An Immodest Proposal

Comments on recent posts (you can review them here and here) have been extraordinarily good and have provided me with more food for thought then I can quickly digest, much less respond to quickly. For this I say thank you.

These comments came to mind as I was reading Fr Richard John Neuhaus's "The Conversion of England." Neuhaus's comments are part of his review of a new book by Adian Nichols, O.P. entitled Realm: An Unfashionable Essay on the Conversion of England," in which Nichols argues that the Catholic Church should pursue actively the conversion, or if you prefer, reconversion of England to the Catholic Church. After all, as Neuhaus observes:

From a Catholic perspective, the Church of England is a schismatic form of the Church in England that should be restored to full communion with the bishop of Rome and those in communion with the bishop of Rome. In this ecumenical age, to be sure, this is not usually stated so bluntly. Father Nichols' candid reopening of these questions is, as he says, unfashionable.

In an interesting turn, Neuhaus contrasts the argument made by Nichols with that made a 150 years earlier by John Henry Cardinal Newman. As Neuhaus tells it "While many followed Newman into full communion [with the Catholic Church], he was extremely cautious about encouraging conversions that were not as thoughtful or driven by theological and moral necessity as his own. And he was sharply critical of those who attacked the establishment of the Church of England."

What was Newman's motivation?

This reluctance to press for conversions was a constant in Newman's thought, as was his view that the Church of England was, while not part of the one true Church of Christ, a valuable "bulwark" against infidelity. This was joined, as students of Newman know, with his distinctly uncomplimentary view of the leadership of the predominantly Irish Catholicism in the England of that time. He did not think that leadership was up to replacing the religious and cultural establishment rooted in the Church of England.

But as Neuhaus observes neither Newman's England, nor Anglican Communion of his time, exist anymore:

More than a century and a half after Newman, the circumstance is dramatically different in which Father Aidan Nichols makes his "unfashionable" proposal. It is very doubtful that the Church of England is today a "breakwater" against infidelity. Many view it as a source of infidelity, or at least of doctrinal and moral frivolousness that undermines fidelity. Nor is it, as Newman thought it was in his day, a guarantor of national cohesion. In today's England, there are more churchgoing Catholics than Anglicans, and more observant Muslims than either.

In addition, the worldwide Anglican Communion, once anchored in the Church of England and thought to be a compelling reason for its preeminence, appears to be on the edge of dissolution. Moreover, with large numbers of English converts, plus large communities of committed Catholic immigrants from Central Europe and elsewhere, Catholicism is increasingly viewed as the only candidate to lead in the evangelization, or re-evangelization, of England. If the English are ever again to be something like a Christian people, Father Nichols' proposal appears to be less unfashionable than inevitable.

Having traveled in England (as well as Scotland and Ireland) as an undergraduate and, later as an adult and an Orthodox priest, I am hard press to deny Fr Neuhaus's observations. I would apply also his observation to Europe generally. Having taught theology for two years at Duquesne University and served as a college chaplain for some ten years, I think the situation in the United Kingdom is applicable to most Catholic and secular college and university campuses. And lest you think I am on a polemical jag, I would also apply Neuhaus's concerns about England to Greece, Russia and most traditionally Orthodox countries and yes, even to the Orthodox Church here in North America.

In other words, it is not simply the Anglican Communion that is struggling with doctrinal infidelity and the "moral frivolousness that undermines fidelity." There seems to be generally state of spiritual exhaustion in many parts of the Christian community.

So what are we to do?

Alasdair MacIntyre in his book After Virtue calls for a new St Benedict, or if you prefer, a restoration of monasticism, as key to the renewal of the spiritual life of the Christian community. My own experience as a mission priest leads me to believe that there is a great deal of merit in MacIntyre's proposal. Monasticism with its focus on community life, shared work, liturgical prayer, asceticism, material simplicity of life, mutual obedience to God and each other, and above all conversion of manners, is a powerful tool for not only evangelism, but also the ongoing formation and reformation of both the person and the community.

Most powerful in this model is they way in which it lends itself to seeing a mission parish not as an end in itself, but as a school of charity. As a school of charity, the mission parish is concerned not with its own numerical growth, but with preparing men and women to undertake their own ministry within the Body of Christ. Practically speaking, there are things a small community is better able to do then a large one.

Borrowing from St Benedict and modeling itself on the Holy Rule, one can think of a mission parish not as a community that will grow into a full parish (though it might), but as a formation community concerned with forming missionaries. In this model the community intentionally remains small, and poor, in order to offer a "noviate" for lay Christians. These men and women would eventually leave the mission for other, more established parishes, for seminary or the monastic life.

What I am purposing is this: Taking seriously the concerned outlined by Nichols, Neuhaus, MacIntrye and others could we not as Orthodox Christians (and, Catholics, Protestants and Evangelical Christians could do this as well), establishes mission communities whose mission is not to grow, but to form missionaries, lay catechists, seminarians, monastics vocations and above all active lay Christians committed to the work of the Church in all areas of life?

Your comments and questions are, as always, most welcome.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

You're Not On Drugs

You are on the Lawrence Welk Show. Look at this clip of "one of the newer songs," which is pretty much the ne plus ultra of clueless squaredom. Ah one and ah two and ah...



Do wait until the very end of the video for Lawrence Welk's characterization of the song.

Hat tip: Rod Dreher.

Going Out On A Limb

Looking at the comment boxes for the last few posts, especially the post where I reference Bradley Nassif's interview, it seems that the nature and the practice of the priesthood as well as the character of men we ordain to the priesthood are topics of more than passing interest. This of course is as it should be—we should exercise great care and concern over those who we put in positions of authority in the Church.

I think we can all agree that Nassif's statement about some Orthodox clergy not having a living relationship with Jesus Christ is shocking. It is that and more. The real question, whatever might be the inadequacies of how he expressed himself, is this: Is he correct? Is it possible to become a priest in the Orthodox Church and NOT have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?

Even a cursory reading of the disciplinary canons that pertain to the clergy would suggest that, yes, it is possible for a man to be ordained and have no real relationship with Jesus Christ. It is also possible for a man, after he is ordained, to lose that relationship.

Some have sought ordination out of pride or ambition. While I hope less common today, it was not unheard of for a man to become a priest because his dad was a priest. Still others come to holy orders in an attempt to overcome a deep inner void or lack of a sense of their own personal self-worth.

None of these necessarily preclude the man becoming not only a good priest, but even a saint. As with marriage, the man most grow into the office he receives at ordination. I hope that, after almost 23 years of marriage, I am a better husband to my wife then when we were first married. Likewise I hope that, after 11 years, I am a better priest then when I was first ordained.

In marriage and in ministry growth is not simply a matter of learning new things—though there is plenty of that in both. There is also a necessary purification of heart and an ever deepening understanding and appreciation of that to which Christ has called me. For this reason even the best of beginnings must be transcended, moving as we do in our spiritual life from "glory to glory."

A bad beginning then does not necessarily mean a bad ending.

At the same time, so much of what we do not simply as clergy, and even more fundamentally as Christians, necessarily flows out of both divine grace ("that makes up that which is lacking"), and our own character. Yes, there is the example of Balaam's ass (Num 22.1-35). Or if you prefer there is response given to the Pharisees who demand that Jesus silence His support that, "I tell you that if these should keep silent, the stones would immediately cry out." (Luke 19:40). So yes, through asses and stones, the Gospel can be proclaimed.

But this is not the whole of the story.

The Apostle Paul reminds us that the Gospel can be proclaimed with great profit by those motive by "envy and strife" and "selfish ambition" with the hope of "to add affliction." And "What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is preached; and in this I rejoice, yes, and will rejoice" (see for example, Phil 1.12-18). Great profit? Yes, but not for the unrepentant preaching who clings to his darker motives and allows them, often by neglect, to blot out the Light of Christ.

St Paul says the Church at Philippi:

Only let your conduct be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of your affairs, that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel, and not in any way terrified by your adversaries, which is to them a proof of perdition, but to you of salvation,
and that from God. For to you it has been granted on behalf of Christ, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake, having the same conflict which you saw in me and now hear is in me (vv. 27-30).

The Apostle enjoins us to bring our lives into conformity with the Gospel. Again, the proclamation of the Gospel is not dependent on human character. Failure to grasp this was the downfall of the Donatists. But my salvation is very much dependent on my character.

While certainly no one who has posted on this blog has done so, to remain indifferent to brother or sister in Christ who we know cannot remain chaste, or sober, or be trusted with money or children or something told in confidence is, at a minimum, irresponsible. More likely it is cruel since, even if they hurt no one else, they are hurting themselves.

I cannot prevent simple human failure in myself, much less others. Nor can I prevent grievous human sinfulness. Any attempt on my part to do so is not only doomed to failure, it is also very likely a sin on my part. Why? Because sin is the misuse of our freedom. I cannot in any absolute sense prevent you from sinning unless I curtail in some way your freedom.

But if prevention in the absolute sense is impossible, what is left?

My response.

Thinking a bit more deeply about Nassif's words, as well as the universally insightful comments offered in the comment box, the concern that each priest has a living relationship with Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour, is a moral and practical imperative because we love our spiritual fathers the clergy. Clergy will fail, even with the best of intention and education. How they, and we, respond to that failure will largely be determined by quality of the spiritual lives and character of those concerned.

If we fail to place the living, vibrant relationship of each member of the Church at the center of all we do then when the inevitable failures, in our clergy and in ourselves, happen, what resources do we really have?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Depression as an advantage?

Philip Dawdy over at Furious Seasons (which the author describes as "A blog about the crazy world of mental health and America"), has an interesting interview with Tom Wootten on depression as an advantage. Wootten is the author of The Depression Advantage (2007) and The Bipolar Advantage (2005). According to Dawdy, Wootten "has different ideas about how to address depression than does the rest of the Western world" and so he "recently interviewed him via email about his bold claim that depression is an advantage."

To give you an idea at what Wootten is getting at:

Depression is an advantage. What are you talking about?

How we choose to look at our experiences in life and how we react to them determines whether it is an advantage or a disadvantage. Depression is a very painful state that has a very real chance of killing you. Most people would say that it is the worst thing that ever happened to them. A few have chosen to use it as a catalyst that changed their lives while they gained power over it.

It is not the hardships we face that matter, it is what we become as a result of facing them. Some of the greatest people in history have said that depression is what made them great. The Depression Advantage is about facing our condition while accepting the possibility that we might gain from it instead of trying to hide from the experience. Avoidance leads to a diminished life where we live in fear that some day depression will return and we will not be able to handle it. When we learn from it we find that we gain power over it and it does not affect us the same as it used to.

Our first depression seemed impossible to survive, but as we experience deeper states we find that the level that first seemed impossible can now be managed very well. We can even help others because we understand it and can empathize with them. At least in lower levels, we gain an advantage over depression instead of it having the advantage over us. Taken to the extreme, Saint John of the Cross said that it was his "Dark Night of the Soul" that made him a saint.

Information on Wootton's integrative approach to depression can be found in the Success Center section of his bipolaradvantage.com website.

As I mention in my comment, both personally and pastorally I have found it of immense value to be able to integrate the darker moments of life into a wider context of meaning (what Wootten calls the "big circle'). As he says:

"Some people think that the problem is that we have wrong thinking. They propose that we catch ourselves thinking sad thoughts and replace them with happy thoughts, as if that is going to change the picture. It is the same as focusing on the two small circles. We will never fully understand our condition until we begin to focus on the big circle and find meaning in our experiences. As long as you think that sad thoughts are an illness you will not find the advantage of your condition.

"The example of our saints is that they got to a point that they were in the same state of oneness no matter what happened to their body or mind. Saint Francis was in incredible pain at the end of his life, yet had the ability to keep focused on the big picture. It is not that he was somehow separate from his experiences; he experienced them just as you and I would. But since he was focusing on the big picture, he was in bliss. Bliss is the state that is not affected by the duality.

"As our saints grew in understanding, they still experienced the pain, but from the perspective of bliss it did not affect them as much. That is why Saint Teresa said: 'All these illnesses now bother me so little that I am often glad, thinking the Lord is served by something.'

"It takes the perspective of extreme pain for some of us to see the truth of bliss. The Depression Advantage is that we have the chance to understand something that few ever will."

Surf over and take a look at Furious Seasons. Some of the things I agree with, others I need to think about. Having cut my theoretical teeth through my readings in the anti-psychiatric movement, I find Furious Seasons well worth my time.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

p.s., You can find my comments on Wootten in the comment section of the post.

+FrG

Do the Orthodox "Know the Gospel"?

Over at The Path, there is an interesting post on an issue near and dear to my heart: the spiritual formation and discipleship of Orthodox Christians. Here are my comments on the post Do the Orthodox "Know the Gospel"?

First of all, thank you for this post!

I think that, even more pressing then bring new people into the Church is our retention of the people that we have.

Having listened to the interview (click here to listen: Is There A 'Revolving Door' In The Orthodox Church") with Dr Bradley Nassif (click on Dr Nassif's name to read the article he wrote on this subject of Word magazine) and reading over Matthew Gallatin's comments, I find myself leaning more toward the former.

I appreciate, and agree with, Gallatin that those who leave the Church "either didn’t understand, or were unwilling to shoulder, . . . the tremendous responsibility that comes with being Orthodox." But this it seems to me leaves a number of questions not only unanswered, but even asked. Specifically, how were those who leave catechized?

It is not unheard of for someone to be received after only a few months, or even weeks, after they approach the priest. How many times are people received without even any formal instruction in the faith?

Then there is the question of the community. It is one thing to welcome converts, it is another thing to actually integrate them into the community and nurture their growth in the faith.

In the early Church the catechumenate lasted years. It was proceeded by a period of inquiry and followed by a period of further instruction (mystagogy). Even assuming that all our clergy and faithful are personally committed to Christ, we can't neglect the fundamentals of a serious period of instruction for inquirers, catechumens and the newly illumined.

And this must happen within a community that is itself committed to integrating new members. This means that it is not simply converts who need to change, we need to change as well.

Many of those who were baptized as infants have for all practical purposes fallen away. Unreasonably we seem to think that parishes that have an uneven record of fostering a personal commitment to Christ in those born into Orthodox families are able to do so with adult converts.

Convincing someone of the truth of the Orthodox faith, in my experience at least, is relatively easy. it is much harder to take people through the often long and labor intensive process of being inquirers, catechumens and then provide them, as newly illumined members of the Church, with the spiritual formation that they need to grow into mature, committed Orthodox Christians who place Christ at the center of their lives.

Again, thank you for the post--it is a issue that, like you and many in the Church, I am very concerned with.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Great Catholic author coming to town

From fellow blogger Mike Aquilina of Way of the Fathers, I have received the following announcement. If you are in the area and can make the time, why not stop by?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

One of my favorite writers on early Christianity is Fr. Michael Giesler, author of the novels Junia and Marcus, both set in second-century Rome. They're great page-turners of the Ben Hur/Quo Vadis variety, and they deserve a wide audience. Fr. Giesler is coming to our town, and I hope you'll be able to meet him (and pick up his books) at one of his appearances. The dates and times follow.

THURSDAY, FEB. 7

8:30 p.m. — Lecture, "The Glory of the Early Christians: Family Life and the Gift of Celibacy," Gentile Gallery, Franciscan University of Steubenville

FRIDAY, FEB. 8

11 am — Mass at Aquinas Academy (2308 West Hardies Road, Wildwood, PA 15091)

12 noon – 2 pm — Booksigning in lobby of Aquinas Academy

3-5 pm — Booksigning at Kirners Bookstore (219 4th Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA 15222)

Fr. Giesler holds a doctorate in sacred theology and an advanced degree in philosophy. In addition to his novels, he has published many scholarly articles.

Please spread the word! If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask me.

Tag! I’m It?

I've been tagged!

From: Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Black Swan: The Impact of the HIGHLY IMPROBABLE. New York: Random House, 2007, p. 123.

His big insight is that bank employees who sell you a house that's not theirs just don't care as much as the owners; Tony knew very rapidly how to talk to them and maneuver. Later, he also learned to buy and sell gas stations with money borrowed from small neighborhood banks.

Tony has this remarkable habit of trying to make a buck effortlessly, just for entertainment, without straining, without office work, without meeting, just by melding his deals into his private life.

Here are the rules:

Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. (No cheating!)
Find Page 123.
Find the first 5 sentences.
Post the next 3 sentences.
Tag 5 people.

I tag Irenaeus, Sherry W., Fr John W Fenton, Stephen Paul, Fr Tim Finigan.

A SWOT Analysis for the Priesthood?

A few weeks ago one of the members of the parish I currently serve suggested that it would be helpful to do a SWOT Analysis focusing on the ministry of Orthodox priests.

"A what kind of analysis?" you ask. 'A SWOT Analysis," I answer.

Wikipedia, that online encyclopedia of, well, just about everything, says this about SWOT analysis:

SWOT Analysis, is a strategic planning tool used to evaluate the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats involved in a project or in a business venture. It involves specifying the objective of the business venture or project and identifying the internal and external factors that are favorable and unfavorable to achieving that objective. The technique is credited to Albert Humphrey, who led a research project at Stanford University in the 1960s and 1970s {using data from Fortune 500 companies}.

As I've thought about what such an examination of the priesthood might look like, I've been stymied as to how I might try and characterized the goals of the priesthood in a manner that lend themselves to any sort of strategic analysis. After all, the goal of the priesthood is the salvation of the human race.

Yes, we can try and break that down into steps, but even this lends itself to a rather broad range of skills that characterized Orthodox Christian priestly ministry. What reading I've done that focuses offers any sort of analysis of priestly pastoral ministry tends to assume, often unintentionally, a particular type of priestly service, specifically parochial ministry. Assuming that this is the norm for the priesthood (itself a debatable proposition), the first question that we might want to ask is this:

Is there a normative model of the parish? In other words, do we even have a model or touchstone parish against which we can evaluate not only the ministry of the priest, but the life of the parish?

The answer, I would suggest, is no.

After all when we say "the parish" do we proceed in our analysis based on the needs of a large, wealthy suburban ethnic parish?

Or, do we want to do our analysis with a small, relatively poor convert mission parish as our touchstone?

Or possible, we want to proceed with an eye towards the priest serving an older, graying community in decline?

And, to complicate matters further, who decides what needs are legitimate, and how do he, she or they, make this determination?

You no doubt are coming to see some of the challenges that face us when we undertake any type of analysis of the priesthood.

In my own ministry I have served all three of the communities I just described. While this gives me a fairly broad range of pastoral experience, I also realize that I have a fairly minimal understanding of parish life here in the US. Actually, if there is anything I have taken away from my pastoral experience is that there really isn't a "typical" (in the sense of normative) Orthodox parish in the U.S. One advantage that I might claim for myself is that—again because I've served in a variety of circumstances—I know that there isn't a typical parish and so I am on guard against generalizing my experience to the broader Church.

Especially when we turn our analytic attentions to a complex (and vague) social situation we need to be guard that we don't succumb to what psychologist call confirmation bias. In a nutshell, confirmation bias is the tendency we all have of only paying attention to (or to over valuing) evidence that supports our experience.

At the same time we often ignore (or minimize) evidence that disagrees with our preconceptions. Or, as I will tell people, the joy of being a psychologist is not that I am unbiased, but that I am differently biased, when it comes to parish ministry.

So where might we wish to being an analysis of the priesthood?

Let me suggest that where we might want to being is with a consideration of marriage and its relationship to priestly ministry. I would invite your comments on this as I work towards as further, and later, elucidation of the goals of a SWOT Analysis of the priesthood.

It might be very instructive for both clergy and lay leaders to think about the priesthood both as the fruit of marriage (which is the biblical model) and in relationship to its effects on marriage. Do we, for example, foster the kind of marriage among our clergy that the Scriptures say is the prerequisite for ordination?

I will offer more thoughts later, hopefully with your input.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

13,000 +

Hey the blog broke 13,000 hits today! Thanks everybody!

If you could, please encourage people to take a look at the blog, maybe even leave a comment or two. I realize it is purely vanity on my part, but it'd be great to break 15,000 hits by the end of the month.

So what d'ya say? Want to help put me over the top?

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

“Spiritual Ecumenicism, Empathy and Christian Unity”

One of the themes I am interested in addressing on this blog is what some call "spiritual ecumenism" or the reconciliation of divided Christendom through the mutual appreciation of the gifts found in different Christian communities. John Allen in his weekly online column makes a number of interesting points on just this topic as part of his coverage of events in Rome for the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.

Allen begins with a summary and analysis of Walter Cardinal Kasper lecture this past "Thursday afternoon at the Centro Pro Unione, in an event co-sponsored by the Friars of the Atonement along with the Lay Centre in Rome and the Vincent Pallotti Institute." While Allen characterizes the talk as the "by now become more or less his standard stump speech," there was also one (and I would say more than one) "striking note" in Kasper's presentation

According to Allen, Kasper drew an "explicit link . . . between ecumenism as largely intra-Christian effort, and ecumenism as a witness of reconciliation and peace to the broader world." At its best, ecumenical dialog between Christians bears witness to our own respective communities and the larger human family of what Kasper calls "eschatological shalom," or the lasting peace that comes as a free gift from God only. In Kasper's own words:

In a century which was one of the most dark and bloody ones, where two world wars cost the lives of millions, where two totalitarian systems and many dictatorships produced countless innocent victims, Christians stand up to overcome their centuries-old divisions, giving witness to the fact that despite guilt on all sides, reconciliation is possible.

For Kasper, ecumenical discussions over the last 100 years are "a light shining in the darkness, and a powerful peace movement." The evangelical and eschatological witness of ecumenicism, however, is not primarily a matter of modeling what might call good communication skills or an expression of an appropriate approach to conflict resolution. Rather, the power of ecumenical witness is grounded in "Spiritual empathy [the] inside understanding of a different and initially strange Christian and ecclesial form of life as well as an intimate understanding from the inside."

This empathy, this attempt at understanding Christians in other traditions, is not "a form of compromising doctrinal relativism." Far from it in fact. Understanding is impossible if one simply abandons "one's own identity in favour of an ecumenical 'hotch-potch.'" Real spiritual empathy for each other does not aim at finding "the lowest common denominator." Such an approach to ecumenicism results, at best, in the "spiritual impoverishment" of at least one side. And because they have denied their own gifts, the impoverished side also has effectively denied to its dialog partner the possibility of growing in how they understand themselves and their own tradition.

The goal rather of spiritual empathy is the "mutual spiritual enrichment" of those who seek to understand each other from within. In such an encounter, Kasper says, "we discover the truth of the other as our own truth. So through the ecumenical dialogue the Spirit leads us into the whole truth; he heals the wounds of our divisions and bestows us with full catholicity."

The standard by which we come to recognize an authentic spirituality of ecumenism according to Kasper is Pneumatological:

To think that the Spirit would not bring to an end and to fulfilment the work he initiated, would be pusillanimity. Ecumenism needs magnanimity and hope. I am convinced that, as long as we do all we can, God's Spirit will give to us one day this renewed Pentecost.

Later in the same article, Allen quotes Fr Nicholas Lossky, a Russian Orthodox priest serving in Paris. Fr Nicholas addresses in a more practical way what Kasper outlines theoretically.

Fr Nicholas is clear that the goal of ecumenicism is "the restoration, or the installation, of visible unity in a single Eucharist." I share Fr Nicholas's skepticism, however, of ecumenical prayer services that are simply a "mix and match" of elements from different Christian traditions. "For my part," Fr Nicholas writes, "I think it would be much more edifying to come together in a church and to participate there in the office of vespers of that church, whether it's Catholic, Orthodox, Lutheran, Reformed, Anglican, Baptist or Pentecostal." Why? because it is only "In that way, [that] we truly learn the way in which the 'other' prays."

As I have said in earlier posts, I do not wish to minimize the importance of formal, theological dialog. At the same time, and especially on the grassroots level, ecumenical encounters must proceed along a path that allows for the mutual spiritual enrichment of Christians of different traditions. To be of value in this way, we must take seriously the ascetical task of empathy for one for another. As we search for such an empathetic encounter, we must guard against any form of relativism. Far from expressing a concern for the other, or a respect for our differences, relativism dismisses our differences and (in so doing) dissolves both our own uniqueness and that of our dialog partners.

In a marriage it is easy to lose sight of the fact that a disagreement is not about who is right and who is wrong in any absolute sense. Disagreements between husband and wife are, or at least should be, reflect their mutual attempt to discern together God's call for their shared life. Thinking about a divided Christendom in terms of marriage is helpful for me. In the Orthodox Church we have a service for the restoration for a marriage of those who have been divorced. It is a brief service, the central part of which is this prayer said by the priest:

Master, lover of mankind, King of the ages and Creator of all things, who destroyed the middle wall of enmity and granted peace to the human race, we pray and implore you, look on your servants, N. and N., pour your blessing upon them. Restore the peace that had been troubled and plant in their hearts love for each other. Bestow richly on them spiritual calm and life unassailed, so that, having lived out their days in calm of soul, they may enjoy your own good things and glorify you, alone God of love and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom belong all glory, honour and worship, now and for ever, and to the ages of ages.

We can leave for another day the difference in Orthodox and Catholic pastoral practice in the face of divorce. But for now, it seems to me that whatever other lesson we ought to draw from the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, we ought to first mourn that, because of our own sinfulness, Christians remain divided. For this reason, we are like the divorced, but not as yet, reconciled couple. Following the example of those who reconcile after the tragedy of divorce, we must ask God to restore to divided Christendom "the peace that had been troubled and plant in [our] hearts love for each other."

Most importantly we should cling to the reality that God is All-Merciful and that, as the prayer above suggests, He longs to destroy "the middle way of enmity" between us and through us grant "peace to the human race." If we allow God to do so, we will pour out on us and our communities, "spiritual calm and life unassailed" so that we may live out our "days in calm of soul" enjoying together the many "good things" He has given us each in the other.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Harry Potter and Ministry Where the Music Doesn't Matter

S. M. Hutchens has a provocative post on Touchstone's blog "Mere Comments." In his essay, "The Helpful Discovery of Dirt in Potter's Field," he reflects on the recent Christian criticism of the Harry Potter novels. He writes:

I recently read yet another Christian complaint about Harry Potter. The critic's thesis was that Joanna Rowling is a "contemporary transgressive artist par excellence," who holds lightly to the canons of Judeo-Christian morality and of traditional children's literature in the west, the Potter tales being a catalog of rule-breaking, disobedience, lying, vengeance-taking, and whatnot, its final installation containing the revelation of the Snape-Dumbledore murder-suicide pact that insinuates euthanasia into the minds of children--not to mention that all of this is done in a pagan context by witches and wizards, no less.

My reaction was--yes--but did he miss something? Like the Point of it All?

One wonders just what kind of literature a person like this can read. Must everything be reduced to black and white, not only with unwelcome details smoothed over, but with tools that, by neutralizing elements the critic prefers not to see in his desire to define the work by the ones he finds obnoxious, guts it and renders invisible the message of the whole?

He observes that, whatever might be the moral flaws we see in Harry Potter, he is certainly a type of Christ and "Christian children who are old enough to read Harry Potter are old enough to understand the imperfections of heroes, and judge the flaws of literary characters." But for this to happen children must be "given the standards by which to render the judgments." He continues:

Shall we train their instincts to flee imperfect human beings rather than love and embrace them--not for the imperfection, but in spite of it--in hope of redemption, both of their imperfect selves and those they embrace? If we train them to flee, those who castigate our faith for making people who hate first themselves, and then by extension, others, are quite correct about our faith, but wrong in thinking it Christian.

Hutchens then turns his attention to Jesus Christ. He writes:

Given what we are shown of our Lord in the Gospels, I strongly suspect if he were accurately depicted by friendly and sympathetic eyes in accounts that did not have the status of holy scripture, and without the overlay of piety, we would see a good, but flawed, perhaps deeply and fatally flawed, man. He would not in fact have the imperfections we would lay to his account, but he would be far from measuring up to our expectations for a perfect man. He would not be prudent enough, respectful enough, humble enough, patient enough, pious enough, obedient enough, considerate enough, or kind enough to be God Incarnate (and only rarely are we visited by the capacity to admit that we secretly attribute the same flaws to God himself).

Even though we would notice prodigies of all these virtues in him, we would also see evidence of their lack in certain instances--of inconsistency. We would see his tragic end on the cross as heroic, perhaps, but it would not surprise us, given certain qualities we had observed--connected, perhaps, with persisting questions about the moral uprightness of his parentage. It is for this reason he can be represented to us, while imperfectly, in stories of imperfect heroes; it is why these stories lead back to him. It is because we are what we are, and Almighty God has regarded our low estate.

Thinking on this, I realize that the problem that many have with Harry Potter, and which many more of us have with those in positions of authority in the Church, or with humanity more generally, is really a Christological problem. It is not Harry Potter, or the bishop or the priest or the parish council or the people I met at church on Sunday that is my problem, but the with the uncomfortable truth that Jesus entrusts the Gospel to "imperfect heroes, or heroes we may easily assume share our imperfections, handsome princes though they may be."

During Liturgy this morning, I was blessed to have the presence of Deacon James Gresh (he and his family recently returned to the States after 5 years in China for the Deacon's job) and so had a bit more time to reflect during the service. I found myself lamenting my inability to get Orthodox liturgical music into my head. For whatever reason, I just can't quite ever learn the music that I've heard week after week for the last 15 years.

As I thought about this I began to realize that maybe, just maybe, I can't learn the Church's music because God has not called me to serve in those situation in which the Church's music is most important.

Thinking on this a bit more I began to wonder, how often do we limit our service to those situations where the "Church's music" is important? How often do we, do I, close my heart to the voice of Christ because I do not want to go to those place were the "music matters"? When I go place where the wealth of the Christian doesn't matter, I have to go without the security of my position in the Church and the concealing cloak of Tradition. When that cloak is taken away, what else is there to see but that Christ has called an "imperfect hero" or a "handsome," if flawed prince?

Certainly the Tradition of the Church, her music, her theology, her liturgy, is a great blessing. Too easily though we assume that Christ calls us to serve only in those areas where the Tradition is important, where, if you will, it is the music that matters, that is to say, where we are important.

But isn't this simply preaching to the choir? What do we read in the Gospel:

Then He went out again by the sea; and all the multitude came to Him, and He taught them. As He passed by, He saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax office. And He said to him, "Follow Me." So he arose and followed Him. Now it happened, as He was dining in Levi's house, that many tax collectors and sinners also sat together with Jesus and His disciples; for there were many, and they followed Him. And when the scribes and Pharisees saw Him eating with the tax collectors and sinners, they said to His disciples, "How is it that He eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners?" When Jesus heard it, He said to them, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance." (Mark 2.13-17)

If Jesus followed what seems to be the mindset of many Orthodox Christians, it is doubtful that Matthew (or any of us) would be His disciple(s). Unlike us, Jesus did not limit Himself to where the "music matters" and so we have been admitted to the Heavenly Choir along with our Jewish brothers and sisters.

Failing to understand that I cannot limit the Gospel to those times and places where the "music matters" is to repeat the mistake of many in Israel at the time of Jesus. The Apostle Paul in Romans warns us of this. He writes:

I say then, have they stumbled that they should fall? Certainly not! But through their fall, to provoke them to jealousy, salvation has come to the Gentiles. Now if their fall is riches for the world, and their failure riches for the Gentiles, how much more their fullness! For I speak to you Gentiles; inasmuch as I am an apostle to the Gentiles, I magnify my ministry, if by any means I may provoke to jealousy those who are my flesh and save some of them. For if their being cast away is the reconciling of the world, what will their acceptance be but life from the dead? For if the first fruit is holy, the lump is also holy; and if the root is holy, so are the branches. And if some of the branches were broken off, and you, being a wild olive tree, were grafted in among them, and with them became a partaker of the root and fatness of the olive tree, do not boast against the branches. But if you do boast, remember that you do not support the root, but the root supports you. You will say then, "Branches were broken off that I might be grafted in." Well said. Because of unbelief they were broken off, and you stand by faith. Do not be haughty, but fear. For if God did not spare the natural branches, He may not spare you either. Therefore consider the goodness and severity of God: on those who fell, severity; but toward you, goodness, if you continue in His goodness. Otherwise you also will be cut off. And they also, if they do not continue in unbelief, will be grafted in, for God is able to graft them in again. For if you were cut out of the olive tree which is wild by nature, and were grafted contrary to nature into a cultivated olive tree, how much more will these, who are natural branches, be grafted into their own olive tree? (11:11-24)

Harry Potter evokes such harsh responses from Christian critics for much the same reason we want to only go to those places where the "music matters."

We have lost sight of the fact that the mission of the Gentiles is a mission to the wild olive branches, to those people and places where the music simply doesn't matter, at least yet. And it is a mission that has been entrusted by Christ to us who are imperfect heroes and handsome, if flawed, princes and princesses.

"It is no coincidence the keys to the Kingdom," Hutchens writes, "were delivered to the most robustly flawed of all Christ's disciples." When I limit my service to those places where the "music matters," I perform a bit of sleight of hand. I trick myself in to believing that, maybe, just maybe, in my case at least, Christ has not called a "robustly flawed" man to be His disciple. And maybe, just maybe, in my case, I can be that perfect hero, that handsome prince without flaws.

But, and again as Hutchens's astutely observes, when I do this I "sanitized" the Gospel according "to [my own] standards" and so will "never look like the Lord."

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Sunday, January 20, 2008 (Luke 18:35-43): The Healing of the Blind man

Then it happened, as He was coming near Jericho, that a certain blind man sat by the road begging. And hearing a multitude passing by, he asked what it meant. So they told him that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. And he cried out, saying, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Then those who went before warned him that he should be quiet; but he cried out all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" So Jesus stood still and commanded him to be brought to Him. And when he had come near, He asked him, saying, "What do you want Me to do for you?" He said, "Lord, that I may receive my sight." Then Jesus said to him, "Receive your sight; your faith has made you well." And immediately he received his sight, and followed Him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God (Luke 18:35-43).

The more I try and ground my preaching in the words of the fathers, the more I come to appreciate the fathers as preachers, as pastors whose main concern is the healing of souls and bodies of the consequences of Adam's transgression. And what I am most struck by is not simply the reverence, but the fearless and even playfulness, with which the fathers approach the text of Holy Scripture.

Take for example St Ambrose in his Exposition of the Gospel of Luke (8.80). It does not concern him that, while St Matthew relates that Jesus heals two blind men, "Luke depicts one." He then proceeds to bring to the fore the other differences between the two Gospels: Where "Matthew depicts [the miracle] as Jesus was leaving Jericho (Mt 20.30), but Luke [depicts it] as he was approaching the city." Ambrose then says something that, to the contemporary reader at least, is nonsensical: "Otherwise there was no difference" between the two writers. For most of us the question of whether or not there were two blind men or one, and whether the healing happened as Jesus was leaving or entering Jericho is of great importance. If the Gospel writers can't agree on these rather simply facts, how can we trust them on the weightier matters that pertain to our salvation?

But these differences don't matter to Ambrose. Why?

Or maybe, a better question is why do they matter to me? What did Ambrose see that I'm missing? I'll tell you unlike me, Ambrose read the Scriptures with faith.

Contemporary readers want the Scriptures to be a newspaper, a history or science textbook. We want this because we fancy our "objective view" of history and current events. But what is it that we mean when we imagine that what we are saying is "objective"?

There is a curious pride in our attempt at a journalistic reading of Scripture. The contemporary notion of the objective observer whose view of the world is one not influenced by outside facts, is a view of the human person divorced from community and tradition. To say that I am "objective observer" is fundamentally different from saying that I am telling the truth. Objectivity (in the modern sense) is based on my separation from others—really my intentional isolation from them. It is only a consequence of my isolation from the human community, or so the thinking goes, that I am able to understand reality better then my neighbor.

And the sin is that I allow myself to believe that it is this insight born of separation that best serves the common good.

In other words, for the modern mind we are most fully human not through love and communion, but through separation and isolation. It is alienation not fellowship that is the defining characteristic of the contemporary view of the human person. This anthropological model holds that I know you best not when I draw close to you in love, but stand far from you. This is does not place dispassion (apatheia) at the center of human life, but indifference.

These notions are utter foreign to Ambrose and the Tradition of the Church East and West. The goal of human life is not objectivity modeled on the scientist in the laboratory, but our willingness to "proclaim the truth in love" (compare, Eph 4:15). This demands from me not simply an what I say be objectively valid, but also, and primarily, my subjective commitment to be for others as Jesus is for me and for the whole human community.

Think of this in terms of the Apostle Paul. His commitment is not simply to the truth of the Gospel, but also for the salvation of the Jewish people, of his people. So what does he say?

I tell the truth in Christ, I am not lying, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Spirit, that I have great sorrow and continual grief in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my countrymen according to the flesh, who are Israelites, to whom pertain the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the service of God, and the promises; of whom are the fathers and from whom, according to the flesh, Christ came, who is over all, the eternally blessed God. Amen (Rom 9:1-5).

No for Ambrose and for the fathers in general, we read Scripture not simply within the Church, as if the tradition of the Church existed objectively like a mathematical rule, but within the matrix formed by Christ's love for us and our own love for Him and each other. This is a love that, in its purest form, would forgo even my own salvation for the salvation of others.

It is the absence of this commitment that blinds me to the
truth of Scripture, the Gospel, and the life of the Church. And it is this blindness that keeps me from acting as I ought when called upon by Christ to do.

But if we, to borrow one of the petitions from the various litanies we hear in the services, remember "our most holy, pure, blessed, and glorious Lady, the Theotokos and ever virgin Mary," and "with all the saints, let us commit (or, "commend," or "entrust") ourselves and one another and our whole life to Christ our God" well then things can be different.

Whether intentionally or not, when we try and rationalize or justify the differences in the Gospels, we do so because we have fallen into a trap—we have allowed ourselves to act as if human reason were separate from divine grace. Faith and reason are not separate; they mutual presuppose each other as the two wings by which we ascend to God in response to His invitation.

And through the exercise of a faith-filled reason and a reasonable faith, we begin to see that whether Jesus healed two men or one, whether He did so while he was on His way out of Jericho or His way out, or whether Matthew is recounting one event and Luke another, is simply not the point. Rather what matters is that "the Gentiles," those of us born outside God's covenant with Israel, have through "the divine blessing received the clarity" of faith. So Ambrose continues:

It makes no difference whether the Gentile people received the healing through one or two blind men since, taking the origin from Ham and Japheth, sons of Noah, they set out the two others of their race in two blind men.

St Cyril of Alexandria reminds us that the healing of our spiritual blindness, like the healing of physical blindness, "cannot be . . . by human means but requires, . . . a divine power and an authority such as God only possesses" (Commentary on Luke, Homily 126).

When we read the Scriptures we are like the blind man in the Gospel. When Jesus approaches him the blind man cried out and said, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." Meditating on this St Ephrem the Syrian (Commentary on Tatian's Diatessaron, 15.22) says that "The beggar's hand was stretched out to receive a penny from human beings and found himself receiving the gift of God!" We receive from God more than we can imagine, but because of our, my, lack of faith I do not know what it is that I have already in Christ.

According to Ephrem, "Christ did not say to him, 'It is your faith that has caused you to see,' in order to show that faith had given him life and then bodily sight." Faith is not what we see, but is a way of seeing. Faith is not objective (in the sense I used that word a moment ago) as much as it transformative. Faith does not show us new things, but renews our understanding of God, of self, of neighbor and the creation. Faith shows us that all that is, is held together in God and that it is divine love which unites creation.

And it is our love of God and neighbor that brings us into the great all encompassing communion.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Spiegel Online: Metropolitian KYRIL on Orthodox/Catholic Relations

SPIEGEL: Could you envision a reunification of the Orthodox and the Roman Catholic Church, which have now been separated for close to 1,000 years?

Kyrill: The division is a consequence of human sin. In this respect it resembles a divorce. The Christian West and the Christian East parted ways because they believed that they didn't need each other anymore. Reunification can only achieved through spiritual rapprochement. It doesn't matter how many documents we sign. Unless we have the feeling that we love each other, that we are one family, and that each member needs the other, it will not materialize.

SPIEGEL: When will the long-awaited meeting between Pope Benedict and the head of your church, Patriarch Alexei, take place?

Kyrill: Our relations have improved since Benedict became pope. He has stricken the issue of a visit to Moscow from the agenda. This sort of visit would not have solved any problems, but it would have provoked new ones. Many of the faithful in Russia mistrust Catholics. This is a legacy of the wars and of proselytization efforts in the 17th and 18th centuries.

SPIEGEL: Could you imagine the pope and the patriarch meeting in a third country, essentially on neutral ground?

Kyrill: It's certainly possible. The entire development in bilateral relations is moving in the direction of such a meeting coming about.

SPIEGEL: The fact that the pope is no longer Polish ought to make him more palatable to the Russians.

Kyrill: In this case, I would like to give you an official response: Nationality is unimportant.

SPIEGEL: Your Eminence, thank you for this interview.

Why the Orthodox Need Augustine and Augustanism (Part II)

For Augustine, and the theological tradition that is heir to his work,

justification is an event that recurs many times in life, beginning with baptism and repeated every time we truly repent of our sins and are forgiven—in contrast to the classic Protestant doctrine of a single event of justification that is closely connected with, if not identical to, a once-in-a-lifetime conversion.

Cary argues that, Luther, like Aquinas, understands justification as a "repeated event in which the righteousness of God [to quote Luther] 'is given to men in baptism and whenever they are truly repentant' (from his famous sermon "On Two Kinds of Righteousness," LW 31:297)." One this score, at least, Cary argues "that Luther is, . . . , not quite Protestant (cf. Pro Ecclesia, Fall 2005)," and I would suggest compatible with Orthodox anthropology. Like Aquinas, Luther teaches that

the first time one is justified is in baptism (which is itself a form of repentance) and then all subsequent events of justification are also results of repentance . . . consists of nothing other than a "return to baptism."

As I have alluded to in the past, I think that one of the great shortcomings of Orthodox Christian scholarship is our neglect of what David Tracy calls fundamental theology, or that area of theology that "deals with the most basic questions. How is God revealed in nature and human experience? Is the reality and nature of God, which Christian faith claims has been revealed, true?" Especially important here is comparative work in theological anthropology.

For reasons which are not clear to me, there is a curious indifference, and at times open hostility, to conversations about anthropology and psychology. Combine this with a generally lack of a sound intellectual formation in philosophy, and it not surprising at all that, like many contemporary readers of Augustine, Orthodox Christians are often blind to our own "hidden assumptions." Cary's observation about justification in Augustine and later Western theology is, I suspect, new information for many Orthodox Christians:

So when someone asks whether justification is an event or a process, the first thing to notice is what the question implicitly leaves out. Typically the hidden assumption is that "event" means a once-in-a-lifetime conversion, not repeated events of repentance and forgiveness. Indeed, typically the default position is assumed to be that justification is a one-time event, and the person asking the question wants to know whether justification might also involve a process stretching beyond the one-time event. So the first thing to say to such a question is that it takes for granted the novel Protestant view that justification is a one-time event, which is not even shared by Luther, much less by Aquinas or Augustine or any previous Christian theologian.

If Cary's essay on Augustine is any indication, while there are difference between Orthodox Christians and Roman Catholics, and between Orthodox and Protestant and Evangelical Christians, the differences are not as absolute as we often assume. Again Cary:

Having clarified that point, you can say: yes, justification is an event, but one that happens many times in life, just like Aquinas and Luther teach. But it's best to leave Augustine out of this discussion. If you asked him whether justification was a process or an event, he'd be utterly baffled, since he shares none of the key assumptions lurking behind the question. If you wanted to give him a sense of what the 16th-century questions mean, you'd need to take a different approach. You could ask, for instance: when you pray for grace or forgiveness of sins, how do you know God will give it to you? Do you know? These are not the kind of questions Augustine actually asked, but they make good sense in an Augustinian context, and it was such questions that drove Luther to the doctrine of justification and the promises of the Gospel, which he first found in sacramental absolution.

Often I am told by my Greek friends that there are things in the liturgical tradition that can only be expressed in Greek. For this reason translation of the liturgical texts is not possible since translation would means losing some its theological richness. This is no doubt true, but it leaves examined the possibility that, as with the introduction of the term homousian, translation also brings with it the possibility of discovering a new richness in the tradition. Yes, there are some things that can only be expressed in Greek, but there are also some things which we may only be able to express in English. Likewise I think we must entertain the possibility that there are some things which only Augustine and his theological heirs, we able to give expression.

A vision of justification and sanctification ground in the sacraments, but sensitive to human psychology and our response to grace, is one of those things, or so it seems to me.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Why the Orthodox Need Augustine and Augustanism (Part I)

One of the areas of favorite themes of Orthodox anti-Catholics polemics is Western Christianity's dependence upon the thought of St Augustine and West's subsequent deviation from sound theological anthropology. Having first read Augustine in college some 30 years ago (where has the time gone?), I have always had trouble recognizing the Augustine I encountered in his Confessions, On Free Choice of Will, the City of God, On the Trinity, the First Catechetical Instruction and myriad sermons with the "other" Augustine who figures so prominently in Orthodox polemics.

What brought all this to mind was a post this morning on Pontificator of Eastern University philosophy professor Phillip Cary's essay on "Augustine and Justification." Cary is a well regarded Augustine scholar who has done much to help me come to appreciate ever more fully Augustine genius. In response to the charge that Augustine is the "father" of Western legalism, Cary (rightly I think) observes that:

To ask about Augustine's view of justification is already something of an anachronism. To begin with, Augustine does not make a distinction between justification and sanctification. Of course he speaks a great deal about righteousness (i.e. justitia) and holiness (i.e. sanctitas) but these terms are not related to each other the way the later Protestant tradition relates justification and sanctification. That distinction comes much later. Indeed, it's only beginning to emerge in Calvin himself (e.g. Inst. 3:14.9). What later Calvinists call sanctification, Calvin himself will often call regeneration or repentance (ibid. 3:3 passim), which can get rather confusing.

Unlike later authors, Augustine does not "distinguish between an event of justification and a process of sanctification." Rather in Augustine's mind, what would later be called "justification, so far as he discusses it at all, is not a particular event but the activity of God throughout our lives." While not exempt from criticism on other points, he articulates a catholic (i.e., "wholistic") anthropology that envisions the Christian life as "a journey, pilgrimage or road to God . . . , in which we grow closer to God by growing in charity." Righteousness (justitia) for him "consists in obeying the twofold law of love" of God and neighbor as ourselves.

Cary does an admirable and economic job of tracing out Augustine's view of conversion, justification and sanctification; he also distinguishes them from later medieval and Reformation era speculation on these themes. For Orthodox readers of Augustine, what is especially interesting is Cary's argument that, for example, Calvin's emphasis on conversion flows out of his "rejection of the Catholic side of Augustine" work. For Augustine, "justification is not an event but a process." It is only later, during the "middle ages [that] the term 'justification' came to be used to describe the outcome of penance—especially sacramental penance (cf. e.g. Aquinas, Summa Theologica III 85.6 ad 3 and I-II 113.1)." Again, while not exempt from Orthodox criticism, it is important to bear in that during the medieval era justification was understood in sacramental terms.

Yes, it is certainly the case today, that justification is understood primarily psychological terms, but it is only because it has become detached from its sacramental mooring. Augustine, Aquinas, and even Luther, or so I hope to show in my next post, had a much more holistic view of justification then what we find in much of contemporary theology. And I think that Orthodox thought would profit by taking seriously the insights of Augustine's sacramental spiritual psychology.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Christ is Born!

Christ is Born!

Apolytikion for the Feast
Thy Nativity, O Christ our God, hath shined the light of knowledge upon the world; for thereby they that worshipped the stars were instructed by a star to worship Thee, the Sun of Righteousness, and to know Thee, the Dayspring from on high. O Lord, glory be to Thee.

Kontakion for the Feast
Today, the Virgin bears Him who is transcendent, and the earth presents the cave to Him who is beyond reach. Angels, along with shepherds glorify Him. The Magi make their way to Him by a star. For a new child has been born for us, the God before all ages.

Thank you to all who have spent time here.

I will resume blogging after the New Year.

Wishing you and yours a Very Blessed and Merry Christmas!

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

SUNDAY BEFORE THE NATIVITY (Mt 1.1-25): Joseph Listens

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham: Abraham begot Isaac, Isaac begot Jacob, and Jacob begot Judah and his brothers. Judah begot Perez and Zerah by Tamar, Perez begot Hezron, and Hezron begot Ram. Ram begot Amminadab, Amminadab begot Nahshon, and Nahshon begot Salmon. Salmon begot Boaz by Rahab, Boaz begot Obed by Ruth, Obed begot Jesse, and Jesse begot David the king. David the king begot Solomon by her who had been the wife of Uriah. Solomon begot Rehoboam, Rehoboam begot Abijah, and Abijah begot Asa. Asa begot Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat begot Joram, and Joram begot Uzziah. Uzziah begot Jotham, Jotham begot Ahaz, and Ahaz begot Hezekiah. Hezekiah begot Manasseh, Manasseh begot Amon, and Amon begot Josiah. Josiah begot Jeconiah and his brothers about the time they were carried away to Babylon. And after they were brought to Babylon, Jeconiah begot Shealtiel, and Shealtiel begot Zerubbabel. Zerubbabel begot Abiud, Abiud begot Eliakim, and Eliakim begot Azor. Azor begot Zadok, Zadok begot Achim, and Achim begot Eliud. Eliud begot Eleazar, Eleazar begot Matthan, and Matthan begot Jacob. And Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus who is called Christ. So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations, from David until the captivity in Babylon are fourteen generations, and from the captivity in Babylon until the Christ are fourteen generations.

Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows: After His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Spirit. Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not wanting to make her a public example, was minded to put her away secretly. But while he thought about these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name JESUS, for He will save His people from their sins. So all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying: Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel, which is translated, "God with us." Then Joseph, being aroused from sleep, did as the angel of the Lord commanded him and took to him his wife, and did not know her till she had brought forth her firstborn Son. And he called His name JESUS (Matthew 1:1-25).

Down in the bottom left corner of the Nativity icon, his face turned from Christ and the Theotokos and toward an old man, we see St Joseph. The old man that Joseph is listening to is Satan. The devil is tempting him, trying to convince Joseph that Mary has been unfaithful and that the Child to whom she has just given birth is another man's son.

And Joseph listens.

Satan taunts him. And Joseph entertains the possibility that the word spoken to him by "an angel Lord" is a lie and that the Child which Mary "conceived" is not "of the Holy Spirit" but another man.

And Joseph listens.

According to the Church's liturgical tradition Joseph is called the Betrothed. He is given this title to remind us that though his marriage to the Virgin is a real marriage, it is unconsummated. As a matter of law, Joseph is Mary's husband and the Child's father. But because the marriage is unconsummated, Joseph knows that he is not the Child's biological father; he did not conceive Jesus with Mary. And it is, ironically, the very obedience of the Betrothed to God's command that Satan uses to tempt him. Past faithfulness is twisted to tempt Joseph to disobey God and turn away, if only momentarily, from Jesus and Mary.

And Joseph listens.

And in so doing, Joseph risks being deceived by an "angel of light," one of the "false apostles, deceitful workers," who transform "themselves into apostles of Christ" (see 2 Cor 11:12-15). I remind my own spiritual children that it is the work of Satan to corrupt us from within. He tells us the truth untruthfully, he twists strength into weak, and poisons virtue so it becomes vice. The father of lies is himself the arch-heretic, the one who follows his own will and tempts us to do likewise tricking us into doing his will and not God's.

And Joseph listens.

He struggles with his own doubts, his own suspicions. That master psychologist of the spiritual life, St John Chrysostom, looks with great compassion on the struggling Joseph of Christmas morning.

What an explosive thing jealous is, . . . [We] know of many who have chosen to give up their lives rather than fall under the suspicion of jealousy. But in [Joseph's] case it was not a matter of simple suspicion, as the burden of Mary's own womb entirely convicted her. Nevertheless, Joseph was so free from the passion of jealousy as to be unwilling to cause distress to the Virgin, even in the slightest way. To keep Mary in his house appeared to be a transgression of the law, but to expose and bring her to trail would cause him to deliver her to die. He would do nothing of the sort. So Joseph determined to conduct himself now by a higher rule than the law. For now . . . grace had appeared . . . like the sun, not yet risen. (Homily on the Gospel of Matthew IV)

And Joseph listens.

Taking Chrysostom as my guide in the matter, I cannot judge Joseph harshly, or even at all. What choice did he have but to listen to the conflict messages of sin and grace?

Joseph lived at the very end of Satan's reign. Yes, as Chrysostom reminds us, even before His birth, "when about to rise from the womb" Christ casts "light upon the world." But for Joseph at the Cave on that first Christmas, the world is still shrouded in darkness. To be sure it is the fleeting darkness of dawn and no longer the deep darkness of night. But still Joseph lives in darkness.

In this way, Joseph is more a saint of the Old Testament then New. Joseph is like the Prophet Moses who stood in the last moments of his own life and looked at the Promise Land he was never to enter. But Joseph is not Moses. However the saints of Old, he is still a saint of the Church and, when the righteous arise at Pascha, Joseph will rise with them as a faithful follower of Christ. But on Christmas morning, this remains in Joseph's personal future.

And Joseph listens.

In his essay, "Christmas," G. K. Chesterton writes:

It is the very essence of a festival that it breaks upon one brilliantly and abruptly, that at one moment the great day is not and the next moment the great day is. Up to a certain specific instant you are feeling ordinary and sad; for it is only Wednesday. At the next moment your heart leaps up and your soul and body dance together like lovers; for in one burst and blaze it has become Thursday. I am assuming (of course) that you are a worshipper of Thor, and that you celebrate his day once a week, possibly with human sacrifice. If, on the other hand, you are a modern Christian Englishman, you hail (of course) with the same explosion of gaiety the appearance of the English Sunday. But I say that whatever the day is that is to you festive or symbolic, it is essential that there should be a quite clear black line between it and the time going before.

Of all the saints of the New Testament, even more than John the Baptist, it is Joseph who has the task of being that "quite clear black line" to which Chesterton refers.

And Joseph listens.

Though on that first Christmas morning Satan's rule is passing away, it has not quite ended. Even more than the Baptist, Joseph belongs more to Wednesday than Thursday, to Advent more than Christmas, to the Promise more than its Fulfillment; he is more a slave to sin and death than a slave righteousness (see Rom 6:17-18). And yet for all that Joseph is less in some ways then the other saints of the New Testament, he is greater in others because he believed in Christ before belief was really possible.

While Mary had the Gabriel's word, and the growing Christ Child, and John the revelation in the womb, and the disciples and apostles the words of Jesus' sermons and his miracles, Joseph had only the passing shadows of the old law that bore witness to the glory that was to come (see Col 2: 17).

And Joseph listens.

Mindful of his adopted father's struggle not simply at His birth, but throughout his life, Jesus reminds His disciples:

Then if anyone says to you, 'Look, here is the Christ!' or 'There!' do not believe it. For false christs and false prophets will rise and show great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect (Mt 24:23-24).

And, at this moment, at the birth of the Son Who honors him by calling him father, finally Joseph hears in his heart the Voice of his Infant Son.

Though he will be tempted throughout his life, Joseph will also throughout his life imitate his adopted Son, and remains faithful to what God asks of him. Through his fidelity Joseph bear witness to us that no matter how powerful Satan's hold on us, no matter how deep the darkness of sin, the grace of God is never wholly absent; no matter how hard, faith is never impossible, hope never really extinguished, and love and forgiveness are always possible for us.

A Blessed and Merry Christmas to all!

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

The Truth (Vertigo)

This is well worth watching, but you must watch it until the end.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

(Hat tip: David at Think Christian).

Do We Wish To Be Reconciled?

We come now to the end of our consideration of "Basic Principles of the Attitude of the Russian Orthodox Church Toward the Other Christian Confessions." Having spent some time with the document, and the insightful comments and questions from those who read this blog, I find an uncomfortable question rising in my heart: Are we, Orthodox, Catholics, Protestants and Evangelical Christians willing to take seriously the task of reconciliation not simply with one and other, but with Christ? And, as a more basic question, are we willing to answer this question truthfully?

The bishops of the Moscow Patriarchate remind us that as, Orthodox Christians, we must tell the Truth. And the truth is that

The Orthodox Church is the true Church in which the Holy Tradition and the fullness of God's saving grace are preserved intact. She has preserved the heritage of the apostles and holy fathers in its integrity and purity. She is aware that her teaching, liturgical structures and spiritual practice are the same as those of the apostolic proclamation and the Tradition of the Early Church. (1.18)

As part of our affirmation of faith, we must also work for "the restoration of that unity among Christians which is required of us by God (Jn. 17:21). Unity is part of God's design and belongs to the very essence of Christianity. It is a task of the highest priority for the Orthodox Church at every level of her life." (2.1) But,

The restoration of Christian unity in faith and love can come only from above as a gift of Almighty God. The source of unity is in God, and therefore merely human efforts to restore it will be in vain, for "except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it" (Ps. 127:1). Only our Lord Jesus Christ, Who has commanded us to be one, can give us the power to fulfill his commandment, for He is "the way, the truth, and the life" (Jn. 14:6). The task of Orthodox Christians is to be co-workers with God in the task of salvation in Christ. As the holy fathers have said: God saves us, but not without us. (2.13)

To repeat what I said above, in baptism, God has Himself already given us all—Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant—a pledge or down payment of that restored unity. I find in this section of BPA a profound warning to those of us zealous for the reunion of divide Christendom; reunion is not a human work. No matter how prayerful or well educated and articulate, unity among Christians is God's work and His gift to us.

Our work, as I remind my own spiritual children, is not to create this union, but to receive it with a resounding "Amen!"

There is likewise a warning for those who see the restoration of divided Christendom to unity as proceeding along the way of the conversion of individuals and communities. There is in this attitude a subtle, but real, temptation to imagine that we can reason people into the faith. No less than those who rush to celebrate a sacramental union that does not yet exist, this approach also reduces union to a human work.

But reconciliation is a gift of God—it comes on His terms or not at all. If I am committed to telling the Truth about the Gospel, about the Church, then I must likewise be committed to telling the truth about myself. Thinking about this human truth, I cannot help wondering whether or not polemic voices, on all sides of divided Christendom, real desire the gift of reconciliation.

While I value my friendships and working relationships with Catholic, Protestants and Evangelical Christians, I'm not sure that I am ready to accept what the gift of reconciliation with them might mean. What would it mean if tomorrow, for example, 1+ billion Catholics suddenly entered into communion with the Orthodox Church? What would it mean for me as a priest to suddenly find my tiny of some 50 families to grow to 200 or more families composed of my newly reconciled Roman Catholic brethren?

What would it mean for my Catholic priest friends to suddenly find in their own parishes among the new reconciled Orthodox Christian divorced and remarried communicants?

What would my Evangelical Christian ministerial colleagues do with an influx of Christians who brought with them icons, relics, and devotional services to the Virgin Mary?

However much we bemoan the fact, as in any estrangement, a part of us that not only accepts, but even welcomes, the separation.

While I can't speak for Catholics and Protestants, at least among the Orthodox (myself included I am ashamed to say), there are many who prefer a divided Christendom. It is simply easier not to have to deal with the many questions that seem to be tearing western Christian confessions apart. We happily exist in splendid isolation.

Alas, this isolation is, as Fr Alexander Schmemann points out, is only possible if we stay in our grace proof chancelleries and rectories. Yes, we can keep "alive"—like some spiritual Disneyland—the glories of Byzantium and Holy Rus and our separation from Western culture and Christendom, but at what cost?

How much of Orthodox resistance to a reconciled Christendom reflects a commitment to the Gospel and how much narcissism? How much of our talk about "conversion," is simply in the service of requiring that "you" change and conform yourself to "me." How much of our profession of faith is simply a way to excuses us from any real self-examination.

To speak of reconciliation means not simply that "you" change, but that "we" change, that "I" change together with "you." Even if that change is not dogmatic, it does mean making room in my parish for new people with their own problems and struggles. But oh, how this disturbs the "peace."

Aware of the human heart's resistance to change the bishops call us to mutual dialog and self-criticism in our conversation with non-Orthodox confessions:

The essential goal of relations between the Orthodox Church and other Christian confessions is the restoration of that unity among Christians which is required of us by God (Jn. 17:21). Unity is part of God's design and belongs to the very essence of Christianity. It is a task of the highest priority for the Orthodox Church at every level of her life. Indifference to this task or its rejection is a sin against God's commandment of unity. (2.1-2)

So I ask myself again: Are we, Orthodox, Catholics, Protestants and Evangelical Christians willing to take seriously the task of reconciliation not simply with one and other, but with Christ? If the answer is "No" how can we then claim to be faithful to Christ? As St Basil reminds us, fidelity to Christ demands of us above all this "one aim—to bring back into union [those] Churches [and Christians] that have been severed from one another." (Letter, 114).

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Transcending Relativism & Triumphalism

Obviously, the position I've outlined in my last post requires further systematic and historical research and elaboration. But it makes, to my mind at least, an intuitive sense. Whether Orthodox or not, our communion with the Church is grounded in our communion with Christ. And this primordial communion is characterized not simply by the objective presence of grace, but subjectively by our freedom in response to the divine initiative. In their refusal to offer an evaluation of the ecclesial status of non-Orthodox confessions, the council fathers in BPA are trying to remain faithful to both the operation of divine grace and human. Granted we can debate the degree to which they succeed in this, and even if this is their intent, but this does allow us a way out of the impasse of what to many (both outside and inside the Orthodox Church) seems to be an ecclesiological agnosticism.

The differences between the Orthodox and, for example, Roman Catholic Churches on a given issue are often not simply theological, but also psychological. We can, I think, get at the psychological difference by considering statements by the Roman Catholic Church such as Dominus Iesus, "Responses to Some Questions Regarding Certain Aspects of the Doctrine of the Church" and the recently released "Doctrinal Notes on Some Aspects of Evangelism." While there are some points of disagreement, in the main these are documents articulate a position that the Orthodox Church would also hold about herself. While I hope to offer a fuller treatment later, for now I would say this: Taken together, these documents are a prudential, pastoral response to aberrations that have arisen of emphasizing too much the commonality between the Catholic Church and non-Catholic confessions and non-Christian religions (For example see the American Catholic bishops' "Clarification" of some problems with Fr. Peter C. Phan's Being Religious Interreligiously: Asian Perspectives on Interfaith Dialogue and earlier corrections on the work of Fr. Hans Kung. A good summary of the bishops' concerns about Phan's work can be found on Touchstone's
Mere Comments.). The lesson as an Orthodox Christian that I draw from these documents is that good intentions to find common ground out not to be carried out to such a degree that we lose our zeal for evangelism and for the reconciliation of divided Christendom.

Overemphasize our similarities and you fall into a relativism that denies any real difference between Christian confessions and, indeed, between Christians and non-Christians. Overemphasize our differences, however, and you fall into a triumphalism that makes the Church a sectarian group radically divorced from the very human family that Christ joins Himself to and for which He suffers and dies. In both cases, the catholic (kata + holos, or wholeness) nature of the Church is lost.

The necessity of balancing of similarity and difference, of continuity and discontinuity, I should emphasis, emerges not from a divided Christendom, or even a religious divided humanity. Certainly the divisions in the human and Christian communities, flowing as they do from our personal sinfulness, serve to complicate these tensions, but it is not the cause. The deep structure of these tension are found in God's creative actions—there is between humanity and God a similarity and a difference, a continuity and discontinuity, that can never be dissolved. But it is a tension that can be transcended. (When I have time, I hope to look at the implications for evangelism and ecumenicism of some contemporary research in the psychology of human development that discussion the "post-formal" stages of human growth and development. This research can help us understand psychological how we can overcome some of the human obstacles to holding the tensions that are intrinsic to not only to human development, evangelism and ecumenicism, but the enormous challenges of parish ministry.)

It is through love, that is to say, in Christ, that we are able to embrace similarity and difference, continuity and discontinuity. This raises a question, and in fact, this is the last question of this series: "Do we want to be reconciled with each other?" Or, more directly, "Are Eastern and Oriental Orthodox, Catholics, Protestants and Evangelical Christians willing to love one another, and the whole creation, as Jesus loves us?" (With a hat tip to Fr John Steffaro of St John Orthodox Church (OCA) in Campbell, OH, for the second question.)

To be continued, and concluded. . .