of course, we encounter any number of difficulties and hardships, things that seem to work the opposite of our well-being and salvation. Those actions of human freedom are not considered God’s providence. But even with these things, God’s providential working makes our well-being and salvation possible, such that St. Paul can say, “For those who love God and are called according to his purpose, all things work together for good.”

So, in every direction and every way, we encounter God’s divine energies, his working things together on our behalf, or on behalf of all and for all. There is a path towards “seeing” these actions, these energies: the practice of continual thanksgiving for all things. It is the giving of thanks that reveals to the heart the hidden work of God. I’ll say that again: It is the giving of thanks that reveals to the heart the hidden work of God. It is a practice that silences the passions and, as an expression of our human energies, it unites us with the very providence for which we give thanks.

In holy baptism, when the candidate responds, “I do unite myself to Christ,” there is an agreement: my life is his and his life is mine. It says that God’s good will, manifest supremely and definitively in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, is my will as well. We confess that our lives, together with their purpose and meaning, are revealed in the good will of God as it unfolds.

This is hard. When what unfolds is pleasing, the giving of thanks is easy, in fact, almost meaningless: anyone would agree to their own pleasure. When circumstances run counter to our own wishes or pleasure, the giving of thanks becomes increasingly difficult, and often provokes the passions within us. The difficulty and contradiction obscure and hide the good will that is at work.

Here it’s useful to understand human energies. Though, unlike God, we cannot now make the identification between our being and our energies, our life and our actions, they are, nonetheless, potentially so. This comes when our actions, our energies, reflect and act in union with our being, that is, when we act in accordance with our true nature. In many ways, this is the very heart of Orthodox moral teaching. Those things that we are commanded to do in the commandments of Christ, are, in fact, the truth of our nature and being. St. Gregory of Nyssa stated this most profoundly when he observed that human beings are “mud, that has been commanded to become a god.”

All of the commandments of Christ are just so. He’ll say, “Be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). And:

But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For he is kind to the unthankful and evil. Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful. (Luke 6)

When our actions are in true agreement with that which we are created to be, there is a wholeness and a harmony in our existence. We are transformed, for our being and our actions are themselves in agreement with the very actions, the energies, of God. It is in this transformation that we come to see ourselves as we truly are and to know God as he truly is.

The most fundamental action that we can offer towards divine providence, and thus towards the divine energies, is to give thanks, always, everywhere and for all things—or give thanks as much as our heart allows us. As we offer thanks, from the heart, we unite ourselves with the gracious providence of God. In doing this, our “doing” is indeed the energies of our existence, and they rightly express the true heart of each of us. For we were created to give thanks: it is the very substance of our priesthood, that which we call the priesthood of all believers. We are all created to be priests of creation before God, through giving voice to the thanks that is rendered to him by all creation.

It has to be understood that our energies are not just a mental concept, a thought. They are the true efforts, the union of mind, body and soul, acting in concert. Extended towards the truth, they share and participate in that truth. Our “yes” to God and his actions sounds in harmony with the “yes” of all creation as it groans in travail; Paul describes it in Romans 8. Indeed, the travail of creation is precisely its own eager longing for the final “yes” of humanity to God.

St. Gregory of Nyssa once said, “Man is a musical composition, a wonderfully written hymn to powerful creative activity.” Indeed, he discusses the activity of singing, offering praise as a path to union with God. I offer a quote here that says:

Gregory likens the whole of the original creation to a dance and chorus, which looked to the one choirmaster (that is, God), interpreting his song in harmony. Yet sin introduced disharmony, and removed human beings from this chorus. Only through Jesus Christ, and after trials of purifying hardship, are human persons restored to the chorus and the dance.

What a magnificent image! Wonderful, wonderful image.

The “purifying hardship” is, for me, an apt description of the initial contradictions we encounter in perceiving divine providence. St. Joseph the Patriarch, with the multi-colored dream coat, endured terrible hardships: betrayal by his brothers, exile, slavery, then being falsely accused and imprisoned. But in the final confrontation with his brothers, after his life has been used for the salvation of Egypt as well as his own family, he says to his brothers:

But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive. (Genesis 50)

If you think about the story of Joseph, we don’t have anywhere in that story an account of Joseph complaining. He just does. He seems to be wherever he is, and he clearly is moving in the harmony and the music of the providence of God till at last he can sing that last, wonderful song before his brothers that “you meant it to me for evil, but God meant it to me for good.”

This very confession of faith, something that we could say to every difficult circumstance in our life, to say to that circumstance, “You meant it to me for evil, but God means this to me for good,” this very confession of faith has about it the mystery and paradox of Pascha itself. For the whole of our existence is in fact the Lord’s Pascha, written into our lives. Christ is living his Pascha in us. St. Maximus the Confessor wrote and said, “Whoever understands the mystery of the cross understands the mystery of all things.” Our life, if you want to know the meaning and purpose of our life, it is the Lord’s Pascha. The world, and everything around us, is the Lord’s Pascha. Christ himself, and his disciples, we are told, in that first Holy Week, sang a psalm as they went from the upper room to the garden of Gethsemane. It represents Christ’s own song to the Father, the hymn of Pascha. He’s going to the Mount of Olives with his disciples, and he knows that he will be betrayed there and given over to the hands of evil men and that they will abuse him, they will beat him, and then they will slay him on the cross—and yet, he sings. And what he sings, we know from Jewish tradition, would have been Psalm 118, the last of the Passover psalms. No doubt, creation was singing with him. What does the psalm say?

Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! For his mercy endures forever.
Let Israel now say, “His mercy endures forever.”
Let the house of Aaron now say, “His mercy endures forever.”
Let those who fear the Lord now say, “His mercy endures forever.”
I called on the Lord in distress; the Lord answered me and set me in a broad place.
The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?
The Lord is for me, among those who help me. Therefore I shall see my desire on those who hate me.
It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.
It is better to put trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.
All nations surrounded me, but in the name of the Lord I destroyed them.
They surrounded me, yes, they surrounded me, but in the name of the Lord I will destroy them.
They surrounded me like bees; they were quenched like a fire of thorns, for in the name of the Lord I will destroy them.
You pushed me violently that I might fall, but the Lord helped me.
The Lord is my strength and song, and he is become my salvation.
The voice of rejoicing and salvation is in the tents of the righteous. The right hand of the Lord does valiantly.
The right hand of the Lord is exalted; the right hand of the Lord does valiantly.
I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.
The Lord has chastened me severely, but he has not given me over to death.
Open to me the gates of righteousness; I will go through them, and I will praise the Lord.
This is the gate fo the Lord, through which the righteous shall enter.
I will praise you, for you have answered me, and have become my salvation.
The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.
This was the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.
This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Save now, I pray, O Lord; O Lord, I pray, send now prosperity.
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! We have blessed you from the house of the Lord.
God is the Lord, and he has given us light.
Bind the sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar.
You are my God, and I will praise you; you are my God, I will exalt you.
Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! For his mercy endures forever.

This is the confession of the blessed Christ, our Savior himself, with his disciples as he teaches them to behold God and his energies, his divine providence, who became flesh and dwelt among us, the God who saves us, who, in the worst of all possible circumstances, said, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. For his mercy endures forever.” Glory to God.