The Beauty of the Creed

© 2007 Gregory R Jensen

St Augustine on Time

In my last brief essay, I outlined the holiness of time in Rabbi Abraham Heschel's book The Sabbath. Heschel argues that there is in Jewish thought, a hierarchy of holiness in the created order: time sanctifies humanity and it is humanity who subsequently sanctify place. While the sanctity of time, humanity, and place cannot be separated, the primordial created expression of divine holiness belongs to time.

Thinking about time as the foundational manifestation of holiness in the created realm allows us to transcend what I see as any division between liturgy as historical and liturgy as eschatological. Neither of these aspects of the Church's liturgical tradition should be dismissed certainly; but neither should we limit our thinking to either of these poles. Rather if, as Heschel argues so eloquently, time is itself sacred we might find profit in thinking of liturgy as itself the epiphany of time's sacred character. Through the ministry of the Church inspired by the Holy Spirit, liturgy makes manifestation in time the Eternal Now of God.

St Augustine is helpful here.

In the Confessions Books X (where he addresses memory) and XI (where he looks at time itself) Augustine looks at the human experience of time. While this would require a fuller analysis on my part, his analysis suggests to me that the human experience of time, especially through the faculties of memory and anticipation, isonly possible through our participation in divine life.

Augustine begins by recounting the argument of those who reject his analysis of the temporal character of creation. They question him: "But if it was the eternal will of God that the creature should be, why was not the creature also from eternity?" He answers them:

Those who say these things do not as yet understand Thee, O Thou Wisdom of God, Thou light of souls; not as yet do they understand how these things are made which are made by and in Thee. They even endeavor to comprehend things eternal; but as yet their heart flies about in the past and future motions of things, and is still wavering. Who shall hold it and fix it, that it may rest a little, and by degrees catch the glory of that ever standing eternity, and compare it with the times which never stand, and see that it is incomparable; and that a long time cannot become long, save from the many motions that pass by, which cannot at the same instant be prolonged; but that in the Eternal nothing passes away, but that the whole is present; but no time is wholly present; and let him see that all time past is forced on by the future, and that all the future follows from the past, and that all, both past and future, is created and issues from that which is always present?

Who will hold the heart of man, that it may stand still, and see how the still-standing eternity, itself neither future nor past, utters the times future and past? Can my hand accomplish this, or the hand of my mouth by persuasion bring about a thing so great?

Time is the creature's experience of Eternity, of the created being participation in the Uncreated. This participation is given to us ontologically (since "to be" for the creature is always only by God's grace and never by nature). While we experience time as a positive (for example as growth), there is a negative element to time as well. Existentially we experience time not simply as grown, but also as dissolution (dispersion of our being as Heidegger argues) or more simply as decay.

Holiness Not Programs

Reflecting on the possibility of reconciliation between the Orthodox and Catholic Churches one of the most faithful commentators on this blog, Chrys, sent me the following in a private email (which I am quoting here with his permission):

On that subject [of the reconciliation between the Orthodox and Catholic Churches], I am not sanguine. There are significant current differences between how the Orthodox approach faith and how Catholics approach faith. In addition to differing assumptions and particular expressions that form the theological understanding of the faith, the approach itself seems fairly different. It seems to me that the list of differences is pretty extensive—though I am not sure which are truly important and which are not. Leaving that for a different day, I would only note that I still firmly believe that IF we are able to raise up truly saintly folks, they will attract others - both inside the Orthodox church and outside - to reconsider how they live and what they believe. My assumption here is rooted in my own experience that living contact with a saint can move us to want to be like him—in a way that all the argumentation in the world cannot—and this desire will necessarily lead us to question who we are, what we are doing and how we are living. In my experience—and I think Scripture gives witness to this—nothing is as powerful as an authentic, living example, someone who shows us what God is like and what life can be like. Historically, these people carry the greatest moral authority to be found. (In fact, I am convinced that some of the respect that we have for the clergy is the result of the trust and respect earned by the saints. This assumes good faith on the part of the parishioner, of course. We hear and see in the saints what can be, what ought to be, and see the priest as the representative of that legacy—if he does nothing to betray that conferred trust. Once someone experiences a betrayal of that trust, however, all clergy thereafter pay for that betrayal.) The authority is so strong that even stories (second-hand experience) can have a significant effect. From what I have read, however, truly transformative power requires living contact. (Makes sense: ours is an incarnational faith, not a propositional one.) As I have often said: transformation is ultimately the result of people not programs. (Programs can only organize and direct the people and their gifts; they can never substitute for them.) In short, though such people may be few, their effect would likely be enough to BEGIN to make a difference (leaven in the bread, as it were) that can eventually lead to reconciliation.

Reading what he says, I find myself in fundamental with Chrys' observations. While we have our part to play certainly, reconciliation (whether between Churches, or between the person and God, the members of a community) is a work of the Holy Spirit. We are called therefore to wait upon His initiative.

Thinking about this I am reminded of the word of the Prophet Isaiah (40.27-31):

Why do you say, O Jacob,

And speak, O Israel:

"My way is hidden from the LORD,

And my just claim is passed over by my God"?

Have you not known?

Have you not heard?

The everlasting God, the LORD,

The Creator of the ends of the earth,

Neither faints nor is weary.

His understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the weak,

And to those who have no might He increases strength.

Even the youths shall faint and be weary,

And the young men shall utterly fall,

But those who wait on the LORD

Shall renew their strength;

They shall mount up with wings like eagles,

They shall run and not be weary,

They shall walk and not faint.

As always, you comments are not only welcome, but actively sought.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Romanian Orthodox prelate threatened with excommunication for sharing Communion

Bucharest, Jun. 11, 2008 (CWNews.com) - The Orthodox prelate who shared Communion with Catholics at an Eastern-rite liturgical service in May now could face excommunication from the Romanian Orthodox Church.

Orthodox Metropolitan Nicolae Corneanu of Banat joined Romanian Catholic Bishop Alexandru Mesian of Lugoj at the altar on May 25, sharing the Eucharist with the Catholic prelate. His action outraged some Orthodox believers, and the Romanian Orthodox synod announced that Metropolitan Corneanu "may be asked to give an appropriate explanation" at a synod meeting in July.

Now another Romanian Orthodox leader, Metropolitan Bartolomeu of Cluj, has introduced a move to excommunicate Metropolitan Corneanu. That proposal will be discussed at the orthodox Synod meeting in early July.

The move to excommunicate Metropolitan Corneanu has inflamed new hostility toward Catholics-- and especially Eastern-rite Romanian Catholics-- among Orthodox hard-liners who regard any association with Catholics as suspicious. Critics have also raised heresy charges against the Orthodox Bishop Sofronie of Oradea, who participated in an ecumenical blessing-of-the-water service in January, on the feast of the Baptism of Christ, with his Romanian Catholic counterpart.

Metropolitan Corneanu has said that he does not regret joining Catholic bishops in the Divine Liturgy. But the Orthodox prelate has rejected the idea that he is likely to become a Catholic, saying that he is loyal to the Orthodox Church and will accept the consequences of his actions.

Abraham Heschel: The Holiness of Time

When in Genesis God creates the heavens and the earth "The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep." (1.2) Creation is presented in Genesis not ex nihilo (i.e., from nothing), but rather as a divine ordering of chaos. Slowly, methodically, God brings a shape and form to chaos. As land appears when the waters are set in their place, so to creation emerges from chaos as God brings order to the void.

For six days God labors to create and "when were finished" God "on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made." (2.2-3) Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel writes in his work The Sabbath that "In a well-composed work of art an idea of outstanding importance is not introduced haphazardly, but, like a king at an official ceremony, it is presented at a moment and in a way that will bring to light its authority and leadership." The Sabbath, the Seventh Day, is Heschel says is just such a kingly idea—it introduces to humanity not the holiness of place, but of time. "This is a radical departure from accustomed religious thinking. The mythical mind would expect that, after heaven and earth have been established, God would create a holy place—a holy mountain or a holy spring—whereupon a sanctuary is to be established. Yet it seems as if to the Bible it is holiness in time, the Sabbath, which comes first."

It is only after the holiness of time is proclaimed that God proclaims at Sinai "the sanctity of man." It is only after, as Heschel observes, that we succumb "to the temptation of worshipping a thing, a golden calf, that the erection of a Tabernacle, of holiness in space, was commanded. The sanctity of time came first, the sanctity of man came second, and the sanctity of space last. Time was hallowed by God; space, the Tabernacle, was consecrated by Moses."

On the Seventh Day God proclaims the Sabbath: "The meaning of the Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space. Six days a week we live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath we try to become attuned to holiness in time. It is a day on which we are called upon to share in what is eternal in time, to turn from the results of creation to the mystery of creation, from the world of creation to the creation of the world." The beauty that we encounter in the Church's worship, in the music, the icons, and the architecture of the church building, are all, I would suggest, the manifestation Eternity in Time. Beauty is the encounter, the experience, in time of the Eternal

And if, as Heschel suggests, there is a hierarchy to the sanctity of creation—time, the human, and only finally space—this doesn't mean that we can neglect one in favor of another. To use an image I have used before, the three are nested within each other—space is sanctified by humanity, humanity by time, time by God. Thinking about time as sacred opens up for us new avenues of understanding of the heavy, some have said over, emphasis on liturgy that we see in Orthodox Church.

To be continued…

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

“Sanctify Those Who Love the Beauty of Your House”-Part II

Continuing yesterday's thoughts on the saving character of Beauty…

In the catechumen classes at the parish I serve we have been discussing the structure of the Divine Liturgy. This past Sunday we looked at the Prayer of the First Antiphon:

Lord, our God, save Your people and bless Your inheritance;

protect the whole body of Your Church;

sanctify those who love the beauty of Your house;

glorify them in return by Your divine power;

and do not forsake us who hope in You.

As a group our attention was captured by the third petition: "sanctify those who love the beauty of Your house." In the Old Testament especially, God is holy not so much because He possess moral perfection but because He is free. In God to be holy is to be free of all that would limit Him and constrain His will; as with God so to with us, we are called to be free of everything that would compel us to act against our nature and our vocation.

Growth in freedom, growth in holiness, requires from me that I love the beauty of God's house.

As we talk about this we began, naturally enough, with the beauty of the church building itself and then of the services. Slowly, however, we began to see that God's house is really rather more than simply the church building, the services and the Tradition of the Church. All of creation is the house of God. How, we asked ourselves, can we say that we really love the beauty of the church building on Sunday morning if we our indifferent to the beauty of creation?

And, again as we thought about things, how can I say I love the beauty of creation if we are indifferent to the beauty of our neighbor who is created in the image and likeness of God. And if I say that I love the beauty of my neighbor how can I then dismiss my own beauty?

Stepping back from our reflections, I mentioned to the catechumens (and other listeners) that what we experience in the church can't be separated from the rest of life. If you will we can think of the experience of beauty in the Church's worship as a preparation for the experience of the beauty of creation. In fact, I suggested, to try and limit beauty to either the Church or creation is a bit like the young man who told me he didn't know much about his girlfriend—they were only seeing each other for sex.

To fail to see Beauty, to ignore Beauty, or worse to be indifferent to it, is to be unchaste. God tells the prophet Hosea (1.2):

"Go, take yourself a wife of harlotry

And children of harlotry,

For the land has committed great harlotry

By departing from the LORD."

To see Beauty only here and not there is to limit God, to deny His holiness and so to deny Him as He Is. Once that is done, then everything else in my life falls into chaos and ugliness.

But, to return to Solzhenitsyn, there is a whimsy, unpredictable, unexpected quality to Beauty that makes it such a fit symbol of Divine Grace. Beauty can "soar up," to quote Solzhenitsyn once more, "to that very place" where I turned my back on Truth and Goodness and, once there, "perform the work of all three."

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

 

 

My Blog List & New Print Button

You may have noticed a new section on the right: "My Blog List." These are some of the blogs I read on a regular basis that I thought were worth advertising here.

Why not take a look?

Also, I have added a print button to the posts.  To access the bottom click on the post title (for example, "My Blog List & New Print Button") and you will see the print icon at the bottom of the post.  The print button will allow you to print a post without all the annoying headers and stuff that comes when you simple use your browsers print command.  In addition to the post, you should also get the comments on that post.  So please give it a try and let me know what you think.

Thanks!

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

“Sanctify Those Who Love the Beauty of Your House”-Part I

When people first enter the Orthodox Church they often comment about the beauty of the experience. This happens whether they attend a baptism or wedding, Vespers or Divine Liturgy, or even if they walk into a church. For Orthodox Christians beauty is a key element of the spiritual life. So important is beauty to the Church's spirituality that the 19^th century Russian author Fydor Dostoyevsky goes so far as to say, "Beauty will save the world."

Another great Russian writer, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, in his Nobel prize lecture says of beauty that it

bears within itself its own confirmation: concepts which are manufactured out of whole cloth or overstrained will not stand up to being tested in images, will somehow fall apart and turn out to be sickly and pallid and convincing to no one. Works steeped in truth and presenting it to us vividly alive will take hold of us, will attract us to themselves with great power- and no one, ever, even in a later age, will presume to negate them. And so perhaps that old trinity of Truth and Good and Beauty is not just the formal outworn formula it used to seem to us during our heady, materialistic youth. If the crests of these three trees join together, as the investigators and explorers used to affirm, and if the too obvious, too straight branches of Truth and Good are crushed or amputated and cannot reach the light—yet perhaps the whimsical, unpredictable, unexpected branches of Beauty will make their way through and soar up to that very place and in this way perform the work of all three.

For Solzhenitsyn Beauty, has he says, "a special quality." Beauty "is absolutely indisputable" and is able to tame even the heart that is "strongly opposed" to it. While a "political speech, an assertive journalistic polemic, a program for organizing society, a philosophical system," might be well constructed and well argued, these are "built upon a mistake, a lie" that often remains "hidden." The "distortion" at their core is not necessarily "immediately . . . visible," and indeed the polemic, the social organizational theory or elements of a philosophical system often are "well constructed and . . . smooth, . . . everything will seem to fit. As a result, we will have "faith in them—yet [in so doing, we have] no faith" at all.

"It is vain to affirm," Solzhenitsyn "that which the heart does not confirm." This is not meant to be a defense of relativism, but rather an affirmation that beauty, consonance, harmony, communion (these are, if not synonyms, so closely related that one cannot be understood apart from the others) is the fundamental character of creation because creation reflects the character of God.

Unlike polemics, Beauty invites me to come along, to step out of myself; Beauty woes the heart, it inspires me to be more than we are. Like polemics, Beauty can challenge me; it can even break my heart. But again, and unlike polemics, when the beauty of the Beautiful breaks my heart it does so with a certain joyful melancholy which, if I allow the pain to do so, can move me to repent of all that is Ugly, Wicked and False in me.

More tomorrow…

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Superman Song

Crash Test Dummies, "Superman Song":




HT: Steven-Paul at Pithless Thoughts, the Superman Song.

Of this song, Steve writes:

One of the best songs of all time.
For all you superheroes out there.
It makes me weep.

Polemics, Zeal and St Isaac the Syrian

Isaac the Syrian is probably the most eloquent patristic witness for the position I have been sketching out (you can read that post here). The saint writes that "Someone who has actually tasted truth is not contentious for truth. Someone who is considered by people to be zealous for truth has not yet learnt what truth is really like; once he has truly learnt it, he will cease from zealousness on its behalf." [Kephalaia IV.77; The Wisdom
of Saint Isaac the Syrian, translated by Sebastian Brock, (Fairacres, Oxford: SLG Press Convent of the Incarnation, 1997), p15.]

Commenting on this passage, David Goa, writes that like relativism, the zealousness that informs our polemical attitude "fail to discern aright what stands under the desire we have for that which is true." Both relativism and zeal, deform our desire for the truth "into an appetite." Once the pursuit of truth becomes an appetite, a passion in patristic terminology,

Whatever we come to look at and care about is then forced into conformity with the idea, image, or ritual that we have erected as absolute. We begin to hang all our hopes and dreams on the truth of our chosen framework, our precious absolutes (including the relativists' precious absolute that there is nothing of ultimate value). Our longing is captured by an absolute of our own making. It follows, almost without saying, that once we hang all our hopes and dreams on something that we claim as absolute, it is a short step to hanging all our fears on it as well. In this moment the holy longing of the human heart and mind that lies behind the search for absolutes becomes polluted. Zealousness for the truth frames how we see and understand and reshapes our response to the fragility of the life of the world.

Goa continues by observing that the symptom our passionate pursuit of the truth is a need for enemies. My passion (pathos) for the truth can only be sustained insofar as I stand in opposition to someone or something. But this approach is one "that reduces complexity and purpose to frame [my assumed] conclusions." But for the Christian "this is a false start for it begins neither at the heart of human nature or in the presence of God's love" but in fear. Again, Goa:  "For St. Isaac, zeal for truth is itself a symptom of a spiritual disease. Or, perhaps, it is a condition that tends to develop at a certain stage in the spiritual life and is itself simply a marker of that stage. It is the spiritual equivalent of adolescence where the young try out all sorts of ideas and actions with the conviction that no one else has ever had these thoughts or feelings and they are exploring them for the first time. How can it be that no one else has ever seen just how important and ultimate these thoughts and feelings are?"

There is a sense in which our zealous pursuit of truth "is part of the process of maturation." So when as a spiritual father I see the "zealousness for truth" spoken of by St. Isaac, I understand that it is "a stage in the spiritual development of the person. But just as with adolescence, if the condition persists, spiritual growth is arrested. One is stuck in the adolescent stage of the spiritual life."

Christ however calls us to wholeness of being. Part and parcel of this wholeness means that by God's grace and our own efforts "we are freed from the habit of taking refuge in abstract notions of truth. If we taste of truth at every Eucharist we know better. If we taste of truth every time we, like the disciples, find ourselves in Emmaus breaking bread with someone we didn't know we knew, we know better. We know better every time our hearts are moved with compassion."

But as I mentioned earlier, polemics, a zealous approach to the truth has a strangle hold on us because we do not wish to grow, to change. Our conversations are polemical because more often than not, our thinking about ourselves is static and rigid. Catholic/Orthodox polemics—at least as we see them in contemporary practice—are only accidentally theological. In the main (and I will address this more in another post) our polemics reflect our own lack of wholeness, of balance, of our own lack of virtue. We are, as I said earlier, neurotic

At the risk of misapplying the theory, I will in the next essay explore the different neurotic styles that seem favored by Eastern and Western Christians. To anticipate, Eastern Christians tend to see themselves as standing "against" others, even as Western Christians tend to move "toward."

But that for another day.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Tradition and the Passions

In an earlier post, I argued that a tradition exists, enhypostatically, that is only by way of the person. What might this mean for East/West conversations?

Let me suggest that if the tradition only exists by way of the person, then tradition is not simply, or even primarily, an objective content. Rather tradition is a virtue and virtues wax and wane. In other words, a tradition is only more or less revealed by how I live my life. Complicating this further, is that I do not live or embody only one tradition. Rather each human life is lived as the intersection of multiple traditions.

So yes, I am an Orthodox Christian, but my experience of that tradition has been co-formed (as van Kaam would argue) by the variety of other traditions in which I live. For example, I am an Orthodox Christian, but I am also an American. Currently my wife and I live in Ohio (yet another tradition), though we have lived in Pennsylvania, California and Texas. My wife grew up in Oregon, I grew up in Connecticut—so there are two more traditions that form our lives.

Complicating this further, my understanding of what it means to be an Orthodox Christian is strongly influenced by my becoming Orthodox as an adult, by being a psychologist, my service as a mission priest and a college chaplain. All of these are central to me and so to how I come to embody the Tradition of the Orthodox Church. And this is all before we look at my own unique genetic and psychological characteristics.

And if this is true for me, it is also true for my Catholic partner in a theological conversation.

Add to this outside observers, each of whom live at the confluence of multiple traditions and with their own unique backgrounds, who may "eavesdrop" on our conversation and how complex the conversation between us becomes!

Does this mean that we should not engage in theological conversations across traditions? No. It does mean however that we need to attentive to how these other traditions influence us personally, our perception of both our own theological tradition and that our partner in conversation, and really the whole of our encounter with each other.

Given the complexity of the situation it might at first seem that a theological conversation is pointless. It isn't. BUT, and this is an important point, each of these traditions carries with it what van Kaam called life directives or "oughts." We may agree or disagree with these directives, but they influence us in either case. To the degree that we are unaware of these directives they rob us of our freedom to respond in charity.

All of this is to say that even if the content of our conversation with each other is lofty, we are still under the sway of the passions. We are motivated by a desire for pleasure and the avoidance of pain—and unless we are well formed in the spiritual life, and psychologically sound, what we are mostly likely to give voice to is not the tradition of the Orthodox Church or the tradition of the Catholic Church, but our own passions. And this, I would suggest, is true regardless of the objective validity of any given statement that we might make.

The example I use with my own spiritual children is this, it may in fact be objectively the case that I am stupid and my mother dresses me funny, but it is unlikely that telling me this truth is sufficient to change my life. Still less is telling me this likely to encourage me to trust you and give you a place of authority in my life. And let us make no mistake here, in any conversation I have, I only listen to the views of those who I see as authoritative—I might or might not trust they authority, but I still must see them as an authority for me.

As I said earlier, far too often and for too many of us, our attachment to our religious tradition is an escape, a refusal, of the dynamic and gratuitous quality of our own lives that van Kaam does such a effective job of delineating for us. Often we embody this refusal in our polemic attitude and conversation with others.

Whatever the reason, sharp disagreements are inevitable when we are looking together at what divides us. Polemics, however, seem to me to begin with that sharp disagreement. In so doing, they are intellectually unchaste embodying as they do an underlying lack of respect for the limitations of both self and others. In our polemical attitude we are freed from any consideration of our own passions in the pursuit of the Truth. The fact that we often say things which are true does not remove from us the burden of intellectual dishonesty.

Psychology Professor Develops New Model For Collaboration Between Clergy And Clinicians

ScienceDaily (Jun. 2, 2008) — Many of the clergy who lead America's 260,000 religious congregations turn to psychologists who share their religious values when they refer congregants to social workers. However, this approach could impede people from getting the care they need, maintains Dr. Glen Milstein, Professor of Psychology at The City College of New York (CCNY).

For the past decade, Professor Milstein has led a multidisciplinary team of researchers in developing a new model for relationships between clergy and clinicians that is religion inclusive rather than faith based. Known as C.O.P.E. (Clergy Outreach and Professional Engagement), the approach is design to reduce burdens on both professions. It was described in detail earlier this year in the American Psychological Association's journal "Professional Psychology: Research and Practice."

The key to the C.O.P.E. model is the recognition that mental illness is a chronic disease with which patients sometimes can function and other times can not, Professor Milstein explains. "Clinicians and clergy perform distinct, complementary functions in treating these syndromes. While clinicians provide professional treatment to relieve individuals of their pain and suffering and move them from dysfunction to their highest level of function, clergy and religious communities provide a sense of context, support and community before, during and after treatment."

The program aims to improve care of individuals by facilitating reciprocal collaboration between clinicians and members of the clergy, regardless of either's religious affiliations. It is based on two principal ideas: The first is that clergy and clinicians can better help a broader array of persons with emotional difficulties and disorders through professional collaboration than they can by working alone, and secondly, that the program's success is predicated on collaboration easing the workload for both groups.

Professor Milstein describes the approach as "religion-inclusive" since it calls upon the therapist to both assess the role of religion in the patient's life and to educate themselves about the patient's religious tradition. Often that education includes contact with the patient's clergy.

Faith-based approaches, which call for the individual to be referred to a clinician from his or her own faith, can restrict care by excluding access to professionals best able to treat the condition, he maintains. Professor Milstein cites a research study comparing the work of religious psychotherapists with the work of nonreligious psychotherapists in treating religious Christians. The study found that nonreligious therapists who provided religiously informed psychotherapy achieved the best clinical outcomes for this group.

Working from the National Institute of Mental Health's four prevention categories, Professor Milstein and his team developed two handouts, one for mental health professionals and the other for clergy. They provide descriptions in a hierarchal format of the four care stages and illustrate when it would be appropriate for clergy to contact clinicians and for clinicians to contact clergy.

The goal of C.O.P.E., Professor Milstein explains, is for clergy and clinicians to provide a continuum of care, whether the person is fully functional, is under stress, requires treatment or is trying to avoid relapse. The approach has been used to facilitate collaboration between expert clinicians and clergy from a variety of faiths including: Armenian Orthodox; Roman Catholic; Ethical Culture; Hindu; Muslim; Judaism, as well as evangelical and mainline Protestant denominations.

Because clergy tend to see people throughout their lifetimes and in different circumstances, they often are in a better position to identify whether or not someone is functioning properly, Professor Milstein points out. For example, they are likely to distinguish between someone who has lost a loved one and is going through a normal bereavement process and someone who could be clinically depressed. "Recommending an intervention for someone who may be depressed relieves their (clergy) burden," he adds.

Similarly, religious communities can relieve the burden on the clinician by helping people reenter everyday life, Professor Milstein adds. "Religious communities are primary areas of social support for most people. If religion is an important part of an individual's life, the clinician needs to make that connection. They should contact the clergy and let them know to look out for and welcome the person back."

Conversely, he points out that the approach would not be helpful for patients who have had negative associations with religion or religious leaders. "The model is not a panacea, but, rather, an option to engage the whole person. Patients need to be assessed and treated individually without judgments about whether religion is good or bad."

Professor Milstein's research collaborators were: Amy Manierre, an American Baptists minister currently pursuing as Master of Social Work Degree at University of Houston; Virginia L. Susman, M.D., Associate Medical Director and Site Director at New York Presbyterian Hospital and Associate Professor of Clinical Psychiatry at Weill Medical College, and Dr. Martha L. Bruce, Professor of Sociology in Psychology at Weill Medical College.

The research was supported by grants from: the DeWitt Wallace-Reader's Digest Research Fellowship Program in Psychiatry; the National Institute of Mental Health; the American Psychological Association and the Professional Staff Congress – CUNY.

Statements on upcoming meeting between pope, patriarch may be diplomatic move

Moscow, June 3, Interfax - The Moscow Patriarchate doesn't rule out that the statement made by Cardinal Walter Kasper saying that Pope Benedict XVI and Patriarch Alexy II will meet in the nearest future may be a diplomatic move by the Vatican.

Kasper, who heads the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, recently said the pope and the Russian patriarch may meet in the near future.

"Such commentaries by one of the parties are sometimes a diplomatic move intended to put certain soft pressure on the negotiating parties. It's like they are saying 'We are glad, we are looking forward [to a meeting], why are you avoiding us?'" Deacon Andrey Kurayev, a professor at the Moscow Theological Academy, told Interfax-Religion on Tuesday.

Kurayev said he did not participant in the negotiations between Kasper and the hierarchs of the Russian Orthodox Church and therefore cannot say which precisely nuances of the dialogue gave the cardinal a reason for optimistic comments.

At the same time, Kurayev said he is hoping tat "some progress has been achieved in our relationship, and it is connected with the fact that the current pope, unlike his predecessor, is not personally responsible for the tragedies in the history of Orthodoxy in Western Ukraine in the early 1990s, when Greek Catholics literally ravaged three Orthodox dioceses."

http://snipurl.com/2ccmn

Through a Glass, Darkly: Secrecy and the Catholic Church

One of the charges that we sometime hear in Orthodox Church circles is that this or that bishop or idea is "Catholic" and not Orthodox. Often by "Catholic" what is meant is a decision or idea that (rightly or wrongly) appears to its critic as authoritarian.

Over the years as I have heard this type of complaint made I've had a number of different thoughts. One is to question criticizing an idea or policy by associating it, unfavorably, with another Christian community. This isn't like saying "You throw like a girl" when we mean to say that a boy lacks athletic skill.

The second though I have is that, frankly, there are times when I wish the Orthodox Church was as well run as the Catholic Church (and yes, I heard the gasps--from both my Orthodox readers who are appalled and my Catholic readers who must be wondering "How poorly is the Orthodox Church run if he admires us?!") Let me say quickly, I don't have desire to throw over Orthodox ecclesiology. Nor have I any illusions about the administrative operations of the Catholic Church. What I do have is a desire to see both communities draw closer together and as a step along the way I think both can learn from each other about the day to day goverance of their respective communities.

All this is by way of a longish introduction to an interview with Russell Shaw posted on Inside Catholic. Shaw, a regular contributor to Inside Catholic, has just published his 20th book, Nothing To Hide: Secrecy, Communication, and Communion in the Catholic Church (Ignatius Press), in whcih he "takes a candid and sometimes surprising look at the abuse of secrecy in an ecclesiastical context."

While the whole interview is worth reading, I would draw the attention of my Orthodox readers to some of the following in Shaw's interview (my emphasis and my comments).

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Inside Catholic: What moved you to write a book about secrecy in the Church?

Russell Shaw:I guess I first became conscious of the problem in 1969, when I went to work for the bishops' conference as director of information. At the time, the bishops' relations with the press were in terrible shape, and much of the tension focused on the bishops' general meetings. They were entirely in executive session, with no reporters and observers allowed in. Yet the bishops invited reporters to come to the meeting and cover it -- which they did, partly by means of briefings and partly by means of leaks. Needless to say, there was no good reason for all that secrecy. The situation was a mess and very harmful to the bishops' own best interests.

Don't you think there's a place for secrecy and confidentiality in the Church?

Of course there is. As a matter of fact, I make the case for secrecy in the book. The seal of the confessional is the strongest example of strictly obligatory secrecy, but the duty to preserve privacy pertains in pastoral counseling situations. Furthermore, the Church has the same right to confidentiality to protect its legitimate interests that any other group has, along with the common obligation to respect people's privacy rights.

My point isn't that there has to be total disclosure of everything. It's that the assumption in doing the Church's business should be in favor of openness and accountability, with the burden of proof resting on those who favor secrecy in any particular case. [One of the things that the parish I serve does very well is hold open monthly parish council meetings. In addition to annoucing the time and date of the meeting, they also post the minutes on the parish bulletin board. Most important, in my view, is that comments and questions form visitors are encouraged by having a visitors' forum on the monthly agenda.]

....

[Is] there anything special about the abuse of secrecy in the Church?

Yes, there is. The clergy are the management class in the Church, and in that context the abuse of secrecy becomes a typical tool of the clericalist culture. It's clericalism at work.

Furthermore, abusing secrecy is contrary to the Church's nature as communion -- a communion or hierarchically structured community of faith in which all the members, as Vatican II taught, are fundamentally equal in dignity and rights. But you can't have real equality in dignity and rights in a community in which a large body of members are routinely denied information that they need to function as full, equal members. That's how things are now.

....

But ever since Vatican II haven't we had structures and processes of consultation to prevent what you're talking about -- pastoral councils, finance councils, things like that[and the Orthodox Church had had these in place especially in America since the beginning of our time here]?

On paper, yes. But in many places, if not most, they don't seem to be working very well. What did diocesan and parish councils do to detect and prevent sex abuse? Nothing -- evidently they were frozen out, kept in the dark. In lots of parishes and dioceses, nobody knows who the council members are or when they meet or what their agenda is or what they do. There's a common impression that very often -- there are exceptions, of course -- the main role of these bodies is to be a sounding-board and rubber-stamp decisions by the authorities.

Isn't the problem larger than secrecy?

Yes, it is. As I say in the book, the abuse of secrecy has a number of cousins -- stonewalling, happy talk, spin, deception, failure to consult, rejection of accountability, things like that. The family resemblance is that, like secrecy, these are all breakdowns in the open, honest communication that ought to be the rule in the communio of the Church.

Has the Church officially taken a position on this question?

Well, it hasn't said a whole lot. But you will find some excellent statements of principle in Communio et Progressio, a pastoral instruction on communications published by the Pontifical Council for Social Communications in 1971. It calls for a "steady, two-way flow of information" between Church authorities and the faithful, and says people have a right to "all the information they need to play their active role in the life of the Church," while secrecy should be limited to cases of necessity.

This Vatican agency has returned to the same subject several times in documents it's published since then, and Pope John Paul II touched on the theme in his last public document before he died, Il Rapido Sviluppo (The Rapid Development). Pope Benedict laid down the basic principle of internal communication in the Church several years ago. "We cannot communicate with the Lord if we do not communicate with one another" is how he put it.

What do you suggest be done?

My book ends with some practical recommendations. For instance: adopt policies that guarantee openness in conducting the business of dioceses and parishes and religious institutes; make a fresh start with pastoral councils and finance councils by giving them a real say in decisions and making their proceedings public; give qualified lay Catholics a consultative voice in the choice of their bishops and pastors; put freedom-of-information policies in place in Church institutions; allow diocesan newspapers to be more than house organs and operate as reliable sources of information and vehicles for public opinion. We have to revive the ideal of shared responsibility, too -- not as part of a power struggle, but so that we can all work together for the welfare of the Church.

Basically, what's needed is a new way of thinking -- a commitment to the proposition that openness and accountability really are the way to go because they're expressions of what the Church is and how it's meant to operate. When people grasp that, the abuse of secrecy ought to fade away But I'm realistic enough to recognize that, human nature being what it is, the temptation to go behind closed doors and practice secrecy will always exist.


► This is the third entry in a multi-part, multi-week series on the issue of clericalism in the Catholic Church. The project will continue tomorrow with a discussion/dialogue on whether or not faithful Catholics may criticize a bishop publicly, and will conclude Friday with an online symposium, including dozens of prominent Catholics from various perspectives, offering their own analysis and solutions. All the articles will be gathered into a single printable volume, available for free download at the end of the week.

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More on Metropolitan Nicolae

Image via Wikipedia

Thank you everyone for your comments both those on the site here and emailed to me privately regarding Metropolitan Nicolae's reception of Holy Communion at a Romanian Catholic celebration of the Divine Liturgy.

First off, let me please remind everyone whether they post comments or not, while it is one thing to disagree, even strongly, with Metropolitan Nicolae's actions, his status as an Orthodox bishop, much less the state of his soul, is NOT for me to judge. Again, I would not have done what he did—and I think Chrys has given a rather elegant and charitable explanation as to why Metropolitan Nicolae's actions are not acceptable. But until the Holy Synod tells us otherwise, Metropolitan Nicolae is an Orthodox bishop in good standing.

That said, whatever might have been His Eminence's intent or however we might characterize his actions, one thing that has come out of this is a conversation about the relationship between the Orthodox and Catholic Churches. What I find distressing, however, is that the conversation (1) seems largely limited to Catholic blogs and (2) is rancorous to say the least. Mind you, the rancor is not between Catholics and Orthodox as much as it is among Catholics. Be that as it may, however, accept for this blog I have come across no conversation about what Fr Paul (the online pseudonym of a Catholic priest serving in Greece) over at the blog De unione ecclesiarum calls the "Timisoara incident."

The central point he makes is this (my emphasis in bold):

It is not my place to say whether it was in the event helpful to the cause of ecumenism for the Metropolitan to choose this course of action. It is even less my place to say whether it was right from an Orthodox point of view to infringe the discipline of his Church in view of what, as I said at the beginning, we must presume he believed to be a greater good. I have said why, as a Catholic, I believe that it was right for his request to receive communion from a Catholic altar to be granted. Some will see his gesture as a prophetical sign destined one day to bear fruit by the very reason of its provocative nature. Others will say it is well-intentioned but in reality premature and counter-productive. Others still will think it scandalous and sacrilegious. It is not given to me to know which judgement is correct. Only let those who cry "scandal" remember that scandal in its theological meaning is not, as in common parlance, the shock which an action causes to our sensibilities and our comfortable presuppositions, but that which causes us to sin. And let them ask themselves whether complacency in the face of a divided Christendom is not a sin, however much it hides behind rhetoric about not sacrificing truth to gain unity. In the end, truth and unity are the same thing; sin against unity damages our ability to see the fullness of truth.

I cannot help wondering if in fact we—Orthodox and Catholic Christians—really wish to be reconciled to one another. And given that the rancor I've seen on at least one popular Catholic blog regarding Metropolitan Nicolae's reception of Holy Communion is every bit a foul and bitter as what I hear when we as Orthodox Christians rip into each other, I can't help wonder if we even want to be reconciled with those in our tradition much less with those with whom we disagree.

Could it be we are estranged from each other because we are estranged among ourselves? And if we are estranged from those with whom we share Eucharist, how can we ever hope to reconcile the wound inflicted on us all by the Great Schism?

And since the it's come up--isn't my estrangement from my neighbor simply the symptom of my own sinfulness and my heart being divided against itself? Where does the line of schism run accept through the human heart?

Again I disagree with Metropolitan Nicolae's actions. At the same time I hope and pray that whatever else might happen as a result it encourages the faithful in both the Catholic and Orthodox Churches not only to desire the reconciliation of the two Churches, but for us to actively seek and prepare for reconciliation. You see that's really what strikes me most about the "Timisoara incident." Even granted the inappropriate nature of His Eminence's actions, the character of the responses suggest to me that most of us—Catholic and Orthodox—are at best indifferent, and even actively hostile, to the reconciliation his actions imply.

Well, there you go.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

What Grace Doesn’t Do: Some Thoughts on Orthodox/Catholic Conversations

Now that my more academic research is finished (for the moment, I'll be starting a new project on the passions and levels of consciousness in S. Freud (psychoanalysis), A. Beck (cognitive psychology), and A. van Kaam (existential-phenomenological psychology) in the next few weeks), I have time to put in writing a talk I gave at the Society of St John Chrysostom. The talk discussed, rather poorly in my view, why conversations between Orthodox and Catholic Christians so often degenerated into polemics and ad hominem. As part of finishing up that work, I thought I would offer a few thoughts here and invite your comments.

What Grace Doesn't Do

One of my professors in graduate school, Fr Adrian van Kaam (to download a pdf that summarizes van Kaam's life and work, click here) pointed out on more than one occasion that though it was a great blessing for which we should be grateful an experience of God does not exempt us from the laws of human development or "an evident need for psychotherapy." In other words, not matter how profound my experience of God, it is ought not to be confused with either maturity or healthy psychological functioning.

And why would it?

For van Kaam, a cheerful and committed Thomist, the answer is that grace perfects, but does not replace, nature. While I don't disagree with my professor's explanation (which I have merely summarized in slogan form), I would add to it. To assume, as many seem to, that an experience of grace exempts me from the normal process of human growth and development is Christologically unsound. It to deny that in Christ the whole of human life is sanctified.

We read in the Scriptures, that "Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man." (Lk 2.52) Taking Jesus Christ as our example, we can argue that the normal ebb and flow of human development is not necessarily opposed to sanctity and wisdom. Indeed, and again looking to Jesus as our example, it would seem that each stage of human developmental is capable of participating in the divine nature, even as in each developmental stage of His life, Jesus was Himself the Theanthropos . To borrow from Dei Verbum, the Dogmatic Constitution of Divine Revelation from the Second Vatican Council:

For this reason Jesus perfected revelation by fulfilling it through his whole work of making Himself present and manifesting Himself: through His words and deeds, His signs and wonders, but especially through His death and glorious resurrection from the dead and final sending of the Spirit of truth. Moreover He confirmed with divine testimony what revelation proclaimed, that God is with us to free us from the darkness of sin and death, and to raise us up to life eternal.

For Christians, Eastern or Western, Orthodox, Catholic or Protestant, is the whole of His life that is revelatory. His voluntary and life-giving death and glorious resurrection from the dead on the third day, together with Ascension into heaven and bestowal of the Holy Spirit, is the confirmation of what is true for the whole of His life. If this is true for Jesus Christ then it is (at least potentially) true for those of us who received His Name in Baptism.

This idea is probably not one that most of us would contest. Though I suspect that, in some cases at least, the agreement reflects more sentiment than rigorous anthropological reflection (but, as another of my professor's once asked, "Who am I to do things for the right reason? I know what's right and should simply do it. My thinking will, hopefully, catch up with by doing."). What is more controversial is the suggestion that an encounter with God does not bring with it mental health.

I need to be careful here. When I say "mental health" I do not mean this in a narrow, culturally bound, sense of the term. One of the most encouraging developments in the profession and science of psychology is the growing realization just how bound the notion of mental health is to the experience of one relatively small segment of contemporary American culture.

So when I say mental health I mean it in the broad sense, of the integrity of the person's cognitive, emotional and social functions. In classical philosophical and theological anthropology, this life of integral living is the life of virtue. By necessity virtue means for me that there is a certain degree of tension in any psychologically healthy life. Why? Well because, just to take one example, my social situation might be such that a virtuous response demands of me social isolation. Or virtue might even require of me that I live in a state of relative conflict with those around me.

Mental health then, reflects a convergence of internal and external factors. And like human development, it is dynamic. Within the limits of his/her life situation, the psychological healthy human being is flexible and adaptable in his or her thinking and behaving. Indeed though it is often (wrongly) conflated with political liberalism, a central characteristic of mental health is the ability to change, to become if you will, evermore who I am.

Mental illness, to return to the second of the two human realities that an experience of grace does not exempt us from, is the precisely the lack of this ability to change in a positive direction. Psychotherapy is concerned with those times in human life when we are unable to exercise our cognitive, emotional and social functions in the service of becoming more fully who we are. In a broad sense, psychotherapy serves the life of virtue.

Think for example of the alcoholic.

The problem with alcoholism is not that the alcoholic enjoys wine. The problem, the real sorrow of alcoholism, is that the person only enjoys wine—until of course his or her indifference to the other joys of life and his or her fixation on wine becomes so pervasive that even wine is no longer enjoyed and its consumption becomes a compulsion and what yesterday reflected human freedom, today is the sign and source of freedom's lack.

Returning now to the centrality of virtue to any anthropologically sound view of mental health what can we say? Virtue, as Aristotle and the Christian tradition, understands the term is about finding the mean between extremes. It is moderation that is the key to wholeness—and moderation is learned.

An experience of grace then does not allow us to leap frog over the typical stage of human growth and development. Just as we grow from child to adult, we also grow (ideally anyway) in virtue, in wholeness of being. To be human, to borrow from existentialism, is to live a life of dynamic openness to the future. But as Emmanuel Levinas and Gabriel Marcel remind us, the future, as future, is always unknown and unknowable. Or, to us van Kaam's phrase, to live a constant human life means that we remain open in awe, trust, and gratitude to the Mystery of Being (God) and becoming (human life as a life of dynamic openness).

So, what has this to do with the difficulties we often see in Catholic/Orthodox conversations?

Though it needs to be developed more fully, I would suggest this: We often talk as if the Catholic/Orthodox dialog is a conversation is between two different, even competing, traditions. In fact these conversations are always conversations between human beings who in their conversations with each other, make selective appeals to their own understanding of the past, both their own and the other's. Traditions, to state the painfully obvious, do not have conversations—only human beings can speak, can enter into a conversations. Tradition, as Metropolitan John (Zizioulas) has pointed out in Being in Communion: Studies in Personhood and the Church, only exist enhypostatically, that is, by way of the person.

Too often conversations between Eastern and Western Christians are not understood as human encounters. In fact, I would suggest that the reason that our conversations are so often polemical, is because we imagine that there is nothing of ourselves in our talks with each other. Let me go even further, we are so often polemical because we are striving not to encounter one another. We do not wish to know the other, because not only do we do not wish to be know by the other, we do not know, or even wish to know, ourselves personally. Any human encounter is necessarily one that demands from me both self-knowledge and change. To refuse one or the other of these is to refuse the encounter, the gift of the other person and so to refuse to receive my own life as a gift from God.

For too many of us, our attachment to our religious tradition is an escape, a refusal, of the dynamic and gratuitous quality of our own lives. We do not wish to grow, to change. Our conversations are polemical because more often than not, our thinking about ourselves is static and rigid. Catholic/Orthodox polemics—at least as we see them in contemporary practice—are only accidentally theological. In the main (and I will address this more in another post) our polemics reflect our own lack of wholeness, of balance, of our own lack of virtue. Or, to borrow from psychology, our encounters so often go wrong because of we are neurotic. And, to push things a bit further, Eastern and Western Christians tend to favor different neurotic styles.

As always, your questions, comments, and criticisms are not only welcome, they are desired.

More later.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

Orthodox bishop shares Communion with Catholics

Romanian Orthodox Metropolitan Nicolae Corneanu receiving Holy Communion at a Romanian Catholic celebration of the Divine Liturgy.

Christ is Risen!

I don't know what to think--I do not understand why Metropolitan Nicolae asked to receive nor why he was allowed to do so. I'm not sure what will happen as a result of this, but I pray God something good come out of all of this.

+Fr Gregory

Timisoara , May. 27, 2008 (CWNews.com) - A Romanian Orthodox bishop has shared Communion with Catholics, causing a sensation in a country where Byzantine Catholics and Orthodox have a history of tense relations.

At the consecration of the Queen of Peace parish church in Timisoara on May 25, Orthodox Metropolitan Nicolae Corneanu of Banat asked to share Communion. The Orthodox metropolitan approached the altar and received the Eucharist from his own hand.

Romanian Catholic Bishop Alexandru Mesian of Lugoj was the celebrant of the Divine Liturgy in the Byzantine Catholic church; Archbishop Francisco-Javier Lozano, the apostolic nuncio to Romania, was also present.

Although Orthodox and Catholic bishops often join in ecumenical services, and occasionally participate in each other's liturgical ceremonies, they do not share Communion-- an indication of the breach in ecclesial communion between the Orthodox churches and the Holy See. In Romania, tensions between the Orthodox Church and the Eastern-rite Romanian Catholic Church have been pronounced, adding to the surprise created by Metropolitan Corneanu's action.

With some Orthodox believers outraged by the metropolitan's sharing Communion with Catholic bishops, the Orthodox Patriarchate of Romania issued a statement saying that at the next meeting of the Orthodox synod, in July, Metropolitan Corneanu "may be asked to give an appropriate explanation" for his action.

The statement from the Orthodox patriarchate went on to say that ecumenical relations with the Catholic Church, "already quite fragile, cannot be helped, but are rather complicated," by sharing in Communion.

Metropolitan Corneanu-- who was one of the first Orthodox bishops to admit that he had cooperated with the secret police under the Communist regime-- has a record of friendship with Romanian Catholics. He was among the few Orthodox leaders prepared to return church properties that had been seized by the Communist government from Catholic ownership in 1948 and handed over to Orthodox control.

Memory Eternal! Khouriya Joanne Abdalah

It is with great sadness that I report that this morning Khouriya Joanne Abdalah, wife of Fr John Abdalah (together in the picture above) fell asleep in the Lord.

Please remember Kh. Joanne and her families un your prayers.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

From the web page of the Antiochian Archdiocese of America:

Kh. Joanne Abdalah of St. George Cathedral/Pittsburgh, Pa., fell asleep in the Lord on Tuesday, May 27, after suffering with ovarian cancer for more than two years.

She and Fr. John are the parents of three children: Gregory, a 2008 graduate of St. Vladimir Seminary in Crestwood, NY, Joseph of Houston, TX, and Maria at home. Please remember them all in your prayers.

Among other ministries, Kh. Joanne was co-editor of the WORD magazine and a past president of the North American Board of Antiochian Women.

The funeral arrangements are as follows:

She will be laid out at the Cathedral of St. George in Oakland, PA, Thursday evening, May 29, from 4pm to 8pm. Immediately after that at 8pm we will have the funeral service. The internment will be on Friday at the Monastery of the Holy Transfiguration in Ellwood City, Pa.

Condolences can be sent to the V. Rev. Fr John Abdalah, St. George Cathedral, 3400 Dawson St., Pittsburgh, PA 15213.

May she rest in peace.

Read Khouriya Joanne's story in the May issue of the Word Magazine (pp 3-4)

Read a dedication to Khouriya Joanne and learn more about ovarian cancer in Antiochian Women's Diakonia Magazine (pp 1, 6-7)

Brain Research and the Passions

On his blog, Neuromarketing, Roger Dooley has a though provoking post entitled "Money, Social Status Similar in Brain." In the essay he asks:

Why do people do things that will gain them social approval? It turns out that the same parts of the brain are activated for a positive social outcome as for a monetary reward. In other words, the same reward circuitry is turned on both by social and monetary gains. Corporate marketers as well as non-profit fundraisers have always known that most individuals crave social approval, but these new findings show how our brains process these social rewards and how they relate to money.

The anthropologist Mary Douglas offers a similar conclusion in one of her seminal works on the economics that she co-authored with Baron Isherwood, The World of Goods: Towards an Anthropology of Consumption (1979). In this work see tries to answer an obvious, but often unasked question, why do we want goods? Her answer is that we desire material possessions, for example money, not as ends in themselves. Rather we desire things for social status. For Douglas and Isherwood at the heart of this status is freedom. A wealth person is one who both has relatively more options than his or her neighbor AND who has to invest a relatively smaller percentage of effort to acquire that which s/he wants.

So, a person is wealthy not on any absolute scale, but within a given social context. And who is wealthy? The person who, for example, not only has a relatively wide array of food options but who also needs to expend little effort (relative to others) to get the desired food. High options + low work = wealth.

So back to the brain.

Dooley writes that current brain research suggests, well in his own words, "that our brains are performing a balancing act when making a decision and that social benefits may be weighed directly against monetary costs." This he thinks is a possible explanation for what "a surprising number of people were early adopters of the Toyota Prius, despite the fact that any annual fuel cost savings would be offset by the higher initial cost of the car." For at least some of these early adopters, "driving an obviously 'green' vehicle would be a reward in itself and would justify the higher price." And so, to "continue the Toyota theme, could this reward system also explain why people will pay many thousands more for a Lexus than the equivalent Toyota model, even though the difference in features and function don't themselves justify the price differential?" In both cases, the owners see their purchase as a way to elevate their relative "social status." Current brain research, along with the early work of Douglas Isherwood, might also explain "why non-profit fundraising is always more successful when donors are recognized in a visible and public way." Successful fundraising requires it seems some recognition of those who donate. And so whether "it's as simple as calling a donor a "Gold Patron" in an event program or as significant as naming a building after him, public recognition is important to the vast majority of donors."

While the brain research, Dooley's application of the research, and Douglas and Isherwood's work are interesting in and of themselves, what is left unexamined is the role of human freedom in making the decision to exchange money for status, or for that matter status for money. That the same area of the brain processes money and social status (and other research suggests that the same part of the brain that processes spending decisions also processes pain; read about that research here: "The Pain of Buying") does not answer the question as to why I might by a Prius. How is it that I make that exchange?

Here we enter into the rather murky world of human motivate. Psychoanalysis, for example, would argue what actually motivates me in a given situation is largely unknown to me. For many people both during Freud's life time and since, his argument was an affront to human freedom and dignity. "After all," or so the argument went (and goes), "I am not a cauldron of conflicting desires. I live by the light of reason" (or "the Gospel," or "common sense," or "ethics."). Well, not so fast says Freud and now evidently some brain research.

For the Fathers of the Church, I am not motivated, at least initially, by reason, or the Gospel, or common sense, or ethics, but by the passions. The passions are my disordered desires. What makes these desires disordered is that they are self-referential. My desires serve me as I try and live a life of pleasure and avoid a life of pain. But what my desires don't do is draw me closer to God. For St Maximos the Confessor, for example, my passions are disordered because they lock me in on myself; I am forever running toward pleasure and fleeing from pain.

And, the physiology of my brain is part of this process. But what's interesting is not simply the link between social status and money, but also the link between money and pain. All three of these share common physiological links. According to some research, "brain scans predicted buying behavior almost as well as the self-reported intentions of the subjects. In other words, absent any knowledge of what the subject intended to do, viewing the brain scan was nearly as predictive as asking the subject what he would do." But, the social context (and this, I would suggest, includes social status) is also important.

The society is important because "it isn't just the dollar amount, it's the context of the transaction. Thus, people can spend hundreds of dollars on accessories when buying a car with little pain, while a vending machine that takes 75 cents and produces nothing is very aggravating. Auto luxury bundles are designed to minimize negative activation because their price tag covers multiple luxury items. The consumer can't relate a specific dollar amount to a particular item, e.g., $1000 for leather seats, and hence can't easily evaluate the fairness of the deal or whether the utility of the accessory is worth the price."

Yes, yes, yes, I can hear you ask. But what does this have to do with the spiritual life? What has this to do with my struggles against my own passions? Simply this: The passions—what I desire, what goals are worth the cost of my efforts if you will—not only have a physiological basis, they are also highly social or if you will traditional. Broadly speaking, my tradition tells me what desire to value, what purchases are worthy making (and I make these purchase by spending money, time and/or effort).

Likewise, asceticism—the effort needed to re-direct my desires so that they draw me closer to God—also has both a physiological and social or traditional character. We cannot grow in holiness, in real and lasting freedom, if we neglect either our physical bodies or our social situations. Yes I need to fast, I need to pray, I need to give alms, for example. But I also need to be a member of a community that values not simply fast and praying, and caring for the poor, but my fasting, my praying, my service to those in need. My ascent to grace is just as much bodily and social process as is my fall from grace. The body and our peers are both part of the problem and part of the solution.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory

A Proposed Typology for Orthodoxy in America

Image via Wikipedia

I have received several private emails regarding my earlier posts on Orthodoxy in America.

One idea that seems to resonant with people is the America is an experiment. Thinking about that one person suggested to me that Orthodoxy itself is something of an experiment. As I thought about it, it made sense to me that—since the Christian life is dynamic (it is after all, life)—it would necessarily have an experimental quality. Think about it for a moment—how do we learn to pray, for example, except by trying out not simply different ways of praying, but different mixes of the different ways.

So I got to thinking, what comes to mind when I reflect on the possibility that the Christian life and the American life are both experiments?

It is somewhat ironic that, on the right, many would deny this outright. For these people, both the Orthodox Church and America are presented as a completed work to which people (usually other people by the way) must conform. For me at least, the great strength of both traditions is that they provide people with the "tools" need for self-discovery and self-expression. Granted in the political arena this most often means being left alone, but still the absence of coercion by civil authority and a broadly respect for the conscience of the individual is no small tool. In the case of the Church, we have the whole of Holy Tradition. Far from being an abstract standard to be fulfilled, it presents us with 2,000 years of wisdom and a theological and spiritual unity grounded in human and cultural diversity. Taken up in the service of our growth in self-knowledge, I find the Tradition to be a source of unimaginable richness. As I read more in Orthodoxy theology and spirituality, as I find myself facing new pastoral challenges as a priest, as I have conversations with people (both those who are and those who aren't Orthodox), I discover not only new layers and depth in Holy Tradition, but new things about me.

Growing in my understanding of Holy Tradition and growing in self-knowledge and self-expression are not opposed. In my experience, they come together—in fact, I can't seem to have one without the other.

Least I someone accused of taking sides, those on the left have their own characteristic way of denying the open end nature of both American and Orthodoxy. In this case the experimental nature of both becomes an end in itself. Yes, there is dynamism in both the American experiment and the Christian experiment. LIkewise there is room for, and even an expectation of, learning through what we might call trial and error (though strictly speaking we do not learn through error. It is only in coming, by trail, to know and understand the truth that we see the errors of our ways. But that for another day.) And above all in both there is a deep appreciation for personal uniqueness. BUT all of this is in the service of getting somewhere. The American experiment is in search of a more just and perfect union; the Church is a journey to the Kingdom of God (even if we are given that Kingdom proleptically in the sacraments, but that is for another day). America and the Church each take their meaning not simply from the past, therefore, but from the future. As Americans and as Christians, we remember the future—albeit futures with different, though not unrelated, contents.

Granted I have grossly simplified not only the "left" and the "right," but also America and the Church. Let me then offer my words then as a typology rather than a normative description of either America or the Christian life.

When you have a chance, dear readers, I would be most interested in your thoughts on this typology.

In Christ,

+Fr Gregory