Posted on 06/11/2005 7:27:43 AM PDT by sionnsar
Ten years ago or so I dreamed that I was an Orthodox priest. If you had asked me even three years ago what if I would become if I ever decided to leave the Episcopal Church, I would have replied “Eastern Orthodox.” Yet today I find myself becoming what I truly never seriously considered until the past two years.
Why did I not choose to become Orthodox? Who but God can answer? All such matters are a mystery, a mystery between the mystery of the human heart and the mystery of the Holy Trinity. Rational analysis takes one only so far. All I really know is that during the past two years, as I intently studied both Orthodoxy and Catholicism, I found myself increasingly drawn, against my will and desire, and certainly to my amazement, to Catholicism.
I love the liturgy and sacramental life of the Orthodox Church. It speaks to the depths of my heart. I long to pray the Divine Liturgy and be formed by its music, poetry, beaity, and ritual.
I love the integration of theology, dogma, spirituality, and asceticism within Orthodoxy. There is a wholeness to Orthodox experience that is compelling, powerful, and attractive on many different levels. This wholeness refuses any bifurcation between mind and heart and invites the believer into deeper reconciliation in Christ by the Spirit. This wholeness is something that Western Christians particularly need, as we confront and battle the corrosive powers of Western modernity and secularism.
I love the reverence and devotion Orthodoxy gives to the saints and church fathers, who are experienced in the Church as living witnesses to the gospel of Christ Jesus. I love the icons.
And I love the theological writings of many Orthodox writers, especially Alexander Schmemann and Georges Florovsky. For all these reasons and for many more, it would have been oh so very easy for me to become Orthodox.
But two features in particular gave me pause.
First, I am troubled by Orthodoxy’s “Easternness.” The coherence and power of Orthodoxy is partially achieved by excluding the Western tradition from its spiritual and theological life. One is hard-pressed to find an Orthodox writer who speaks highly of the Western Church, of her saints, ascetics, and theologians, of her manifold contributions to Christian religion and Western civilization. According to Orthodox consensus, Western Christianity went off the tracks somewhere along the way and must now be judged as a heresy. Understandably, Eastern Christianity considers itself the touchstone and standard by which the Western tradition is to be judged.
To put it simply, Orthodoxy has no real place for St Augustine. He is commemorated as a saint, but the bulk of his theological work is rejected. The noted scholar, Fr John Romanides, has been particularly extreme. I raised my concern about Orthodoxy and the West a year ago in my blog article Bad, bad Augustine. In that article I cited one of the few Orthodox scholars, David B. Hart, who has been willing to address Orthodox caricature of Western theologians:
The most damaging consequence, however, of Orthodoxy’s twentieth-century pilgrimage ad fontes—and this is no small irony, given the ecumenical possibilities that opened up all along the way—has been an increase in the intensity of Eastern theology’s anti-Western polemic. Or, rather, an increase in the confidence with which such polemic is uttered. Nor is this only a problem for ecumenism: the anti-Western passion (or, frankly, paranoia) of Lossky and his followers has on occasion led to rather severe distortions of Eastern theology. More to the point here, though, it has made intelligent interpretations of Western Christian theology (which are so very necessary) apparently almost impossible for Orthodox thinkers. Neo-patristic Orthodox scholarship has usually gone hand in hand with some of the most excruciatingly inaccurate treatments of Western theologians that one could imagine—which, quite apart form the harm they do to the collective acuity of Orthodox Christians, can become a source of considerable embarrassment when they fall into the hands of Western scholars who actually know something of the figures that Orthodox scholars choose to caluminiate. When one repairs to modern Orthodox texts, one is almost certain to encounter some wild mischaracterization of one or another Western author; and four figures enjoy a special eminence in Orthodox polemics: Augustine, Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, and John of the Cross.
Ironically, the various contributions by Perry Robinson and Daniel Jones, here on Pontifications and elsewhere, have heightened my concern. Both have sought, in various ways, to demonstrate that Western theology is incompatible with the catholic faith. While I have neither the training nor wit to follow many of their arguments, I am convinced that their project is wrong. Both presume that one can know the catholic faith independent of ecclesial commitment and formation. If one insists, for example, that St Maximos the Confessor, read through a post-schism Eastern lens, is our authoritative guide to a proper reading of the sixth Ecumenical Council, then of course Augustinian Catholicism will come off looking badly, despite the fact that Maximos was himself a great supporter of the prerogatives of Rome and despite the fact that Rome was instrumental in the defeat of monotheletism. Yet Catholicism embraces both Augustine and Maximos as saints, even though it is clear that Maximos has had minimal influence upon Western reflection, at least until very recently. Clearly Rome did not, and does not, understand the dogmatic decrees of III Constantinople as contradicting Western christological and trinitarian commitments. As much as I respect Perry and Daniel and am grateful for both their erudition and civility and their stimulating articles on these matters, it seems to me that their conclusions are more determined by their theological and ecclesial starting points than by “neutral” scholarship. And one thing I do know: there is always a brighter guy somewhere who will contest one’s favorite thesis.
Neither Orthodoxy nor Catholicism, in my judgment, can be conclusively identified as the one and true Church by these kinds of rational arguments, as interesting and important as they may be in themselves. Arguments and reasons must be presented and considered as we seek to make the necessary choice between Rome and Constantinople, yet ultimately we are still confronted by mystery and the decision and risk of faith.
If the catholicity of Orthodoxy can only be purchased by the practical expulsion of Augustine and Aquinas, then, at least in my own mind, Orthodoxy’s claim to be the one and true Church is seriously undermined. A truly catholic Church will and must include St Augustine and St Maximos the Confessor, St Gregory Palamas and St Thomas Aquinas. A truly catholic Church will keep these great theologians in conversation with each other, and their differences and disagreements will invite the Church to a deeper and more comprehensive understanding of the divine mysteries. To set one against the other is not catholic, but partisan.
Second, I am troubled by the absence of a final court of appeal in controversies of faith and morals. We Anglicans are now witnessing first-hand the disintegration of a world-wide communion partially because of the absence of a divinely instituted organ of central authority. In the first millenium the Church employed the Ecumenical Council to serve as this final authority; but for the past thirteen centuries Orthodoxy has been unable to convene such a council. Is it a matter of logistics, or is the matter perhaps more serious, a question of constitutional impotence? Or has God simply protected the Orthodox from serious church-dividing heresies during this time, thereby temporarily obviating the need for such a council? Regardless, it seems to me that if Orthodoxy truly is the one Church of Jesus Christ in the exclusive sense it claims to be, then not only would it be confident in its power and authority to convene an Ecumenical Council, but it would have done so by now.
Yet as Orthodoxy begins to seriously engage the worldview and values of modernity (and post-modernity), the need for a final tribunal will perhaps become more evident. Consider just one example—contraception. It used to be the case that all Orthodox theologians would have roundly denounced most (all?) forms of contraception. But over the past twenty years or so, we have seen a growing diversity on this issue amongst Orthodox thinkers. Some state that this is really a private matter that needs to be decided between the believer and his parish priest. Clearly this privatization of the issue accords with modern sensibilities; but I am fearful of the consequences. Given the absence of a final court of appeal, does Orthodoxy have any choice but to simply accept diversity on many of the burning ethical questions now confronting us? Can Orthodoxy speak authoritatively to any of them?
For the past two years I have struggled to discern whether to remain an Anglican (in some form or another) or to embrace either Orthodoxy or Catholicism. Both Orthodoxy and Catholicism make mutually exclusive claims to be the one and true Church of Jesus Christ. We are confronted by a stark either/or choice. An Anglican is tempted to retreat to a branch theory of the Church, and on that basis make a decision on which tradition appeals to him most; but both Orthodoxy and Catholicism emphatically reject all such branch theories. There is only one visible Church. To become either Orthodox or Catholic means accepting the claim of the respective communion to ecclesial exclusivity. How do we rightly judge between them?
One thing we cannot do. We cannot pretend that we can assume a neutral vantage point. Oh how much easier things would be for all of us if God would call us on our telephones right now and tell us what to do!
The Pope convenes the College of Cardinals in emergency session. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he says. “The good news is this: I just received a phone call from God!” Everyone cheers. “But here’s the bad news: God lives in Salt Lake City.”
I cannot see the Church from God’s perspective. I am faced with a choice. Good arguments can be presented for both Orthodoxy and Catholicism; none appear to be absolutely decisive and coercive. Moreoever, considerations that seem important to me are probably irrelevant to the large majority of people. “The Church is a house with a hundred gates,” wrote Chesterton; “and no two men enter at exactly the same angle.” Finally, I can only rely upon my reason, my intuitions, my feelings, my faith, under the grace and mercy of God. May God forgive me if I have chosen wrongly.
(cont)
I'm not aware of anyone making us personally culpable for being born in darkness, orther than people such as yourself insisting on saying our terms mean something other than what we say they are intended to mean. The culpability is anological, not actual, and is indirect, in moral solidarity of will with Adam. We sinned in Adam to the same extent that Levi gave tithes to Melchizedek while in Abraham's loins. Thus the Holy Father's say things in all seriousness such as:
"Because we did not fast (when Adam ate the forbidden fruit) we have been turned out of the garden of Paradise." (St. Basil, Homily 1 on Fasting, 4)
"But inasmuch as it was by these things that we disobeyed God, and did not give credit to His word, so was it also by these same that He brought in obedience and consent as respects His Word; by which things He clearly shows forth God Himself, whom indeed we had offended in the first Adam, when he did not perform His commandment. In the second Adam, however, we are reconciled, being made obedient even unto death. For we were debtors to none other but to Him whose commandment we had transgressed at the beginning." (St. Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 5.16.3)
... even though of course, we did not personally stand by Adam and disobey.
Egyptians have sinned in pharoah, and Romans in Nero, and Germans in Hitler, and Chinese in Mao, and Soviets in Stalin, and Cambodians in Pol Pot...ultimately we have all sinned in all of them, and all carry the stain that our human race could do such things. It all comes down to guilt, Hermann.
I am saddened that humanity can do so much evil, but I don't for a moment assume their guilt. We are evil because we love ourselves and things of this world more than we love God. That is our wrong choice -- and for that we chould all feel guilty.
we had offended in the first Adam, when he did not perform His commandment. In the second Adam.
Sounds to me that Irenaeus understood that our ancestral sin was wiped clean by the grace of God through the sacrifice of Jesus for all mankind, by assuming the moral debt we owe so that we may be saved. What's left is only the consequence of that debt -- death; not guilt.
I agree entirely with this caveat. While from the perspective of Christ, His sacrifice was sufficient to bring about forgiveness to all men, and did actually do so, from the perspective of man, it only brings about our forgiveness and sanctification at the time of its application by the means He intended - at Baptism. So those who resist Baptism resist Christ's healing, therefore they do not benefit from His forgiveness, because they would not, and so wrath remains upon them.
This was also, of course, the perspective of St. Irenaeus:
But you who so frequently set against us the name of Manicheans, and you dare by such an accursed accusation to assault such men and such great defenders of the Catholic Faith, if you will wake up to give attention! Indeed I will not promise myself to gather the opinions of all on this matter, nor all [statements] of they whom I will recall; since it is exceedingly long, and I do not think it to be necessary: but I will put a few of a few, by which however our contradictors are known to be ashamed and to fall; if there is any fear of God in them, or if the decency of men will surmount such evil of obstinacy. Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons, was not far from the times of the Apostles; he says: "Men can be saved by no other way from the ancient wound of the serpent, unless they believe in him who (according to the likeness of sinful flesh), lifted from the earth on the tree of martyrdom, drew all things to himself and vivified the dead" [IRENEO, Adv. haer. 4, 2, 7: PG 7, 979.] (St. Augustine, Against Julian, Defender of the Pelagian Heresy, I, 3:5)
If we are given, then who is the giver? And why give us a broken cup instead of an unbroken one?
I am not sure what you mean. Are you saying that Christ forgives us by means of His own sacrifice?
Maybe it would help if you read more than one line. The cup was broken by our ancestral parent, Adam. God gave him a good cup and he broke it. Then he passed it on to his children and they to their children and so on...
If Adam had the power to break the cup that God made, then he must have been a very powerful being indeed. And Adam passes that broken cup onto us, is that your meaning?
The free will God gave us is a powerful tool that can push away even God. We are free to choose or reject God. To sin or not to sin is a powerful choice.
If God gave us the power to choose freely to sin or not to sin, then He gave us power over life and death. There would be no need of the Incarnation of God if we already have that power.
Excerpted from Orthodox Dogmatic Theology by Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky:
The physical consequences of the fall are diseases, hard labor, and death. These were the natural result of the moral fall, the falling away from communion with God, man's departure from God. ...
However, the final and most important consequence of sin was not illness and physical death, but the loss of Paradise. This loss of Paradise is the same thing as the loss of the Kingdom of God. In Adam all mankind was deprived of the future blessedness which stood before it, the blessedness which Adam and Eve had partially tasted in Paradise. In place of the prospect of life eternal, mankind beheld death, and behind it hell, darkness, and rejection by God.
By original sin is meant the sin of Adam, which was transmitted to his descendants and weighs upon them. The doctrine of original sin has great significance in the Christian world-view, because upon it rests a whole series of other dogmas. The word of God teaches us that through Adam “all have sinned” ... The common faith of the ancient Christian Church in the existence of original sin may be seen in the Church's ancient custom of baptizing infants. The Local Council of Carthage in 252, composed of 66 bishops under the presidency of St. Cyprian, decreed the following against heretics: “Not to forbid (the baptism) of an infant who, scarcely born, has sinned in nothing apart from that which proceeds from the flesh of Adam. He has received the contagion of the ancient death [sic] through his very birth, and he comes, therefore, the more easily to the reception of the remission of sins in that it is not his own but the sins of another that are remitted.” (The same thing is stated in Canon 110 of the "African Code,” approved by 217 bishops at Carthage in 419 and ratified by the Council in Trullo (692) and the Seventh Ecumenical Council (787). Canon 110 ends: “On account of this rule of faith even infants, who could have committed as yet no sin themselves, therefore are truly baptized for the remission of sins, in order that what in them is the result of generation may be cleansed by regeneration” (The Seven Ecumenical Councils, Eerdmans ed., p. 497).) ...
In the history of the ancient Christian Church, Pelagius and his followers denied the inheritance of sin (the heresy of Pelagianism). ...Blessed Augustine stepped out against Pelagius with great power and proof. He cited (a) testimonies from Divine Revelation concerning original sin, (b) the teaching of the ancient shepherds of the Church, (c) the ancient custom of baptizing infants, and (d) the sufferings and misfortunes of men, including infants, which are a consequence of the universal and inherited sinfulness of men. ...
Among the shepherds of the Eastern Church there have been no doubts concerning either the teaching of the inherited ancestral sin in general, or the consequences of this sin for fallen human nature in particular. Orthodox theology does not accept the extreme points of Blessed Augustine's teaching; but equally foreign to it is the (later) Roman Catholic point of view, which has a very legalistic, formal character. ... The consequences of ancestral sin are accepted by Orthodox theology differently. After his first fall, man himself departed in soul from God and became unreceptive to the grace of God which was opened to him; he ceased to listen to the divine voice addressed to him, and this led to the further deepening of sin in him.
In the first place in the series of Mysteries of the Holy Church stands the Mystery of Baptism. It serves as the door leading into the Kingdom of grace, or the Church, and it grants access to participation in the other Mysteries. Even before the establishment of the Mystery of Baptism, the Lord Jesus Christ in His conversation with Nicodemus indicated the absolute necessity of it for salvation: “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born from above, he cannot see the Kingdom of Heaven.” ...
The mystical grace-given aspect of Baptism is indicated in the above-cited passages of Sacred Scripture; Baptism is a “new birth,” and it is performed for the salvation of men (Mark 16:16). Moreover, setting forth the grace-given significance of Baptism, the Apostles in their Epistles indicate that in it we are “sanctified,” “cleansed,” “justified”; that in Baptism we “die to sin” so as to walk in renewed life; we are “buried with Christ,” and we arise with Him. ...
Since in Baptism a man receives, in place of the old existence he had, a new existence and life, and becomes a child of God, a member of the Body of Christ or the Church, an inheritor of eternal life, it is therefore evident that Baptism is indispensable for all, including infants, so that growing in body and spirit they might grow in Christ. ...
As we see from the above-cited statements of the holy Apostles, and likewise from the whole teaching of the Church, Baptism is not only a symbol of cleansing and washing away the defilement of the soul, but in itself is the beginning and source of the Divine gifts which cleanse and annihilate all the sinful defilements and communicate a new life. All sins are forgiven, both original sin and personal sins; the way is opened for a new life; opened is the possibility to receive the gifts of God. Further spiritual growth depends upon the free will of man.
This looks a lot closer to our view than the view expressed by the Orthodox here. Although I wonder how the author can on the one hand argue against the "guilt" of original sin and on the other say that original sin is forgiven in Baptism!
Yes He did. You can follow Him and live. Or reject Him and die. That is your choice. He does not make that choice for you.
"This looks a lot closer to our view than the view expressed by the Orthodox here."
Ah, but has his p.o.v. been "received" by the Church, and what if he is just another Orthodox theologian who has been Latinised???!!!
It seems that nailing jello to a wall is as apt a metaphor for dialogue with the Orthodox as it is for dialogue with the Anglicans. There is obviously more than one phronema at work within Orthodoxy, and who is to say which one is right? As always everything comes back to the question of authority.
For you and those in your church, authority does seem to be needed.
Then there is no need for the Incarnation, since it is within man's power to determine whether he lives or dies. Is that what you are saying?
Bothered me too. This is not how I understand the Original sin -- as inheritance of corruption and concupiscence, but not an actual sin of the will.
There are two things that probably make it seem that way. First, sometimes Orthodox and Anglicans are not as practiced as Romans in articulating their beliefs and teachings of their confessions. Romans tend to very good at putting their faith in words, hence things like the catechism backed by an institution given authority to create an official document.
Second, in the Eastern Christian tradition as a whole, but among some Western theologians as well but mostly Anglicans, insists that our language about God is always inadequate. Statements of doctrine are merely "pointers" to an unknowable, incomprehensibe, ineffable God. So authoritative statements just don't carry the same weight in those churches as they do in the Latin church. Nailing down some point of doctrine isn't the point to begin with, so you might as well use thumb tacks instead.
This is actually a major element in our Western tradition as well. As St. Thomas Aquinas puts it (this is the unanimous belief of Catholics): "For the divine substance, by its immensity, transcends every form that our intellect can realise; and thus we cannot apprehend it by knowing what it is, but we have some sort of knowledge of it by knowing what it is not" (Summa Contra Gentiles, 1.14).
That is a good statement of apophatic theology. And I think that imbiding a heavy dose of that is the best way for any discussion between Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans and Protestants to proceed.
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