August 31, 2016
The Dictionnaire de Théologie Catholique is a massive and invaluable theological reference work, which was begun in 1898 under the editorial direction of Jean Michel Alfred Vacant and continued to appear under successive editors (E. Mangenot, E. Amann) and with various revisions until work on it ended in 1950. Much of it is now in the public domain; the complete text of at least an early version of it is available online, on Internet Archive. Below I provide links to these volumes, and to a few articles from them.
November 15, 2013
Mother Agnes-Mariam de la Croix, prioress of the Monastery of St. James the Mangled in Qâra, Syria, gave a talk yesterday evening at St. George’s Antiochian Orthodox Church in Cleveland, titled What is Really Happening in Syria Today? I made a point of attending, having first heard about Mother Agnes-Mariam and her work a couple of months ago. In September, in the aftermath of the chemical weapons attack on East Ghouta, an eastern suburb of Damascus, she presented a report to the United Nations in Geneva, pointing out that some of the children who were shown as victims in the amateur videos that began circulating on the internet on the morning of the attack had been kidnapped by rebels two weeks earlier after a massacre by rebel forces in the town of Latakia; also, in different videos, purportedly filmed at different locations, the same dead children reappear. In brief, the children were cynically used as props. (A brief summary of the report, written by Mother Agnes-Mariam herself, along with a link to the PDF of the full report, will be found here.)
Most of Mother Agnes-Mariam’s talk yesterday centered upon the work of the organization she heads, Mussalaha (“Reconciliation”), described as “a popular movement in Syria that mediates disputes and organizes ceasefires between opposing forces.” It became clear to me, in hearing her speak, that her peace activism in Syria long preceded the incident in August that nearly brought about US airstrikes; in her talk, she described some of the more memorable incidents in which she and her organization had made a difference. She seems to have a rare ability to maintain communications with all the different sides in this war, not excluding the Al Nusra Front. (I should qualify that: she explicitly stated that the aim of her organization is to promote reconciliation among the various Syrian parties in this war; she does not negotiate with the foreign jihadists who have flocked to the country.) One of her most moving stories concerned a local meeting in (I think) Aleppo between opposing political forces; the meeting was full of mutual recriminations, and nothing was getting done. Then a man, attending the meeting, related the story of the kidnapping of his only son, named Fayyad, 20-years-old. He and his wife tried for months to secure his release. One day, he received a phone call; the voice asked, “would you like to see your son?” The father replied, “Of course, we are ready to do whatever you ask.” The voice replied that, okay, they would bring him. The father and mother were overjoyed, and anticipated meeting their son. Two days later a car drove by their house, very fast; when the parents opened the door, they found a bag containing the remains of their son Fayyad, who had been hacked into pieces. But the point of the story, as Mother Agnes-Mariam told it, was not the heinous crime as such. The man who told the story said to the warring factions that, although the death of his son was a crime without justification, a loss that had taken away his reason for living, and that, if there was anyone there who had good reason for wanting to seek revenge, it was him, he was, nevertheless, there and then, forgiving his enemies, and beseeching them all, for the good of Syria, to forgive each other. This man, as Mother Agnes-Mariam pointed out, was a Sunni Muslim. She said this, pointing out that this kind of reconciliation is open to all, and is the only way forward if Syria is to have a future.
Like a lot of people, I have been much preoccupied over the past year by what is going on in Syria; in general, I see my own government’s policies there as shameful, duplicitous, and motivated more by calculations of geopolitics than by any genuine concern for the people in that country who are suffering and dying. It is easy to become cynical about what is going on, both in Washington and in Syria itself. It is easy to despair, or to be critical. Mother Agnes-Mariam is one courageous woman who, instead of despairing about the situation, is there on the ground actively doing something about it. She is certainly critical about lies that are told to perpetuate the war; yet the focus of her effort is not there, but on the process of reconciliation which is necessary if all the various parties are to live in peace. She is going to be in the United States for the next month, raising support for her ministry; if she plans to speak in your town, I would urge you to go and hear what she has to say.
April 24, 2013
The Lyceum School Choir — or, to give it its more proper title, the “Lyceum Schola Cantorum” — will be singing this Thursday, April 25th, at a televised mass on EWTN. I will be among them, in the bass section. The mass will be televised at 8:00 a.m. Eastern Daylight Savings time, and will be rebroadcast at 12 noon and 7 p.m. We will be singing parts of Palestrina’s Missa Brevis, among other things. A live stream of the mass can be watched, at the aforementioned times, at the link below.
March 31, 2013
I have not written anything on this blog for a long time; indeed, some readers (if this blog still has readers) may wonder to find me still among the living. But I would like, first, to wish those who celebrated today Christ’s resurrection a Happy Easter. For myself, due to an unusually long gap this year between the dates of Orthodox Easter (or Pascha, if you prefer*) on the one hand and Catholic and Protestant Easter on the other, I shall not be celebrating the paschal feast until May 5th, along with the rest of the Orthodox world. (This discrepancy is rooted in a difference between the Julian and Gregorian calendars; more precisely, it arises from the fact that the Orthodox churches, or most of them, use the date of the vernal equinox on the Julian calendar — March 21st Julian = April 3rd Gregorian — to calculate the feast day, even though this date now falls 13 or 14 days later than the actual, astronomical vernal equinox. The Orthodox calculation of Easter — first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox — also requires that the feast come after Passover: that is, after the whole seven days of that feast are concluded. But there are so many minutiae involved in the calculation of Easter that even the above description is doubtless only partially complete; for instance, there is a full moon this year on April 25th, so why isn’t Orthodox Easter celebrated on the Sunday immediately following this, April 28th? I don’t know, and I despair of knowing.) Most Orthodox I speak with feel the discrepancy between Easter dates is silly and scandalous, and wish that a common date could be arrived at. It won’t be, mainly because the bishops know that any further changes to the calendar would only exacerbate existing divisions amongst the Orthodox — it would further aggravate and complicate the New Calendar / Old Calendar split that already plagues us.
The month of March 2013 has been a bitter one for me and my family. My sister died on March 6th, a cousin’s wife drowned on March 12th, an uncle died today of old age. My address list is slowly being transformed into a necrology, as I write the dates of death next to the names of the people I know. My sister, Ann Gilbert Ortiz, would have been 60 years old in May; she died of cancer, which she had fought for some twenty years. She was a gentle, decent person, loving towards her family, kind to friends and strangers. Human beings are unique and irreplaceable. I console myself sometimes with the thought that, if God took my sister away at this time, it was perhaps because there are miseries in store that he didn’t want her to have to see. I’m glad that my mother didn’t have to witness 9/11 and all the hysteria that followed it.
I like Pope Francis. I particularly like his economics. As for those who grumble because he does not countenance blessing homosexual unions as holy matrimony, well, neither does the New Testament (see Romans ch. 1, if you are in any doubt concerning this). He is simply doing his job, which is to defend the moral and doctrinal teaching of the Catholic Church.
I suppose I have said enough. Again, Happy Easter.
*Some Orthodox boldly assert that “we don’t celebrate Easter — we celebrate Pascha.” See, for instance, an article from the Orthodox Information Center — which also makes the ingenious excuse for ignoring the astronomical date of the vernal equinox, that to observe it would require that the feast be celebrated on different dates in the northern and southern hemispheres. As though the fathers of the Nicene Council, when they laid down canons for a common celebration for the paschal feast, and tied it to the date of the vernal equinox, left it equivocal which hemisphere’s vernal equinox they meant — or else did not mean to speak of the astronomical vernal equinox, but instead meant to fix a particular date on the Julian calendar in perpetuum, however far that calendar might diverge from astronomical reality. Thus, we “observe days, and months, and times, and years” (Gal 4:10). And we are proud of this, as it shows us how deeply spiritual we are.
March 16, 2011
Below is a quick, unofficial translation of an article that was published today on the website of the French journal, Le Point.
A new Maronite Patriarch in Lebanon
Bechara Rai, 71, succeeds Nasrallah Sfeir, 91, head of the Maronite community for 25 years.
LePoint.fr – Posted on 16/03/2011 at 09:53 – Edited on 16/03/2011 at 11:20
From OUR CORRESPONDENT IN BEIRUT, EMILIE SUEUR
The Lebanese Maronite bishops, gathered in synod since last Wednesday, elected on Tuesday morning their new patriarch: Bechara Rai, previously Bishop of Byblos. Bishop Rai, 71, takes over from Cardinal Nasrallah Sfeir, who led the Maronite Church for 25 years. In January, Cardinal Sfeir, aged 91, had tendered his resignation to the Vatican, which accepted it late in February.
After the election was announced, church bells began ringing, while the faithful, some in tears, arrived at Bkirki, seat of the patriarchate, to celebrate the new patriarch.
“Love and Partnership”
In Lebanon, the patriarch is not only a religious authority. In this country made up of many communities, a country which takes for granted the principle of political sectarianism, the Maronite Patriarch is also a political figure. In 2000 the Maronite Council of Bishops, chaired by Nasrallah Sfeir, issued a call for the withdrawal of Syrian troops from Lebanon. It would take another five years before Syrian troops would actually leave the land of the Cedars. Cardinal Sfeir did not hold aloof from tensions on the local political scene, either. In recent years, relations have deteriorated between the cardinal, on the one hand, and Michel Aoun and Suleiman Franjieh, on the other, two Maronite leaders allied to the Hezbollah-led “March 8” party.
After his election, Bechara Rai, 77th patriarch since the arrival of the first disciples of St. Maron in Lebanon over 1500 years ago, declared that he intends to follow in his predecessor’s footsteps. “I have chosen the motto for my journey, and it is ‘Love and Partnership,'” he added.
The Christian camp divided
While some view Bechara Rai as a moderate figure, others point out that he may be radical and combative, that the man does not mince words and has not always been a model of diplomacy. The new patriarch is, moreover, very committed to Lebanon’s sovereignty and rejects foreign interference. According to a Lebanese expert on religious affairs, Monseigneur Rai, whose surname means “shepherd” in Arabic, is a very learned man who does not compromise on principles, a man committed to Christian-Muslim dialogue, but also to the defense of the Christians of the East. Earlier this year, after the attack against a Coptic church in Alexandria in Egypt, Archbishop Rai had called for holding an Islamic summit aimed at “clarifying the real position of the Muslim world against fundamentalist currents which attack Christians under the guise of Islam.” Stressing that Eastern Christians are in danger, he called upon “Arab regimes to assume their responsibilities” in this regard.
Bechara Rai’s election also comes at a critical moment for the Lebanese scene in general and the Maronite community in particular. The “March 8” party, led by Hezbollah, and the “March 14” party led by Saad Hariri, a Sunni, have been at loggerheads since this past January 12 when the national unity government led by Hariri fell apart after the resignation of the “March 8” ministers. Appointed Prime Minister on January 25, Najib Mikati has still failed to form a new government. The backdrop to this crisis is the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, charged with trying the assassins of Rafiq Hariri. This is an international tribunal which, according to several international media reports, was prepared to point the finger at members of Hezbollah. In this crisis, the Maronite community is divided between the two sides, “March 8” and “March 14.”
Two other links on the same subject:
Rocco Palma: “At Bkirki, Black Smoke” (from the blog, Whispers in the Loggia)
Marie Dumières: “Bkirki joyful after the election of a new patriarch” (from Lebanon’s The Daily Star)
September 17, 2010
Below is the text of the address Pope Benedict XVI delivered earlier today before members of both Houses of the British Parliament, assembled at Westminster Hall. The text of the address is taken from the site http://www.thepapalvisit.org.uk/, where other information about the Pope’s visit to the UK will be found.
Thank you for your words of welcome on behalf of this distinguished gathering. As I address you, I am conscious of the privilege afforded me to speak to the British people and their representatives in Westminster Hall, a building of unique significance in the civil and political history of the people of these islands. Allow me also to express my esteem for the Parliament which has existed on this site for centuries and which has had such a profound influence on the development of participative government among the nations, especially in the Commonwealth and the English-speaking world at large. Your common law tradition serves as the basis of legal systems in many parts of the world, and your particular vision of the respective rights and duties of the state and the individual, and of the separation of powers, remains an inspiration to many across the globe.
As I speak to you in this historic setting, I think of the countless men and women down the centuries who have played their part in the momentous events that have taken place within these walls and have shaped the lives of many generations of Britons, and others besides. In particular, I recall the figure of Saint Thomas More, the great English scholar and statesman, who is admired by believers and non-believers alike for the integrity with which he followed his conscience, even at the cost of displeasing the sovereign whose “good servant” he was, because he chose to serve God first. The dilemma which faced More in those difficult times, the perennial question of the relationship between what is owed to Caesar and what is owed to God, allows me the opportunity to reflect with you briefly on the proper place of religious belief within the political process.
This country’s Parliamentary tradition owes much to the national instinct for moderation, to the desire to achieve a genuine balance between the legitimate claims of government and the rights of those subject to it. While decisive steps have been taken at several points in your history to place limits on the exercise of power, the nation’s political institutions have been able to evolve with a remarkable degree of stability. In the process, Britain has emerged as a pluralist democracy which places great value on freedom of speech, freedom of political affiliation and respect for the rule of law, with a strong sense of the individual’s rights and duties, and of the equality of all citizens before the law. While couched in different language, Catholic social teaching has much in common with this approach, in its overriding concern to safeguard the unique dignity of every human person, created in the image and likeness of God, and in its emphasis on the duty of civil authority to foster the common good.
And yet the fundamental questions at stake in Thomas More’s trial continue to present themselves in ever-changing terms as new social conditions emerge. Each generation, as it seeks to advance the common good, must ask anew: what are the requirements that governments may reasonably impose upon citizens, and how far do they extend? By appeal to what authority can moral dilemmas be resolved? These questions take us directly to the ethical foundations of civil discourse. If the moral principles underpinning the democratic process are themselves determined by nothing more solid than social consensus, then the fragility of the process becomes all too evident — herein lies the real challenge for democracy.
The inadequacy of pragmatic, short-term solutions to complex social and ethical problems has been illustrated all too clearly by the recent global financial crisis. There is widespread agreement that the lack of a solid ethical foundation for economic activity has contributed to the grave difficulties now being experienced by millions of people throughout the world. Just as “every economic decision has a moral consequence” (Caritas in Veritate, 37), so too in the political field, the ethical dimension of policy has far-reaching consequences that no government can afford to ignore. A positive illustration of this is found in one of the British Parliament’s particularly notable achievements — the abolition of the slave trade. The campaign that led to this landmark legislation was built upon firm ethical principles, rooted in the natural law, and it has made a contribution to civilization of which this nation may be justly proud.
The central question at issue, then, is this: where is the ethical foundation for political choices to be found? The Catholic tradition maintains that the objective norms governing right action are accessible to reason, prescinding from the content of revelation. According to this understanding, the role of religion in political debate is not so much to supply these norms, as if they could not be known by non-believers — still less to propose concrete political solutions, which would lie altogether outside the competence of religion — but rather to help purify and shed light upon the application of reason to the discovery of objective moral principles. This “corrective” role of religion vis-à-vis reason is not always welcomed, though, partly because distorted forms of religion, such as sectarianism and fundamentalism, can be seen to create serious social problems themselves. And in their turn, these distortions of religion arise when insufficient attention is given to the purifying and structuring role of reason within religion. It is a two-way process. Without the corrective supplied by religion, though, reason too can fall prey to distortions, as when it is manipulated by ideology, or applied in a partial way that fails to take full account of the dignity of the human person. Such misuse of reason, after all, was what gave rise to the slave trade in the first place and to many other social evils, not least the totalitarian ideologies of the twentieth century. This is why I would suggest that the world of reason and the world of faith — the world of secular rationality and the world of religious belief — need one another and should not be afraid to enter into a profound and ongoing dialogue, for the good of our civilization.
Religion, in other words, is not a problem for legislators to solve, but a vital contributor to the national conversation. In this light, I cannot but voice my concern at the increasing marginalization of religion, particularly of Christianity, that is taking place in some quarters, even in nations which place a great emphasis on tolerance. There are those who would advocate that the voice of religion be silenced, or at least relegated to the purely private sphere. There are those who argue that the public celebration of festivals such as Christmas should be discouraged, in the questionable belief that it might somehow offend those of other religions or none. And there are those who argue — paradoxically with the intention of eliminating discrimination — that Christians in public roles should be required at times to act against their conscience. These are worrying signs of a failure to appreciate not only the rights of believers to freedom of conscience and freedom of religion, but also the legitimate role of religion in the public square. I would invite all of you, therefore, within your respective spheres of influence, to seek ways of promoting and encouraging dialogue between faith and reason at every level of national life.
Your readiness to do so is already implied in the unprecedented invitation extended to me today. And it finds expression in the fields of concern in which your Government has been engaged with the Holy See. In the area of peace, there have been exchanges regarding the elaboration of an international arms trade treaty; regarding human rights, the Holy See and the United Kingdom have welcomed the spread of democracy, especially in the last sixty-five years; in the field of development, there has been collaboration on debt relief, fair trade and financing for development, particularly through the International Finance Facility, the International Immunization Bond, and the Advanced Market Commitment. The Holy See also looks forward to exploring with the United Kingdom new ways to promote environmental responsibility, to the benefit of all.
I also note that the present Government has committed the United Kingdom to devoting 0.7% of national income to development aid by 2013. In recent years it has been encouraging to witness the positive signs of a worldwide growth in solidarity towards the poor. But to turn this solidarity into effective action calls for fresh thinking that will improve life conditions in many important areas, such as food production, clean water, job creation, education, support to families, especially migrants, and basic healthcare. Where human lives are concerned, time is always short: yet the world has witnessed the vast resources that governments can draw upon to rescue financial institutions deemed “too big to fail”. Surely the integral human development of the world’s peoples is no less important: here is an enterprise, worthy of the world’s attention, that is truly “too big to fail”.
This overview of recent cooperation between the United Kingdom and the Holy See illustrates well how much progress has been made, in the years that have passed since the establishment of bilateral diplomatic relations, in promoting throughout the world the many core values that we share. I hope and pray that this relationship will continue to bear fruit, and that it will be mirrored in a growing acceptance of the need for dialogue and respect at every level of society between the world of reason and the world of faith. I am convinced that, within this country too, there are many areas in which the Church and the public authorities can work together for the good of citizens, in harmony with Britain’s long-standing tradition. For such cooperation to be possible, religious bodies — including institutions linked to the Catholic Church — need to be free to act in accordance with their own principles and specific convictions based upon the faith and the official teaching of the Church. In this way, such basic rights as religious freedom, freedom of conscience and freedom of association are guaranteed. The angels looking down on us from the magnificent ceiling of this ancient Hall remind us of the long tradition from which British Parliamentary democracy has evolved. They remind us that God is constantly watching over us to guide and protect us. And they summon us to acknowledge the vital contribution that religious belief has made and can continue to make to the life of the nation.
Mr Speaker, I thank you once again for this opportunity briefly to address this distinguished audience. Let me assure you and the Lord Speaker of my continued good wishes and prayers for you and for the fruitful work of both Houses of this ancient Parliament. Thank you and God bless you all!
July 15, 2010
The second day of the conference, Tuesday, June 29th, fell upon the feast of Sts. Peter and Paul. Before the conference, I had written to one of the organizers to ask if there were plans to celebrate an Orthodox liturgy on campus on that day, and offering to help with the singing if necessary; I was told that, because the Orthodox chaplain of Fordham would be out of town, there would be no liturgy. Nevertheless, because Fr. Paul, who was staying at my house, wanted to attend mass that morning, I drove in early, and arrived at the Fordham campus about a half an hour before the conference was to begin. As it turned out, the 8:30 mass did not take place where I had assumed it would (namely, in the University Chapel), so neither of us attended liturgy that morning. Given the coinciding of the conference with the feast day of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and the importance of those apostles for the theme of Orthodoxy’s relationship with the West, it seems a little odd that more was not done to give the conference a liturgical setting; it suggests that scholarship and piety are, in the minds of some, things best kept in separate boxes. Fortunately, the presentations themselves did not encourage the idea of such a separation.
(3) Symposium II: Russian Thinkers of the 19th and 20th Centuries
The morning’s proceedings got underway promptly at 9 a.m., moderated by Dr. Mary-Jane Rubenstein of Wesleyan University, who introduced the first speaker, Dr. Vera Shevzov of Smith College. Dr. Shevzov’s lecture was titled “The Burdens of Tradition: Russia’s Orthodox Academic Theologians and ‘the West’ (late XIX-early XX cc).” As I do not read Russian, and am not particularly well versed in Russian Orthodox theology, much of the morning’s discussions concerned matters with which I am relatively unfamiliar. This was especially true of the first presentation, which dealt with the Slavophile movement and with Russian academic theology in the latter half of the nineteenth century.
Dr. Shevzov began her presentation by noting that a negative view of the West was inculcated in Russia from very early times. She cited the account of Great Prince Vladimir’s baptism from the twelfth century Russian primary chronicle: the priest who baptized Vladimir is there represented as telling him: “Do not accept the teachings of the Latins, whose instruction is vicious. Avoid their doctrine. God guard you from this evil, O Prince!” (Of course, the baptism of Rus’ occurred in the year 988, at a time when the churches of Rome and Constantinople were still nominally in communion, so the historicity of this narrative may be doubted.) This inheritance of Byzantine distrust was noted in 1906 by the religious thinker Vassily Roznov: “It was as if decaying and dying Byzantium whispered to Russia all of its vexations and bequeathed [them to] Russia to guard them. Russia, at the bedside of the departing one, gave its word, mortal enmity towards the Western tribes.”
But, Dr. Shevzov pointed out, Russian attitudes towards the West were complicated; religious enmity was not the whole story. At least from the time of Peter the Great, another attitude had also been fostered, that of admiration for the West’s material accomplishments. Nineteenth century Russian religious thinkers knew that the West was a fact that had to be faced if they were to give an account of Christian Orthodoxy that related it to the realities of modern life. Their various assessments of the West, in keeping with their commitment to Orthodox faith, constituted the theme of Dr. Shevzov’s presentation. “How,” she asked, “did Russia’s academic theologians conceptualize the West during these critical decades before Russia’s 1917 Bolshevik revolution?”
From 1855, during a period of “glasnost” that occurred during the reign of Tsar Alexander II, “many Orthodox academics embarked on a conscious mission to make Orthodoxy relevant to the modern world.” In this attempt, much use was made of the writings of Aleksei Khomiakov. Some nineteenth century writers credited him with framing the subject of Orthodoxy’s relationship with the West in new terms. Shevzov summed up Khomiakov’s teaching in the following way:
“Khomiakov conceived of the religious West, not as two separate and opposed confessions of faith, Roman Catholicism and Protestantism, but as a single phenomenon that, culturally and historically, could be traced to the civilization of the Roman Empire and the rise of the Roman Catholic Church through the Germanic tribes and the appearance of Protestants and beyond to the emergence of the modern culture of unbelief.”
Unlike previous writers, Shevzov noted, Khomiakov did not see doctrinal issues as the primary grounds for the split, but traced it back to “relational, dispositional, and ultimately experiential” causes, to a fundamentally different way of understanding ecclesial communion.
“‘Romanism began,’ wrote Khomiakov, ‘at the moment when Christians in the West placed personal independence and regional opinions over and above a universal unity of faith.’ By its act of unilaterally changing the Creed, the Roman world, he argued, implicitly declared that in its eyes the entire East was nothing but a world of bondsmen in matters of faith and teaching. And, with it, the ecclesial life ended for an entire half of the Church. The act of inserting the Filioque into the Creed, for Khomiakov, therefore, was more significant than the meaning of that clause. Its insertion was no less than what he called ‘an act of moral fratricide in the life of the Church.’”
“The propensity for unilateral thinking and action” resulted in what Khomiakov saw as “the unavoidable decline of faith in the West.” It “deprived faith of its moral foundation, thereby making authentic faith impossible.”
Even for Khomiakov, however, this characterization of the West as the scene of a religious decline does not tell the whole story. It is significant that Khomiakov’s most influential work, the essay “The Church is One,” had to be translated into Russian out of French.
In the latter part of her lecture, Dr. Shevzov surveyed some of the responses to Khomiakov among Russian academic theologians, responses which feature as one aspect of the nineteenth century Russian debate between Slavophiles and Westernizers. Not all academic theologians agreed with Khomiakov’s account of the West and of Orthodox Christianity. While some criticized his views about the Orthodox Church, many of them criticized his identification of Christianity with “national or cultural types.” A certain Professor Tsernovsky, from Kiev, argued against drawing sharp lines between Western and Eastern spiritual dispositions. He pointed out that many religious stereotypes (the organic, spiritual-minded East; the fragmented, legal-minded West) do not hold up upon close scrutiny; he asked why, if Russia represents a spiritually higher type, is the West so successful? In 1885, one Aleksandr Lupokhin wrote of Petrine, Pauline, and Johannine types; he thought only the Johannine type fully captured the essence of Christianity. (This motif was later taken up by Vladimir Soloviev, who drew from it a somewhat different conclusion.)
Dr. Shevzov ended her lecture by noting that, by the early twentieth century, Khomiakov and his views on the West were already coming to be regarded as “tradition,” and that this “tradition,” although never accepted completely uncritically (Fr. Pavel Florensky was cited as one author who saw it as raising a host of problems), continues to pose important challenges for us at the present time.
At the risk of sounding overly critical, I will add one further word. The impression was occasionally given, in the course of Dr. Shevzov’s lecture, that the necessity for her to read her paper within the allotted time overruled, in her own mind, the necessity for her audience to understand what she was saying. If (as is most unlikely) she should ever read this account of her lecture, I would urge her, in future presentations, to make a greater concession to human frailty, and speak more slowly.
Next, Professor Antoine Arjakovsky, a Russian Orthodox Christian who is Director of the Institute of Ecumenical Studies at the Ukrainian Catholic University at Lviv, spoke on “The Russian Religious Thinkers of the 20th Century and the Rediscovery of the West.” Dr. Rubenstein, the moderator, noted that Dr. Arjakovsky is a leader in ecumenical discussions, someone who has consistently advocated closer contacts and cooperation between Orthodox living in the West and Eastern-rite Catholics living in the East. A book of his essays has been translated into English, Church, Culture, and Identity: Reflections on Orthodoxy in the Modern World.
Dr. Arjakovsky stated at the outset of his lecture that this conference is important, not only for Orthodox identity, but for Christian identity as such. Orthodox have come to define themselves against the West; in response, Westerners have come to define themselves as not Orthodox. “But, if the consciousness of the universal Church succeeded in not opposing these two notions of West and Christian Orthodoxy, a new world,” he said, “would be outlined.” This remark was echoed again at the very end of his lecture, where he mentioned his hope for seeing the beginnings of “a post-secular world.”
Most of Dr. Arjakovsky’s lecture was organized into two parts. The first part treated of “critics of the West among Russian philosophers”; the second, longer part examined “the reversal of this criticism.”
Dr. Arjakovsky pointed out that, in the immediate aftermath of the First World War, many members of the Russian emigration viewed the West as responsible for the human disaster that had just taken place. Men like Florovsky, Berdyaev, Zinkovsky, Trubetskoi, Bulgakov and others were vocal in their criticisms of the West, with its rationalism and individualism; some of them shared Oswald Spengler’s views about an inevitable decline in the civilization of Europe. Berdyaev, in an essay written in 1926 about Konstantin Leontiev, acknowledged Leontiev as one of the first to recognize the multifarious nature of Western bourgeois culture and agreed with him in looking towards the Russian soul as a source of revival for all humanity. The linguist Nikolai Trubetskoi, who had settled in Berlin in 1925, wrote of the Russian soul’s having become contaminated by the Western enlightenment, and needing to look eastward towards the Mongolian tribes of Ural and Altai; his theories became the source of something called “the Eurasian movement,” which, before this conference, I had never heard of, but which, apparently, is the source of some important currents of political thought in contemporary Russia; mention was made of a certain Aleksandr Dugin, a contemporary writer of this school who has been influential on Vladimir Putin. In the 1920’s, members of the Eurasian movement included the writers Bitsili, Savitsky, Florovsky, Zuvchinsky, and Zinkovsky (note: this is from audio transcription; it is quite possible that some of these names are misspelled).
“For these thinkers, the crisis of the West was bound to a metaphysical problem,” a problem traced to a deviation from Orthodox faith. Like the later Yannaras, Sergei Bulgakov wrote at this time of Thomas Aquinas as beginning, not from the personal, trihypostatic God, but from Aristotle’s impersonal divinity. This metaphysical analysis led, in the second generation of the Russian Orthodox diaspora, to a new self-definition as Orthodox (rather than as Russian, Serb, etc.) among men like Lossky, Schmemann, Meyendorff, and Evdokimov. An insistence upon Orthodoxy as the heart of their Christian identity, which they defined in a universal, not nationalistic, way.
At this point, Dr. Arjakovsky moved on to the second part of his lecture, his consideration of the reversal of the criticism of the West. He first pointed out that Russian thought in the twentieth century was not static or monolithic. Through their bonds of friendship with Western Christians in Germany, France, and Great Britain, many members of the Russian diaspora, in the 1920’s and 30’s, came to a new discovery of the complexity of the West, and, with that, came to reexamine certain ways of understanding the Christian East. Notions of a “Holy Russia” (Sviataya Rus’) opposed to a heretical West were seen as partaking of a certain mythologizing tendency, bordering on Manichaeism. Fedotov wrote, in 1926 in the journal Put’ (“the Way”), of his friendship with Benedictines; Bulgakov wrote in his memoir of his friendship with a Greek Catholic priest from Lithuania; likewise, there was his friendship with Bp. Gore, in connection with the Fellowship of St. Alban and St. Sergius. One landmark discussion at this time was a conference held in Paris on May 27, 1930, on the subject of East and West, attended by such men as Malraux, Maritain, Berdyaev; the “East,” for the French at that time, meant, more particularly, Germany. Berdyaev was convinced that notions of “East” and “West” are “myths”: we are always to the East of somebody else. At this conference Berdyaev asserted, carelessly, that “Russia is the country of revelation; Russia will one day save the West.” To which a friend of Malraux’s, Jean Absence [?], replied: “That Christianity comes from Jerusalem does not mean that the West was not baptized.” (I would note, in passing, that this reply recalls the response given by St. Gregory the Theologian in the fourth century to those, at the Second Ecumenical Council, who were claiming that the East enjoys primacy or spiritual seniority, because that is where Christ was made man, and that is where the sun rises; St. Gregory replied that, if Christ became incarnate in the East, it was very possibly because he knew that, to work human salvation, he had also to die, and it was easier for him to get killed there.)
These contacts and experiences of life in the West, Dr. Arjakovsky noted, led some of these Russian thinkers to rethink Orthodox history, a rethinking that was connected with their involvement in the ecumenical movement. He gave three concrete examples:
- Berdyaev’s critique of Florovsky’s voluntarist historiography;
- Bulgakov’s critique of the Orthodox historiography of the Council of Florence; and
- Nikolai Zernov’s and Mira Lot-Borodine’s criticism of the myth of Holy Rus’.
I will speak mostly about the first two of these. Berdyaev, in an article that appeared in the journal Put’ in 1937, criticized Florovsky’s Ways of Russian Theology, with its story of the fall of Russian theology from the standards of Byzantine perfection, as romanticized nostalgia for a mythical, lost paradise. Florovsky, Berdyaev wrote, “does not admit that Byzantinism either fell into decline or died by virtue of its own actions.” He saw him as uncritically accepting anti-Western Slavophile theories. According to Berdyaev, Florovsky’s failure to engage with philosophical categories of thought prevented him from appreciating many Russian authors, including Tolstoy. (Dr. Arjakovsky noted that, in a recent book on Orthodoxy, Archbishop Hilarion Alfeyev tries to rehabilitate Tolstoy, but he doesn’t address Tolstoy’s reasons for being dissatisfied with the Russian Orthodox culture of his day.) Moreover, Florovsky rejects Peter Moghila as a latinizer, although he can find in his works not one theological proposition that he can positively dismiss as unorthodox; in a similar vein, the Council of Jassy, which accepted Moghila’s statement of faith, was accepted by the four Eastern patriarchates, yet Christos Yannaras describes it as a “Latin council.”
In moving on to his second point, Bulgakov’s critique of the Orthodox historiography of the Council of Florence, Dr. Arjakovsky noted that, although Bulgakov later rejected “the temptation to accept papal infallibility,” he never went back on his acceptance of the ecumenicity of the Council of Florence, an acceptance first stated in 1922; even in his memoir, Quiet Thoughts, written late in his life, he still maintains this point. Bulgakov thinks that many of the problems faced by the Russian Church in its history could have been avoided if the Council of Florence had been accepted by the Orthodox people. (Among these problems: its paralysis, its support for Caesaropapism, its incapacity to set up a doctrinal authority that protects the truth of the faith….) He throws out the historiography that rejects Florence as a “pseudo-council.” All the local Churches participated in this council; all approved it. The Patriarch, the Emperor, sixteen metropolitans, signed the Decree of Union. True, Mark of Ephesus refused to sign. But never, at any previous ecumenical council, had there been total unanimity. Bulgakov did not accept the claim that “pressures” on the Greek delgation to accept union constitute sufficient grounds for rejecting the council as invalid. No previous council had allowed its delegates so much time to make up their minds (that they were not forced to stay is shown by the fact that some of the Greeks left of their own free will). No previous council had occasioned greater expenses than the pope had incurred at this council to maintain the large Greek delegation. Bulgakov questions whether a local council (Constantinople 1484) has the right to revoke the decisions of what he calls “the Eighth Ecumenical Council.” Only a new ecumenical council would possess such a right, and a new ecumenical council hasn’t occurred.
It is not only Bulgakov, among Orthodox theologians, who saw Florence as a true and canonically-valid council. Arjakovsky notes that Olivier Clément also shared this view.
Clément wrote an essay on Francis of Assisi, which, said Dr. Arjakovsky, is about to appear in print in about a month; he read a rather lengthy passage from it. The passage noted that, whereas Western (Franciscan) spirituality is commonly thought to stress the stigmata and Good Friday, Orthodox spirituality, by contrast, is seen as stressing the Taboric Light and the resurrection. But Francis’s stigmata are a reply to the glorified Lord, who, in his resurrected body, retains the marks of his crucifixion. For Clément, the holiness of St. Francis is a revelation of the Church. If Francis is a saint, it is because “the eucharist (in the West, after 1054) kept all its power of life.” This presence of holiness means, for Clément, that, in the East and in the West, there is one single eucharist, hence, one single Church. In responding to the lives of the saints, who reveal the divine-human reality of Christ in both East and West, we must not be confined to the surface level of things, but dig towards the center.
Professor Arjakovsky concluded his lecture by asking whether, if Orthodoxy is in fact, as Florovsky and Yannaras have stated, a “life-style,” and not a religion (“the transformation of the mortal individuality into the personal relation,” as Yannaras says), it is genuinely possible to confine this experience within the boundaries of Hellenic and Russian civilization. As Sergei Bulgakov wrote in 1932, “Orthodoxy is not an institution. Orthodoxy is the Church of Christ on the Earth. It is the New Life, with and in the Christ, moved by the Holy Spirit.” Thanks to this definition, Arjakovsky said, “Eastern Churches can open to Western Churches in a new and more reconciled way, and vice versa. This is, for me, the beginning of a post-secular world.”
The third lecturer that morning was Dr. Paul Gavrilyuk, associate professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas and an author whose recent works include The Suffering of the Impassible God: The Dialectics of Patristic Thought (Oxford 2004) and Histoire du catéchuménat dans l’Église ancienne [A history of the catechumenate in the ancient Church] (Paris: Cerf, 2007). He spoke on the theme, “The Case of ‘Westernization’ vs. Hellenization: the Methodological Limitations of Georges Florovsky’s ‘Neopatristic Synthesis.’”
Dr. Gavrilyuk wished participants at the conference a happy feast day of Sts. Peter and Paul, thanked Professors Demacopoulos and Papanikolaou for organizing the event, and noted his sense that, at this conference, “we are witnessing something new, perhaps a new trend, perhaps a new school of Orthodox theology” (the “Fordham school”?).
He added, “it is very common among us Orthodox to use the category of the West as a blanket for everything that is wrong with the world in general, and with theology in particular.” He expressed his hope that the main contribution of this conference would be to deconstruct and question “this rather facile, cavalier, and rather obviously false assertion,” together with his hope that the results of this conference (and of recent, similar conferences at St. Vladimir’s Seminary and the Volos Academy in Greece) would be disseminated among the Orthodox faithful, that we would not merely be talking amongst ourselves.
After these preliminaries, Dr. Gavrilyuk summed up the approach he would be taking to his subject. Having reminded his audience that the late Archpriest Georges Florovsky is credited with initiating a “return to the fathers” in twentieth century Orthodox theology, that Florovsky viewed Christian Hellenism as “the norm by which all modern theological proposals were to be judged,” believed Western influences had led to the “Babylonian captivity” of Eastern Orthodox thought, and offered a “Neo-Patristic synthesis” as a reform program, Dr. Gavrilyuk stated three things that he proposed to do:
”In this paper, I will discuss the polemical motivations and the constructive aspirations of Florovsky’s retrieval of the fathers.
“I will discuss how his engagement with the Eurasian movement influenced his thinking about the Ways of Russian Theology….
“I will also consider the methodological parallels between Adolph von Harnack’s view of the ‘Hellenization’ of early Christian theology and Florovsky’s account of the ‘Westernization’ of Russian theology.”
On the whole, that was a very accurate synopsis of what Dr. Gavrilyuk proceeded to speak about in the course of his lecture. Rather than recount in detail what was said in it (which would carry this already-long blog post to extraordinary lengths), I will content myself here with noting some of the main things I learned.
As a young man, Florovsky lived through a time of political crisis (a world war, two Russian revolutions, the exiling of the religious intelligentsia, the rise of Hitler in Germany), and the sense of crisis never left him. One of the ways the Russian emigrés responded to their new immersion in a foreign society was to turn their attention towards the nineteenth century Russian debate between Westernizers and Slavophiles. In the early 1920’s, Florovsky (whose family left Russia in 1920) participated in the “Eurasian movement,” a kind of updated Slavophilism, about which something already was said above. It was a movement which aimed at becoming the ideological future of Russia (and which, Dr. Gavrilyuk noted, now appears to be succeeding in the persons of Putin and Medvedev). Between the years 1921 and 1923, the Eurasians produced three volumes of collected essays, The Exodus to the East (1921), The Ways [?] (1922), and Russia and Latinity (1923); Florovsky was one of the contributors to these volumes. The Eurasians were relentless critics of “the rotten, decaying West” (an expression borrowed from the Slavophile Nikolai Danievski, later to be echoed by Nikita Khrushchev). Oswald Spengler’s The Decline of the West had begun to appear in the year 1918, and was read by the Eurasians and other Russian emigrés; it is from this work that Florovsky borrows his term “pseudomorphosis.”
The Eurasians were strongly critical of Roman Catholicism, to which they referred using the term “Latinity.” The harshest statements occur in their third volume of essays, Russia and Latinity, in the introduction to which it is claimed that, “for a Russian Orthodox believer in France to be converted to Roman Catholicism is worse than to be killed by the Bolsheviks in Communist Russia: the former leads to the eternal perdition of the soul, the latter, merely to the temporal destruction of the body.” When this assertion was criticized by Prince Trubetskoi in the pages of the journal Put’, the Eurasians promptly responded by publishing an open letter in defense of their comparison of Bolshevism and Catholicism, an open letter which Florovsky signed. Although Florovsky later claimed that he had never completely shared in the Eurasians’ political agenda, it seems fairly clear that, at this stage in his career, he must have shared to some extent in their anti-Western, anti-Catholic sentiments. (The charge came rather quickly from Berdyaev that the Eurasian movement had fascist tendencies.)
In 1926, Florovsky began to distance himself from the other Eurasians, and his final break with the movement came with his publication of an article, “The Eurasian Delusion” (1928). It seems that it was the political side of the movement with which he chiefly disagreed.
Dr. Gavrilyuk believes that “there is a connection between the anti-Western impulse of Eurasianism and the fundamental methodological assumption of The Ways of Russian Theology.” Any rapprochement with the West, the Eurasians held, would distort Russia’s historical destiny. Similarly, in his preface to The Ways of Russian Theology, Florovsky expressed his conviction that “all interruptions and spiritual failures in Russian development” had occurred on account of Russia’s “intellectual separation from Patristics and Byzantinism,” and his intention to narrate the history of those failures in that volume.
Prof. Gavrilyuk described Florovsky’s Ways of Russian Theology as a drama in three acts, with a significant prelude. The prelude is Medieval Russia’s fateful decision to embrace Byzantine Christianity, but, together with this, its inadequate appropriation of the Byzantine heritage. Liturgy, iconography, and asceticism were taken on; theology, as such, was not. The enormous richness of cultural material was, Florovsky stated, a heritage “too heavy and too perfect” to be absorbed.
The first act of the drama shows a Latin pseudomorphosis. It is the period of the Kievan academy, under Peter Moghila. Florovsky acknowledges that, under Moghila, the Russian Church emerged from the disorganization it had experienced in the aftermath of the Synod of Brest-Litovsk (1596). But, he said, “everything was suffused with an alien spirit,” a Latin spirit. “The very soul of the people comes to be latinized.” Gavrilyuk noted the connection of this description with the rhetoric of the Eurasian pamphlets, and the use made by Florovsky of Spengler’s notion of “pseudomorphosis.”
The second act showed a Protestantizing pseudomorphosis. It was the period of Peter the Great’s reforms, his abrogating of the Patriarchate, his instituting of the office of Prokurator in the person of Theophan Prokopovich. Everything was to be fitted to Protestant standards. The theological effect of this was a divorce between school theology and popular piety, a divorce not overcome until the nineteenth century.
The third act was seen in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, with a pseudomorphic transformation of Orthodox theology under the influence of German philosophical idealism. In this case, Florovsky’s polemics were directed chiefly against the Orthodox Sophiologists: Soloviev, Florensky, Bulgakov, and others. He considered them as exhibiting an even greater estrangement from patristic theology than the previous aberrations — a claim which Dr. Gavrilyuk stated was quite unfair.
Later in his lecture, Prof. Gavrilyuk drew a detailed comparison between the functional role played by the idea of “westernization” in Florovsky’s thought and the idea of “hellenization” as found in the writings of the historian Adoph von Harnack (1851-1930). Both authors see an originally pure Christian state to have been corrupted: Harnack sees “hellenization” as having corrupted the primitive Christian message; Florovsky sees “westernization,” in its various manifestations, as the recurrent bane of Russian Christianity, and that from which it must be cured by a heavy dose of the fathers — for Florovsky, indeed, Russian Christianity needs to be “re-hellenized.” Although Florovsky strongly disagrees with Harnack in his assessment of the appropriateness of Greek, ontological modes of thought as applied to the Christian Gospel, he resembles him in terms of his methodology; Gavrilyuk describes him as Harnack’s “theological antidote.”
Some of the most interesting reflections in the lecture occurred towards the end, when Professor Gavrilyuk raised questions about how far Florovsky’s attitudes towards Western Christianity may have been modified by the fact of his living in the West for most of his life. He was certainly not unsensible of the virtues of the Christians among whom he lived. In a speech given at the opening of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, at a time when he had become a notable and respected figure in the ecumenical movement, Florovsky said the following:
“Orthodoxy theology has, in recent decades, been speedily recovering from the unhappy pseudomorphosis by which it was paralyzed for too long. But to regain once more its own Eastern style and temper must mean for Orthodox theology no detachment from the rest of the Christian world. What is to be rejected and repudiated, in the Westernizing school of Orthodox theology, is its blind subservience to the foreign traditions of the schools, and not its response to the challenges of other traditions, not the fraternal appreciation of what has been achieved by others. All riches of the Orthodox tradition can be disclosed and consummated only in a standing intercourse with the whole of the Christian world. The East must face and meet the challenge of the West, and the West, perhaps, has to pay more attention to the legacy of the East….”
Professor Gavrilyuk concluded his lecture with a theological meditation, which I hope I may be allowed to quote:
“The difference of the theological grammars of East and West is not a sufficient ground for guarding our theology forever against all Western influences. The distinctly Western theological beliefs are often assumed to be false merely on the grounds that they are Western. This genetic fallacy has poisoned our theological thinking for too long. Yet it is precisely the staunchly anti-Western Orthodox thinkers who end up being utterly dependent upon the West, even if this dependence is expressed in the form of a reflective rejection. If we reject the Western Other, without making an effort to understand the Other, paradoxically we are letting ourselves be more dependent on the Other. The search for truth cannot be limited by geography. It is not the cultural uniqueness of Eastern Orthodoxy, but the divine revelation, appropriated by the mind of the Church, that should serve as the main criterion of Orthodoxy. Thus, in order to fulfill Florovsky’s inspiring vision, we need to move beyond the limitations of his historiography.”
All in all, a remarkable lecture, and a remarkable session of the conference, one that I am grateful that I was able to attend.