Moving Beyond Zero Sum

BBC News reports this morning that "The international aid group, Care, has rejected a [food] donation of $45m (£22.7m) from the United States government." The story continues:

Care criticised the way US food aid is distributed, saying it harms local farmers, especially in Africa.

It said wheat donated by the US government and distributed by charities introduced low prices that local farmers are unable to compete with.

But USAid says assessments are carried out to try to ensure that commodities do not disrupt local production.

Correspondents says disagreements have emerged in the US aid community on the best way to use food aid.

"We came to the realisation that if we wanted to do what was in the best interest of poor people and efficiency in aid, that this wasn't it," Care President Helene Gayle told Reuters news agency.

Care said it did not oppose emergency food aid during periods of drought or famine.

But the group said the US government's method of food aid did not help communities which were permanently in need.

I'm struck by this story because it calls in to question are naive thought that simply "intending good" is the same as "doing good." But in fact, as the above news report suggests, sometimes doing what we think is good--and might even be good in the short term--has negative consequences in the long term.

Likewise we often discover that doing this or that particular good thing, precludes are doing other, equally good things. For example, if I give $5.00 to a homeless man on the street I don't have that money to say, give to the Church to spend on mission work. Granted the example is simplistic, but it is offered for illustrative purposes only.

In the background of all of this is what we might call a "zero sum" approach to the various good works of the Church. What is zero sum? Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, describes it this way:

In game theory, zero-sum describes a situation in which a participant's gain or loss is exactly balanced by the losses or gains of the other participant(s). It is so named because when the total gains of the participants are added up, and the total losses are subtracted, they will sum to zero. Chess and Go are examples of a zero-sum game: it is impossible for both players to win. Zero-sum can be thought of more generally as constant sum where the benefits and losses to all players sum to the same value. Cutting a cake is zero- or constant-sum because taking a larger piece reduces the amount of cake available for others. In contrast, non-zero-sum describes a situation in which the interacting parties' aggregate gains and losses is either less than or more than zero.

While there is much in the tradition of the Church--East and West--that is incalculably value for our spiritual lives, we need to exercise a bit of prudence that we not uncritically take over the zero-sum world view that is common in many pre-modern (i.e., pre-capitalist) cultures.

Often in our conversation about the spiritual life and the life of the Church we in fact do fall into looking at reality as a zero-sum game. We think there is only one way to be good and when that happens we hold on to this one good thing even in the face of evidence to the contrary (like in the BBC story above).

Take for example the resistance we often encounter in parishes when they begin to add new members either through transfer from other parishes or by conversion. The concern is often raised by the established members that the "new people" are changing everything.

In a sense of course they are. A parish is a fairly complex social group. New members invariably change the relational dynamics in the community much the same way as adding rocks to a stream can change not only the flow of water within the stream, but even cause the stream to over flow its banks. Adding rocks doesn't just change the internal dynamics of the stream, it makes a "new" stream, that is, it changes how the stream interacts with the larger environment.

When we added new people to a parish, yes, things change and sometime, as when the circumstances of our personal lives change, new situations bring new stresses. But new people in a parish also allow us to discover new understandings of ourselves as a community, new insights into what God would call us to do, and even new opportunities for service. If we allow ourselves to welcome new people into our lives, they, like new situations, make it possible for us to discover new gifts in ourselves. And all of this is possible because the Christian life is not a zero-sum game. Life in Christ, St Paul tells us, means moving "from glory to glory" (2 Cor 3.18).

This phrase, "from glory to glory," was a special favorite of St Gregory Nyssa. He writes:

[Let] no one be grieved if he sees in his nature a penchant for change. Changing in everything for the better, let him exchange "glory for glory," becoming greater through daily increase, ever perfecting himself and never arriving too quickly at the limit of perfection. For this is truly perfection: never to stop growing toward what is better and never placing any limits to perfection.

Taken up in faith, hope and love, change in ourselves, our communities and the world around us isn't to be feared, but raced towards--a passage from "glory to glory." But this requires from us not only detachment in a spiritual sense, but also a basic sense of trust and a relaxed psychological openness to the world around us. This trusting openness, this detachment, is not possible however, if we allow ourselves to become run down trying to manage and control every element of our lives.

Again we see this in parishes that simply won't change. Eventually the desire to not change, to remain the same, takes over and soon not only are new people, new ideas and new ways of doing thing threatening, even the same old people, ideas and ways of doing things become a source of anxiety. Why? Because like it or not, things and people simply change--we can't remain static in our spiritual lives or our community lives without doing violence to others and ultimately ourselves.

In the end a zero-sum approach to life fosters in us fear and suspicion. Paradoxically, the harder we hold on to "the way things have always been," the less secure they become. Like trying to hold tightly on to water, it just doesn't work.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

The Role of the Theotokos in the Catholic/Orthodox Dialog

Fr Maximos, a hieromonk at Holy Resurrection Monastery (Byzantine Catholic) and the lead voice behind the blog The Anastasis Dialogue, this morning posted an audio file of a sermon by the abbot of the monastery Fr Nicholas. If you have a moment, I would encourage you to listen to the sermon here: Dormition Sermon.

In his sermon, Fr Nicholas argues, not convincingly to my mind, that the Orthodox and Catholic Churches share the same basic faith about the Mother of God. I have heard that before and, like arguments that advance the notion that Christians, Jews and Muslims all worship the same God, I wish it were so, but it just isn't or to be fairer about it, it isn't true without qualifications.

Yes, Catholics and Orthodox Christians give Mary the first place in the communion of saints. And yes, we both see the Virgin as the Mother of God, the icon of the Church and the exemplar of Christian discipleship. And while both Churches would refer to Mary as "sinless" (Panagia, "All-holy" in Greek), the Orthodox see the Catholic dogma of the Immaculate Conception (Mary being conceived in the womb of St Anna without stain of original sin) as at best theologumena (theological opinion, albeit not necessarily an opinion without value), if not outright innovation.

We also both hold to the virgin birth and her perpetual, lifelong, virginity. And while we both celebrate liturgically her birth, her presentation in the Temple, and her conception of the Christ, we diverge somewhat about the facts pertaining to the beginning and the end of her earthly life, specifically her conception (see above) and her death.

For the Orthodox, Mary dies, she "falls asleep," and so we celebrate her "Dormition." Roman Catholic celebrate Mary's Assumption. For me at least (and I am more than willing to be corrected) the question of her death is not as clear in the Roman Catholic teaching that only says "when the course of her earthly life was finished, was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory." To my reading the fact of her death is left open to interpretation.

So yes, there is much convergence--but also some divergence. Whether this divergence is minor enough for us to say we hold to the same faith about the Theotokos is for the Orthodox Church, at least, an open question.

Where I agree with, or at least am intrigued by, Fr Nicholas is his contention that rather then looking to the icon of SS Peter and Paul as the icon of Catholic/Orthodox relations, we should look instead to the icon of the Dormition. In his reworking of the icon, he envisions Latin priests on one side of Mary and Orthodox priests on the other. And slowly, the two sides slowly come together in the regard for the Theotokos. Leaving aside the absence of the laity in his sermon, I think there is some merit to Fr Nicholas's image.

Ecumenical dialog is often undertaken in a masculine key--it is as if Peter and Paul are still arguing. Might not there be something to be said for taking a more Marian key in our conversation? Might it not advance the cause of reconciliation if we focused not simply on doctrine, but also on how can we help each conceive and give birth to God the Word?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

To Which Church Do You Belong?

So to which Christian communities do the readers of Koinonia belong?

1. Eastern Orthodox (67)
2. Oriental Orthodox (3)
3. Roman Catholic (54)
4. Eastern Catholic (10)
5. Mainline Protestant (9)
6. Evangelical Christian (10)
7. Nondeminational (1)
8. Not Christian (0)
9. None (1)

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

The Dormition of our Most Holy Lady the Theotokos and Ever Virgin Mary

Apolytikion in the First Tone

In birth, you preserved your virginity; in death, you did not abandon the world, O Theotokos. As mother of life, you departed to the source of life, delivering our souls from death by your intercessions.

Kontakion in the Second Tone

Neither the grave nor death could contain the Theotokos, the unshakable hope, ever vigilant in intercession and protection. As Mother of life, He who dwelt in the ever-virginal womb transposed her to life.

Reading:

Concerning the Dormition of the Theotokos, this is what the Church has received from ancient times from the tradition of the Fathers. When the time drew nigh that our Savior was well-pleased to take His Mother to Himself, He declared unto her through an Angel that three days hence, He would translate her from this temporal life to eternity and bliss. On hearing this, she went up with haste to the Mount of Olives, where she prayed continuously. Giving thanks to God, she returned to her house and prepared whatever was necessary for her burial. While these things were taking place, clouds caught up the Apostles from the ends of the earth, where each one happened to be preaching, and brought them at once to the house of the Mother of God, who informed them of the cause of their sudden gathering. As a mother, she consoled them in their affliction as was meet, and then raised her hands to Heaven and prayed for the peace of the world. She blessed the Apostles, and, reclining upon her bed with seemliness, gave up her all-holy spirit into the hands of her Son and God.

With reverence and many lights, and chanting burial hymns, the Apostles took up that God-receiving body and brought it to the sepulchre, while the Angels from Heaven chanted with them, and sent forth her who is higher than the Cherubim. But one Jew, moved by malice, audaciously stretched forth his hand upon the bed and immediately received from divine judgment the wages of his audacity. Those daring hands were severed by an invisible blow. But when he repented and asked forgiveness, his hands were restored. When they had reached the place called Gethsemane, they buried there with honor the all-immaculate body of the Theotokos, which was the source of Life. But on the third day after the burial, when they were eating together, and raised up the artos (bread) in Jesus' Name, as was their custom, the Theotokos appeared in the air, saying "Rejoice" to them. From this they learned concerning the bodily translation of the Theotokos into the Heavens.

These things has the Church received from the traditions of the Fathers, who have composed many hymns out of reverence, to the glory of the Mother of our God (see Oct. 3 and 4).

Reading courtesy of Holy Transfiguration Monastery
Apolytikion courtesy of Narthex Press
Kontakion courtesy of Narthex Press
Icon courtesy of Theologic Systems

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There Will Be Wars...

I woke up this morning to Garrison Keller's radio program on National Public Radio The Writer's Almanac. He began by reminds us that,

Today is the anniversary of the day on which President Harry Truman announced that the Second World War had come to an end. You might argue that more human beings were happy on this day in 1945 than on any other day in history.

It was the worst war in history. An estimated 60 million people died; about two-thirds of them were civilians. In the United States, the war had been going on for three years and eight months. About one in every eight Americans served in the war—more than 16 million American soldiers. Virtually every American family had at least one member overseas. With 400,000 Americans killed, most families knew somebody who had died in the war, and the most American casualties had come in the last year of the war.

He goes on to recount that until President Truman's announcements most Americans "believed that the war was far from over" and so were taken by complete surprise at its end. "There were," he says, "spontaneous celebrations and parades in every major city in America." In New York City alone, "more than a million people filled the streets, overflowing Times Square, the crowd stretching from 40th all the way up to 52nd street. Factories blew their whistles. Air raid sirens went off. Ships and trains and cars honked their horns. Churches tolled their bells."

But what was most noteworthy was not what people did or said, but what was not said. According to "commentators . . . at the time . . . nobody shouted, 'We've won the war!' or anything about triumph. They simply shouted, 'The war is over!'"

While wars are sometimes, often in fact, necessary, there are from the Christian viewpoint no victors. It is easy to forget that, as Jesus reminds us in the Gospel, until the final coming of the Kingdom of God

And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom (Mt 24.6-7).

The conflict that rages between nations, in the war in Iraq for example, is rooted ultimately reflects not politics or economics, but in the conflict that divides each human heart. We are at war with each other because we are each of us at war with ourself and ultimately God. Even if in this fallen world war is sometimes necessary, and even a relatively good thing, it also represent the depth to which we have fallen

Jesus situates His comments about war between a warning of the coming of the anti-Christs (v. 4: ""And Jesus answered and said to them: "Take heed that no one deceives you. 5 For many will come in My name, saying, 'I am the Christ,' and will deceive many." and of natural disasters (v. 7: "And there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places"). The conflict that infects the human heart and human relationships, then, extends beyond us to include nature as well.

The task of Christians is twofold.

One the one hand, certainly we are to work for peace and the justice that brings peace. And this not only on the political level, but especially on the personal level. Above all the Church is meant to be the living sign of the peaceable Kingdom that the human heart longs for, even if we often give expression to that desire in less then peaceful ways.

But on the other hand, we must also maintain a certain reserve and even skepticism relative to the work of peacemaking, No matter how hard we work, and we should work hard, conflict will remain in the human community until Christ returns in Glory.

Garrison Keller's poem for this morning was "The Worriers' Guild," by Philip F. Deaver, from How Men Pray ©. Anhinga Press (buy now).

Today there is a meeting of the

Worriers' Guild,
and I'll be there.
The problems of Earth are
to be discussed
at length
end to end
for five days
end to end
with 1100 countries represented
all with an equal voice
some wearing turbans and smocks
and all the men will speak
and the women
with or without notes
in 38 languages
and nine different species of logic.
Outside in the autumn
the squirrels will be
chattering and scampering
directionless throughout the town
because
they aren't organized yet.

If there is something to be said for working to end the "problems of Earth," there is also something to be said for remembering that, no matter how hard we work, the "squirrels wil be chattering and scampering directionless" indifferent to our best efforts.

"Work as if everything depended upon you," St Augustine counsels, "but pray as if everything depended upon God."

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Who Will Be Saved?

In the Gospel for August 19th, the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (Mt 19.16-26), we hear about the encounter between Jesus and the rich young man. After being told that perfection requires that he sell all he have, give the proceeds to the poor, and become himself a disciple of Jesus, the young man "went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions" (v. 22). As the young man turns and leaves, Jesus says "to His disciples, 'Assuredly, I say to you that it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. And again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God'" (vv. 23-24). In response to this teaching of Jesus the disciples " were greatly astonished, saying, 'Who then can be saved?'" (v. 25).

This question of the disciples is key to our understanding of the Gospel: Who can be saved?

Certainly not the rich young man, at least not at the moment in his life when we meet him. When he is offered salvation he simply walks away. St John Chrysostom in his homily (Homily 63) on this passage cautions us that while the young man is "avaricious and greedy since Christ showed him up as such" we ought not to think him "a dissembler," who was simply trying to trick Jesus. We know that the young man was sincere in his question to Jesus for two reason.

First, Chrysostom tells us, we have the testimony of the Apostle Mark. In Mark's Gospel (1o.17, 21) the man is shown running up to Jesus "and kneeling before him" asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus, for his part according to Mark, looks at the young man with love. So both the young man's own behavior in asking the question as well as Jesus' gentle, even affection, response suggests that whatever his other faults he wasn't trying to trick Jesus.

But Chrysostom offers us a second reason for not doubt the sincerity of the young man. St John tells us that the young man "seems ready to do what he would be told." The young man was well disposed toward obedience. Had his heart been otherwise, had his intent been "to put Jesus to the test, the Evangelist would have give some indication of this as he does in other cases." And so

If the young man had come to test him, he would not have retreated downcast at what he heard. This never happened to any of the Pharisees. When refuted they were all the more angry. This man was not angry. He went away in sorrow, which is no little signal that he did not come t0him with evil intent.

Well, if the young man did not come with evil intent, what was the problem, why didn't he follow Jesus? Chrysostom says though he did not come withe evil intent, the young man "did come with too weak a will." St John continues:

Truly he did desire life but was held in the grip of a serious moral infirmity. When therefore Christ said, "If you would enter life, keep the commandments," he said "Which?" not putting him to the test--far from it--but because he thought that there were some other ones beside those in the law which could bring him life. So he seems quite earnest.

Though he is sincere, the young man is weak willed. St Jerome in his Commentary on Matthew points of that divine grace is never lacking and so for this reason it "is in our power whether we wish to be perfect." But perfection demands not simply that we "sell . . . in part, . . . but sell . . . all." And even this is insufficient Jerome says

unless after despising riches [we follow] the Savior, that is, abandon evil and [do] good. For easily is a little purse despised than one's will. Many abandon their wealth but do not follow the Savior. To follow the Savior is to be an imitator if him and walk in his steps, Anyone who says that he believes in Christ must himself also walk in the steps he walked in.

It is this last thing that the young man lacked. It was less that he was unwilling to follow Jesus and more that he was unwilling to imitate him. But again, we ought not to judge him harshly for this since. Yes, "he put great trust in wealth" but because he "was a young man." He was, in St Hilary of Poiters' phrase trapped in "an arrested adolescence."

Here I think developmental psychology can help us. The difference between and adolescent and an adult is not that one loves and the other doesn't. Rather it is that the adult is willing to love sacrificially and do so for the good of others. The young man was willing to keep the law for his own sake--but unwilling to go beyond the law for the sake of others. He would not use his wealth for the salvation of others.

St Cyril of Alexandria tells us that while the law isn't perfect, it "is a kind of introduction to the eternal life, briefly acquainting trainees to the things above." How can the law do this? Because it "is the starting point for social justice." He continues, "For the beginning of good is to act justly, . . . [and just] action . . . is shown by the law, . . . [even as] goodness is shown by Christ." The young man in refusing to imitate Christ showed himself unwilling to become perfect. Like adolescents everywhere, he preferred the lesser good of justice, but refused to go beyond justice and commit himself to the greater good of sacrificial love which in the end brings the only lasting justice since love reconciles us not only to God, but to one another and to ourselves.

So, who then can be saved?

St John Chrysostom says that Christ promises "a significant reward for the wealthy who can practice self-denial." But this ascetical exertion isn't meant to be an end in itself, but rather is in the service of the salvation of others. Think about the disciples at the very end of the Gospel reading. When they heard how hard salvation is they were clearly upset. "But why were they upset," Chrysostom asks, "since they were poor, very poor in fact?"

They were upset for others' salvation and because they possessed great love towards them all. Already they were taking on the tenderness of teachers. At least they were in such trembling and fear for the whole world from Jesus declaration as to need much comfort.

So what about us? What are we to do in response to the teaching the Gospel reading puts in front of us? Again, from Chrysostom's homily:

If you want also to learn the way and how the impossible becomes possible, listen. He did not make this statement that what is impossible for man is possible for God merely so you could relax and do nothing and leave it all to God. No, he said this so you could understand the importance of calling upon God to give you help in this rigorous contest and that you might ready approach his grace.

Like the disciples in the Gospel, all of us who are in Christ have been called to be witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We are each of us called personally by Christ to evangelize the world around. We are each of us called to put the salvation of others at the center of our lives and to prefer nothing else to obedience to our great calling.

So who will be saved?

Only those who make the salvation of others their concern. For most of us our spiritual lives never seem to ever quite get started, or if we start we quickly run out of energy, we stall out. I would suggest that, like the rich young man in the Gospel, this happens because we fail to imitate Christ, we fail to be concerned for the salvation of others. But when we work to advance the Gospel, to bring others not simply to Church, but to Christ in and through the things His Church offers (prayer, fasting, Scripture, the Fathers and above all the sacraments), growth in the spiritual life, peace, love and joy really do become ours even if the circumstances of our lives are not what we would hope.

At the end of Matthew's Gospel (28.19-20), Jesus tells us

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Amen.

St John Chrysostom says in his homily (Homily 90) that Jesus "does not scold Peter for his denial or anyone of the others for their flight." Rather, after putting "into their hands a summary of Christian teaching, which is expressed in the form of baptism, he commands them to go out into the whole world."

If we would be saved then, like the disciples and unlike the rich young man, we must be faithful to this final command of Christ.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Humility and the Worship of God

I served Liturgy this morning with Fr John Steffaro, the pastor of St John the Baptist Russian Orthodox Church in Campbell, OH (about a 20 minute drive from our apartment in Poland, OH). St John's is beautiful church and the congregation both last night after Vespers and this morning after Liturgy was very warm and welcoming.

Before Liturgy this morning I was thinking about how the right worship of God requires humility. As Chesterton points out in the contemporary understanding of humility, humility “has moved from the organ of ambition. . . [and] settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be.” Rather humility is,

largely meant as a restraint upon the arrogance and infinity of the appetite of man. He was always outstripping his mercies with his own newly invented needs. His very power of enjoyment destroyed half his joys. By asking for pleasure, he lost the chief pleasure; for the chief pleasure is surprise. Hence it became evident that if a man would make his world large, he must be always making himself small. Even the haughty visions, the tall cities, and the toppling pinnacles are the creations of humility. Giants that tread down forests like grass are the creations of humility. Towers that vanish upwards above the loneliest star are the creations of humility. For towers are not tall unless we look up at them; and giants are not giants unless they are larger than we. All this gigantesque imagination, which is, perhaps, the mightiest of the pleasures of man, is at bottom entirely humble. It is impossible without humility to enjoy anything -- even pride.

To really worship God, to really have a sense of the enormity and significance of the Christian vocation to send and offer worship to God requires just this willingness to make ourselves small, but in a very particular way. Again Chesterton:

The old humility was a spur that prevented a man from stopping; not a nail in his boot that prevented him from going on. For the old humility made a man doubtful about his efforts, which might make him work harder. But the new humility makes a man doubtful about his aims, which will make him stop working altogether.

The fact is that no matter how hard I try, my worship of God will always fall short of the honor that is His due. This should, or at least isn't meant to, undermine my trying to worship Him, but spur me to try harder, to do more. The poverty of my efforts is meant to be like the experience of thirst or hunger—the poverty of my attempts should increase my desire to worship God like hunger makes me desire food and thirst makes me desire, move towards, water.

For this to happen though, we need to foster in our lives a sense of gratitude not just for the opportunity to worship God, or for our salvation, or our spiritual life, but for life and all the things and people in our lives. Again, Chesterton:

When we were children we were grateful to those who filled our stockings at Christmas time. Why are we not grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs?

Gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink.

In this, Chesterton is simply repeating the advice of St Paul, “Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Cor 10.31). Real humility, a real sense of my inadequacies, doesn't cause me to turn inward on myself—but outward toward God and toward my neighbor.

We get a taste of this wholesome taste of humility in the Akathist Hymn, “Glory to God for All Things” when we sing in the first ikos:

I was born a weak, defenseless child, but Your angel spread his wings
over my cradle to defend me. From birth until now, Your love has
illumined my path, and has wondrously guided me towards the light of
eternity. From birth until now the generous gifts of Your Providence
have been marvelously showered upon me. I give You thanks, with all
who have come to know You, who call upon Your Name:
Glory to You for calling me into being.
Glory to You, showing me the beauty of the universe.
Glory to You, spreading out before me heaven and earth,
like the pages in a book of eternal wisdom.
Glory to You for Your eternity in this fleeting world.
Glory to You for Your mercies, seen and unseen.
Glory to You, through every sigh of my sorrow.
Glory to You for every step of my life's journey,
for every moment of glory.
Glory to You, O God, from age to age.

Humility and the right worship of God are all facets of the experiencing our own contingency, our own absolute dependence on God and our relative dependence on our neighbor, as fundamentally a good thing. In effect, humility and the right worship of God grow out of, and foster, a sense of gratitude, wonder at the gift of our humanity.

The man who cannot embrace with gratitude and wonder his own humanity, his own status as a creature whose life comes to him as a free gift from God, will always lack humility and for this reason never quite rightly worship God.

Because I'm tired, but mostly because he said it better than I could (and he ALWAYS says it better than I could), I'll give Chesterton the last word:

The modern world is not evil; in some ways the modern world is far too good. It is full of wild and wasted virtues. When a religious scheme is shattered (as Christianity was shattered at the Reformation), it is not merely the vices that are let loose. The vices are, indeed, let loose, and they wander and do damage. But the virtues are let loose also; and the virtues wander more wildly, and the virtues do more terrible damage. The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. Thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (I am sorry to say) is often untruthful. For example, Mr. Blatchford attacks Christianity because he is mad on one Christian virtue: the merely mystical and almost irrational virtue of charity. He has a strange idea that he will make it easier to forgive sins by saying that there are no sins to forgive. Mr. Blatchford is not only an early Christian, he is the only early Christian who ought really to have been eaten by lions. For in his case the pagan accusation is really true: his mercy would mean mere anarchy. He really is the enemy of the human race—because he is so human. As the other extreme, we may take the acrid realist, who has deliberately killed in himself all human pleasure in happy tales or in the healing of the heart. Torquemada tortured people physically for the sake of moral truth. Zola tortured people morally for the sake of physical truth. But in Torquemada's time there was at least a system that could to some extent make righteousness and peace kiss each other. Now they do not even bow. But a much stronger case than these two of truth and pity can be found in the remarkable case of the dislocation of humility.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Limits, Freedom and this Blog

When I served as a mission priest in northern California, I would often plan out my Sunday sermons several weeks at a time. So, for example, when I was first assigned to St George Greek Orthodox Church in Redding,CA I decided that in the first few months, the Sunday sermons would focus on the basics of an Orthodox Christian spiritual life: Daily & liturgical prayer, fasting, almsgiving and stewardship. After this I focused on the sacraments, the daily & yearly liturgical cycle and, finally, the Creed.

The sermons themselves always followed the same basic structure: (1) Dogmatic: What is it that we believe as Orthodox Christians about the topic at hand? (2) Illustrative: What does this topic look like in practice? This was usually where I would refer back either to the Scripture readings at Liturgy and/or the lives of the saints. (3) Applicative: How can we, practically, live out the Church’s faith embodied in this topic? Especially important here was brief consideration of the obstacles and facilitating conditions for people’s spiritual lives; what do we do that gets in the way of our living out the Church’s faith and what can we do to foster living out the Church’s faith.

Some people simply didn’t like my preaching in this way. As one person put it, “I come to church for inspiration not a lecture. I want a positive thought to carry away with me for the week.” In the main, however, most people where open to this type of preaching and eventually began to find it profitable for their own spiritual lives.

The key to preaching successfully this way was planning out the course of the sermons over several successive Sundays. This was especially important not only as the congregation grew, but also as I was asked to take on responsibilities for communities in Crescent City (also St George, a small mission station on the far northern coast of California a 4½ drive away) and later for St Nectarios parish in Pasco, WA (which was a 6 hour trip by air that required me to stop over at 4 airports).

Let me change focus here to blogging.

One of the challenges of keeping a blog is writing on a regular, and, ideally even a daily basis. To do that with new material (rather than merely linking to what others have published), I need a structure, a general sense of topics that I want to cover on any given day of the week. And, as with preaching, not only will this serve to keep me on track, it will give readers a sense of what I’ll be looking at each day and so they can keep an eye out for the days when there is likely to be something of particular interest to them.

So, here’s my weekly schedule with a brief summary of that day’s theme:

· Monday will look at the Sunday Gospel reading for the following Sunday. I think it helps us in our spiritual lives if we reflect on the Gospel reading throughout the week and, even if as it is likely, the sermon you hear on Sunday doesn’t pick out the same themes that I focus on, bring the two together is a good thing.

· Tuesday is devoted to Current Events. Our spiritual life can’t be separated from what is going on around us so this post will be a general interest essay about something in the local, national or international news during the last week and how it might pertain to the Christian life.

· Wednesday is for Church News. Like Tuesday’s post, this is a general interest essay about what has happened in the Orthodox Church during the last week and how it might pertain to the Christian life.

· Thursday is my day to wax (or is it wane?) poetic on Ecumenism. Especially important here are topics & events in Orthodox/Catholic relations.

· Friday I’ll write about Spiritual Formation. As with my preaching, these will be theoretical and practical reflections on discovering and incarnating our identity in Jesus Christ in light of the tradition of the Orthodox Church.

· Saturday is a day without an established theme (and so this post), my Free Topic day in which any & everything that has struck my fancy in the last week might make an appearance. This is also the day in which I would very much like to address at length questions or topics that readers submit to me. While the comment box has its value many people have raised issue that simply don’t lend themselves to quick answers. So, what do you think I ought to address? Drop me an email through the “About Me” link.

· Sunday is devoted to my great delight, Liturgy. My doctoral dissertation looked at the psychological structures and dynamics of communion in Liturgy and though it has been better than 10 years since I finished it and got my degree, I am still interested in the relationship between Liturgy and our psychological, spiritual and community lives. Since I often travel on weekends, in addition to a general essay on Liturgy, I will occasionally offer my thoughts on serving Liturgy in different communities.

One of the great paradoxes of the spiritual life is that we need limits to grow in freedom. In fact as we grow in the spiritual life, or at least as I have, I experience not only more freedom, but also a greater appreciation for limits. One of my professors in graduate school, the Roman Catholic priest-psychologist Adrian van Kaam, would say that human freedom is never absolute; our freedom is always a situated freedom. As I said earlier, this means that we realize our freedom not by leaving behind or denying or minimizing the empirical structures that limit our life, but by going ever deeper into those structures.

The fathers of the Church say that the human person is both a microcosm and a macrocosm. By this they mean we are both a “miniature” of the creation AND that we give expression to the whole of creation. Or, to use another phrase, our personality is meant to be a catholic personality—a unique expression of the whole of what it means to be human.

However we describe it, the realization of our identity requires a structure that makes transcendence possible and which roots us firmly in our own life. My hope is that by structuring somewhat my essays here, I can provide that experience of “going beyond” and “going deeper” for myself and you dear reader.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

What the Beatitudes Teach

The Hoover Institution has an interesting summary of the Beatitudes that expands on what I wrote earlier on the relationship of justice and joy. Take a look.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Hoover Institution - Policy Review - What the Beatitudes Teach:
By Tod Lindberg

Jesus’s community of goodwill The sermon on the mount has long been rightly understood as both a starting-point and a summation of Jesus ’s teaching. It begins with the Beatitudes (Mt. 5:3-12), in which Jesus delineates the categories of people he says enjoy special favor. The Beatitudes are all familiar to us as sayings, the best known being blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. But what, really, are they? Is Jesus merely pronouncing a blessing, offering good wishes to those whom he chooses to single out? In fact, there ’s more to the story than that. The Beatitudes provide a dizzying commentary designed to turn upside down the political and social world of the Roman Empire of Caesar Augustus and of the Jewish religious elite of Judea and Jerusalem. This is the opening move of a more drastic and fundamental reassessment of political and social affairs, applying not only to its own time but to all future times, down to our day. More still: It points to the increasing fulfillment in this world of the promise of the human condition as such — and of the struggle against vast and daunting but not insurmountable obstacles that such fulfillment will require.

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Here Jesus proposes a different hierarchy. To see whom he elevates in the Beatitudes, it may be helpful to conjure a list of qualities opposite to the ones he lists. Cumulatively, what emerges from this collection of "anti-Beatitudes" is a portrait of a privileged class, one that sees those below as essentially inferior. For "the poor in spirit," the opposite number might be someone arrogant in his righteousness and sense of superiority. For "those who mourn," we can substitute those whom the world has given cause for rejoicing. For "the gentle," the overbearing. For "those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," we may find a contrast in those who are complacent on account of their privileges and defend them vigorously. For "the merciful," the unforgiving, perhaps the cruel: those who, when they have an advantage over another, even a temporary one, don 't hesitate to exploit it.

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The beatitudes are organized according to a scale running from passivity and paralysis in this world, through increasing levels of engagement with it in accordance with what Jesus is teaching, up to a pinnacle of earthly conduct Jesus describes. The categories he delineates describe people we can recognize in our own day, from homeless shelters and nursing homes to the halls of power, at least on those occasions when people rise above their private ambitions and work for the public good.

We begin with the "poor in spirit." It is an ambiguous phrase, but one that evokes a sense of those incapable of taking care of themselves at all: the dejected, the demoralized, those in whom the spark has gone out. They have given up, resigning themselves to their lonely place at the bottom, beyond reach of all others.

Next come the mourners, whom we may think of as the temporarily incapacitated. For now, they are overwhelmed by a sense of grief and loss. They are perhaps unable to take care of themselves or to fulfill their responsibilities toward others. They once felt a connection to another or others — strongly enough to be reduced to incapacity by the loss. The loss of that connection in turn imperils all their other connections. Because they were once more robust, however, now there is at least the possibility that one day they will again be so, having recovered from their mourning.

Then there are the gentle, or meek or humble. They walk softly upon the earth, seeking to impose themselves on others as little as possible. They see to their obligations as best they can, but they take nothing from others and ask for nothing from them for themselves. They are satisfied with what they have, however meager it may be. They do not strive, but accept their circumstances.

The gentle are followed by those who desire righteousness. They, unlike the gentle and still less the poor in spirit, have surveyed the world around them and are dissatisfied with it, wishing instead for a world in which their desire for righteousness is fulfilled. Here, Jesus uses metaphorical language: He speaks of those who "hunger and thirst" for righteousness. All people get hungry, all people get thirsty. Hunger and thirst are primordial and universal bodily desires.

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Similarly, what if I satisfy myself at the expense of others and the others either don 't see it or don't object? What if they are, for example, so poor in spirit, so ground down by oppression, that they cannot imagine anything different? Does this acquiescence somehow vindicate my claim to righteousness in satisfying myself at their expense? Can I say that I am in the right because of my natural or otherwise-given superiority over them, as demonstrated by their acceptance of my position of privilege? Jesus 's answer is clearly "no." And the reason is simply this: They may not be able to speak up for themselves, but others can speak up for them — starting, of course, with Jesus. No overlord's sense of his own vindicated righteousness stands unchallenged. Such supposed righteousness is wrong-headed. A true desire for righteousness is of the kind that can be satisfied along with everyone else 's true desire for righteousness.

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Mercy is a quality within reach of everyone at one time or another. All mercy requires is a position of the barest advantage over another, even for the most fleeting of moments. When someone is down — whether physically, psychologically, or emotionally — do you kick him or not? To show mercy is an action that doesn't necessarily require activity: In certain cases, no more than the refusal to press an advantage one has is an act of mercy.

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In some instances, peacemaking of the sort Jesus endorses here will be an exercise in reaching even further beyond oneself, interposing between others in conflict to help them remove the sources of discord between them. With such peacemaking attempts, the presupposition is that such a peacemaker is already at peace with each of the two parties in conflict (otherwise the type of peacemaking described in the preceding paragraph would have to come first). But this suggests that my peace with each of them must not come at the expense of the continuation of their conflict with each other. If I perceive the conflict between them as a benefit to me, then I am failing to uphold peacemaking in its broadest, Jesusian sense. Making one 's personal peace, whatever it entails, does not fulfill the Jesusian prescription. Such a peace is insufficient if others remain in conflict, and it is incumbent upon one who is at peace with others to make peace among the others as well. As we will see later, Jesus regards the obligations of those who enjoy the benefits of living in a world shaped by his political teaching to be especially high with respect to those who are not so fortunate.

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At first glance, the main purpose of the Beatitudes seems to be to offer various consolations to the downtrodden. But while Jesus does this, he also propounds a stern standard of judgment and offers strict guidance for good behavior for those who find themselves in a position of privilege. This injunction takes the form of a warning: The days of abusive privilege are numbered. Jesus 's is not merely an ethereal threat, bound up in the afterlife and a world to come, which the nonbeliever can spurn with contempt in favor of worldly enjoyment. It is a threat based on changes coming to this world. It is a threat dangerous to ignore in the here-and-now.

Nevertheless the question remains: Is this all to be taken literally? Come the revolution, of course, heads may roll, but surely Jesus cannot be saying that all those who enjoy privilege without righteousness are going to suffer for it in this world. Surely he is aware that some will hear all of what he has to say, spurn it — and get away with it scot-free for the rest of their earthly lives. Moreover, there is a potential for large-scale contradiction based on misreading here: If the point is to show mercy, even those who have themselves been unmerciful should be shown mercy, should they not?

True. Jesus says that what is right, according to the Beatitudes, "shall" come to pass; he does not say when. However, the cumulative effect of the positive, stated promises of the Beatitudes and the negative, unstated repercussions for those who oppose righteousness point to a question that will be asked in this world about those who have come before: What side were you on? Did you defend your privileges at the expense of others or work to uplift those who found themselves downtrodden? Did you act only for yourself, or did you think of others as best you could, whenever you could? Did you run risks for what 's right, or was the risk you ran that the righteous would prevail? The merciless, the persecutors, the purveyors of conflict, the defenders of privilege — Jesus's point is that they live in a world governed by fear, and he invites them to reflect on what might happen if the world turned on them and they suddenly became the ones with cause to fear.

But that world is not the world Jesus is promoting. In a world ordered according to Jesusian principles, there will be no persecution, even for those who have made a transition from a world in which they were persecutors. Even those who have been unmerciful will be shown mercy. Their fear of a world in which the tables are turned on them is in fact displaced fear of a more primordial — one might say existential — kind: a world that has no place for them. A world in which the attributes of privilege that they believe are essential to their being have been obliterated. A world in which they, in their conception of themselves, cannot continue to be. A world in which they must change if they are to remain. Jesus confronts the "bad person" not with something so simple — and easy to reject — as a competing model of how to live a better life. Rather, he forces a radical confrontation within the "bad person" over the very possibility of his or her continued existence.

To read the whole essay: What the Beatitudes Teach.

Intentional Disciples: "This is Not Us": Muslim anti-terrorist video

Intentional Disciples: "This is Not Us": Muslim anti-terrorist video: "'This is Not Us': Muslim anti-terrorist video Take a look at this Muslim anti-terrorist You tube video made by 8 of the top musicians in Pakistan. 'This is Not Us' hat tip: Julianne Wiley"

Clip Joint - Times Online - WBLG: It was twenty years ago today...

Clip Joint - Times Online - WBLG: It was twenty years ago today...: "It was twenty years ago today... Today we have a song that will touch the heart of every gentleman (and many gentlewomen) of a certain age: It’s a tribute to that golden age of television when every other programme seemed to be an implausible Glen Larson action show. If you ever watched The A-Team, Airwolf, MacGyver, or Knight Rider, this one’s for you!

Justice & Joy

A continuation of earlier, abbreviated, post on joy.

In the Prophet Isaiah (56.1-2) we read,

Thus says the Lord:

“Keep justice, and do righteousness,

For soon my salvation will come, and my deliverance be revealed.

Blessed is the man who does this, and the son of man who holds fast,

Who keeps the Sabbath, not profaning it, and keeps his hand from doing any evil.”

Later in the same chapter, Isaiah articulates more fully the demands of justice, righteousness and the right worship of God. Included here is an active concern for the welfare of the stranger in our midst (v.3) and the man who has been maimed in the service of false gods. All can, and should, find a home among God’s Chosen People (v. 5):

For thus says the Lord:

“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,

Who choose the things that please me

And hold fast to my covenant,

I will give in my house and within my walls a monument and a name better than sons and daughters;

I will give them an everlasting name which shall not be cut off.

As the strangers, the outsiders who has left their own people and has come to live with the People of God, if we all (like the eunuchs) can find our shame lifted if we “join [our]selves to the Lord, . . . minister to him, . . . love the name of the Lord, and . . . be his servants, . . . [keep] the Sabbath and not profane it, and hold fast [God’s] covenant” (v. 6). Like Israel, the stranger and the eunuch—the outsider and the maimed—we can all find a place on God’s “holy mountain” and they will be “joyful.”

Isaiah concludes his consideration of God’s promise in this way (v. 8):

Thus says the Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel,

I will gather yet others to him besides those already gathered.

The prophet then contrasts the character of the powers of this world with God’s. The powers of this world, are “beasts” who “come to devour” their neighbor (v 9); they are blind watchmen “without knowledge” and “dumb dogs” that “cannot bark” and who neglect their duties in favor of “slumber” (v. 10).

They are ravenous dogs who “never have enough;” “shepherds” who “have no understanding” and who have departed from the ways of divine justice and righteousness in favor “of their own way” (v. 11). They are drunken fools whose lives lead nowhere because they are blinded to the proper goal of human life (v.12):

“Come,” they say, “let us get wine, let us fill ourselves with strong drink;

And tomorrow will be like this day, great beyond measure.”

Taking Isaiah, and God, at his word, it is our commitment to the works of justice that is a key to a life of joy. Justice, giving to each that which is his/her due, is the starting point not only for joy, but also for the spirit of hospitality that characterizes our communion with Christ and our neighbor.

For most of us, and by us I mean those of us who have lived in the West since the usually cultural upheaval that of the last century, when we think of justice we think largely of "procedural justice" or "fairness" of process. For us justice, for good and ill, is a question of law.

One the one hand, justice understood in this way, as procedural justice, is an insufficient basis for a life of joyful hospitality and human flourishing that Isaiah describes and which we are promised in Christ. Too often, process and procedures become an end in themselves and detached, and even antithetical, to any higher human purpose. Certainly this kind of procedural justice is not enough for a dynamic Christian life.

But, on the other hand, the lack of justice, and especially procedural justice, is not a good thing either since its absence undermines a life of Christian joy. Why is this?

Procedural justice helps us create a life that is constant and predictable; in this sense, the false leaders that Isaiah castigate are on to something, though like all heretics they error not so much in content as emphasis. It is important for human beings that today look like yesterday and that tomorrow look like today. This is way, humanly speaking, the God Who transcends all our understanding, Who is Himself in St Augustine’s words, “ever ancient, ever new,” says of Himself, not only that He is the “Alpha and the Omega,” (Rev 1:8, 21:6, and 22:13), but “the same yesterday, today and forever” (Heb 13.8).

A sound anthropology understands that the constancy and predictability that procedural justice secures, are the psychological and social foundation of faith in both its developmental (i.e., basic trust) and religious (I trust God, Christ, the Church--I depend upon them because they are dependable, i.e., predictable) senses.

When in the Church’s life procedural justice, or a basic fairness of process as the hallmark of our relationships with one another, is absent, the Church is seen as unpredictable, untrustworthy, literally unbelievable--no longer a credible object of faith. In the Creed we profess faith not only in God, but in the “One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.” If the Church’s internal life is not characterized by procedural justice, if we do not live in a way that seeks to secure the good of each other, then we undermine the very cooperation that a joyful life requires. If our relationships our not cooperative, collaborative and order toward the good of each, then they become contrary, secretive, and ultimately predatory in ways great, and more frequently, small.

It is easy to say minimize the significance of administrative matters in the life of the Church. Indeed, as I have pointed out, there are even some in the Church who would take satisfaction in saying that the shortcomings of the Orthodox Church are merely administrative or procedural in nature. But would St Paul agree with this view? Good Jew that he was, I think he would forcefully disagree. In fact he does go so far as to list administration (kubernesis) as one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 12.28).

The spiritual life is an act of transcendence that not only moves us beyond our current form of life toward God, it also a movement within, to the foundations of our life in God. Joy, hospitality, communion with God and neighbor, our own and other people’s flourishing are all transcendent realities and as such cannot be chosen. They are, as it were, the “surplus of meaning” that we encounter in a personal and communal life well and properly lived. The great irony of the spiritual life is that a life of transcendence requires a basis—a foundation or starting point—that the person and community must always move beyond, but never leave behind.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Intentional Disciples: Mapping Transformation

The following post from Sherry W at Intentional Disciples is very good. I have placed in bold those section I think are of special interest to Orthodox Christians, my own comments are in red.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

There has been a goodly bit of discussion around St. Blog's about Robert George's passionate plea at First Things: Danger and Opportunity: A Plea to Catholics I'd like to use a few of his comments as a chance to pull out some realities that are not usually mentioned in a discussion of this sort:

Robert George:

What is in need of transformation is not the teaching of the Church but the human mind and heart to which these teachings are addressed. Christianity is a religion of transformation. No one is literally born into it; even infants at baptism are converted to it. There is not a Catholic on the planet or in the history of the Church who is not a convert.

Sherry's comments:

Thank God, someone is saying this loud and clear! Absolutely.

One huge evangelical gap for Catholics is our failure to give serious attention to the development stage when our children, who were baptized as infants, must become "converts", that is, they must enter intentionally into the process of conversion which is required of all (this is also the case for Orthodox CHristians; do we, for example, devote the attention to conversion that goes into folk dance practice?). We've tried to use Confirmation prep to do this in a half-hearted way but now that many dioceses are lowering the age of Confirmation, even this is being taken away from us.

Our catechetical practice is much more informative than transformative. We are much likely to offer concepts than Christ but it is the encounter with Christ that sets transformation in motion (yup!).

Robert George:
Conversion is effected, by God's grace, by transformative acts of the intellect and will.

Sherry's comments:

George is using a sort of Thomistic short-hand here because he presumes that his theologically literate First Things audience can fill in the blanks.

But our experience is that many, many Catholics who are literate in other areas of the faith can't fill in the blanks when it comes to understanding or describing how God's grace that flows from Christ's self-giving love and our personal faith and assent work together to produce personal transformation. They can't fill in the blanks because no one has ever described the process to them in a meaningful way and especially because they have not seen it lived out in a compelling way.

The phrase "transformative acts of the intellect and will" actually falls far short of conveying all that the Council of Trent taught about the process of coming to faith for those who have reached the age of reason. And in a post-modern era, in which almost all the theological underpinnings presumed by George are missing, talking about the process of salvation in this way can be profoundly misleading.

Post-modern Catholics can and will readily assume that we are describing a completely impersonal and mechanical process - a sort of salvation by the "triumph of the will". No wonder when Peter Kreeft asked his Catholic students at Boston College why they should go to heaven, nearly all of them responded that they were saved because they were basically good people who did good things and hardly any of them mentioned Jesus Christ at all.

In the Decree on Justification, the council taught that there was a progression of spiritual "movements" on the journey to salvific faith for adults and those children who have reached the age of reason. And we must remember that what the Church is describing below is non-negotiable pre-baptismal faith, not Christian maturity.

The adult ready for baptism is described in this way:

1) Moved to initial faith by hearing the kerygma (the basic summary of the saving purposes and work of Christ in which initial faith is placed)

2) Moves freely toward God as a result of #1

3) Believes all that God has revealed to humanity through the Church
a.Especially that we are justified by God's grace through the redemption in Jesus Christ

4) Knows themselves to be a sinner

5) Trusts in the mercy and love of God for Christ's sake

6) Repents of our sins

7) Resolves to receive baptism

8) Begins a new life by seeking to obey the commandments of God (the obedience of faith) (How frequently, I wonder, do we expects this of those who are becoming Orthodox? Yes, converts are convinced we are the true Church, but have they really heard and accepted the kerygma?)

If we mentally and verbally collapse this journey to "acts of the intellect and will", we effectively render points 1, 2, 3a, 4, 5, 6 invisible to ourselves and to those we seek to evangelize.

Robert George:
And the process of conversion is lifelong, whether one begins it a few days or weeks after birth or on one's eighty-fifth birthday. Christ is constantly calling us to conversion and making available to us the divine graces that are its fundamental resources. We falter and fail; he lifts us up and puts us back on track. We grow in him, so long as we are faithful in responding to his acts of love for us by our acts of love of God and neighbor.

Sherry's comments:

I would agree with George absolutely. With one caveat. The journey of lived conversion that George describes so clearly here begins when we say an intentional, personal "yes" to the Lord who bestowed upon us the baptismal and other sacramental graces that most of us received as infants. Our strong tendency is to presume that this intentional "yes" has been given because we were baptized even when the evidence of millions of lapsed Catholics tells us otherwise. (And likewise for Orthodox Christians, baptism AND repentance--the order of these two is, in a sense anyway, of secondary importance--but neither is really lifegiving apart from the other.)

http://blog.siena.org/2007/08/mapping-transformation.html

http://tinyurl.com/2var6q

Pope & Patriarch to Meet?

Reuters recently reported (August 7) that a meeting between Pope Benedict XVI and the Russian Orthodox Patriarch Alexii II looks likely in the not too distant future. In the article of Cardinal Roger Etchegary, President of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace and Vice-Dean of the College of Cardinals, is quoted as saying to the Russian news agencies that: “We [Roman Catholics and Russian Orthodox Christians] are moving towards” a meeting between Pope and Patriarch. Cardinal Etchegary points out however that though steps toward such a meeting “are speeding “no one can say “exactly when it will happen.” The article concludes by pointing out that according to a comment made this past June by “another [unnamed] high-ranking cardinal” the hoped for “meeting between the heads of the two churches would happen within a year.”

When I first became interested in Orthodoxy, I was told (and received with great enthusiasm) that the problems facing the Orthodox Church were of an administrative, but not dogmatic, nature. Recent events, and my own experiences, would suggest that our “administrative” difficulties are rather more severe then poor filing or uncompleted paper work. As I look at what is going on around me in the Orthodox world, I come to the conclusion that we need, as a Church, to take a rather hard, critical look at ourselves and our shortcoming. And I think our attention needs to be focused especially on issues of anthropology, as well as the catechetical and spiritual formation of the laity and the clergy. In a meeting after meeting, in one conversation after another, I have heard clergy and laity alike ask how can recent events happen and we not respond. We fail to respond, I think, because we fail to believe.

We have concluded, and Fr Schmemann pointed this out decades ago, that a formal adherence to the dogmatic and liturgical tradition of the Church is sufficient. Clearly it isn’t, and in the absence of any systematic catechetical and spiritual formation especially for the laity, such a purely formal adherence is not only insufficient, it serves to dull our spiritual senses to the difficulties that we face as a Church.

So, what has this to do with the report from Reuters?

God, and man, willing any future meeting between Rome and Moscow will at least bear fruit in a closer working relationship between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches both in Russia, and across the globe. Over and above what is the will of God for His People, I think that even a partial, working, reconciliation that falls short of full Eucharistic communion is in the best interest of both Churches.

Especially for the Orthodox Church, such a closer working relationship offers us a need point of comparison for the health of our own Church. Granted not everything is as it ought to be in the Catholic Church, but still a conversation with our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters might very well help us see with new eyes our own strengths and weaknesses. It might also offer us new practical insights that get out of the mess we’re in before we do ourselves, and those entrusted to our care, even more harm.

It is worth noting as we think about that the current crop of scandals and relatively low moral and spiritual level of the Orthodox Church here in America, that this is the social context out of which arose the “uniate” Churches over which the Orthodox make such an issue. It seems to me that we need to be careful and make sure that our own house is in order and that we have done away with those conditions that have in the past made the departure of some Orthodox for Rome an inviting option. Ironically it is spiritual apathy among the Orthodox that plays a central role in undermining the very relationship with Rome that the Orthodox call for.

Let us all pray for Pope Benedict and Patriarch Alexii, and for all Orthodox and Catholic bishops, clergy and laity, that we find away to do together what each of us seems incapable, or dare I say, unwilling, to do on our own.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

What is Joy?

What follows is based on my last conversation with the Orthodox Christian Fellowship group I worked with while my wife and I were still in Pittsburgh. If you are interested in learning you can take a pick at their website: Pitt/CMU OCF. I will expend this in a later essay.


A hallmark of the Christian life is joy. I realize that we often think of faith, or hope, or love as the sign of a Christian life lived with integrity. And while I would not in anyway wish to contradict St Paul--we can all of us think of people, or times in our lives, when our loving, or hoping, or believing have been devoid of joy. While I think joy is lesser virtue then faith, hope and love, as I've pointed out before, we cannot dismiss a lesser good in favor of a greater one.

Joy is just that, it is a lesser good in our lives and yet without it, the greater virtues ring hollow not only to us, but to the world around us. Joy, I would suggest, is the evidence that our loving, our hoping and our believing really are rooted in Christ and not simply a reflection of our own wishful thinking, neurotic strivings or our ego.

Joy is different from pleasure. Pleasure, where physical, psychological, social, or spiritual, isn't wrong--but it is transitory. Pleasure, and Aristotle knew this well before the coming of Christ, is fleeting.

So what is joy? Joy is that which remains after pleasure has died and withered away. St John Climacus suggest that joy is the experience we have when "our pleasure-loving dispositions and unfeeling hearts attain to love of God and chastity by manifest sorrow (Ladder of Divine Ascent, 1.8) While this sounds rather fearsome, and can be at times, what the saint is getting at I think is that joy transcends our bodily and psychological experiences--or better, joy is the experience of redirecting our life toward God and only in God taking pleasure from the creation.