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)
The piece by Kucharek is the first that I have ever heard of any Orthodox writers promoting the idea of the IC. Again, I would really have to see the quotations, and see the context. I'm inclined to think, with you, that he is really stretching the case.
I think that the confusion probably stems from the fact that we Orthodox do refer to the Theotokos as being "immaculate," "most pure," "blameless," etc...
Fr. Kucharek's confusion on this point is exemplified by his citing as evidence for Orthodox belief in the IC the hymn that we sing at virtually every Liturgy of St. John Chysostom: "It is truly meet to bless thee, O Theotokos, ever blessed and most pure and the Mother of our God. More honorable than the Cherubim, and more glorious beyond compare than the Seraphim. Without corruption thou gavest birth to God the Word. Pure Theotokos, we magnify thee!"
The term "most pure" is in other translations termed "blameless" or "immaculate." The Greek term also means "without spot," like that of the Latin term, "immaculate." I think that someone schooled in Western ideas of original sin (at least in traditional formulations) couldn't imagine how someone someone conceived with original sin could be spoken of as being "immaculate," "without spot," etc...
But for Orthodox Christians, who believe that the result of the ancestral sin is death and corruption -- full stop, there is no such problem. The Theotokos didn't sin, according to our quiet inner tradition, so she was truly "immaculate." But she was born with exactly the same effects of the ancestral sin that we were. Her immaculateness has nothing to do with her conception, for us. Again, if this were a part of our tradition, it would be reflected in some way in our services.
The question about why the Theotokos is referred to as "pure," "holy," etc... from the time of her conception is an interesting one at first glance, but it doesn't bear up, because at least in Eastern services, there is a conflation of time, or rather, everything is taken out of time and into an eternal present. For instance, she is referred to in the present tense (i.e. at the time of her conception) as the Theotokos even though she has yet to give birth, as ever-Virgin even though she has yet to be this, etc... To give an idea of the way that tenses are mixed in this "liturgical time," consider this troparion from the first Ode of the canon:
The glorious Anna now conceiveth (present tense) the pure one who conceived (past tense) the all-good, incorporeal Lord, and who will give birth (future tense) in the flesh unto Christ.
The thing that makes the conception of the Theotokos theologically significant is what she will do: i.e. live a sinless life, achieve theosis, be perfectly obedient to God, conceive God in the flesh. All of that is therefore transferred back to her when talking about her at both her conception and her birth, in the Orthdoox services.
St. John the Baptist did not live a sinless life, so we would not speak of him as "immaculate" at any time, least of all at his conception. He is spoken of at the time of his conception in the present tense regarding things that he will do in the future in a similar way, though.
Speaking of the Theotokos, when did the Church actually begin to venerate her? It is somewhat strange that her place and date of death is not mentioned even by John who outlived her, considering who she was.
Saint Paul mentions her by name, and although he probably outlived her too, she does not appear as the central figure in the Epistles of the New Testament, with the possible exception of a hint (not by name) in the Revelations.
Obviously, the Apostles and their immediate successors did not consider her even close to the Marian reverence of the Church centuries later. She did not become the subject of post-Resurrection writings even of the people closest to Jesus.
I believe that the Gospel of James speaks in greater detail about her, but then it is not part of the New Testament. It expands on the Gospel of Mark and Matthew and is the earliest text that claims perpetual virginity of Mary as well as the first source known to claim Joseph was a widower -- which of course is not made by any of the four Gospels of the NT.
The consensus is that it was written around 150 AD by someone who claims to be the brother of Jesus (Origen states that he would be His cousin). So, while the entire gospel is rejected along with those of the Gospel of Thomas, the so-called "infancy gospels," the Church uses parts of it (virginity and Joseph being the widower). But this pushes the virginity and sinlessness of the HVM to a century after her death, leaving one to ponder why was her blessedness not obvious from the beginning even to the Apostles, as well as who and where started the Marian devotion?
All good questions, and ones that there can really be no definitive answers to. If one takes a Sola Scriptura approach, then there is no evidence for the veneration of the Theotokos in the Scripture.
It would appear that the obscurity of the origins are due to the fact that this is a part of the inner tradition of the Church, and not a part of the public witness, which is what the Scripture is primarily about. It would have been problematic, to say the least, to emphasize the Theotokos during her lifetime, since this could have detracted from Christ. There was also the Hebrew tradition of women keeping silent -- it was the role of the apostles to preach, and to preach Christ. The tradition of the Church also indicates that the Theotokos, being so physically linked to Christ, who took flesh from her, could do no other than to live a life of unceasing prayer after he ascended to the Heaven. She is, for this reason, seen as the exemplar of monasticism and hesychia.
Flipping it on its head, it is always helpful to ask these questions from the opposite standpoint: i.e. why is there an absence of polemical liturature questioning the veneration of the Theotokos? One would assume that if something new were being introduced into the Church, someone would complain about it, rather loudly. If there is one thing we know about the Church of the first few centuries, it is that they weren't afraid to hash things out to the nth degree if there was the least bit of controversy.
I remember reading an debate between a Reformed Calvinist and a Baptist over the question of infant baptism. The Baptist had to admit that the practice of infant baptism must have begun very, very, early in the history of the Church, since there is no record of any polemical literature questioning the rightness of baptizing infants. He still believed that baptizing infants was wrong, since Scripture didn't teach it, but he had to admit that the practice must have begun at least shortly after the time of the apostles.
I would therefore think that the veneration of the Theotokos would likewise have to have been universal and uncontroversial in the Church within at least a century of the death of the apostles.
Regarding the Protoevangelion of James, I think that it perhaps isn't wise to say, as some do, that our accounts of the conception, birth, entrance, etc... of the Theotokos come from those books. They are part of a collection of books that was handed down within the Gnostic tradition, and the texts themselves should be approached with caution.
What is important to remember about the various Gnostic Gospels and Epistles is that the Gnostics used various techniques to back up their particular views. One technique was to take the "real" New Testament and exise parts they didn't like. Another was to take the "real" New Testament and ascribe Gnostic interpretations to it. Another was to add in passages that suited their fancy. And yet another was to compose entirely new books, and put the names of apostles on them.
Now, it is obvious that the way that these books would be most believable would be if they related stories that everyone knew because of oral tradition -- the Gnostic specifics could then be added onto this. The Gnostics weren't interested in whether Joachim and Anna were old and childless and that an angel appeared to Joachim in the fields. They were interested in their esoteric teachings, and using Christian tradition, particularly tradition that wasn't recorded in the New Testament, was a perfect way for them to trick people into accepting their teachings.
(Note that these techniques are basically the same techniques used by modern textual and higher critics of the Scripture.)
So, one can perhaps learn some historical things of interest from even the Gnostic writings, especially if they are things without doctrinal overtones. They may have been the factual skeleton on which the Gnostics built credibility for their books.
I think that the place to look for authentic teaching on the Theotokos are in the festal homilies of the fathers, and in the services themselves. These reflect the separate, uninterrupted, inner tradition of the Church about the Theotokos.
Which, of course, must be taken on faith alone (sola fide of sorts for Apostolic Churches!).
But your answer carries a lot of merit, I believe, in that there was no overt dissension to the development of Marian veneration, and that the Church in its entirely accepted it on some knowledge which is not directly known to us today.
Thank you Agrarian.
Thank you Kolo. The heavyweights are Agrarian and gbcdoj. I will look up +Ignatius and Panagia.
Is it not a far cry from the obscurity of the early Apostolic Church (1st century) with regard to Mary, and calling her all-powerful (i.e. omnipotent) almost 2,000 years later (in the Latin Church)?
How is it that we venerate her more than the early Christians, Apostles notwithstanding?
The Church in Georgia is completely out of the WCC, btw. Almost ten years ago, many clergy and monastics had a sort of uprising about it and Patriarch Ilia conceded membership.
The Georgian Church is very conservative and has an extremely strong monastic community. I say this from recent firsthand experience and discussion with several clergy and one Abbess, all of whom speak English.
"Do you not believe, teach and state that God deprived humanity of His Grace? That we are born without Grace because God punished our ancestral parents?"
No.
"Do you not believe, teach and state that our sins can be "paid off" with indulgencies, and that the departed souls in the Purgatory are subject to physical pain that lasts until God is satisfied?"
No.
"Is the Immaculate Conception dogma not based on the concept of our "original sin" and God's "punishment" of death?"
No.
"The entire concept of an angry God is wholly a western product that has no place in the East."
Again, a caricature.
http://www.maristoz.edu.au/spirituality/sub_tuum.html
We fly to your patronage, 0 holy Mother of God; despise not our prayers in our necessities, but deliver us always from all dangers, O glorious and blessed Virgin.....
In the Coptic Rite of the third century, for instance, the Sub Tuum was part of the liturgical office of Christmas. At the end of that century, Patriarch Theonas of Alexandria built the first real church for local Christians (who prior to that time were accustomed to assemble in homes and cemeteries) and called it the Church of St Mary Virgin and Mother of God. Thus, it is evident that Alexandrian Christians were already calling Mary the "Mother of God" in the third century - long before St Athanasius, who was usually credited with coining the phrase.
But this is a poetic outpouring of love and supplication, and is always viewed in light of the entire corpus of Orthodox theology, at which Christ is the center, and where Christ is God the Son, and the Theotokos is human.
And as some have pointed out, when we venerate a saint, who is a member of the body of Christ who has achieved theosis and is in Paradise with Christ, we are in a sense venerating Christ himself. For without that union and direct participation in the energies of God, there would be nothing to venerate.
We really don't know if this is a far cry from the level of veneration of the early days of the Church, since all was oral tradition at that point. We must use caution, and not assume that what was believed in a given era was all written down, and that what we have access to today after 2 millenia is everything that *was* written down.
It is important to remember St. John's final words of the Gospel, when he said that if all the things that Christ did were written down, the world could not contain the books. Some of the apostles had died before all of the New Testament was written -- their faith was entirely based on their direct experiences and oral tradition.
St. Paul's statement that "all have sinned" has been interpreted in various ways, most commonly by pointing out that Mary was born with "original sin" -- i.e. she had a tendency to death and corruption, and indeed died.
Much of it is just a mystery, but again, given that statement of St. Paul, one would have to believe that there must have been a clear and universal understanding in the early church that morally guilty actions on the part of the Theotokos were *not* included in what St. Paul was talking about. Otherwise, there would have been controversy when the teaching of the Theotokos living a morally guiltless life began to go from oral tradition to actually being written down.
The important thing about Orthodoxy's approach to the Theotokos is literally right in front of our eyes in our iconography, where the Theotokos is basically never portrayed apart from Christ. Christ is always included in every traditionally painted icon of the Theotokos, even if it is an "unseen" appearance such as the Annunciation, where he is taking flesh within her womb. Even in traditional icons of the Nativity and the Entrace of the Theotokos, there is a small icon of the Annunciation in the background -- connecting her explicitly to Christ.
"O cause of all blessings" is supplication? One wonders indeed at which point does veneration morph into worship! And all along I though God was the cause and source of everything and all, especially all blessings.
I can see why the Protestants cringe, and I must say so do I, at the words of such supplications.
So you deny that the RCC teaches we are born deprived of Grace because of God's punishment?
You also deny that the RCC teaches that in the Purgatory the unrepented sins are "paid off" with indulgencies, and that deprated souls are in physical and spiritual torment until God is satisfied?
Interesting.
Interesting indeed, since this is what I was taught in RC schools while growing up. Things have certainly changed.
Perhaps "cause of all blessings" in that she gave birth to Christ. Otherwise I agree with you.
She is not a cause in the sense of the ultimate source. The Father is ultimately the source of all.
She is the cause of all blessings, however, in the sense that through her God took flesh, thus making it possible for us to achieve theosis and receive salvation. She, personally, is Again, none of this can ever be separated from the dogmatic understanding of the Church.
Yes, these things do make Protestants cringe. But again, these things are parts of our inner tradition. They are not something we emphasize as being at the center of our witness as we witness to the Christian faith.
When these prayers and services are experienced from within the totality of the Orthodox faith, they seem like the most natural thing in the world. Even to a former Protestant who was taught that Catholics were going to hell because they worshipped Mary. :-)
Maybe St. Nino has taken over the female icon place there, I don't know? She and St. George were everywhere.
So the Pope's legates were in attendance at Constantinople I else Rome could not recognize it as an Ecumenical Council.
But that does contradict your initial statement.
No, there were no legates.
It is too arrogant and intemperate thus to step beyond all proper bounds and trampling on ancient custom to wish to seize another’s right: to increase one man’s dignity at the expense of so many metropolitans’ primacy, and to carry a new war of confusion into peaceful provinces which were long ago set at rest by the enactments of the holy Nicene Synod: to break through the venerable Fathers’ decrees by alleging the consent of certain bishops, which even the course of so many years has not rendered effective. For it is boasted that this has been winked at for almost 60 years now, and the said bishop thinks that he is assisted thereby; but it is vain for him to look for assistance from that which, even if a man dared to wish for it, yet he could never obtain. (St. Leo the Great, Letter 105, To Pulcheria Augusta)
For your purpose is in no way whatever supported by the written assent of certain bishops given, as you allege, 60 years ago, and never brought to the knowledge of the Apostolic See by your predecessors; and this transaction, which from its outset was doomed to fall through and has now long done so, you now wish to bolster up by means that are too late and useless, viz., by extracting from the brethren an appearance of consent which their modesty from very weariness yielded to their own injury. (St. Leo the Great, Letter 106, To Anatolius of Constantinople)
Lucentius the most reverend bishop and legate of the Apostolic See, said: It is manifest that the decrees of the 318 have been put aside, and that mention only has been made of those of the 150, which are not found to have any place in the synodical canons, and which were made as they acknowledge eighty years ago. If therefore they enjoyed this privilege during these years, what do they seek for now? If they never used it, why seek it? (Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, Session XVI)
We Latins have traditionally understood that statement as including the Blessed Virgin (cf. John Henry Newman, A Letter Addressed to the Rev. E. B. Pusey, D.D., on Occasion of His Eirenicon, pp. 125-7). To excerpt a few passages from Suarez and Cornelius a Lapide:
It must be absolutely and simply held that the Blessed Virgin sinned in Adam.The Blessed Virgin sinned in Adam, from whom as if from an infected root she was born by a seminal reason; this is the whole reason of contracting original sin, which is from the power of conception, unless the grace of God prevenes.
If the Blessed Virgin was not sold in Adam (so as I say), and of herself subject to punishment for the slavery of sin, she was not truly redeemed.
All died, namely, in Adam, for in him all contracted the necessity of sin and death, even the Mother of God; so that both herself and man altogether needed Christ as a Redeemer and His death. Therefore the Blessed Virgin sinned and died in Adam, but in her own person she contracted not sin and the death of the soul, for she was anticipated by God and God's grace.
St. Paul can't have been referring to actual sin; it is manifest that there are very many infants who have never committed such.
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