The Limits of the Church (part 1)

It is very difficult to give an exact and firm definition of a 'sect' or 'schism' (I distinguish the theological definition from the simple canonical description), since a sect in the Church is always something contradictory and unnatural, a paradox and an enigma. For the Church is unity, and the whole of her being is in this unity and union, of Christ and in Christ. 'For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body' (1 Cor. 12.13), and the prototype of this unity is the consubstantial Trinity. The measure of this unity is catholicity or communality (sobornost), where the impenetrability of personal consciousness is softened - and even removed - in complete unity of thought and soul, and the multitude of them that believe are of one heart and soul (cf. Acts 4.32). A sect, on the other hand, is separation, solitariness, the loss and denial of communality. The sectarian spirit is the direct opposite of the Church spirit.

The question of the nature and meaning of divisions and sects in the Church was put in all its sharpness as early as the ancient baptismal disputes of the third century. At that time St Cyprian of Carthage developed with fearless consistency a doctrine of the complete absence of grace in every sect, precisely as a sect. The whole meaning and the whole logical stress of his reasoning lay in the conviction that the sacraments are established in the Church. That is to say, they are effected and can be effected only in the Church, in communion and in communality. Therefore every violation of communality and unity in itself leads immediately beyond the last barrier into some decisive 'outside'. To St Cyprian every schism was a departure out of the Church, out of that sanctified and holy land where alone there rises the baptismal spring, the waters of salvation, quia una est aqua in ecclesia sancta (Epist. lxxi, 2).

The teaching of St Cyprian as to the gracelessness of sects is only the opposite side of his teaching about unity and communality. This is not the place or the moment to recollect and relate Cyprian's deductions and proofs. Each of us remembers and knows them, is bound to know them, is bound to remember them. They have not lost their force to this day. The historical influence of Cyprian was continuous and powerful. Strictly speaking, in its theological premises the teaching of St Cyprian has never been disproved. Even Augustine was not very far from Cyprian. He argued with the Donatists, not with Cyprian himself, and did not try to refute Cyprian; indeed, his argument was more about practical measures and conclusions. In his reasoning about the unity of the Church, about the unity of love as a necessary and decisive condition for the saving power of the sacraments, Augustine really only repeats Cyprian in new words.

But the practical conclusions drawn by Cyprian have not been accepted and supported by the consciousness of the Church. One may ask how this was possible, if his premisses have been neither disputed nor set aside. There is no need to enter into the details of the Church's canonical relations with sectarians and heretics; it is an imprecise and an involved enough story. It is sufficient to state that there are occasions when, by her very actions, the Church gives one to understand that the sacraments of sectarians - and even of heretics - are valid, that the sacraments can be celebrated outside the strict canonical limits of the Church. The Church customarily receives adherents from sects - and even from heresies - not by the way of baptism, thereby obviously meaning or supposing that they have already been actually baptized in their sects and heresies. In many cases the Church receives adherents even without chrism, and sometimes also clergy in their existing orders. All the more must this be understood and explained as recognizing the validity or reality of the corresponding rites performed over them 'outside the Church'.

If sacraments are performed, however, it can only be by virtue of the Holy Spirit, and canonical rules thus establish or reveal a certain mystical paradox. In what she does the Church bears witness to the extension of her mystical territory even beyond her canonical borders: the 'outside world' does not begin immediately. St Cyprian was right: The sacraments are accomplished only in the Church. But he defined this 'in' hastily and too narrowly. Must we not rather argue in the opposite direction? Where the sacraments are accomplished, there is the Church. St Cyprian started from the silent supposition that the canonical and charismatic limits of the Church invariably coincide, and it is his unproven equation that has not been confirmed by the communal consciousness of the Church.

As a mystical organism, as the sacramental Body of Christ, the Church cannot be adequately described in canonical terms or categories alone. It is impossible to state or discern the true limits of the Church simply by canonical signs or marks. Very often the canonical boundary determines the charismatic boundary as well, and what is bound on earth is bound by an indissoluble bond in heaven. But not always. And still more often, not immediately. In her sacramental, mysterious being the Church surpasses all canonical norms. For that reason a canonical cleavage does not immediately signify mystical impoverishment and desolation. All that Cyprian said about the unity of the Church and the sacraments can be and must be accepted. But it is not necessary to draw with him the final boundary around the body of the Church by means of canonical points alone.

This raises a general question and a doubt. Are these canonical rules and acts subject to theological generalization? Is it possible to ascribe to them theological or dogmatic grounds and motivation? Or do they rather represent only pastoral discretion and forbearance? Ought we not to understand the canonical mode of action as a forbearing silence concerning gracelessness rather than as a recognition of the reality or validity of schismatic rites? And if so, is it then quite prudent to cite or introduce canonical facts into a theological argument?

This objection is connected with the theory of what is called 'economy' (oikonomia). In general ecclesiastical usage 'economy' is a term of very many meanings. In its broadest sense it embraces and signifies the whole work of salvation (cf. Coloss. 1.25; Eph. 1.10; 3.2, 9). The Vulgate usually translates it by dispensatio. In canonical language 'economy' has not become a technical term. It is rather a descriptive word, a kind of general characteristic: 'economy' is opposed to 'strictness' (akribeia) as a kind of relaxation of Church discipline, an exemption or exception from the 'strict rule' ous strictum) or from the general rule. The governing motive of 'economy' is precisely 'philanthropy', pastoral discretion, a pedagogical calculation - the deduction is always from practical utility. 'Economy' is an aspect of pedagogical rather than canonical consciousness. 'Economy' can and should be employed by each individual pastor in his parish, still more by a bishop or council of bishops. For 'economy' is pastorship and pastorship is 'economy'. In this is the whole strength and vitality of the 'economic' principle - and also its limitations. Not every question can be asked and answered in terms of 'economy'.

One must ask, therefore, whether it is possible to treat the question of the baptism of sectarians and heretics as a question only of 'economy'. Certainly, in so far as it is a question of winning lost souls for Catholic truth, of bringing them to 'the word of truth', then every course of action must be 'economic'; that is, pastoral, compassionate, loving. The pastor must leave the ninety and nine and seek the lost sheep. But for this very reason the need is all the greater for complete sincerity and directness. Not only is unequivocal accuracy, strictness and clarity - in fact, akribeia - required in the sphere of dogma (how otherwise can unity of mind be obtained?), but accuracy and clarity are above all necessary also in mystical diagnosis. Precisely for this reason the question of the rites of sectarians and heretics must be asked and answered in terms of the strictest akribeia. For here it is not so much a quaestio iuris as a quaestio facti, and indeed of mystical fact, of sacramental reality. It is not a matter of 'recognition' so much as of diagnosis; it is necessary to identify and to discern mystical realities.

Least of all is the application of 'economy' to such a question compatible with the radical standpoint of St Cyprian. If beyond the canonical limits of the Church the wilderness without grace begins immediately, if schismatics have not been baptized and still abide in the darkness that precedes baptism, then perfect clarity, strictness, and firmness are even more indispensable in the acts and judgements of the Church. Here no 'forbearance' is appropriate or even possible; no concessions are permissible. Is it in fact conceivable that the Church should receive sectarians or heretics into her own body not by way of baptism simply in order thereby to make their decisive step easy? This would certainly be a very rash and dangerous complaisance. Instead, it would be connivance with human weakness, self-love, and lack of faith, a connivance all the more dangerous in that it creates the appearance of a recognition by the Church that schismatic sacraments and rites are valid, not only in the minds of schismatics or people from outside, but in the consciousness of the majority of people in the Church and even of its leaders.

Moreover, this mode of action is applied because it creates this appearance. If in fact the Church were fully convinced that in the sects and heresies baptism is not accomplished, to what end would she reunite schismatics without baptism? Surely not in order simply to save them by this step from false shame in the open confession that they have not been baptized. Can such a motive be considered honorable, convincing, and of good repute? Can it benefit the newcomers to reunite them through ambiguity and suppression of truth? To the reasonable question whether it would not be possible by analogy to unite Jews and Moslems to the Church 'by economy' and without baptism Metropolitan Anthony (Khrapovitsky) replied with complete candor: 'Ah, but all such neophytes - and even those baptized in the name of Montanus and Priscilla - would not themselves claim to enter the Church without immersion and the utterance of the words, 'In the name of the Father, etc.' Such a claim could only be advanced through a confused understanding of the Church's grace by those sectarians and schismatics whose baptism, worship and hierarchical system differ little externally from those of the Church. It would be very insulting to them, on their turning to the Church, to have to sit on the same seat with heathens and Jews. For that reason the Church, indulging their weakness, has not performed over them the external act of baptism, but has given them this grace in the second sacrament' (Faith and Reason, 1916, 8-9, pp.887-8).

From the Metropolitan Anthony's argument common sense would draw precisely the opposite conclusion. In order to lead weak and unreasoning 'neophytes' to the 'clear understanding of the Church's grace' which they lack, it would be all the more necessary and appropriate to perform over them the external act of baptism, instead of giving them, and many others, by a feigned accommodation to their 'susceptibilities', not only an excuse but a ground to continue deceiving themselves through the equivocal fact that their 'baptism, worship and hierarchical system differ in little externally from those of the Church.'

One may ask who gave the Church this right not merely to change, but simply to abolish the external act of baptism, performing it in such cases only mentally, by implication or by intention at the celebration of the 'second sacrament' (i.e. chrismation) over the unbaptized. Admittedly, in special and exceptional cases the 'external act', the 'form', may indeed be abolished; such is the martyr's baptism in blood, or even the so-called baptisma flaminis. But this is admissible only in casu necessitatis. Moreover, there can hardly be any analogy between these cases and a systematic connivance in another's sensitiveness and self-deception. If 'economy' is pastoral discretion conducive to the advantage and salvation of human souls, then in such a case one could only speak of 'economy in reverse'. It would be a deliberate retrogression into equivocation and obscurity for the sake of purely external success, since the internal enchurchment of 'ineophytes' cannot take place with such concealment. It is scarcely possible to impute to the Church such a perverse and crafty intention. And in any case the practical result of this 'economy' must be considered utterly unexpected. For in the Church herself the conviction has arisen among the majority that sacraments are performed even among schismatics, that even in the sects there is a valid, although forbidden, hierarchy. The true intention of the Church in her acts and rules would appear to be too difficult to discern, and from this point of view as well the 'economic' explanation of these rules cannot be regarded as convincing. (Cont)

Archpriest George Florovsky

Feeling a little blue?

If you’re feeling a bit down after last night’s election results (about which I have decidedly mixed feelings), here are some positive things to consider.

The Democrats did not win. The Republicans lost. What does this mean? In non presidential off year elections voters typically do not vote for or against the opposition party. They vote for or against the party in power. Last nights election was not a mandate for the Democrats. It was a referendum on the Republicans in which they were justly found wanting for various reasons I have identified elsewhere. The Democrats will now be expected to do a better job than the party they have replaced in the next two years.

I said in my previous essay that I felt the Republicans had lost touch with what they were sent to Washington to do, and that maybe a couple years in the minority would help get them back on track. This election does not have to be seen as the complete disaster some are portraying it as. It can be an opportunity to reorganize the party, get some new blood into leadership positions, and make some changes that need to be made while frankly admitting that we lost the election for a variety of reasons at least some of which were valid criticisms of Republican stewardship. In the wake of last night’s events no member of the Republican congressional leadership should feel any sense of job security. Those who want to keep their jobs should be made to answer some tough questions about their conduct in the leadership. And I am also pleased that Denny Hastert appears at this writing to have decided not to seek election as minority leader. I believe he is generally a decent man but as the Speaker of the House he bears a heavy degree of responsibility for last night and also for the very lack luster performance in so many areas of the Republican majority over the last two years. His decision to step aside is an honorable one.

If the current election results hold up, the Democrats will have gained 27 seats (mostly in the liberal North East) in the House of Representatives giving them a 12 seat majority. In the Senate if current trends in Montana and Virginia hold (and I think they will) the Democrats will have won 8 of the 9 Senate races that were projected to be in play (meaning they could have gone either way). That would be a net gain of 6 seats giving the Dems a razor thin majority in the Senate. In short, they will be running Congress. But they will not have an election proof majority, nor will they have the kind of majority that will allow them to ignore moderate or conservative Democrats. And of course they are not even remotely close to a veto proof majority. They are a party that is heavily divided between its left wing which wants a highly partisan agenda and radical measures taken on the one hand and more moderate and even conservative members who are unlikely to back a radical liberal agenda. Speaker presumptive Ms. Pelosi will have a very delicate balancing act to work on for the next two years.

Additionally I was generally heartened by the president’s response to the elections. He was frank in admitting that it was a defeat, and also in taking his share of the blame. His decision to sack Donald Rumsfeld (long over due) was a bold move on the morning after taking the worst electoral shellacking (for Republicans) since 1974. It signals several things. First, that the president is not tone deaf. He heard the message loud and clear. Secondly that he places the interest of the country over politics or friendship. Rumsfeld had no credibility with the new majority in Congress and it would have been extremely difficult for him to function as Secretary of Defense with such overt hostility to him. And thirdly his choice for a replacement indicates that the president is moving away from the neo-cons who got us into this mess and in a potentially more realistic direction. How far this will go remains to be seen. But it certainly is the most public defeat that the Vice President has suffered in a long time. Rumsfeld was Dick’s boy. And his departure may signal a sharp drop in the Vice President’s stock. Finally it was also a great political move. On the day after a stunning defeat, the president has stolen some of the Democrat’s thunder. People, are at least for today, talking about the President as much as or maybe more than the Democrats. And that’s pretty impressive after last night.

A final note: At today’s press conference President Bush said that there are no “do overs” in an election. He is wrong. The do over is scheduled for November 4th 2008. Next time around the election will not be about a Republican congressional majority or George W Bush who will be leaving office. It will be about what the Democrats have to offer in their presidential candidate and their track record as the majority party in Congress. So everyone take a deep breath. The sun rose this morning in the east exactly on schedule, and I am reliably informed it will set again tonight in the west also on schedule. The sun is shining and it’s a generally nice day (where I am living). I may take a walk and enjoy a little fresh air.

Florovsky on The Last Things (part 3)

The Second Coming

The notion of "the end" - of an ultimate end - is a paradoxical notion. An "end" both belongs to the chain or series, and breaks it. It is both "an event" and "the end of all events." It belongs to the dimension of history, and yet it dismisses the whole dimension. The notion of "the beginning" - first and radical - is also a paradoxical notion. As St. Basil has said once, "the beginning of time is not yet time, but precisely the beginning of it" (Hexaem. 1.6). It is both an "instant" and more than that.

Of the future we can speak but in images and parables. This was the language of the Scripture. This imagery cannot be adequately deciphered now, and should not be taken literally. But in no sense should it be simply and bluntly "demythologized." Brunner is formal at this point. The expected Parousia [the appearance]of Christ must be regarded as "an event." The character of this event is unimaginable. Better symbols or images can be hardly found than those used in the Bible. "Whatever the form of this event may be, the whole point lies in the fact that it will happen" (Brunner, Eternal Hope, p. 138). The Christian kerygma is decisive at this point: "the ultimate redemptive synthesis has the character of an event." In other words, the Parousia belongs to the chain of historic "happenings," which it is expected to conclude and to close. "A Christian faith without expectation of the Parousia is like a ladder which leads nowhere but ends in the void." At one point, in any case, we can go beyond images: it is Christ that is coming. The Parousia is a "return," as much as it is an ultimate novelty. "The Last Events" are centered around the person of Christ.

The end will come "suddenly." And yet it is, in a certain sense, prepared inside of history. As Brunner says, "the history of man disclose radically apocalyptic traits." At this point he indulges in metaphysical speculations. "The swing of the pendulum becomes ever faster." This acceleration of the tempo of human life may reach the point at which it can go no further. History may simply explode suddenly. On the other hand, and on the deeper level, disharmonies of human existence are steadily increasing: there is "an everwidening split in the human consciousness." Of course, these suggestions have no more than a subsidiary or hypothetical value. Brunner tries to commend the paradoxical concept of the end to the modern mind. But they are also characteristic of his own vision of human reality. History is ever ready to explode, it is vexed and overburdened with unresolved tensions. Some years ago a Russian religious philosopher, Vladimir Th. Ern, suggested that human history was a kind of "catastrophical progress," a steady progression toward an end. Yet the end was to come from above, in a Parousia. Accordingly, it was to be more than just a "catastrophe," or an immanent or internal "judgment" - a disclosure of inherent contradictions or tensions. It was to be an absolute judgment, the Judgment of God.

Now, what is judgment? It is no less "an event" than the Parousia. It is an ultimate encounter between the sinful humanity and the Holy God. First of all, it will be an ultimate disclosure or manifestation of the true state of every man and of the whole mankind. Nothing will be left hidden. Thus, judgment will terminate that state of confusion and ambiguity, of inconclusiveness, as Brunner puts it, which has been characteristic of the whole historic stage of human destiny. This implies an ultimate and final "discrimination" - in the light of Christ. It will be an ultimate and final challenge. The will of God must be finally done. The will of God must be ultimately enforced. Otherwise, in the phrase of Brunner, "all talk of responsibility is idle chatter." Indeed, man is granted freedom, but it is not a freedom of indifference. Man's freedom is essentially a responsive freedom - a freedom to accept God's will. "Pure freedom" can be professed only by atheists. "To man is entrusted, of man is expected, merely the echo, the subsequent completion, of a decision which God has already made about him and for him" (Ibid, p. 178). There is but one fair option for man - to obey; there is no real dilemma. Man's purpose and goal are fixed by God.

All this is perfectly true. Yet, at this very point, the vexing question arises. Will actually all men accept, at the Last Judgment, God's will? Is there any room for radical and irreversible resistance? Can man's revolt continue beyond judgment? Can any creaturely being, endowed with freedom, persist in estrangement from God, which has been persistently practiced before, that is - to pursue its own will? Can such a being still "exist" - in the state of revolt and opposition, against the saving will of God, outside God's saving purpose? Is it possible for man to persevere in rebellion, in spite of the call and challenge of God? Is the Scriptural picture of separation - between the sheep and the goats - the last word about man's ultimate destiny? What is the ultimate status of creaturely "freedom?" What does it mean that finally the will of God must and will prevail? These are queer and searching questions. But they cannot be avoided. They are not dictated only by speculative curiosity. They are "existential" questions. Indeed, the Last Judgment is an awful mystery, which cannot, and should not, be rationalized, which passes all knowledge and understanding. Yet, it is a mystery of our own existence, which we cannot escape, even if we fail to comprehend or understand it intellectually.

Brunner emphatically dismisses the "terrible theologoumenon" of double predestination, as incompatible with the mind of the Bible. There is no eternal discrimination in God's creative design. God calls all men to salvation, and for that purpose He calls them into existence. Salvation is the only purpose of God. But the crucial paradox is not yet resolved. The crucial problem is, whether this only purpose of God will be actually accomplished, in all its fullness and comprehensiveness, as it is admitted and postulated in the theory of universal salvation, for which one may allege Scriptural evidence. Brunner rejects the doctrine of the Apokatastasis, as a "dangerous heresy." It is wrong as a doctrine. It implies a wrong security for men - all ways lead ultimately to the same end, there is no real tension, no real danger. And yet, Brunner admits that the doctrine of the forgiving grace, and of the justification by faith, leads logically to the concept of an universal redemption. Can the will of the omnipotent God be really resisted or, as it were, overruled by the obstinacy of feeble creatures? The paradox can be solved only dialectically - in faith. One cannot know God theoretically. One has to trust His love.

It is characteristic that Brunner discusses the whole problem exclusively in the perspective of the divine will. For that reason he misses the very point of the paradox. He simply ignores the human aspect of the problem. Indeed, "eternal damnation" is not inflicted by "the angry God." God is not the author of Hell. "Damnation" is a self-inflicted penalty, the consequence and the implication of the rebellious opposition to God and to His will. Brunner admits that there is a real possibility of damnation and perdition. It is dangerous and erroneous to ignore that real possibility.

But one should hope that it will never be realized. Now, hope itself must be realistic and sober. We are facing the alternative: either, at the Last Judgment, unbelievers and unrepentant sinners are finally moved by the divine challenge, and are "freely" converted - this was the hypothesis of St. Gregory of Nyssa; or their obstinacy is simply overruled by the divine Omnipotence and they are saved by the constraint of the divine mercy and will - without their own free and conscious assent. The second solution implies contradiction, unless we understand "salvation" in a forensic and formalistic manner. Indeed, criminals may be exonerated in the court of justice, even if they did not repent and persevere in their perversion. They only escape punishment. But we cannot interpret the Last Judgment in this manner. In any case, "salvation" involves conversion, involves an act of faith. It cannot be imposed on anyone. Is the first solution more convincing? Of course, the possibility of a late "conversion" - in "the eleventh hour," or even after - cannot be theoretically ruled out, and the impact of the divine love is infinite. But this chance or possibility of conversion, before the Judgment-Seat of Christ, sitting in glory, cannot be discussed in abstracto, as a general case. After all, the question of salvation, as also the decision of faith, is a personal problem, which can be put and faced only in the context of concrete and individual existence. Persons are saved, or perish. And each personal case must be studied individually. The main weakness of Brunner's scheme is in that he always speaks in general terms. He always speaks of the human condition and never of living persons.

The problem of man is for Brunner essentially the problem of sinful condition. He is afraid of all "ontic" categories. Indeed, man is sinner, but he is, first of all, man. It is true, again, that the true stature of genuine manhood has been exhibited only in Christ, who was more than man, and not a man. But in Christ we are given not only forgiveness, but also the power to be, or to become, children of God, that is - to be what we are designed to be. Of course, Brunner admits that believers can be in communion with God even now, in this present life. But then comes death. Does faith, or - actually - one's being en Christo, make any difference at this point? Is the communion with Christ, once established by faith (and, indeed, in sacraments), broken by death? Is it true that human life is "a being unto death." Physical death is the limit of physical life. But Brunner speaks of the death of human persons, of the "I." He claims that it is a mystery, an impenetrable mystery, of which rational man cannot know anything at all. But, in fact, the concept of this "personal death" is no more than a metaphysical assumption, derived from certain philosophical presuppositions, and in no way a datum of any actual or possible experience, including the experience of faith. "Death" of a person is only in the estrangement from God, but even in this case it does not mean annihilation. In a sense, death means a disintegration of human personality, because man is not designed to be immaterial. The bodily death reduces the integrity of the human person. Man dies, and yet survives - in the expectation of the general end. The ancient doctrine of the Communion of Saints points to the victory of Christ: In Him, through faith (and sacraments), even the dead are alive, and share - in anticipation, but really - the everlasting life. Communio Sanctorum is an important eschatological topic. Brunner simply ignores it altogether - surely not by accident but quite consistently. He speaks of the condition of death, not of personal cases. The concept of an immortal soul may be a Platonic accretion, but the notion of an "indestructible person" is an integral part of the Gospel. Indeed, only in this case there is room for a general or universal judgment, at which all historic persons, of all ages and of all nations, are to appear - not as a confused mass of frail and unprofitable sinners, but as a congregation of responsive and responsible persons, each in his distinctive character, congenital and acquired. Death is a catastrophe. But persons survive, and those in Christ are still alive - even in the state of death. The faithful not only hope for life to come, but are already alive, although all are waiting for Resurrection. Brunner, of course, is fully aware of this. In his own phrase, those who believe "will not die into nothingness but into Christ." Does it mean that those who do not believe "die into nothingness?" And what is "nothingness" - "the outer darkness" (which is probably the case) or actual "nonbeing?"

It is also true that full integrity of personal existence, distorted and reduced by death, will be restored in the general Resurrection. Brunner emphasizes the personal character of the Resurrection. "The New Testament faith knows of no other sort of eternal life except that of the individual persons" (Ibid, p. 148). The flesh will not rise. But some kind of corporeality is implied in the Resurrection. All will rise, because Christ is risen. Now, Resurrection is at once a Resurrection unto life - in Christ, and a Resurrection - to Judgment. Brunner discusses the general Resurrection in the context of faith, forgiveness, and life. But what is the status of those who did not believe, who did not ask for forgiveness, and never knew of the redemptive love of Christ, or probably have obstinately denounced and rejected it as a myth, as a fraud, as a deceit, or as an offense for the autonomous personality ?

And this brings us back again to the paradox of the judgment. Strangely enough, at this point Brunner speaks more as a philosopher than as a theologian, precisely because he tries to avoid metaphysical inquiry, and all problems which have been suppressed reappear in disguise. Brunner puts the question in this way: how can we reconcile divine Omnipotence and human freedom, or - on a deeper level - divine holiness (or justice) and divine merry and love. It is a strictly metaphysical problem, even if it is discussed on the scriptural basis. The actual theological problem is, on the other hand: what is the existential status of unbelievers - in the sight of God, and in the perspective of the human destiny? The actual problem is existential - the status and destiny of individual persons. For Brunner the problem is obscured by his initial choice - his sweeping bracketing together of all men as sinners, without any real ontic or existential discrimination between the righteous and the unrighteous. Indeed, all are under the judgment, but, obviously, not in the same sense. Brunner himself distinguishes between those who fail being tempted, and those who choose to tempt others and to seduce. He knows of deliberate perversion. But he does not ask, how an individual human person may be affected, in his inner and intimate structure, by deliberate and obstinate perversion, apostasy and "love for evil." There is a real difference between weakness and wickedness, between frailty and godlessness. Can all sins be forgiven, even the non-avowed and non-repented? Is not forgiveness received only in humility and in faith? In other words, is "condemnation" just a "penalty," in the forensic sense, or a kind of negative "reward?" Or is it simply a manifestation of what is hidden - or rather quite open and conspicuous in those who have chosen, by an abuse of "freedom," that wide path which leads into Gehenna.

There is no chapter on Hell in any of Brunner's books. But Hell is not just a "mythical" figure of speech. Nor is it just a dark prospect, which - one wants to hope - may never be realized. Horribile dictu - it is a reality, to which many human beings are even now committed, by their own will, or at least - by their own choice and decision, which may mean, in the last resort, bondage, but is usually mistaken for freedom. "Hell" is an internal state, not a "place." It is a state of personal disintegration, which is mistaken for self-assertion - with certain reason, since this disintegration is grounded in pride. It is a state of self-confinement, of isolation and alienation, of proud solitude. The state of sin itself is "hellish," although it may be, by an illusion of selfish imagination, mistaken for "Paradise." For that reason sinners chose "sin," the proud attitude, the Promethean pose. One may make of "Hell" an ideal, and pursue it - deliberately and persistently.

Indeed, ultimately, it is but an illusion, an aberration, a violence, and a mistake. But the sting of sin is precisely in the denial of the divinely instituted reality, in the attempt to establish another order or regime, which is, in contrast with the true divine order, a radical disorder, but to which one may give, in selfish exaltation, ultimate preference. Now, sin has been destroyed and abrogated - it can not be said that "sin" has been redeemed, only persons may be redeemed. But it is not enough to acknowledge, by faith, the deed of the divine redemption - one has to be born anew. The whole personality must be cleansed and healed. Forgiveness must be accepted and assessed in freedom. It cannot be imputed - apart from an act of faith and gratitude, an act of love. Paradoxically, nobody can be saved by love divine alone, unless it is responded to by grateful love of human persons. Indeed, there is always an abstract possibility of "repentance" and "conversion" in the course of this earthly or historic life. Can we admit that this possibility continues after death? Brunner will hardly accept the idea of a "Purgatory." But even in the concept of Purgatory no chance of radical conversion is implied. Purgatory includes but believers, those of good intentions, pledged to Christ, but deficient in growth and achievement. Human personality is made and shaped in this life - at least, it is oriented in this life. The difficulty of universal salvation is not on the divine side - indeed, God wants every man "to be saved," not so much, probably, in order that His will should be accomplished and His Holiness secured, as in order that man's existence may be complete and blessed. Yet, insuperable difficulties may be erected on the creaturely side. After all, is "ultimate resistance" a greater paradox, and a greater offense, than any resistance or revolt, which actually did pervert the whole order of Creation, did handicap the deed of redemption? Only when we commit ourselves to a Docetic view of history and deny the possibility of ultimate decisions in history, in this life, under the pretext that it is temporal, can we evade the paradox of ultimate resistance.

St. Gregory of Nyssa anticipated a kind of universal conversion of souls in the afterlife, when the Truth of God will be revealed and manifested with compelling evidence. Just at that point the limitation of the Hellenic mind is obvious. Evidence seemed to it to be the decisive motive for the will, as if "sin" were merely ignorance. The Hellenic mind had to pass through a long and hard experience of asceticism, of ascetic self-examination and self-control, in order to overcome this intellectualistic naïveté and illusion and discover a dark abyss in the fallen soul. Only in St. Maximus the Confessor, after some centuries of ascetic preparation, do we find a new and deepened interpretation of the Apokatastasis. Indeed, the order of creation will be fully restored in the last days. But the dead souls will still be insensitive to the very revelation of Light. The Light Divine will shine to all, but those who once have chosen darkness will be still unwilling and unable to enjoy the eternal bliss. They will still cling to the nocturnal darkness of selfishness. They will be unable precisely to enjoy. They will stay "outside" - because union with God, which is the essence of salvation, presupposes and requires the determination of will. Human will is irrational and its motives cannot be rationalized. Even "evidence" may fail to impress and move it.

Eschatology is a realm of antinomies. These antinomies are rooted and grounded in the basic mystery of Creation. How can anything else exist alongside of God, if God is the plenitude of Being? One has attempted to solve the paradox, or rather to escape it, by alleging the motives of Creation, sometimes to such an extent and in such a manner as to compromise the absoluteness and sovereignty of God. Yet, God creates in perfect freedom, ex mera liberalitate, that is, without any "sufficient reasons." Creation is a free gift of unfathomable love. Moreover, man in Creation is granted this mysterious and enigmatic authority of free decision, in which the most enigmatic is not the possibility of failure or resistance, but the very possibility of assent. Is not the will of God of such a dimension that it should be simply obeyed without any real, that is, free and responsible, assent? The mystery is in the reality of creaturely freedom. Why should it be wanted in the world created and ruled by God, by His infinite wisdom and love? In order to be real, human response must be more than a mere resonance. It must be a personal act, an inward commitment. In any case, the shape of human life - and now we may probably add, the shape and destiny of the cosmos - depends upon the synergism or conflict of the two wills, divine and creaturely. Many things are happening which God abhors - in the world which is His work and His subject. Strangely enough, God respects human freedom, as St. Irenaeus once said, although, in fact, the most conspicuous manifestation of this freedom was revolt and disorder. Are we entitled to expect that finally human disobedience will be disregarded and "dis-respected" by God, and His Holy Will shall be enforced, regardless of any assent? Or it would make a dreadful "masquerade" of human history? What is the meaning of this dreadful story of sin, perversion, and rebellion, if finally everything will be smoothed down and reconciled by the exercise of divine Omnipotence?

Indeed, the existence of Hell, that is, of radical opposition, implies, as it were, some partial "unsuccess" of the creative design. Yet, it was more than just a design, a plan, a pattern. It was the calling to existence, or even "to being," of living persons. One speaks sometimes of the "divine risk," says Jean Guitton. It is probably a better word than kenosis. Indeed, it is a mystery, which cannot be rationalized - it is the primordial mystery of creaturely existence.

Brunner takes the possibility of Hell quite seriously. There is no security of "universal salvation," although this is, abstractly speaking, still possible - for the omnipotent God of Love. But Brunner still hopes that there will be no Hell. The trouble is that there is Hell already. Its existence does not depend upon divine decision. God never sends anyone to Hell. Hell is made by creatures themselves. It is human creation, outside, as it were, of "the order of creation."

The Last Judgment remains a mystery.

Florovsky on The Last Things (part 2)

Why an "end"?

The mystery of the Last Things is grounded in the primary paradox of Creation. According to Brunner, the term Creation, in its Biblical use, does not denote the manner in which the world did actually come into existence, but only the sovereign Lordship of God. In the act of Creation God posits something totally other than Himself, "over against" Himself. Accordingly, the world of creatures has its own mode of existence-derivative, subordinate, dependent, and yet genuine and real, in its own kind. Brunner is quite formal at this point. "A world which is not God exists alongside of Him." Thus, the very existence of the world implies a certain measure of self-imposed "limitation" on the side of God, His kenosis, which reaches its climax in the cross of Christ. God, as it were, spares room for the existence of something different. The world has been "called into existence" for a purpose, in order that it manifest the glory of God. The Word is the principle and the ultimate goal of Creation.

Indeed, the very fact of Creation constitutes the basic paradox of the Christian faith, to which all other, mysteries of God can be traced back, or rather in which they are implied. Brunner, however, does not distinguish clearly, at this point, between the very "being" of God and His "will." Yet, the "being" of God simply cannot be "limited" in any sense. If there is a "limitation," it can refer only to His "will," insofar as another "will" has been "called into existence," a will which could not have existed at all. This basic "contingency" of Creation testifies to the absolute sovereignity of God. On the other hand, the ultimate climax of the creative kenosis will be reached only in "the Last Events." The sting of the paradox, of the kenosis, is not in the existence of the world, but in the possibility of Hell. Indeed, the World may be obedient to God, as well as it may be disobedient, and in its obedience it would serve God and manifest His glory. It will be not a "limitation," but an expansion of God's majesty. On the contrary, Hell means resistance and estrangement, pure and simple. However, even in the state of revolt and rebellion, the world still belongs to God. It can never escape His Judgment.

God is eternal. This is a negative definition. It simply means that the notion of time cannot be applied to His existence. Indeed, "time" is simply the mode of creaturely existence. Time is given by God. It is not an imperfect or deficient mode of being. There is nothing illusory about time. Temporality is real. Time is really moving on, irreversibly.

But it is not just a flux, as it is not a rotation. It is not just a series of indifferent "time-atoms" which could be conceived or postulated as infinite, without any end or limit. It is rather a teleological process, inwardly ordained toward a certain final goal. A telos [an end] is implied in the very design of Creation. Accordingly, what takes place in time is significant - significant and real for God Himself. History is not a shadow. Ultimately, history has a "metahistoric" goal. Brunner does not use this term, but he stresses strongly the inherent "finitude" of history. An infinite history, rolling on indefinitely, without destination or end, would have been an empty and meaningless history. The story is bound to have an end, a conclusion, a katharsis, a solution. The plot must be disclosed. History has to have an end, at which it is "fulfilled" or "consummated." It has been originally designed to be "fulfilled." At the end there will be no history any more. Time will be filled with eternity, as Brunner puts it. Of course, eternity means in this connection simply God. Time has meaning only against the background of eternity, that is - only in the context of the divine design.

Yet, history is not just a disclosure of that primordial and sovereign design. The theme of actual history, of the only real history we know about, is given by the existence of sin. Brunner dismisses the query about the origin of sin. He only stresses its "universality." Sin, in the biblical sense of the term, is not primarily an ethical category. According to Brunner, it only denotes the need for redemption. Two terms are intrinsically correlative. Now, sin is not a primary phenomenon, but a break, a deviation, a turning away from the beginning. Its essence is apostasy and rebellion. It is this aspect of sin that is emphasized in the biblical story of the Fall. Brunner refuses to regard the Fall as an actual event. He only insists that without the concept of the Fall the basic message of the New Testament, that is - the message of salvation would be absolutely incomprehensible. Yet, one should not inquire into the "when" and "how" of the Fall.

The essence of sin can be discerned only in the light of Christ, that is - in the light of redemption. Man, as he can be observed in history, always appears as sinner, unable not to sin. The man of history is always "man in revolt." Brunner is fully aware of the strength of evil - in the world and in the history of man. He commends the Kantian notion of radical evil. What he has to say about the Satanic sin, as different from man's sin, about the super-personal Satanic power, is impressive and highly relevant for theological inquiry, as much as all that may inevitably offend and disturb the mind of modern man. But the major question remains still without answer. Has the Fall the character of an event? The logic of Brunner's own argument seems to compel us to regard it as event, as a link in the chain of events. Otherwise it would be just a symbol, a working hypothesis, indispensable for interpretative purposes, but unreal. Indeed, the end of history must be regarded, according to Brunner, as "an event," howsoever mysterious this event will be. "The beginning" also has the character of "event," as the first link in the chain. Moreover, redemption is obviously "an event" which can be exactly dated-indeed, the crucial event, determinative of all others. In this perspective it seems imperative to regard the Fall as event, in whatever manner it may be visualized or interpreted. In any case, redemption and Fall are intrinsically related to each other, in Brunner's own interpretation.

Brunner distinguishes clearly between the creatureliness as such and sin. Creatures come from God. Sin comes from an opposite source. Sinfulness is disclosed in events, in sinful acts and actions. Indeed, it is an abuse of power, an abuse of freedom, a perversion of that responsible freedom which has been bestowed upon man in the very act by which he was called into existence. Yet, before the abuse became a habit, it had to have been exercised for the first time. The revolt had to have been started. Such an assumption would be in line with the rest of Brunner's exposition. Otherwise one lapses into some kind of metaphysical dualism which Brunner himself vigorously denounces. In any case, creatureliness and sinfulness cannot be equated or identified.

Indeed, Brunner is right in suggesting that we must start from the center, that is, with the glad tidings of redemption in Christ. But in Christ we contemplate not only our desperate "existential predicament" as miserable sinners, but, above all, the historical involvement of men in sin. We are moving in the world of events. Only for that reason are we justified in looking forward, to "the Last Events."

The course of history has been radically challenged by God - at one crucial point. According to Brunner, since the coming of Christ, time itself has been charged, for believers, with a totally new quality - "an otherwise unknown quality of decision." Ever since, believers are confronted with an ultimate alternative, confronted now - in this "historic time." The choice is radical - between heaven and hell. Any moment of history may become decisive - for those who are bound to make decisions, through Christ's challenge and revelation. In this sense, according to Brunner, "the earthly time is, for faith, charged with an eternity-tension." Men are now inescapably called to decisions, since God has manifested His own decision, in Christ, and in His Cross and Resurrection. Does it mean that "eternal decisions" - that is, decisions "for eternity"- must be made in this "historic time?" By faith - in Jesus Christ, the Mediator - one may, already now, "participate" in eternity. Since Christ, believers dwell already, as it were, in two different dimensions, both inside and outside of the "ordinary" time - this universal time, or age, in which the dying give place to those being born (St. Augustine, Civ. Dei, XV.I). Time has been, as it were, "polarized" by Christ's Advent. Thus, it seems, time is related now to eternity, that is to God, in a dual manner. On the one hand, time is always intrinsically related to the eternal God, as its Creator: God gives time. On the other hand, time has been, in those last days, radically challenged by God's direct and immediate intervention, in the person of Jesus Christ. As Brunner says himself, "temporality, existence in time, takes on a new character through its relationship to this event, Jesus Christ, the eph hapax of history, the once-for-all quality of His cross and Resurrection, and is newly fashioned in a paradoxical manner that is unintelligible to thinking guided by reason alone" (Brunner, Eternal Hope (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1954), p. 48). We have reached the crucial point in Brunner's exposition. His interpretation of human destiny is strictly Christological and Christocentric. Only faith in Christ gives meaning to human existence. This is Brunner's strong point. But there is an ambiguous docetic accent in his Christology, and it affects grievously his understanding of history. Strangely enough, Brunner himself addresses the same charge to the traditional Christology of the Church, claiming that it never paid enough attention to the historic Jesus. It is a summary charge which we cannot analyze and "refute" just now. What is relevant for our purpose now is that Brunner's Christology is obviously much more docetic than that of the Catholic tradition. Brunner's attention to the historical Jesus is utterly ambiguous. According to Brunner, Christ is a historic personality only as man. When He "unveils Himself" - that is, when He discloses His Divinity to those who have the eye of faith - He is no more a historical personality at all. In fact, Christ's humanity, according to Brunner, is no more than "a disguise." The true self of Christ is divine. To faith Christ discards His disguise, His "incognito," to use Brunner's own phrase. "Where He discloses Himself, history disappears, and the Kingdom of God has begun. And when He unveils Himself, He is no longer an historical personality, but the Son of God, Who is from everlasting to everlasting" (Brunner, The Mediator (London: Lutterworth Press, 1949), p. 346). This is a startling language, indeed.

Actually, Christ's humanity is just a means to enter history, or rather - to appear in history. God's relation to history, and to human reality, is, as it were, no more than tangential, even in the crucial mystery of Incarnation. Actually, Christ's humanity interests Brunner only as a medium of revelation, of divine self-disclosure. Indeed, according to Brunner, in Christ God has really found a firm footing in humanity. But this does not seem anything more than that God has now challenged man in his own human element, on his own human ground and level. In order to meet man, God had to descend - to man's own level. This may be understood in a strictly orthodox way. Indeed, this was the favorite thought of the ancient Fathers. But Brunner denies any real interpenetration of divine and human aspects in Christ's person. In fact, they are no more than "aspects." Two elements meet, but there is no real unity. Christ of faith is only divine, even if in a human disguise. His humanity is just a means to enter history, or rather - to appear in history. Is history just a moving screen on which divine "eternity" is to be projected? God had to assume a beggar's robe of man, for otherwise He would be unable to encounter man. There was no real "assumption" of human reality into the personal experience of the Incarnate. The role of Christ's humanity was purely instrumental, a disguise. Basically it is a sheer "Docetism," however much attention may be given to "historic Jesus." After all, "historic Jesus" does not belong, in this interpretation, to the realm of faith.

Real decisions are not made on the plane of history, says Brunner. "For that is the sphere in which men wear masks. For the sake of our "masquerade," that is, for the sake of our sinful mendacity, Christ also, if I may put it like this, has to wear a mask; this is His Incognito" (Ibid, p. 346). Now, in the act of faith, man takes away his mask. Then, in response, Christ also discards His mask, His human disguise, and appears in His glory. Faith, according to Brunner, breaks down history. Faith itself is a kind of a "metahistoric" act, which transcends history, or even discards it. Indeed, Brunner stresses the uniqueness of God's redemptive revelation in Christ. For man it only means that the challenge is radical and ultimate. Man is now given a unique opportunity, or occasion, to make his decision, to overcome his own limited humanity, and even his intrinsic temporality - by an act of faith which takes him beyond history, if only in hope and promise, till the final keros [time] has come. But is human history ultimately just a masquerade? According to Brunner's own emphatic statement, temporality as such is not sinful. Why, then, should divine revelation in Christ discard history? Why should historicity be an obstacle to God's self-revelation, an obstacle that must be radically removed?

In the last resort, the radical change in history - the New Age, released by Christ's Advent - seems to consist only in the new and unprecedented opportunity to take sides. God actually remains as hidden in history as He has been before, or, probably, even more than before, since the ultimate incommensurability of divine revelation with the human masquerade has been made self-evident and conspicuous. God could approach man only in disguise. The actual course of history has not been changed, either by God's intervention, or by man's option. Apart from the decision of faith, history is empty, and still sinful. The intimate texture of actual historic life has not been affected by the redemptive revelation. Nevertheless, a warning has been given: The Lord comes again. This time He is coming as judge, not as Redeemer, although judgment will actually accomplish and stabilize redemption.

By faith we can now discern an "eschatological tension" in the very course of history, although it would be idle and in vain to indulge in any kind of apocalyptic calculations. This tension seems to exist on the human level alone. The eschatological interim is the age of decisions - to be taken by men. God's decision has been already taken.

As a whole, Christian history, according to Brunner, was a sore failure, a history of decay and misunderstanding. This is an old scheme, firmly established in Protestant historiography at least since Gottfried Arnold. The primitive Christian community, the ecclesia, was a genuine Messianic community, "the bearer of the new life of eternity and of the powers of the divine world," as Brunner puts it. But this primitive ecclesia did not survive, at least as an historic entity, as an historic factor. Brunner acknowledges partial and provisional "advents" of the Kingdom of God in the course of history. But all these "advents" are sporadic. Where faith is, there is ecclesia or Kingdom. But it is hidden, in the continuing "masquerade" of history. Ultimately, the ongoing history is a kind of testing ground, on which men are challenged and their responses are tried and tested. But does the "saving history" still continue? Is God still active in history, after the First Advent - or is history now left, after the great intervention of Christ, to man alone, with that eschatological provision that finally Christ comes again?

Now, history is obviously but a provisional and passing stage in the destiny of man. Man is called to "eternity," not to "history." This is why "history" must come to its close, to its end. Yet, indeed, history is also a stage of growth - the wheat and the tares are growing together, and their ultimate discrimination is delayed - till the day of harvest. The tares are growing indeed, rapidly and wildly. But the wheat is growing also. Otherwise there would be no chance for any harvest, except for that of tares. Indeed, history matures not only for judgment, but also for consummation. Moreover, Christ is still active in history. Brunner disregards, or ignores, that component of Christian history. Christian history is, as it were, "atomized," in his vision. It is just a series of existential acts, performed by men, and, strangely enough, only negative acts, the acts of rebellion and resistance, seem to be integrated and solidarized. But, in fact, ecclesia is not just an aggregate of sporadic acts, but a "body," the body of Christ. Christ is present in the ecclesia not only as an object of faith and recognition, but as her Head. He is actually reigning and ruling. This secures the Church's continuity and identity through the ages. In Brunner's conception Christ seems to be outside history, or above it. He did come once, in the past. He is coming again, in the future. Is He really present now, in the present, except through the memory of the past and the hope of the future, and indeed in the "metahistoric" acts of faith?

Creation, according to Brunner, has its own mode of existence. But it is no more than a "medium" of divine revelation. It must be, as it were, transparent for divine light and glory. And this strangely reminds us of the Platonizing gnosis of Origen and his various followers. The whole story is reduced to the dialectics of eternal and temporal. Brunner's own term is "parabolic."

Choosing Apostolic Communions: My Reply

Over at Sacramentum Vitae Michael Liccione has posted an article on the subject of how we go about choosing which of the two apostolic communions to affiliate with. In that article he very gently takes me to task for my choice of analogies that I used in a recent post on another blog about why I chose to go Orthodox. My post was also criticized in subsequent comments by Dr. William Tighe and (soon to be Fr.) Al Kimel, two individuals whose opinions I hold in high regard. Below is my reply which was too long to post in a single comment over at Mikes blog. In order to facilitate a coherent discussion I will ask that all comments be posted over at Mike’ web site which can be found in the above link. A/O

Michael,
Thank you for you very kind words. I also appreciate your thoughtful comments on my most recent post over at Ad Orientem. I hope to hear from some others. Now to the subject at hand…

As always you make a very powerful argument for doctrinal development. However as I noted in my comment to Dr. Tighe, my field is more history than theology. Thus I rarely approach doctrinal development as though it occurred in an historical vacuum. When examining the developments in the Latin understanding of the Petrine ministry I find that they often seem to be at least partially in response to socio-political conditions then in existence. Now this is not in and of itself a bad thing. It can be perfectly legitimate that a given situation might suddenly bring a certain truth into sharper focus. It is also completely legitimate for existing circumstances to influence church discipline.

Indeed I have occasionally irritated some of my co-religionists, by noting that some aspects of the growth of papal power were not only legitimate but almost impossible to conceive of not having occurred. The situation in the West following the disintegration of the Western Roman Empire was one of near complete chaos. The Church at the time represented almost the only remaining institution that had any sort of unifying effect in Western Europe. Thus it was natural and to a degree even necessary for the See of Rome to step into the void left by the fall of the Empire. This was especially so as the various barbarian tribes were converted. The West, lacking the stabilizing influence of the Imperial Government present in the East, had a totally different situation to deal with. In the East the emperor was often at least as powerful (and sometimes more so) than the Patriarchs and took a direct hand in the governance of The Church. There was an absolute union of church and state. But just as important, there was only one state to deal with. While a general union of church and state developed in the west over the centuries it was a fragmented one. The political balkanization of Western Europe had far reaching consequences for the church there.

Up to a point I think that a certain centralization of administrative power in the Roman See was needed, probably far more than most of my fellow Orthodox would be comfortable with admitting to. But I am referring to the disciplinary ecclesiology of the Latin Church as distinct from its doctrinal claims. At the risk of sounding Protestant (even a stopped clock is right twice a day) a strong argument could be made that the gradually increased involvement of the papacy in secular politics produced an increasing need to justify its position in the world. This lent itself to the medieval doctrinal development of the papal powers culminating in the High Middle Ages with Boniface VIII’s Unam Sanctum.

Now a converse argument could also be made to the effect that the socio political conditions in the East retarded legitimate doctrinal development in that half of The Church. The Eastern Churches by and large have existed within the framework of the Roman Empire (Eastern) or under the yoke of non-Christian rulers up until very nearly modern times (the Russian Church being the obvious exception). This would have negated the circumstances that provoked much of the doctrinal development witnessed in the Latin Church especially in the medieval period.

All of which brings us back to the central question of your erudite post. How does one discern legitimate doctrinal development from illegitimate development or as you politely framed it “addition to the deposit of the faith?”

Once again I turn to history. Here I look for signs which to me would render a given example of doctrinal development suspect. The big red flag for me is the following question. Has the modern church effectively abandoned its earlier position or reversed itself? In several areas I again would argue a strong case can be made that the Roman Church has indeed come very close to reversing previously held positions or simply abandoning them. Some examples would include usury, extra ecclesiam nulla salus, religious liberty (Vat II), limbo, capital punishment, and torture (the topic of several of your recent fascinating posts). I actually concur with the development of doctrine on the death penalty so that’s probably a poor example. But the others are all cases where a prima facie case can be made that there has been a substantive reversal or abandonment of previously held doctrine. All of these subjects are ones on which the Roman Catholic Church had very clear and to the minds of most people firmly set doctrinal statements of belief which have seen very dramatic changes.

In general I am not aware of any corresponding examples (at least none as glaring) that exist in Orthodoxy. And yes, all of the above examples can and have been explained by the advocates of doctrinal development. But I often find those explanations tortured and… I hate to use this term… legalistic. Some doctrinal development is probably unavoidable. But radical development which some might term revolutionary is suspect. This coupled with the frequency with which the Roman Catholic Church is “developing” its doctrine all combined to add to my already considerable discomfort with Catholic doctrinal development post first millennium.

Again defenders of DD might point out that it’s easy to criticize such when your faith remains frozen in the 9th century. But the reply could be made that doctrinal development might not be quite as common or necessary if there were not such an urgent need to have an explanation or doctrine about everything. Yes we Orthodox do suffer from the lack of a clearly defined final authority. Although I think you made a pretty good list of things we look for, the two big ones being an Ecumenical Council and acceptance by the church as a whole. Doctrinal development in the East is far slower as a result of our ecclesiology. It also tends to be less rigid in some respects. The very nature of The Church makes quick judgments on doctrinal matters difficult almost to the point of impossible. To be certain, that’s a double edged sword. But if it’s a really serious subject of contention then the issue will still be around in a hundred years and it might take that long to reach a consensus on it.

Further it is worth noting that really serious theological arguments, the kind that provoke schisms, have been almost completely absent from Orthodoxy since the split with Rome. Yes we have schisms. But they are mostly jurisdictional and juridical squabbles. For the most part the faith is settled. The one possible exception could arguably be the Old Believers of Russia. But even there I would argue that was much more about an abuse of power in imposing church disciplines which were alien to the local people.

I could go on, but I have covered what I really wanted to and this has already reached three pages on MS Word. That’s long enough for a comment I think. In closing I wish to say that I am in absolute agreement with the closing paragraph of your article. One can not prove or disprove either Orthodoxy or Roman Catholicism. And like you I never seriously considered Protestantism which I found historically bankrupt. The same “assiduous prayer and integrity” which lead me to Orthodoxy has kept you in Rome. In the end we must do what we believe to be right according to those lights that God gives us by which we discern right from wrong. More than that is not possible and all we can do is commend our miserable and unworthy souls to the mercy of God.

As always typos etc… mea culpa.

ICXC
John

What is Rome to Orthodoxy?

From a comment in the below “Sailing to Byzantium.”

I agree with you also. But how do you deal with Bernadette of Lourdes, whose body is incorrupt? And with the many attested miracles associated with Lourdes? Yet that apparition styled herself as "the immaculate conception", which I gather is not accepted by Orthodox Christians. And how do you deal with the events of Fatima, in which 70,000 rain-soaked people were instantly dried after the miracle of the sun...yet that apparition refers to "the conversion of Russia" and "the reign of Pius XI"? And finally how do you deal with personages like Padre Pio, whose whole life and ministry center around obedience including reverence for the pope of Rome?

Those are the things--however slender they may seem--that give me pause.

Seraph,
In a few lines you have posed a question that volumes could be written in reply to and not be adequate. A proper reply is certainly beyond the scope of a comment here. And very likely it is beyond my poor abilities. But I will try to give you the short version of my limited thoughts on the matter. Orthodoxy focuses on what it knows and not what it does not know. Herein lays a major difference between Rome and Orthodoxy. Rome generally believes there are answers for everything and it looks for them. In Orthodoxy we simply accept that some things are. And we also accept that some things are outside our realm of knowledge and we don’t tend to worry a lot about them. This can be quite maddening to Western Christians. And as a former Roman I absolutely feel that frustration sometimes. One of the areas that is a bit gray for us is the question of the boundaries of The Church and what goes on outside them.

We know where The Church is (canonical Orthodoxy). And in some cases we can state with a fair degree of certainty where it is not (all of your various Protestant sects). And while it is true that we Orthodox have ever held that true sacramental grace belongs solely to God’s Church since the Holy Mysteries are confected in cooperation with the entire Church and the Holy Spirit, we do not claim to know with certainty where the exact bounds of The Church lie, on the one side of which are the grace of True Mysteries, and on the other side of which that grace is lacking. Nor do we claim to know what goes on outside of God’s Church.

Orthodoxy does not put limits on God’s mercy. Nor do we limit where the uncreated energies of His grace can flow or what they can do (save in the matter of sacramental grace). Even where the sacraments are concerned, we don’t claim that heterodox sacraments are completely without merit. Again we don’t know what God may choose to do or not do. We only hold that non-Orthodox sacraments do not do what the Church does. What the relationship of the Roman Catholic Church is to The Church has never been clearly defined. If asked for an opinion my guess is you will get a wide variation of answers. Indeed this is a pretty hot topic of discussion in some quarters.

Some (more than a few) will tell you that Rome is flatly heretical and has no connection to Orthodoxy and that her sacraments are without grace. Others will tell you that Rome is separated from The Church but that her heresy is not of a nature that would impede the grace of her sacraments. And still others will tell you they don’t know.

I fall mainly into the latter category but I do lean towards accepting that Rome retains the grace of true sacraments. Among the items which have moved me in that direction was Florovksy’s essay on The Limits of the Church. I intend to post that in the coming days. Another item which caused me to lean in that direction is the clear number of saints produced by the Latin Church. This last statement will be controversial among some of my Orthodox brothers and sisters, not a few of whom might take vigorous exception to my acknowledging the possibility of non Orthodox saints. Oh well. I will deal with it. Also it has been the tradition of the Russian Church when accepting converts from the Roman clergy that after Chrismation and profession of faith they were simply vested.

St John of San Francisco (my patron) once explained his view of Rome this way. Rome, he said, is like a very old and beautiful house. All of its wiring is still intact and in good order. But it’s not connected to the city power station. The policy of the Russian Church regarding the reception of Roman priests does seem to affirm that the wiring is still there in the minds of the Holy Synod. This is certainly not done for Protestants. Yet other Orthodox jurisdictions require Roman converts to be baptized. The bottom line I think here, is that there is no bottom line… yet. We are back to “I don’t know.”

As for the particulars you mentioned, mostly that also falls into the realm of I don’t know. Incorrupt saints exist in both the East and the West. I knew of many Catholic saints that were incorrupt before I swam the Bosphoros. We have them too. The incorrupt relics of my patron St. John of San Francisco lie not two hours from where I am typing. I also know the basics of some of the Marian apparitions in the western tradition. We have our own. And St. Seraphim of Sarov prophesized about the ordeal awaiting Russia long ago.

It is recorded that before he died he wrote a letter to be given to the Czar on the date of his glorification. On the day when he was canonized that letter was presented to the Holy Royal Passion Bearer Czar Nicholas II. No one knows with certainty what was in it. But Nicholas was shaken and paled after reading it. It is almost universally believed that it was a forewarning of the terrible cross that awaited the Emperor and his family. The Emperor and Empress were also warned by the Holy Fool for Christ Blessed Pasha (Parasceva) of their fate and Russia’s terrible ordeal that lay ahead. She also foretold the birth of the tragic Tsarevitch, Blessed Alexei. Of Padre Pio, he was doubtless a great and holy man. But there are many Orthodox saints who did not center their lives on the Pope. What of them?

This is not a minor question. The issue of the relationship of the Roman Church to Orthodoxy is a serious one. There are theological discussions now going on between the two churches. Are they proceeding from the perspective that Rome is a schismatic part of The Church still retaining the grace of the mysteries? Or are they proceeding from the point of view that Rome is heretical and has departed too far to retain any such grace? Or are they proceeding like me from the point of view of “I don’t know” and hoping to find out as they go along?

I am aware that the above thoughts are horribly inadequate to such a weighty question. And so I will open this up to others, Catholic or Orthodox, who may stumble onto this post. I would particularly appreciate the thoughts of some of my Orthodox brothers and sisters on this subject. Fr. Stephen Freeman, Daniel (Photius) Jones, the Ochlophobist and any others who would care to opine are invited to do so. I will ask that any discussion here please remain civil even if the topic might be one that naturally lends itself to polemics.

Under the mercy,
Ad Orientem

A Reminder...

First off, thank you so very much to all of you who contribute thoughtful comments to this page. You make my life and this blog a work of joy. That said, this blog is not a public bulletin board or soap box for every disaffected crank to post on. Sorry if that sounds harsh. I have had (until today) only a very few posts that were clearly inappropriate. But I feel that this is a good time to remind everyone that the basic rules of civil discourse apply here. Debate issues not personalities. Debate vigorously if you feel so called, but not personally. Ad Hominum attacks are not allowed. Your blog master is in every sense a social reactionary and a creature of another era. So the bottom line is this. If you are posting something that might in a more civilized age have resulted in an early morning meeting over coffee and pistols, please refrain from doing so.

Yours
Ad Orientem

Florovsky on the Last Things (part 1)

Eschatology - an unpopular topic

Eschatology was for a long time a neglected field in modern theology. The arrogant phrase of Ernst Troeltsch - "The bureau of eschatology is for the most part closed" - was distinctively characteristic of the whole liberal tradition, since the Age of the Enlightenment. Nor is this neglect for eschatological issues fully overcome in contemporary thought. In certain quarters eschatology is still regarded as an obsolete relic of the forlorn past. The theme itself is avoided, or it is summarily dismissed as unreal and irrelevant. The modern man is not concerned with the last events. This attitude of neglect was recently reinforced by the rise of theological Existentialism. Now, Existentialism does claim to be itself an eschatological doctrine. But it is a sheer abuse of terms. Eschatology is radically interiorized in its existentialist reinterpretation. It is actually swallowed up in the immediacy of personal decisions. In a sense, modern Existentialism in theology is but a fresh variation on the old Pietistic theme. In the last resort, it amounts to the radical dehistorization of the Christian faith. Events of history are eclipsed by the events of inner life. The Bible itself is used as a book of parables and patterns. History is no more than a passing frame. Eternity can be encountered and tasted at any time. History is no more a theological problem.

On the other hand, precisely in the last few decades, the basic historicity of the Christian faith has been reassessed and reaffirmed in various trends of contemporary theology. This was a momentous shift in theological thinking. Indeed, it was a return to Biblical faith. Of course, no elaborate "philosophy of history" can be found in the Bible. But there is in the Bible a comprehensive vision of history, a perspective of an unfolding time, running from a "beginning" to an "end," and guided by the sovereign will of God toward the accomplishment of His ultimate purpose. The Christian faith is primarily an obedient witness to the mighty deeds of God in history, which culminated, "in those last days," in the Advent of Christ and in His redemptive victory. Accordingly, Christian theology should be construed as a "Theology of History." Christian faith is grounded in events, not in ideas. The Creed itself is a historical witness, a witness to the saving or redemptive events, which are apprehended by faith as God's mighty deeds.

This recovery of the historic dimension of the Christian faith was bound to bring the eschatological theme into the focus of theological meditation. The Bible and the Creed are both pointing to the future. It has been recently suggested that Greek philosophy was inescapably "in the grip of the past." The category of the future was quite irrelevant in the Greek version of history. History was conceived as a rotation, with an inevitable return to the initial position, from which a new repetition of events was bound to start again. On the contrary, the Biblical view opens into the future, in which new things are to be disclosed and realized. And an ultimate realization of the divine purpose is anticipated in the future, beyond which no temporal movement can proceed - a state of consummation.

In the witty phrase of von Balthasar, "Eschatology is the 'eye of the storm' in, the theology of our time" (Hans Urs von Balthasar, "Eschatologie," Fragen der Theologie Heute. Feiner, Trütsch, Böckle, editors (Zürich: Köln, 1958), pp. 493-421). Indeed, it is a "subtle knot" in which all lines of theological thinking intersect and are inextricably woven together. Eschatology cannot be discussed as a special topic, as a separate article of belief. It can be understood only in the total perspective of the Christian faith. What is characteristic of contemporary theological thought is precisely the recovery of the eschatological dimension of the Christian faith. All articles of faith have an eschatological connotation. There is no common consensus in the contemporary theology of "the Last Things." There is rather a sharp conflict of views and opinions. But there is also a new widening of the perspective.

Emil Brunner's contribution to the current discussion was both provocative and constructive. His theology is a theology of hope and expectation, as it befits one who stands in the Reformed tradition. His theology is inwardly oriented toward "the Last Events." Yet, at many points, his vision is limited by his general theological presuppositions. Indeed, his theology reflects his personal experience of faith. (Cont)

-Archpriest G. Florovsky

Sailing to Byzantium

Considering all of this, I'm obliged to admit that it's only the insurmountable obstacle of Matthew 16, 17-19, and the unbearable sense of loss involved in relinquishing the Roman rite that prevents me from making my own "peace with the East".

There was a time not too far past when I could have wriiten those same words. Read the rest of a very thoughtful essay here.

ROCOR & Moscow: Some blunt words...

The Canonical Consequences of Rejecting the Act of Canonical Communion

The rejection of the Act under the present historical opportunities would mean the total break of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia with all the Local Orthodox Churches, which will then have every reason to deem us schismatic.

The Serbian Orthodox Church, our last link with the fullness of canonical Orthodoxy, will doubtless refuse communion with us.

The rejection of the Act may in a very real sense persuade the Church of Jerusalem to deem us schismatic, withdraw the existing blessing for our bishops and priests to serve in the Holy Land, and retrieve the antimensia upon which we now serve. It threatens the total loss of our Holy Sites.

Rejecting the Act would make us, in the eyes of the Russian Orthodox Church, schismatics, like the followers of Valentin Rusantsov, and will exclude the possibility of participating in the church life of our homeland. At present, our voice is being heard, and we are invited to participate in ecclesiastical and historical conferences. Rejecting the Act would end such activity.

Regarding the possible timeline of adopting the Act, that is, of reestablishing unity, as a participant of the negotiating process, I can say the following:

If the Act is not signed, the opportunity we have been given would quickly disappear. Not only the Moscow Patriarchate, but the entire Orthodox world would thereby be convinced that cannot be dealt with seriously, that we ourselves prefer to be essentially sectarians, torn from the fullness of universal Orthodoxy, and do not wish to be united with our much-suffering Church in the Fatherland and with canonical Orthodoxy.

If this occurs, and if once again we were to desire to hold talks with the Russian Church in the Fatherland, then—even if they agree to speak to us—it would be an entirely different conversation. We will never again be given the opportunity to preserve the entire Church Abroad as a completely self-governing Church. The best we could hope for would be that the unconditional demand is made that we merge into the Moscow Patriarchate, which will then indeed fully control our church matters—they will appoint and transfer bishops and clergymen, etc.

-Archpriest Alexander Lebedeff (ROCOR)

Read the rest here.

Short Essay... Deep Thoughts

I have read this five times now. And I get something more each time I read it. Who else but Fr. Stephen of course.

Ankara's Nightmare

In late November Pope Benedict XVI will arrive in Turkey for an official visit. He had hoped to be there last year at the invitation of the Ecumenical Patriarch for the celebration of the Feast of St. Andrew the First Called (patron of the Patriarchal See). However Turkey informed the Holy See that November of 2006 would be a more convenient date. Yet when the Pope travels there he will not be meeting the Prime Minister of Turkey who it appears will be out of town. A previous engagement perhaps? Also as part of the lead up to this special event the Turkish press has been doing its fair and balanced best to ignore the papal visit. Except that is, when reporting on the general hostility to the trip by most Turks. So, why the cold shoulder?

There are two reasons which stand out. Both have some basis though I believe one carries far greater weight. The one that everyone is thinking of is +Benedict’s speech at Regensburg in which he quite correctly and courageously drew attention to some of the defects in the Islamic mind set which are not conducive to reason and in some cases lend somewhat to a predisposition to irrational and even violent behavior. The Pope’s decision to quote a Byzantine Emperor's highly polemic opinion regarding Islam produced a largely predictable result. There were mass protests some of which were quite hysterical and even violent. Churches were burned and people were attacked. At least one Roman Catholic nun and one Oriental Orthodox priest have been martyred as a result of the anti-Christian violence.

The second and in my opinion more significant reason, is that this visit will shine an unwelcome light on Turkey’s treatment of religious minorities at a time when they are seeking admission to the European Union. For years the Christian minority in Turkey have suffered varying degrees of persecution, both official and unofficial. Until fairly recently Turkey had a thriving minority population of ethnic Greeks (Orthodox Christians). However a series of pogroms and various quasi legal measures have combined to drive most of them out of the country. Today only a few thousand remain. In the 1970’s the Turkish government seized many churches and shut down the country’s only Orthodox seminary (which was world famous). Despite pleas to reopen the seminary from many quarters Turkey remains unmoved. A public law mandates that only Turkish citizens can be elected Patriarch and the government reserves the right to confirm or veto any patriarchal election. At the present rate it is possible that we may be looking at the last (save perhaps one) Patriarch of Constantinople.

Turkey has never been very good at coming to terms with its own history. It still denies its complicity in the genocide of the Armenians, despite overwhelming and damning evidence accepted by every reputable historian and the entire international community. In fairness everyone wants other people to like their country. As an American I am pained by the low opinion that many throughout the world hold for my country today. But we do not criminalize negative opinions of our own country. In Turkey it can be a crime to criticize the country. And any discussion of certain aspects of its history is beyond the scope of permissible discourse.

Nor is this attitude limited to its Christian population. Turkey has a significant body of Kurds within its borders. And they too have suffered from Ankara’s neglect at best or malevolent attentions at worst. Recently Turkey has strongly hinted at military intervention if any effort is made to establish an independent Kurdistan in what is now Northern Iraq.

All of this of course can not bode well for Turkish aspirations to enter the EU. Another factor against their ambitions is the current tide of anti-immigrant feeling now rising in Europe. If Turkey gained EU membership there would be virtually no way to prevent a human wave of Islamic immigration into the heart of Western Europe. With recent violence and protests highlighting the lack of assimilation on the part of Europe’s already significant population of Islamic immigrants this is something that weighs heavily on the minds of leaders throughout the continent. This brings us back to Turkey’s unwelcome guest. In his previous incarnation as Cardinal Ratzinger, the Pope spoke out against Turkey’s admission to the EU. Most observers believe that contributed to Turkey’s decision to put off the papal trip to this year.

But there is also a fear that goes beyond even the light likely to shine on Turkish history. And that is the very real (and legitimate) concern that the Pontiff’s visit could precipitate some form of ugly incident while the eyes of the world are firmly fixed on Turkey. The possibility of violence during the Pope’s visit is significant and Ankara has already confirmed that security will be very heavy. Nor am I just referring to an assassination attempt on the Pope and or the Patriarch (God forbid!) While one may feel a certain concern for the Pope’s safety he at least will be moving under a curtain of heavily armed police and security agents. This can not be said for Turkey’s embattled Christian population. The danger of some sort of riot or orchestrated violence during the papal visit is quite real. And it is Ankara’s nightmare.

Iraq: Time to leave?

Metropolitan +Philip of the Antiochian Orthodox Archdiocese has recently stated that it was a mistake for the United States to invade Iraq. He has also called for all US troops to be pulled out of the country by spring of 2007. I can not state that he is the only Orthodox primate to speak out on this subject so directly. But he is the only one I know of doing so.

To be honest, I am ambivalent about the war in Iraq (as opposed to Afghanistan where I am 100% in favor of it). During the period leading up to the war I bought the whole bill of goods and supported it. Today I have serious doubts about the wisdom and necessity of the action. Hindsight is always 20/20 they say. The problem is I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do or not. I do not buy into all of the silly conspiracy theories about going in for oil etc. The Oliver Stone School of Politics has never appealed to me. But whether one agrees with the basic justification for the war or not, one thing is painfully clear. It’s been botched.

The post war planning was so incompetent that it is astonishing that no one has been held to account for it. Donald Rumsfeld is still running the War Department. And the administration has never apparently spent much time asking how a war we were assured would be over in 6 weeks with all US troops out of Iraq in 6 months or less is now half way into its 3rd year with no end in sight and the situation going from bad to worse. I for one believe enough young people have died in this debacle that its time some tough questions were asked and some accountability demanded. I spent ten years in the military and I understand that mistakes happen in war and the enemy can be generally counted on to be uncooperative in whatever you’re trying to do. But I expect people to LEARN from their mistakes. That has not been in evidence here.

“Cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare.”

Anyone can err, but only the fool persists in his fault. - Cicero.

Dear Benedict...

Over at The New Liturgical Movement Shawn Tribe is starting a letter writing campaign to the Pope on the subject of the Motu Proprio by which the Rite of Pius V is expected to be freed. He has kindly provided the Pope's address and his email address. This prompted a very sensible question in the comments section. How do you address the Pope in correspondence? As someone who has occasionally been accused (not without some justification) of being a social snob when it comes to etiquette I immediately began searching for the answer. The below rules are the traditional ones for ecclesial correspondence observed by Roman Catholics who have occasion to write the Pontiff. Please note the word "traditional."

Before describing how an address should be written, or how a letter to an ecclesiastical personage should be begun and ended, it may be well to say that the paper must always be white, no other colour being allowed. The size and form of stationery considered appropriate is that known in Italy as palomba; it is used by the Roman Congregations, and is so called because it has the watermark of a dove (It., palomba). In other countries the paper used for protocols or ministerial correspondence may be employed, but it should be handmade, as both stronger and more suitable.

The ink must always be black; coloured inks are forbidden; first, because they are contrary to traditional usage, and next because they are liable to changes, having, for the most part, a basis of aniline or of animal oil; moreover, these inks on being exposed to the light lose colour rapidly and soon make the letter impossible to read.

The letter must be written as our fathers wrote, and not, as business letters are now sometimes written, first on the right hand sheet and then on the left, in inverse order to that of the leaves of a book. This is expressly laid down in an instruction issued by Propaganda when Monsignor Ciasca was secretary, and rests on the necessity of providing for the due order of the archives and for facility of classification.

Lastly, it is better not to write on the back of the sheet, as the ink may soak through the paper and make the document less easy to read; in any case, it is a rule of politeness to facilitate the reading of a letter in every possible way.

Ten years ago the use of a typewriter was not permissible; at the present day it is. Many decrees of the Congregation of Rites are written in this way; the Congregation of Bishops and Regulars allow it in the case of documents addressed to them, and other ecclesiastical courts have followed their example, but letters addressed to the Sovereign Pontiff personally must still be written by hand. If the letter be sealed, red wax must be used, any other colour, or even black, being forbidden; but the use of wafers, made to look like seals of red wax, which are gummed on to the envelope, is now tolerated. Moreover, according to the practice of the ecclesiastical chanceries, the seal used should be smaller in proportion to the dignity of the person addressed. In practice, however, it is not easy to follow this rule, since it is not everyone who possesses seals of different sizes.

FORMS OF ADDRESS

The Pope

The Sovereign Pontiff is addressed at the commencement of a letter as "Most Holy Father" (Beatissimo Padre); in the body of the letter as "His Holiness" (Sua or Vostra Santità). It is customary to speak to him always in the third person, and the letter ends with: "Prostrate at the feet of Your Holiness, I have the honour to profess myself, with the most profound respect, Your Holiness's most humble servant."

If, instead of a letter, a petition is sent to the Sovereign Pontiff, to be examined by him or by one of the Roman Congregations, it should begin: "Most Holy Father, Prostrate at the feet of Your Holiness, the undersigned N., of the diocese of N., has the honour to set forth as follows:" -- and the statement of the request ends with the words: "And may God . . ." (meaning, "May God enrich Your Holiness with His gifts"). If written in Italian the petition ends with the formula, Che della grazia . . ., the beginning of a phrase implying that the favour asked is looked for from the great kindness of the Sovereign Pontiff. After folding the petition lengthways to the paper, the petitioner should write at the top, "To His Holiness, Pope N. . . . ."; in the middle, "for the petitioner" (per l'infrascritto oratore), and at the bottom, to the right, the name of the agent, or the person charged with the transaction of that particular business at the Roman court.

From the Catholic Encyclopedia (1913 ed.)

Rome Orthodoxy and the Tridentine Question

There is an excellent essay over at Vivificat on the subject of the effect that the imminent Tridentine indult might have on relations with Orthodoxy. The general thrust of the essay is probably not much. In the short term I tend to agree for most of the reasons stated in Theo’s essay. Rome has a lot of problems that go way beyond a botched liturgical reform post-Vatican II. Those need to be addressed first. But in fairness there are encouraging signs that many of these issues are being looked at. Thus I am not quite as pessimistic as Theo seems to be.

The new management in the Vatican is showing clear signs of a willingness to put teeth behind rhetoric in church teachings and discipline. The expected indult is just another example that Pope +Benedict XVI is shaking things up after forty plus years of anything goes. +John Paul II (Magnus) did a lot during his more than 25 years on the throne of Peter. But he had short comings. One was that while he was generally orthodox in his preaching, he was a soft touch in church discipline. This problem was compounded by the fact that the last five years of his pontificate were ones of greatly reduced leadership due to his poor health. But JP II is gone now for more than a year and there is a new sheriff in town.

+Benedict XVI having waited the customary one year from the death of his sainted predecessor is now starting to put his stamp on the church he leads. He is shaking up the Vatican Curia and reasserting church discipline in a wide range of areas. The Tridentine indult is just a foretaste of what I think is to come. In his former persona as Cardinal Ratzinger he repeatedly voiced grave concerns about the direction that the liturgical reform had taken in the years after the council. Now we see efforts underway to reintroduce Latin into the reformed Mass, affirming a right to offer Mass ad orientem as well as ad populi, prohibiting lay people from the purification of the sacred vessels and so on. Unlike +John Paul II Benedict does not have the political baggage of Polish nationality as a hindrance to establishing a rapport with the Russian Orthodox Church. Also Benedict is respected as a first rate theologian who understands the Eastern Churches better than any pope in many centuries. In short he is seriously respected in Orthodox theological circles. This alone puts the Rome/Orthodox dialogue on an entirely different plane.

But yes, Theo is right. Rome still has more problems than you can shake a stick at. Discipline is horrible and if the new pope wants to change that, it needs to be remembered as a very liberal friend of mine keeps pointing out, that Benedict is in his late 70s. This is not likely to be a long pontificate. And no matter how much discipline is reformed the very serious theological issues which divide Orthodoxy and Rome are not going to get swept under the carpet just because the Pope has issued a letter banning homosexuals from the clergy etc. In this sense I suspect that the real test will come not with this pope but the next one and his answer to a question. How far is Rome willing to go in adjusting its understanding of the decrees of Vatican I? The wording of those decrees is so crystal clear that we Orthodox have a hard time seeing how you can get around them. But the Roman Church has done some pretty impressive theological contortions before in the name of doctrinal development. A couple excellent examples are the current effort to repudiate limbo, and the gradual backing off of the crystal clear language used by Boniface VIII in Unam Sanctum about the fate of those outside the church. Boniface VIII today would be called a Feenyist and labeled a heretic. So who knows. I remain skeptical but not completely without hope.

Still, I do look forward to hearing again the glorious strains of Mozart and Gregorian Chant in the Roman Catholic Church while the last guitar is smashed over the head of the last Extraordinary Lay Eucharistic Minister. Am I asking for too much?

Welcome Home!

Fr. John Fenton recently of Zion Lutheran Church (LCMS) in Detroit MI, has announced his resignation and plans to enter the Orthodox Church with his family. It is reported that he hopes to be ordained and establish a Western Rite parish in Detroit under the Antiochian Archdiocese. Prayers are solicited for his and his family’s well being, both spiritual and material in this challenging time of transition. May God grant them many years!

Hat tip to Ben over at Western Orthodoxy Blog

The Rape of Europe

We interupt our normal Sunday off from bogging to bring you the following article by Paul Belien. It is a must read for anyone who is concerned about the state of the world today and its likely state tomorrow.

The German author Henryk M. Broder recently told the Dutch newspaper De Volkskrant (12 October) that young Europeans who love freedom, better emigrate. Europe as we know it will no longer exist 20 years from now. Whilst sitting on a terrace in Berlin, Broder pointed to the other customers and the passers-by and said melancholically: “We are watching the world of yesterday.”

Europe is turning Muslim. As Broder is sixty years old he is not going to emigrate himself. “I am too old,” he said. However, he urged young people to get out and “move to Australia or New Zealand. That is the only option they have if they want to avoid the plagues that will turn the old continent uninhabitable.”

Read the rest here.

Odds and ends...

From the other side of the fence...
Fr. Jake (yes that Fr. Jake) has taken to quoting St. Ignatius lately for support against conservative Anglicans who are defecting en masse from The Episcopal Church (TEC). With more parishes and even entire dioceses requesting alternative episcopal and primatial oversight schism has become a reality for TEC. No one is happy with dissent and the liberals now running TEC have been going out of their way to demonize the conservative dissent. (In fairness there has been some pretty nasty venom coming from conservatives as well.) Although St. Ignatius did condemn schism, somehow I don't think he would have supported communion with TEC. You can read Fr. Jake's post here and my reply to it here. There is a little more give and take farther down in the comments area.

Sarum Mass online...
Shawn Tribe over at The New Liturgical Movement has posted some pictures of a Sarum Rite Mass celebrated a few years back. The vestments alone are worth the look.

See the article here.