Scenes of Orthodox Monasticism

When I was writing the last post about entreating God that He would establish His kingdom in in my heart first and foremost, I was also thinking about a post on Father Stephen's blog that I looked at over a year ago.

The video consists of scenes of Orthodox monastic life. The audio has haunted me ever since I first heard it. Every once in a while I return to Father Stephen's blog and search out the video so that I can hear it again. Because it took me so long to locate it today, I have decided to link to it here, and also to point you all to it (whoever you are).

I have also been influenced by the quote at the beginning of the video by St. Isaac the Syrian: "Make peace with yourself, and heaven and earth will make peace with you."

My problems are not "out there," but rather they spring out of my own heart and my heart is the arena where I can, with the grace and help of God, begin to change them.

Thy Kingdom Come: Equivocation, Self-Deception, and Prayer

I have been meaning to write this for some time now, but I think I must have needed to work through it a little more, not in order to clarify my thinking, but in order to be able to write these words without engaging in precisely the kind of self-deception and self-aggrandizement that I will lament here.

Equivocation is the act of using a word or phrase that has more than one meaning in an ambiguous way. Typically, when one is guilty of equivocation in an argument one has intentionally used an ambiguous term in order to mislead others. While this is indeed something to be avoided, I am currently discovering the deep capacity that I have to equivocate with myself. It seems that I am happy to use words and phrases that carry more than one meaning in order to deceive myself and others.

The example of this that I have found to be the most powerful (which also means the most pernicious in terms of my own spiritual development) in the past few months is in regards to the words of the Lord's Prayer: "Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." What do these words mean? And more specifically, what am I asking for when I ask for the coming of the kingdom of God on earth?

I used to think that I was asking God to break into this world and arrange it in such a way that everyone is blessed and benefitted. As I prayed these words, I would look at Rublev's icon of the Trinity and I would long for the world to reflect the reality of Trinitarian love and self-giving. Thus what I was primarily praying for was for God to make Himself apparent "out there" in the world, in the relational and political affairs of those who I looked upon with a certain degree of self-righteousness.

While this language may seem strong (after all, what is so self-righteous about praying primarily for changes in the relational and political reality "out there"?), I believe that it is justified. This is especially true since I have fallen, and continually fall into the deception of believing that my life would really be a whole lot better if everyone else "out there" would simply get their act together and stop causing me so many problems. In short, even while praying the words of the Lord's Prayer, I harbor pride, self-righteousness, self-justification, condemnation of others, and thus ultimately a high degree of self-deception. To judge even while praying and assuming the posture of charity and selflessness is a great ungodliness.

When I was reading The Way of a Pilgrim a number of months ago, I discovered that the Fathers of the Church think about the words "Thy kingdom come," in a completely different way. According to the Fathers, when we pray, "Thy kingdom come one earth as it is in heaven," what we are primarily praying for is that God will establish himself in the inner kingdom of our hearts.

It is right here, within my own heart that the kingdom of God can be established and find a beachhead for the invasion of the world. When I pray, I must pray first for God to transform me, a prayer which is only sincere when accompanied by other struggles and efforts on my part as well, such as fasting and charity. I am not to pray for God to change everyone "out there" so that my life will be easier and I can finally work on myself without hindrance from everyone else, but rather I am called to change myself so that I can then be an agent of God who brings about the transformation of the world. But the transformation begins within my own heart, and nothing can spare me this difficult internal work which is the work of the whole Orthodox spiritual life.

There are those who are seeking to make the Gospel primarily about the relational and political transformation of the world, which means to make it amount to little more than social justice or the Kantian religion within the limits of reason or ethics alone. This is to be resisted. The best way to resist it is by appropriating the whole Orthodox ascetic and spiritual tradition which emphasizes that the change always begins at home, within the walls of our own cells, which means within the walls of our own hearts.

How to Read (the Scriptures) Rightly

Father Stephen has written an excellent post on the Orthodox approach to the Holy Scriptures.

Indeed, Orthodoxy did not have to wait for Postmodern philosophy to understand that everyone reads the text through a particular lens. This became apparent in the confrontations with the Gnostics and with Arius. Everyone involved in these controversies used the Scriptures, but the central question was, how are they using them?

What is most important for the Orthodox Church is that we read the Holy Scriptures through the lens of the Apostles, which means according to the Rule of Faith that they handed down through the Bishops, and which was expanded and set down in the (Nicene) Creed, or Symbol of Faith. When we interpret the Scriptures using these tools and from within this Tradition, all of the different Scriptures present a mosaic of the King, that is, they present Christ.

However, when we strike out on our own, separating ourselves from the Tradition of Apostolic interpretation, we put together various passages of Scripture to form an image of a fox, a dog, or perhaps even ourselves, which is an image that we especially cherish. Here it is appropriate to remember the phrase that epitomizes the difficulty with the modern search for the historical Jesus - Those who look for the historical Jesus peer down into a deep well and see only their own reflection - that is, a Jesus who is tailor made for themselves.

It is impossible to read the Scriptures without bringing some sort of interpretive matrix to bear on them, as Father Stephen says. And thus, as many in Protestantism are beginning to realize, Sola Scriptura is misleading rhetoric at best and outright false at worst. The question that he rightly asks is, are we reading the Scriptures with the Apostles or not?

Perhaps I have always misinterpreted Kierkegaard

I am finally beginning to realize that there is a world of difference between the knight of resignation and the knight of faith. They both endure the same sufferings, but while the knight of resignation speaks to the audience and thus reveals himself as the tragic hero - tragic because he bears such great tragedy, and heroic because he patiently endures it all in front of us watchers who are then blown away by his long-suffering resolve - the knight of faith retains an element of hope. This hope makes all the difference.

Hope defines the difference between the knight of faith and the knight of infinite resignation. But hope in what? In the Other. In the Absurd. In God. Thus hope also defines the difference between heteronomy and autonomy, the rule of the other and the rule of the self. The knight of faith patiently waits on the Other, on God. He is not heroic for anything that he does, for his hope is always that God will come. We can see here the beginnings of Nietzsche's critique of Christianity, a weak religion which does not advocate the heroism and strength of life and humanity that he desires to see in the overman. The knight of faith is not strong. He endures much because he has much hope in the advent of God.

The knight of infinite resignation on the other hand has no hope. Instead he focuses squarely on his sufferings because when he does, it defines his strength. He shouts to all, "Behold, how much I have endured!" If he can produce a stiff upper lip, if he can endure every blow that he receives from the universe, from the myriad pagan and elemental gods that frustrate and complicate his path, it shows that he has been the victor in the battle between himself and the meaningless and hostile world in which he dwells (a world full of the fury of nature or the capriciousness of the gods - it makes no difference).

I am afraid that I am too much like the knight of infinite resignation. I am still a pagan. I still worship only myself, because I still trust only my own strength. But most of all, I have very little hope.

I have misread Kierkegaard because in my reading of Fear and Trembling, I have looked at Abraham and seen Agamemnon.

Lord, have mercy!

I am only coming to understand this through thinking about what it means to take up my cross and follow Christ. It does not mean simply to suffer all of the things that happen to me, but rather to take them up voluntarily as a joy and an offering back to God. But in order to do this, I have to have hope that they can be transfigured (redeemed), or perhaps more precisely that God will transfigure (redeem) me through them.

What is the basis for Emergent unity?

Christ is Risen!

Indeed, He is Risen!

(Andrei Rublev's famous icon of the Hospitality of Abraham which is also an icon of the Trinity. I believe that this icon illustrates and supports the view that I articulate below - namely, that orthodoxy in the ancient sense of right worship is the true criterion for Christian unity. This icon shows this by the fact that it is the Eucharistic cup that is at the center of the icon, and the Eucharist is the central act of Christian worship in Spirit and in Truth. What is more, this icon is itself an icon, which is an object that is used from within a sacramental view of worship and of prayer.)

There is yet another conversation going on over at Emergent Village, and I again post my own contrbution below.

Perhaps it is hasty to say that the unity of Emergent Village is a pretend unity. But I would like to interrogate a little what kind of unity this is, and what is meant by saying that Emergent Village is a place where everyone is included within it, ie. unified within the big tent (my comments here will draw heavily on Pope Benedict XVI's "Truth and Tolerance: Christian Belief and World Religions).

The first thing that I would like to establish is that there are at least three ways of talking about specifically Christian unity: 1) Orthodoxy in the ancient sense of right worship or "glory", 2) Orthodoxy in the modern (and diminished) sense of right belief or opinion, and 3) Orthopraxy, or right practice. I know that others here have tried to introduce other 'ortho-'s. I am listing the ones that I think we can intuit historically. If someone else wants to discuss others, then by all means bring them into the conversation.

As an Orthodox Christian, I believe that the true criterion for Christian unity is 1) Orthodoxy in the ancient sense of right worship. What Christ promises the Samaritan women at the well is that the time is coming and has now come when the worshippers of God will do so in Spirit and in Truth. God himself reveals what is right worship (here I draw on Father James Bernstein's "Surprised by Christ: My Journey from Judaism to Orthodox Christianity") to the Jewish people in the very detailed instructions that He gives to them regarding the tabernacle and the temple. The earliest Christian liturgies, both the Eastern and Western rites (Orthodox/Byzantine and Catholic/Latin) are based off of the instructions of God to the Jewish people because they combine elements from 1st Century Jewish synagogue and temple worship.

Of course the central moments of both liturgies is the recapitulation of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, which is the Eucharist or communion. If the structure of the liturgy as a whole traces back to the revelation of God to the Jewish people, this central element of both liturgies is instituted by Christ Himself at the last supper, and is also prefigured in the feeding of the 5,000 and the changing of the water into wine at the wedding at Cana.

This first criterion, that is right worship is actually the most strict criterion because it includes the other two within itself. Someone who deviates from the faith that has been handed down from the Apostles (that is, someone who believes other doctrines or heresies) is not able to offer right worship, because they are no longer worshipping the same God in Spirit and in Truth (which also means according to the patterns and forms that are revealed and instituted by God Himself and which allow us to partake in the orderly and eschatological worship that is written about in the book of Revelation). So believing certain things about God is important if I am to offer right worship to God. The beliefs are important, but only insofar as they are a part of a much more wholistic vision for individual and ecclesial life.

Someone like Arius, who denied the divinity of Christ, can no longer offer truly Christian worship and was thus excluded from this worship. Since the central element of this worship is communion, Arius is excommunicated or excluded from communion. If Arius were to be given communion in spite of his beliefs about God, it would only be an illusory and symbolic unity. It could be the unity of eating the same bread and drinking the same wine, but it could never be the sacramental unity that both the Orthodox and Catholics have tried to defend. How can Arius be united to other Christians through partaking in the real body and blood of Christ when he denies who Christ really is?

What is more, one can also be excluded from worship if one is not paying attention to 3) Orthopraxy or right practice. Thus someone who has not adequately prepared for communion through prayer, fasting, and repentance (or confession) is also excluded from communion. In order to worship rightly, one must also be behaving rightly, which means living a life of love and self sacrifice for others.

This unity of worship lasted for over 1000 years, and even when communion was broken between the East and the West, they were still in agreement about what the criterion for unity is, namely, right worship. It is only with the Protestant Reformation and the rise of Modernity (two events which coincide almost perfectly) that 1) is diminished to mean simply 2) Orthodoxy in the modern sense of right belief or opinion, and is then capable of being opposed by a third criterion, namely, 3) Orthopraxy or right practice.

I apologize for the length of this comment, but I think that it is very important to get clear about what kind of unity and inclusion Emergent is pioneering here.

What then is the unity of Emergent Village? It does not seem like it can be 1) Orthodoxy in the ancient sense of right worship, because Emergent Christians are not at all united in worship. If I had to identify a Protestant denomination that comes close to accepting 1) as the criterion for unity, I would say that it is the Anglicans who standardized their worship through the Book of Common Prayer, which gives the structure and guidelines for worship as well as belief. What it means to be an Anglican is simply to utilize the Book of Common Prayer.

Unfortunately, Anglicans fall short of 1) in some significant ways because the Book of Common prayer, by trying to bring together both Protestants and Catholics is intentionally vague about how to understand the Eucharist, the central act of the liturgy. Thus they have pre-communion prayers that make it sound like the Eucharist is purely symbolic, or nothing more than a remembrance, and other prayers that make it sound like it is a genuine sacrament - that is, a mystery of God in which God is really present in the Eucharist since it is the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ who heals us as we partake in his glorified humanity (it is only the personal preferences of the parish priest that determine which prayer is used). So while the unity of Anglicans may be a unity of actions, it falls short of being a unity of worship.

Again, my central question: what is the unity that Emergent advocates? It is not number 1) Orthodoxy in the ancient sense of right worship, because Emergent has no interest in standardizing worship among its various constituents who are to remain in whichever denominations and churches they find themselves in. It is obviously not 2) Orthodoxy in the sense of right belief or opinion, since so many on these boards [that is - Emergent Village's weblog] are interested in belittling this sort of unity, which has lead to the thousands of Protestant denominations (here I would agree with most of you in saying that 2) has been a pretty poor criterion for unity, but I would advocate 1) which as I have shown, already includes 2) within a robust and more wholistic context, namely the individual and corporate life of the worship of the Church).

Therefore, if these are the three options that we accept for what it means to be unified as Christians, we are only left with 3) Orthopraxy or right practice.

I encourage anyone who is dissatisfied with this conclusion to articulate what another criterion might be and we can discuss whether it is a legitimate option or not.

More specifically, those practices that are most pertinent to maintaining unity within the big tent of Emergent are the willingness to engage in conversation with anyone and the unwillingness to exclude anyone from conversation because they are different. There also seems to be a stronger claim among some here that we are not to try to change anyone at all, since this is a mark of arrogance rather than of the kind of love that is at the center of Emergent Village. What is more, we are all to be ready at every moment to be changed by others because if we hold too tightly to the faith as it has been revealed and passed down, we are closing ourselves off to others and to what the Holy Spirit might be inviting us to through them.

But if the basis for Emergent unity is 3) Orthopraxy, then it is those who practice inclusion at all costs who are truly Emergent and those who insist upon the truth even when it excludes are actually in violation of the criterion for Emergent unity.

What then is the basis for Emergent unity?

Inclusion/Exclusion and Emergent Village

(Icon of the Last Judgment at St. Innocent Church, Everson, WA)

Christ is risen!

Indeed, He is risen!

There is a "conversation" going on over at Emergent Village on the relative merits of Inclusion and Exclusion. The Emergent types (Jonathan et al) are extolling the value of Inclusion, while a Fundamentalist type (Schafer) is trying to argue that the Emergents are themselves exclusive if they are still trying to be logical and coherent. What is more he argues that true religion must be exclusive in some sense, which follows from it being true - if it is true religion, then it cannot include what is false.

I am posting my own addition to the conversation below. My comment starts by responding to a comment about how Schafer is excluding himself from the Emergent ethos by insisting upon exclusivity, much like the soul's in hell exclude themselves from heaven by locking the gates from the inside.

Sadly, the C.S. Lewis quote about heaven and hell cuts both ways.
While Lewis does hold that the gates of hell are locked from the inside, and allows some room for crossover in the Great Divorce (which you all can interpret as a fuzzy inclusive God), the work itself is called “The Great Divorce.” Lewis meant to definitively divorce heaven and hell, especially in response to William Blake who was trying to marry them.

So C.S. Lewis can be included within the exclusionary group that includes Kierkegaard (who champions Either/Or over Both/And), and Schafer.

In Orthodoxy, we reconcile these claims of inclusion and exclusion by recognizing that there is a big difference between being included in heaven and actually experiencing this inclusion as light and life. Hell is nothing other than the fire of God’st love, but if one has not become a new creature in Christ, one cannot bear this love and it is experienced as fire rather than light. It is a truism to say that God’s love includes all [indeed, God is love!], or that everyone will be included within the eschatological embrace of God. The real question is how will this event be experienced by each person? Depending on who we have become it will be experienced as either fire or light. As C.S. Lewis was trying to show, there really will be a great divorce, a great Either/Or. Not everyone who journeys to heaven on the bus wants to stay there. Some have become so small that they no longer contain the very large desire for God that is the source of our dignity as human beings and image bearers.

I agree with Schafer at least in part. It is not at all loving to allow someone who is in error to continue in their error. What is more loving is gentle correction. It can even be loving to passionately argue with someone to the point of utter exhaustion and aching sadness.

I agree with Jonathan in that how these arguments or conversations (if there is a distinction here it is not at all precise and simply reflects personal preferences) proceed tells us as much about what we believe as anything else (thus someone who says that he loves God but hates his brother is a liar; someone who merely believes in God without loving is as likely to be a demon as anything else). But this does not change the fact that we are called as Christians to be a prophetic voice to the world. To think that the Postmodern world is one that appreciates the voice of prophets any more than any other period in the history of the world is to be delusional, and is also a sign that we have lost the prophetic message completely and are only telling our culture what it wants to hear (were false prophets ever slain either in Israel or in any time or place since?).

Christ did not come to bring peace (inclusion), but a sword (exclusion). The cross and the testimony of the martyrs are clear about how this sword is used and upon whom. The kingdom of this world cannot bear the prophetic message of the Gospel and uses the sword quite literally on the followers of Christ. To be included within the Kingdom of God is to be a stranger and pilgrim in the world: it is to be excluded from the Kingdom of the World. It is to embrace the call of martyrdom, which only comes when we confront the world with the truth and refuse to pair this truth with the violence that could protect us.

Evangelism is itself our method of practicing inclusion, and also a presupposition for believing that what one believes really is true and good (if we don’t want to share our beliefs and values, then what sense is there in thinking that they are all that important even to us?).

Leaving people where they are, in error, but at least in some sort of vague community of tolerance and inclusiveness is not loving at all. It is to concede the people of this world to the Kingdom of the World, because we are afraid or unwilling to spread the liberation of the Kingdom of God to all who need it. And it is not possible for someone to be included within the Kingdom of God without submitting to God's kingship (since it is God's kingship which defines what the Kingdom of God is in the first place). To simply proclaim that God is king without submitting is to abuse language and to show the true depths of one's rebellion.

May we have the courage to be labelled exclusive (proclaiming Christ as God-incarnate, the Way, the Truth, and the Life) because of our loving attempts at inclusion through sharing the message of Christ with all who have ears to hear.

A Phenomenology of Conversion

It is such a full time right now that I do not have either enough time or energy to write my own phenomenology of conversion. Instead, I refer the reader to an interesting post on precisely this subject.

Orrologion's post on the Stages of Conversion, clearly and accurately identifies the three stages of conversion, that is, disenchantment, inquiry, and conversion proper.

In thinking about my own conversion to Orthodoxy and especially in thinking about who might follow me in this path, I have also thought that this first stage is absolutely necessary. Unless someone is dissatisfied with where they are, they will not seek to find someplace else. Before the Prodigal can return to his Father, he has to find himself in the filth of the pigs, desperately hungry, and also aware of the fact that the pods that the pigs are eating will not truly satisfy him.

This post also articulates the responsibility and sensitivity that new converts should show towards others. They should not seek to undermine the faith of others in order to bring about the dissatisfaction that leads to conversion. Instead they should interact gently and charitably with those who still belong to whatever sect they converted from.

Lord have mercy on all converts! Please accept our zeal, but harness it and temper it so that it is useful and builds other up, rather than tearing them down.