Spoilt Rotten, part 2

Anthony Daniels

It's been quite a few months since I first posted on Theodore Dalrymple's (real name: Anthony Daniels) book, Spoilt Rotten!: The Toxic Cult of Sentimentality.  As promised, what follows is a second posting concerning this fantastic work.  If you are not familiar with the writings of Theodore Dalrymple, I highly recommend Our Culture, What's Left of It as an introduction to his thought and writings.  I expect to post on various other works of his in the future.

Spoilt Rotten!, despite the unfortunate cover art depicting either a screaming child or a child with a tattoo on his back (depending on which version of the book you see), covers far more than the topic of child-rearing and the affect of sentimentality on it; this is but a small portion of the book.  More generally, the book discusses the mindset and affects of sentimentality on culture as a whole.

One of the recurring themes of this work is that sentimentality leads to brutality.  This is a theme about which I have done much thinking over the years, though I could never quite understand it well enough to put it into words.  The main curiosity for me, however, was this: how is it that so many people can enter a public crowd, shouting/protesting/advocating about some great social issue, seeking what they consider to be justice and love, and yet, to their neighbor - especially if their neighbor disagrees with them - they can be so vicious, unloving, and often unjust?  How is it that a protester seeking the well being of a group of people in a third-world country thousands of miles away will, when confronted, shout obscenities and even physically threaten someone on the other side of the picket line?  More simply, I suppose, why is it that so many who express love for "humanity" and seek what is best for it can so easily hate their neighbor?

Dalrymple's book contains many insights into these very phenomena.  In speaking of the definitions given for the word "sentimentality" in various dictionaries, he writes:

The definition above misses an important characteristic of the kind of sentimentality to which I want to draw attention, namely its public character. It is no longer enough to shed an unseen tear in private over the death of Little Nell; it is necessary to do so, or do the modern equivalent, in full public view. 

He continues:

The public expression of sentimentality has important consequences. In the first place, it demands a response from those who witness it. This response has generally to be sympathetic and affirmatory, unless the witness is prepared to risk a confrontation with the sentimental person and be accused of hardness o heart or outright cruelty. There is therefore something coercive or bullying about public displays of sentimentality. Join in, or at least refrain from criticism. (83)

For those who do not join in, then, or openly criticize some aspect of the public displays of sentimentality, threats are not only uncommon; they are seen as just expressions of those who really care.  Dalrymple gives plenty of examples of this throughout his book, but I think any observer of human behavior in our modern culture would be unable to deny the truth in this.

I remember, for instance, when I was in high school and an openly-homesexual student was attacked.  He told the story of how some students attacked him from behind, hurling anti-gay slurs along with their punches and kicks.  The police got involved, but because this student was not able to see his attackers, nobody was caught.  Local news outlets began to characterize the school as a whole as hateful bigots.  One day, in discussing these things, a classmate of mine made the comment that, based on the evidence that he had seen, the "facts" of the attack seemed unlikely; this student went so far as to suggest that the victim had actually harmed himself and made up the story.  In response, indignant voices could be heard around the school stating that the boy who had expressed this opinion ought to be "beat up" for such a suggestion... and severely so.

The problem was, a couple of weeks later, the victim of the attack was attacked again... only this time, it was - unbeknownst to him - caught on a school camera.  He had indeed caused his own injuries and, as the video showed, was doing it again.

The point of this story has nothing to do with homosexuality or the reality that gay students have been attacked for their sexuality; this could have been any number of unrelated scenarios.  The focus, instead, is on this student who, when examining the facts, came to a correct conclusion. His conclusion, however, went against the grain of public sentimentality, and no matter how much the facts seemed to align with his conclusions regarding what had happened, he "deserved" physical harm for not expressing the mass' concern.  Thus, sentimentality lead to brutality.

The love and care so publicly expressed today for various individuals, groups, nations, or causes is conditional (and often very uninformed), and so it really falls short of true and real love.  This is why such revolutionaries as we find with Marxist mentalities can believe that revolution - meant to enact a beautiful future with happiness and prosperity for all humanity - must begin with the violent overthrow and murder of all those who "stand in the way"... even if that means they just disagree with ones political opinions.  Love necessarily begins with one's neighbor; until one learns to love one's neighbor, regardless of who he is or what he does, love of "humanity" will never be real.  It is only a love of one's ideal conception of humanity... and that is never real in the first place.

The thing that worries me the most is that, with the advances of technology our culture has seen, especially with social networking, this dangerous sentimentality is spreading.  I can't recall the number of times that I have seen Facebook status updates speaking about how "terrible" and "hateful" some public figure is for a poor joke or ____-ist (racist, sexist, etc) or "bigoted" statement was.  When I grew up, I was taught to ignore small people who made small statements; to give them attention - even negative attention - didn't help me but helped them accomplish what they may have intended from the start.  If I needed to respond, I would do so privately with the person who said the stupid thing or with the person who felt offended by it.  Today, however, it is imperative to make a public display of our outrage... and woe to those who don't do similarly or who are critical of those who do.  The message is simple: I care, and you better too... or else.

A Re-posting of a Critique of a Critique of Fr. John Romanides

Fr. John Romanides

As the oh-so-clear title of this post indicates, this is an unoriginal post... just a reblogging, really, of someone else's blog and the comments written about that post.  The original post (made 3 years ago) can be found here on Ora Et Labora, a now-dead blog but still one of my very favorites.  I came across this post recently which discusses one of my former professors - Fr. Theodore Stylianopoulos' - critique of the theology of Fr. John Romanides.  When reading the comments on this post, I began to wonder if some of them were made by a seminary friend of mine who, upon contacting him, said that he did, indeed, write the comments.  With his permission, I am re-posting his comments, though I will provide the context first by re-posting the original blog from Ora Et Labora.  I thank all who allowed me this thievery.  

Fr. Theodore Stylianopoulos

The original post concerns a section of Fr. Stylianopoulos' work The New Testament: An Orthodox Perspective, Vol 1: Scripture, Tradition, and Hermeneutics.  In this section, after Fr. Stylianopoulos offers an appraisal of various modern theologians, he turns his attention to Fr. John Romanides.  I, too, as Paul, the author of the comments following the original text states, can remember Fr. Stylianopoulos speaking about this during one of his lectures.  One of the things I recall well was that the critique was done on a scholarly basis, not a personal one.  Thus, it didn't seem like an attack at all but an ongoing discussion in scholarly Orthodox circles.  However, I agree more with the comments made by my friend than Fr. Stylianopoulos'.  Paul's comments aren't exactly how I would put everything, but he and I share a similar outlook on these things.  Either way, it is certainly an interesting discussion.  What follows, again, is the original text from Fr. Stylianopoulos' book, then the comments from the aforementioned blog:

The hermeneutical position of Father John Romanides, the final one to be reviewed here, in part answers the last questions. Such questions could be addressed if one could point to a living authority which would combine in itself the mystical and the discursive, the transcendent and the practical, and thus act as normative criterion and unfailing discernment of Christian truth in the every changing present and unknown future. This is exactly the hermeneutical position of Father Romanides, who constructs an entire theological and biblical hermeneutic based on the model of the charismatic saint. [1] The following paragraphs summarize his position.
For Professor Romanides, the saints par excellence were the prophets and the apostles, those who had direct experiences of God in a continuous and dynamic state of glorification, which is called by the Church fathers theoria or theosis by grace. According to Professor Romanides, the sublime revelatory experiences of the prophets and the apostles were beyond speculative concepts and images, granting to the beholders immediate knowledge of God and enabling them to guide others toward God infallibly to through concept-bearing words and images appropriate to the level of understanding of their hearts. This tradition of the vision of God and participation in the divine glory is a living tradition in Eastern Christianity, continuing in a presumably limited number of known and unknown saints today – an ongoing Pentecost that constitutes the highest revelation and knowledge of God. An intriguing point by Father Romanides is that the true meaning of sola Scriptura is none other than theosis, deification by grace, summing up the God among prophets, apostles, and saints. The same unitive experience is the “key to opening the Bible’s secrets... [without which] the Bible remains a hidden mystery even to biblical scholars,” [2] whether Orthodox or not. For Romanides, only the true saint (“saint alone?”) – the one who has moved beyond the stage of purification and has reached the stage of illumination and perfection – can unerringly interpret biblical revelation at the level of words and concepts by virtue of enjoying the “same species of knowledge” as did the prophets and the apostles themselves. 

Professor Romanides’ hermeneutical proposal vigorously claims independent theoretical aspects and practical applications [3], that is, it advocates a unity of the mystical and the practical. On the practical side, one can find today unnamed saints who have attained theoria, are wholly liberated from the enslavement of sin, the devil, and selfish love; and who, in God’s glory and selfless love are infallible witnesses and instructors of the ways of God. They are theologians in the classic sense of the word – authoritative knowers and spokespersons of God not by speculative reason but by direct experience of God in the manner of the prophets and the apostles. Such persons and only such persons, who have been cleansed of their evil passions and have reached at least illumination and the discernment of spirits, if not actual theosis, can be true guides in biblical interpretation. All others are only “so-called theologians,” presumably imposters and perverters of truth in varying degrees. According to this “theoria – based theology,” learning and application go together. The student must attach himself to a teacher who has experienced illumination. The teacher, as spiritual father, can guide the student but cannot actualize in him theoria, which is a gift of the Holy Spirit alone. Nevertheless, all this means that:  

"an Orthodox theologian and spiritual father is the same thing. One cannot be a  theologian without being a spiritual father and one cannot be a spiritual father without being a theologian." [4] 

On the theoretical side, Father Romanides offers equally important observations. He raises the critically presuppositions of theologizing as such. According to Father John, the Augustinian approach to Scripture and theology departed from the biblical and patristic experiential model and lost sight, as well of the decisive distinction between Creator and creature. It assumed in platonic fashion the existence of eternal archetypes or uncreated universals, and thus presupposed a real similarity or analogy between the uncreated and created orders of being, as if both belonged to a single system of truth, which could be penetrate by the human intellect. In specific moments of inspiration, so Augustine taught, according to Professor Romanides, God infallibly conveyed what he wanted to the biblical authors in concept-bearing words and images that the authors themselves did not necessarily fully understand. In this Augustinian perspective, the Bible was identified with created forms of divine revelation. Revelation itself was erroneously identified with the very words of Scripture. Consequently, the human intellect, ever probing the world of immutable divine truths, could gradually gain higher knowledge of the eternal archetypes, including the mystery of the Holy Trinity – a knowledge that could be even superior to that of the prophets and the apostles themselves. This Augustinian epistemology, according to Professor Romanides, is the fatal substructure of all Western speculative thought, which necessarily cracked in modern centuries as philosophical nominalism and scientific study of the flux of all things “weakened the idea of unchanging and immutable truths so dear to western philosophical and theological systems.” In these terms, one could also quite likely explain the general collapse in Western culture of belief in the existence of absolute truth, law, and moral norms as criteria of thought and conduct. [5] 

Here is how Professor Romanides sums up his hermeneutical position:

"Dialectical speculation can never become the source of authoritative teaching as though the Church, whether by means of a Pope, or Councils or Protestant Biblical scholars, could transform research into dogma... 

The authority for Christian truth is not the written words of the Bible themselves which cannot in themselves either express God or convey an adequate concept concerning God, but rather the individual Apostle, Prophet and Saint who is glorified in Christ and united in this experience of glory to all the friends of God of all ages. 

Thus the Bible, the writings of the Fathers and the decisions of the Councils are not revelation, but about revelation. Revelation itself transcends words and concepts although it inspires those participating in divine glory to express accurately and unerringly what is inexpressible in words and concepts... 

For the Fathers authority is not only the Bible, but the Bible plus those glorified... The Bible as a book is not in itself either inspired or infallible. It becomes inspired and infallible when the communion of the Saints who have the experience of divine glory described in, but not conveyed by, the Bible. To those outside of the living tradition of theoria the Bible is a Book which does not unlock its mysteries." [6] 

Professor Romanides‘ hermeneutical thought is incisive in both its biblical focus on the direct experience of God which is the heart of biblical revelation, as well as in its philosophical sophistication, a radical liberation of thought from platonist epistemology. As regards the latter, to affirm that trust must be sought in personal and relational terms rather than abstract and eternal archetypes, is simultaneously relief from the anguish of a philosophical deadend and, as well, the opening of new horizons in the search for lived truth. As regards the former, to lift up the significance of the immediate and direct experience of God is to engage the substance of Scripture’s witness and, as well, the essence of the common human odyssey. For nothing is more profound and urgent than for each human being to gain personal intimations of the living God. 

Indeed, the personal-experiental and the nominalist-philosophical perspectives are integrated in a most intriguing way by Professor Romanides, a way that simply rings true and gives his thought a powerful and attractive unity. It is certainly a worthy witness of the great Church fathers who, as philosophical sophisticates in their age, increasingly turned their back to Plato and deliberately followed the biblical way of knowing God. Not the least of Professor Romanides‘ merits is to remind modern scholars of the essential continuity and coherence of biblical and patristic theology. In his own efforts to exorcise the platonist ghost that always drives persons to relate more to abstract truths and absolute values rather than the living God himself, he has clearly discerned what is the core of patristic thought, namely, the scriptural content and vision. The way of the fathers is the way of Scripture. One could add that faithfulness to Scripture was precisely the driving force that pushed back the horizons of platonism in the thought of ancient Christian thinkers, an interesting way of thinking about how “Moses overcame Plato,” that is, how platonist ontology gave way to biblical personalism. [7] 

However, the hermeneutical proposal by Professor Romanides is burdened by one-sidedness in its own way because of certain unnecessarily extreme claims that detract from the value and persuasiveness of Father John’s thought. On the philosophical level, leaving aside the question of the interpretation of Augustine to experts in this area, a radical kind of nominalism must be tempered with the consideration that “concept-bearing words and images” carry a certain stability of meaning. While rejecting the idea of eternal universals and archetypes, one must still take account of the biblical and patristic view that there are in Scripture clear and abiding teachings about God and his ways accessible to all. One does not necessarily have to adopt platonist metaphysics about immutable truth to affirm that the Bible, at the communication level of words and images, contains abiding insights, principles, and truths concerning such things as God and idols, grace and free will, love and hate, honesty and lying, forgiveness and retaliation, justice and exploitation, giving and selfishness, hope and despair. 

One does not have to read very far in the theological and practical writings of the Church fathers, such as Basil and Chrysostom, to see the massive authority they attached to the letter and plain meaning of Scripture as secure instruction about God and his will for all. These fathers relied heavily on the clarity and stability of meaning resident in the biblical text they derived by grammatical exegesis and assumed that any reader could follow without esoteric techniques. To claim that “the Bible is not inspired” as it stands is to fly into the face of the whole patristic tradition and undercut Scripture’s plain witness to God’s dealing with all people. To seem to claim that stable and secure meaning at the level of words and images cannot at all be gained by ordinary human understanding is to undercut at once human communication, scholarship, as well as the hope of meaningful dialogue and possible reconciliation between disputants, whether orthodox or heretical. We are not saying that the plain meaning of word and images available to all is everything but that it is an integral part of that same truth about God and of God, which all are invited to seek. 

The central difficulty of Professor Romanides‘ proposal is the extreme convergence on the charismatic saint who seems to be raised above the Bible, above the Councils, and even above the Church. We do not question the rich and valued tradition of spiritual fathers in Eastern Christianity. [8] Nor do we question the foundational role of the key biblical figures and of the great saints in the total life of the people of God. What we do question is the exclusivity of the charismatic model, which seems to raise the saint to a theological super figure. One is tempted to compare the vagueness of the ideal saint of whom so much is required to the vagueness of the Protestant emphasis on the word of God to which similar superiority is attributed.
But who are these supreme saints who enjoy an exactly identical experience of God and can communicate unerringly between them and with others who are not blessed with theoria? After the experience of the transfiguration of Jesus, John and James were not above looking for special honors in the coming kingdom they apparently still awaited in earthly form (Mk 10:35ff.). Despite their unarguable stature, the apostles Peter and Paul could have a striking difference on an important matter of ecclesial life, which compelled Paul to face up to Peter (Gal 2:11-14). [9] The Book of Acts also reports “a sharp contention” between Paul and Barnabas over John Mark’s instability which caused their separation in missionary work (Acts 15:36-41). If such disputes occurred among the apostles, one would not be hard pressed to provide numerous examples from among the Church fathers themselves. In fact, most heretics could be described as charismatic figures. 

What evidence does Professor Romanides provide for the above hermeneutical model? Three references from St Gregory the Theologian about the impossibility of conceiving God and the necessity of spiritual cleansing when seeking knowledge of the sublime mystery of God. [10] He also refers to the verb thereo (“observe,” “perceive,” “behold,” etc.) used in the Gospel of John in connection with seeing and knowing Christ. Father Romanides takes the liberty of translating this verb as a noun (“may have theoria,” Jn 17:24) and thereby injecting in it the technical patristic meaning. But the noun is never used in the Gospel of John and only once in the entire New Testament and there with a different nuance (Lk 23:48), hardly sufficient scriptural evidence for a technical, heightened understanding of theoria. In fact, the Fourth Gospel offers an abundance of gnosiological terms (eidenai, gignoskein, pisteuein, blepein, oran, theorein, etc.), all of them applied indiscriminately to Christ’s relations to all, believers and unbelievers. 

With regard to Gregory, the intent of the first two cited orations is that, duly cleansed, let us philosophize within our proper bounds” [11] because “the divine nature cannot be apprehended by human reason.” [12] Gregory is talking about proper use of reason fulfilled by faith. [13] His appeal to mystical knowledge is over against Arian and Eunomian rationalism, not the ordinary use of reason in gaining knowledge about God, which is available to all. Gregory himself makes ample use of both reason and rhetoric gained from his classical Greek education, not least in his use of the Greek notion of theosis which, to be sure, he fills with biblical meaning. All this is by no means to deny that the experiential and mystical dimension is unimportant in either the Fourth Gospel or Gregory. On the contrary, we affirm its importance in both. However, it is to point out that neither the Fourth Gospel, nor Gregory, in their overall witness raise the charismatic believer or saint as the infallible criterion of the knowledge of God and about God above Scripture and above the Church. The total testimony of the Bible and the fathers does not support such an exclusive model as a hermeneutical criterion. 

In biblical and theological hermeneutics, we cannot be satisfied with a proposal that seems to suggest that the authoritative charismatic figure is beyond critique, a position open to the charge of arbitrariness and subjectivism. The charismatic figure is important in the Judeo-Christian tradition but cannot be separated from the people of God, the realm of the faith community whose corporate character is the prevailing point of reference. The apostolic advice is: “Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are of God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world (Jn 4:1).” Among the Church fathers, St Symeon the New Theologian advocated, as perhaps no other Orthodox saint, the unerring wisdom and even sinlessness of the beholder of Christ’s glory, and himself claimed to be such. Nevertheless, despite his strong statements about the spiritual blindness of all others, he invites his hearers, who had not yet beheld the glory of the risen Christ, to judge for themselves the truthfulness of his own words. For example, he writes: “This, in my opinion, is the truth of the matter, and such is God’s counsel toward us... You, on your part, must see and test that which we say.” [14]
Charismatic claims must be tested out by the communal tradition and life of the Church as the final criterion. Experience of God belongs to the whole Church and not only to an elite group, which would smack of gnosticism. Personal mystical cognition has significance, especially for the beholders of the glory of God, but cannot exclusively either dominate or absorb access to knowledge of God available to all. For otherwise, not only would the faithful be deprived of their role of guardian of the faith but also the Church would be cut off from communication with the world to which it is charged to preach the gospel meaningfully. Rather, a hermeneutical model is needed that takes into account a greater balance between faith and reason, mystical cognition and scholarship, individual and faith community, Church and culture, according to the testimony of the Church fathers.  

Footnotes: 

[1] A comprehensive statement of his position may be found in his length article “Critical Examination of the Applications of Theology,” in Proces-Verbaux du deuxieme Congres de Theologie Orthodoxe, ed, Savas Agouridis (Athens, 1978), pp. 413-441). Father Romanides many years ago was my first theology professor at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology, and he opened my eyes to exciting theological insights and to the necessity of paying close attention to “presuppositions.” To him I owe my foundational theological thinking, albeit qualified by critical historical scholarship of the Bible and the Church fathers. Father Romanides is now retired but still active in Greece and abroad. [He reposed in 2001 -- F.C.] 

[2] Ibid., p. 423 and more broadly pp. 421-426. 

[3] Father Romanides time and again confidently parallels his theological and hermeneutical approach to the experimental method of the hard and soft sciences, involving both interdependent theorizing and actual testing by observable and measurable standards, pp. 413, 423, 432, and 436-437. 

[4] Ibid., p. 434. See also pp. 432-433. 

[5] Ibid., pp. 413, 416, 418-421. 

[6] Ibid., pp. 427 and 432. 

[7] J. Pelikan, The Christian Tradition 2: The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600-1700) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974), p. 33, writes that, according to the Eastern fathers, “theology was not a science of divine ontology but of divine revelation.” This patristic emphasis on faith and Scripture, rather than on reason and philosophical speculation – while viewing the two perspectives as complementary and mutually supportive, not antithetical – is more fully laid out by Pelikan in hisChristianity and Classical Culture. In contemporary Orthodox theology, biblical and patristic personalism as contrasted to Greek philosophical ontology is the touchstone of the work of John D. Zizoulas, Being as Communion(Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1985) and Christos Yannaras, The Freedom of Morality, trans. Elizabeth Briere (Crestwood: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984).

[8] See Kallistos Ware, “The Spiritual Father in Orthodox Christianity,” CC (Summer/Fall, 1974), pp. 269-312, and Irenee Hausherr, S. J., Spiritual Direction in the Early Christian East (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1990), with a foreword by Kallistos Ware. Douglas Burton-Christie, The Word in the Desert, ends his study on the ancient monastic use of Scripture by underscoring the significance of persons who lived Scripture and were “Christ-bearers” and “mediators of God to humanity.” His ending sentence reads: “The ultimate expression of the desert hermeneutic was a person [his emphasis], one who embodied the sacred texts and who drew others out of themselves into a world of infinite possibilities,” p. 300. 

[9] One can understand but not accept the interpretation of some Church fathers, going back to Origen, that Peter and Paul simulated the conflict in order to teach a lesson to Jewish and Gentiles Christians. But, on the premise of the dignity and unfailing agreement between apostles, would not these Christians also be offended even by a simulated conflict, just as later Christians were apparently offended who took the disagreement as real? 

[10] Theological Orations, 1.3; 2.3, and 2.14. 

[11] Theological Orations, 1.5. 

[12] Ibid., 211. 

[13] See Faith Gives Fullness to Reasoning: The Five Theological Orations of Gregory of Nazianzenby Frederick W. Norris who lifts up the following Gregorian citation, p. v: “When we abandon faith to take the power of reason as our shield, when we use philosophical enquiry to destroy the credibility of the Spirit, then reason gives way in the face of the vastness of realities... Give way it must... [being] the frail organ of human understanding. What happens then? The frailty of our reasoning looks like a frailty in our creed. Thus it is that as Paul too judges, smartness of argument is revealed as a nullifying of the Cross. Faith, in fact, is what gives fullness to our reasoning” (Oration 29.21). 

[14] C. J. deCatazaro, trans. Symeon the New Theologian: Discourses, p. 354

Here, with some grammatical and spelling corrections and some comments unnecessary to include for my purposes deleted, are the comments posted by my seminarian friend:

I was a student of Fr. Stylianopoulos at one time and respect much about him. I remember the specific day and lecture in which he explained the views on Fr. Romanides that he expresses in his book. At the time, I was unsure about them and cautious; after some time and study, I now pretty firmly disagree with them. There are various places in which I think that Fr. Stylianopoulos' understanding of Fr. Romanides is off. Here are a few of my thoughts:  

1) Fr. Stylianopoulos writes that one must admit that "there are in Scripture clear and abiding teachings about God and his ways accessible to all." He then lists the topics: "God and idols, grace and free will, love and hate, honesty and lying, forgiveness and retaliation, justice and exploitation, giving and selfishness, hope and despair." In each of these cases, however, I can think of a person or denomination which holds a false, distorted, or misunderstood vision. The topics and their exceptions might look like this: God and idols-iconoclasts. Grace and free will-Luther and Calvin. Love and hate-contemporary responses to homosexuals as "Hell-deserving." Forgiveness and retaliation-"Just war" theory. Justice and exploitation-Liberation theology. Etc etc etc... Though some distortions or misinterpretations may seem clear to us, to others they have not been; further, some are downright theologically confusing topics. Without a God-bearing saint to sort these things out and raise up the truth, multi-denominational Christianity makes sense as a result.  

2) Fr. Stylianopoulos seems to understand Fr. Romanides as saying that the charismatic elder is to be taken as infallible. Based on what I've read of Fr. Romanides, however, it is not the charismatic elder that he understands as infallible but the Spirit of God, the Tradition of the Church, in which he lives. This is why saints can disagree with one another. When the consciousness of the Church is revealed, the saints humbly submit to it (Hence, Sts. Peter and Paul). Thus, to say that Fr. Romanides raises the charismatic saint "above the Bible, above the Councils, and even above the Church" is incorrect; the Spirit of God, in which the saints live, is the Interpreter of Scripture, the Verification of Councils, and the Spirit and Breath of the Church. It is not that the charismatic saint is above these things, but he/she resides in this same holy Spirit WITH ALL THE SAINTS.  

3) Fr. Stylianopoulos does not appear to understand the word "charismatic" in the way in which Fr. Romanides means it. When he (Fr. Stylianopoulos) writes that "most heretics could be described as charismatic figures," my response is that they certainly could not (at least, not in the way in which Fr. Romanides intends the term). This, in fact, is Fr. Romanides' whole point. The heretic places his intellect above his nous, his mind above his heart. He does not express revealed theology but philosophized (purely speculative) theology. This is what separates a theologian from a "theologian-so-called." Not all of the latter are heretics, buy they keep from being so by following - intellectually - the theology expressed and learned - 'experientially' - by the Saints before them. Had the heretics achieved theoria or theosis (and thus become defined as "charismatic"), they would have fled their heresy.  

4) Fr. Stylianopoulos seems to think that Fr. Romanides is disparaging formal education and intellectual knowledge. This, I don't believe, is the case. Fr. Romanides himself was a brilliant and learned scholar. However, intellectual knowledge itself is not enough, and it often leads to improper interpretation and theology. The Fathers of the Church would still have been great theologians without their secular education; however, they might not have been so well-known or involved in the theological battles of their day. Their education, however, allowed them to express what they learned through experience. Hence, we see St. Athanasius, the greatest fighter of Arianism, going to St. Anthony for advice about the heresy. St. Athanasius, himself a Divine-bearing man, saw the spiritually advanced state of St. Anthony who, though a great theologian, was not in the position to write against the Arians in the same way. Education helped St. Athanasius do what many great theologians have done: put into the best possible words what, in reality, is inexpressible. The experience is still necessary. It is interesting that Fr. Stylianopoulos quotes St. Gregory the Theologian. We accept him today as such an authority not because of his secular knowledge but because he was a theologian in the truest sense; he experienced that which he theologized.  

5) Finally, Fr. Styliapoulos insists that the "experience of God belongs to the whole Church and not only to an elite group, which would smack of gnosticism." I doubt that Fr. Romanides would disagree; this is, thus, an unfair argument. Fr. Romanides... believed that the experience of God belonged to all people; however, very few of us actually experience and live it in this life. We look to those who have for answers to our theological questions. This is absolutely not to take away the collective authority of the people of God. However, we cannot go to the opposite extreme and say that, as an Orthodox Christian, we automatically become guardians of all Truth and can be seen as authorities on theological topics. It was St. Maximus - a "charismatic" saint - who had to argue AGAINST the "people of God," the bishops, scholars, and "theologians" of the Church. I hate to write this, but I think that, if a great heresy were to invade the Church today, the vast majority of the faithful would not know where to stand. Where would they turn but to the living saints of our age? This is not setting the saint apart from and above the Body of Christ; it is recognizing him/her as one who has been transfigured, one who lives in Christ and in whom Christ lives. We are all struggling toward this; we look to those who have accomplished it for our purest voice.   

In the end, I think that we always want secular knowledge mixed with our charismatic elders. The greatest saints of our day - Sts. Nektarios or Justin Popovich, for instance - were both scholars and had achieved theoria. However, if I had to choose between an education-lacking Saint or a Grace-lacking scholar, I would choose the former. 

Why do so many couples separate only AFTER marriage?

               

From The Mystery of Marriage: A Fellowship of Love by Hieromonk Gregorios:

Today we have de-facto proof of the consequences of premarital sexual relations - there is no need to speak theoretically. If we doubt the words of the Gospel and the God-bearing Fathers, let us examine some examples from today's world. Marriage is experiencing a severe crisis, and one of the most fundamental causes of that is premarital sex. In marriage, somehow it is inevitable that we will face many difficulties and we need the constant presence of divine Grace. If instead of preparing for marriage seriously we live carelessly in sin, and thus naturally without God's grace, it should come as no surprise that we will meet certain disaster, with no one to blame but ourselves.

We see couples bound by attachments for many years without agreeing to marry. When they finally do celebrate the Sacrament, shortly thereafter they divorce. One might ask, 'Why did they end up separating after receiving God's blessing?' Because they came to celebrate the Sacrament of Marriage in a completely secular manner, without any feeling of repentance for their premarital life together. (my emphasis - Averky) (25)

Thoughts and Cherry Trees

                                

A friend of a clergy brother of mine - Joy Corey - wrote a book entitled The Tools of Spiritual Warfare.  I was reminded recently of a passage in this book that explains why it is important to rid ourselves of sinful thoughts before they actually have time to settle in our heads.  Seeing as I came across this book on my shelves recently, I thought I would pass along the passage in mind:

However, it is much easier if we catch the passionate thought while it is still just a thought. [The previous paragraph spoke about how passions can take stir up our emotions and become very difficult to defeat - Averky] It is like pulling weeds.  I have a neighbor who has wild cherry trees that spring up around her house. The birds pick the wild cherries from around the neighborhood and drop the seeds everywhere. In the spring, the little cherry trees sprout up. If she gets out and pulls them up in the spring, she can do it easily with two fingers; but if she lets them grow through the summer, she has to grab them with two hands and pull with all her might. If she lets them grow a whole year, she needs a shovel to dig them out. Fighting against passionate thoughts is the same. We cannot stop the seeds of sin from landing in our minds (the demons are like birds, dropping seeds of sin everywhere). But we can pay attention, and as soon as an inappropriate thought comes to our mind, we can immediately call our to God for help and the thought flees with very little effort: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me the sinner.' But if we let the thought linger, it becomes more and more difficult - and sometimes more and more painful - to expel it." (126-127)

An Unknown Prophet

Today marks the 35th anniversary since Alexander Solzhenitsyn's famous Harvard Address.  Solzhenitsyn remains almost completely unknown today, though I mean this in two senses: there are many who don't recognize even his name or don't know who he is even if his name is recognized, or there are those who know who he is but still cannot understand what his message was.  This address, for instance, was highly criticized by those both on the political Left and the political Right.  The speech, however, transcends this sometimes simplistic division. Further, though, and perhaps more importantly, this speech, I have come to believe, really can't be understood outside of the context of Orthodoxy.  I hope to write more on this speech in the future, but for now, I hope you enjoy Solzhenitsyn in his own words...  He, along with Dostoevsky, remains one of the most fascinating prophets of our modern world.

A World Split Apart

See the above link for the full text of his Harvard Address.

Did St. Nektarios Reinstate the Female Diaconate?

                              

One of the ongoing "debates" while I was at seminary was the issue of "reinstating" the female diaconate.  I put the term "debates" in quotations because it was only openly discussed here and there; there was a definite undercurrent, however, with a select few students and a couple of individuals in the faculty or administration who clearly desired this, some even openly advocating it.

I put the term "reinstating" in quotation marks because, based on my research and understanding of the issue,  what is actually desired is not what was once the practice.  My views on this issue would take too long to fully explain for the time being, but one aspect of the debate did seem to pop up more than any other.  This was the assertion that even St. Nektarios believed in the reinstatement of the female diaconate, as he he ordained, within the context of the Liturgy, two females as deacons.  A few points were often made with this belief (either explicitly or implied):

1) St. Nektarios was an "activist" in this issue, his actions being a clear endorsement of bringing the female diaconate back to the Church.

2) The deaconesses were made within the context of the Liturgy, showing that this was, indeed, an ordination.  This leaves no question that the deaconesses were members of the third order of the priesthood (i.e. bishop, priest, deacon).

3) Further evidence that this was an ordination is that the service making the deaconesses involved the laying on of hands.

4) The deaconesses wore the traditional vestments of deacons, including the orarion (or stole), further proving that they were full deacons as any male would be.

5) The deaconesses performed all of the regular functions that a male deacon would during the services.

These assertions have varying degrees of truth, as we shall see.  With the recent publication by Holy Cross Orthodox Press of an English translation of St. Nectarios of Pentapolis and the Island of Aegina: The Monastic Ideal by Celopas Syrongylis, we can discover where the truth in these issues lies.  In a lengthy footnote on page 15, we read:

We consider it beneficial to cite an excerpt of this letter from St. Nectarios, which mentions the laying on of hands for subdeaconesses: "Regarding the subdeaconesses, I inform you that they are primarily the sacristans of the sanctuary. Their dress was adopted according to the manner that the readers who are in the churches of the cities wear their holy vestments. Cuffs were allowed for the following reasons. Because there are no deacons in female convents, and no priests in this particular one, and as I am neither able to attend to the cleanliness of the church, nor to constantly remain in the church serving as a sacristan, and as the sanctuary has an absolute need for appointed persons to clean the holy vessels, change the covers and cloths of the holy altar, move the holy artophorion [or tabernacle], and perform every other duty of a sacristan in the sanctuary, I thought to appoint two [subdeaconesses], so that they can alternate performing duties in the sanctuary.  In an absolute necessity, they bring the Holy Eucharist to very sick sisters in a small chalice designed for this purpose. Aside from this necessary exception, they are sacristans in all their other duties" (Mattheakis, 'O Άγιος Νεκτάριος Κεφαλάς, 147).

Athens university Theological School Professor Evangelos Theodorou examines the laying of hands on deaconesses in his doctoral thesis. In a footnote in his thesis' epilogue, he refers to the dress and the method of the laying of hands on the nuns of Holy Trinity Convent in Aegina during both St. Nectarios' era and afterward. The significance of the subject we are studying compels us to include the aforementioned footnote: "In Aegina, e.g., Holy Trinity Convent established by the local saint Metropolitan Nectarios of Pentapolis (1846-1920), there exist today 'deaconesses' - nuns enabled by the ever-memorable Chrysostomos Papadopoulos, Archbishop of Athens, to wear the deacon's orarion [stole], cense, adorn the holy altar and, in the absence of a clergyman, read passages from the Gospel during services and give the presanctified Gifts to sick nuns. Although they were bestowed their position through the prayers recited during the laying on of hands on subdeacons, and not during the Divine Liturgy, there is an elderly and very venerable 'deaconess' currently serving as abbess in the Convent of the Dormition [named Panagia Chrysoleontissa] in Aegina, whom St. Nectarios himself 'ordained' on the day of Pentecost in 1911, inside the holy sanctuary during the Divine Liturgy through the laying on of hands and the prayers recited during the ordination of a deacon, saying, 'The Divine Grace....' This 'deaconess' (Nun Magdalene Moustaka) was ordained while she was still a nun in Holy Trinity Convent. The nun being ordained did not wear a tunic reaching her feet, but one that almost reached her back, along with a deacon's stole and maniples. She succeeded another deaconess upon whom St. Nectarios also bestowed this title and served the convent in this capacity. Because some people considered this 'laying on of hands' improper, St. Nectarios gave an explanation to the then Archbishop of Athens Theokletos, stressing that the work that he assigned them resembled more that of a subdeacon and was a necessity of the convent, especially during the absence of a priest. It is evident that St. Nectarios' action, taken for all it is worth, was essentially in accordance with the long-standing practices of the Church. We received information regarding all this from the righteous and venerable abbess, as well as from several 'deaconesses' in Holy Trinity Convent in Aegina"... (see original footnote for citation - Averky)

The ever-memorable Nun Nectaria (whose secular name was Zenobia Lalaouni) spent her childhood years in Aegina, near St. Nectarios. In an interview, an excerpt of which was been included here, she speaks of the method with which the saint of the twentieth century used to choose nuns from his convent to officially appoint as subdeaconesses: "When he would come out during the Small and Great Entrances, he had two nuns with him, serving as subdeaconesses, who wore the deacon's crossed stole. When he was to officially lay hands on a subdeaconess, he would pray for God to reveal to him which nuns were worthy of this position. He would ask God to give him a 'sign' to show him who was worthy of assuming this service. And so he would 'see' one or two nuns in the church 'wearing' the stole, without, of course, him having given it to them. He would call them immediately and place the stole upon them" (Melinos, Μίλησα με τον Άγιο Νεκτάριο, 1:252, 254).

St. Nectarios laid hands on two nuns in his convent, thus bestowing upon them the office of subdeaconess: Elizabeth Roka and Magdalene Moustaka, the latter of which later became abbess of the Panagia Chrysoleontissa Convent in Aegina. Having accepted St. Nectarios' practice, Archbishop Chrysostomos Papadopouolos of Athens proceeded to lay hands on other nuns in Holy Trinity Convent, pronouncing them subdeaconesses, on two occasions, only a few years after St. Nectarios' death. On the first occasion the nuns named to this position were Christophora, Kyriaki, Evniki, and Paraskevi, and on the second occasion, they were Nuns Ephrosini, Theoktisti, and Haritini (Matteakis, 'O Άγιος Νεκτάριος Κεφαλάς, 147-48).  

The Pastor and the Porn Star...

See link:

How Porn Mogul and Pastor Became Friends

This was posted by a friend and fellow clergyman on Facebook... An interesting video, to be sure.

Gay Marriage & Lowest-Common-Denominator Morality

        

Though I am a bit late posting on this topic (in the sense that the peak of the hoopla surrounding this issue ended over a month ago), I though it necessary to point out something that I have yet to see discussed elsewhere...

I don't intend to write much on this topic, as discussions of gay "marriage" from an Orthodox standpoint are all over the place right now... some very good, others questionable.  However, there is one pro-gay marriage argument that I think needs to be central to this discussion:

Over and over again, I hear people ask, "How do marriage between same-sex couples affect you?"  The question is rhetorical with the assumed answer being, "They don't."  This answer is not true... Gay marriage affects many things which impact the lives of other people.  But even if gay marriage did NOT have a direct affect on others, I still think that it's necessary to answer this question with another question: "Is this really the standard for morality that we wish to place on ourselves?"

In other words, this question assumes that our morality is based solely on the affect one's behavior has on another.  If I hit you, my action has negatively affected you, and such an action then ought to be illegal.  If I decide to wear terribly uncomfortable shoes, though, this may be a bad personal choice, but it has no ill effects on my neighbor.  Thus, no intervention of law or moral standards in society are necessary.  The concept is simple... or so we believe.

The truth is, there are MANY thing that virtually any person in the world would not like to see occurring around them which they believe morality directs us to avoid... even going so far as to make them illegal.  Public nudity, for instance, is largely eschewed, as most certainly public sexual acts would be.  We wouldn't allow our neighbor to use his lawn as his own personal outhouse.  This goes even further.  In NYC, for instance, Mayor Bloomberg attempted to ban large sodas and "sugary drinks"... a ban he found far more support for than I thought there would be.  He attempted to make an argument that the government ought to be involved in making good decisions for others where he felt they might make bad decisions, instead.  Much of government activity, in fact, centers on this principle today.

The questions of how gay marriage affects others is a question with a faulty - and dangerous - premise: that all activity that does not directly harm others should be legal and accepted.  But nobody with a sound mind, I believe, can deny that what goes on in society affects society as a whole.

Take this scenario: Image twin brothers, age 15, both with very similar values and personalities.  Image that they are split up and place on two very different islands.  On one island, the nuclear family is very much intact.  Churches are attended every Sunday, traditional values are widely-held.  A spirit of personal responsibility, a hard work-ethic, and high moral standards are the status-quo.  What little there is of a presence of television contains family-oriented shows, movies devoid of sex, cursing, or explicit violence, and educational documentaries.  On the second island, broken families are the norm.  Beyond this, many youths drop out of school for a life filled with drugs and alcohol.  Loose sexual relations are the norm, and pornography is everywhere.  Television contains sexually-charged shows and mindless violence, almost without end.  Aggressive and violent video-games are the national pastime for youths, though many adults play them as well.  Now imagine that, 15 years after being taken to these islands, they are brought back together...

Would we expect these now 30-year-old men to look, think, or act very similarly?  Of course not.  Though none of the activities are either island are said to "directly" affect others, the truth is that the general morality that surrounded the boys were starkly different.  These things do affect us, whether we like it or not.

The goal for any government, then, is to uphold the highest standards of morality and let people decide whether they want to follow it or not.  To ask "How does 'X' negatively affect your life?" opts instead for the lowest common denominator of morality... This is a dangerous question because it betrays a dangerous premise, and this premise ought to be passionately challenged whenever it pops up.

What the Simpsons can teach us... (part I): Simpsons and Clergy dress

This will not really be a 2-part post... The two posts, though mentioning The Simpsons, really have nothing to do with one another.  However, during Lent, many Facebook posts by Orthodox Christians excitedly contained this picture from a recent Simpsons episode:

                 

One of my initial reactions to this was to notice that the traditional serpents on the bishop's staff were turned into a mustache, but that is neither here nor there.  The more profound impact of this image for me spins off of what many others stated about it.

For many Facebook users, this image showed that Orthodoxy is now becoming more recognizable... more "mainstream," though I dislike and disagree with that particular term.  However, if the writers and artists of The Simpsons could make this joke, many felt this was evidence of some great headway for Orthodoxy in America.  This may, indeed, be the case.  For me, however, something else stuck out.

Notice, here, what the figure, intended likely to be an Orthodox priest but in reality an Orthodox bishop, looks like: He wears a rasso and a beard.  The figure could have been wearing a suit and a collar, but those in charge of the image associated a certain look with Orthodox clergy.  This look was representative of Orthodoxy for those who are most likely not Orthodox themselves.

I will likely post my thoughts on clergy dress more extensively in the future, but I thought this pop-culture Easter egg (sorry for the bad pun) said a great deal about how the heterodox and largely secular West views Orthodoxy... We are distinguished by our church architecture and our clergy's dress.  We are often told that the rasso, long hair, and a beard are "out of place" in America and that Americans associate the suit and collar with being a priest.  Here, however, we see that, at least for some, we are recognized by the very things that set us apart, that make us appear, according to some, "out of place."  Perhaps we should desire standing out and desire Orthodoxy being associate with a look - and feel - that is not found in other denominations...

As a side note, because I mentioned the word "feel," I couldn't help but notice this express this bishop was given:  that all-too-familiar peaceful, almost stoic demeanor.  I am not a fan of The Simpsons, but I confess that I was impressed with how they captured this.. and that, even in America were Orthodoxy is not well known, the presence Orthodoxy does have relayed this look.  This bishop is not presented as a scholar or intellect, nor as a crazy zealot... He is just a man quietly observing his Faith, probably kind and gentle, but faithful above all else.  This is an image that indeed speaks volumes...

We're Back!

After an unexpected and rather lengthy hiatus, I have returned to post again.  Hopefully, this will not become a common occurrence, but situations dictated the long silence.  I am eager not to let this blog be like others which last only as long as the blogger's short interest... My interest is longer, for one... but sometimes my abilities and resources, unfortunately, are not.

I am rather ashamed to have posted nothing during Great and Holy Lent, but I pray to have many years to correct that mistake.  So, let us begin anew!

Depicting the Father

A very common and popular topic of discussion is whether icons of the Holy Trinity in which the Son is depicted next to an Old Man, or the Father, under a Dove, Which is the Holy Spirit, is a result of Westernization in Orthodox iconography or whether it is a legitimate and fully orthodox representation. Can the Father be depicted as such?

                                 

In reading about this topic, I often came across offhand remarks condemning the depictions though with little explanation of why (other than we are not to depict the Father).  Then, I came across other Orthodox sources which scoffed at such condemnations, declaring that such commentators were themselves captive to Western theological frameworks and that the true Tradition of the Church was to sanction and venerate such images.  Well, I was happy to come across this article which, I believe, settles my mind on the issue.  I hope you find it as enlightening as I did...

The Ancient of Days in Orthodox Iconography

Enjoy!

Reading Chrysostom...

Way back, just before my seminary days, I remember how excited I was to begin reading St. John Chrysostom. I had heard so much about the Golden-mouthed and was only just learning how much of the Fathers' writings were actually in English.  I had been informed that I needed to be careful, though, as some translations made him far more readable than others.  I knew, then, that the Nicene/Post-Nicene Fathers set was considered by most to be a bit archaic and stilted in its language.  I was too eager, however, to wait to purchase the CUA Press version of his Homilies on the Gospel of John when I had the other version at my fingertips, so I cracked open the book and began to read.  

The language didn't much bother me; the content, however, did.  This is not to say in any way that I found what St. John said to be at all objectionable.  Instead, I had gone in expected one thing and ended up getting another.  I suppose what I expected was something more like Fr. Lawrence Farley's current commentaries (which I generally find to be excellent) in The Orthodox Bible Study Companion series.  With each verse or chunk of verses, he gives succinct and insightful commentary.  Every page contains a plethora of facts, insights, and interpretation, often providing me with multiple ideas for sermon topics.  Of course, his commentary is based on various commentaries of the Fathers along with a large deal of historical/critical features, so he had a wealth of source material that St. John Chrysostom did not have, but St. John was and is a God-bearing Saint, illumined by the Holy Spirit.  His commentary was certainly something magnificent, but I couldn't yet understand why.

It turns out that I was not alone in this thought.  When I went to seminary, many of my fellow seminarians mentioned similar things.  This confusion was not limited to Chrysostom.  I remember a class in which everybody read St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation.  C S Lewis, in his introduction to the text in the SVS Press version, comments that, when he first read the work, he knew he held in his hands a masterpiece.  Many of us read it and thought, "That's it?"  

This wasn't a confusion based in pride, mind you.  We were genuinely confused in that we expected one thing and got something else.  For some, however, including myself, this "something else" was known to be higher and beyond our own comprehension.  We didn't understand the greatness not because it fell short of our expectations but because it exceeded them beyond our ability.  Sometimes, you must be quite brilliant (or very filled with the Holy Spirit yourself) to see something as complex even if it appears simple, to see it as multi-layered and full when you see it as straightforward and simple.

With St. John Chrysostom, this confusion was doubled, as he seemed able to spend many minutes on a single point that could be related in one sentence.  He was verbose to such an extent that, after 10 minutes of reading, one felt like only one or two insights had been gained, at best.  Eventually, however, a few things changed.

First, I took a class on St. John Chrysostom in my last year at seminary.  The professor would read a sentence or two of Chrysostom's commentary (mostly his commentary on the Acts of the Apostles) and would fawn over them for many minutes, praising Chryostom's brilliance and explaining the wisdom of his words.  I heard one student comment that this class should have been called "a professor's commentary on St. John Chrysostom's commentary on Acts."  This wasn't, however, an insult.  It was a brilliant class.  It left me desiring more, every week.  With this class, I began to see that, the reason I hadn't fully appreciate Chrysostom was because I was attempting to read him like I would any modern author.  Over time, I developed a few principles which I follow when reading St. John:

1) One of the key's to reading Chrysostom is to read him slowly and carefully.  I once read his homilies concerning the incomprehensible nature of God.  I read one of the homilies at a regular reading pace and thought, about 2/3 of the way through, that there wasn't much as far as content went.  Then, at the end of the homily, he recounted, point by point, all of the arguments he had made.  I was astounded.  He had said so much, and I took it as so little.  Now, I read him as if listening to him, trying to take in each word at a methodical and steady pace.

2) Don't go into a text of St. John Chrysostom with a question or questions you are hoping he answers.  I do this with homilies sometimes.  I come upon a difficult passage of a Gospel or Epistle or am asked a question by a parishioner (or, more often, a challenge by a non-Orthodox) and I open a commentary of St. John's hoping for a specific answer.  Most of the time, I find that he was looking at the text from a completely different angle... and a more beneficial one, at that.  It's not that we should not have questions, but we need to read trying to find out what St. John wanted to say, not hoping that he addressed our specific concerns.

3) Learn to appreciate his approach to Scripture.  St. John asks questions that I wouldn't have asked and answers questions in ways that I wouldn't answer them... and he always has the upper hand.  His ability to bring out the proper interpretation of Scripture by using other verses or his tendency to explain the minds of the subjects of Scripture with such confidence is something that only the truly experienced and holy among us could - and should - do.  We should read St. John trying to truly discover what he already has.  If we read a homily through and are unable to answer the questions he posits, we've missed the heart of his talk.

4) Learn to ask the questions that he is answering, even when he doesn't provide the question explicitly.  This is very difficult to do.  To explain what I mean, let me go back to St. Athanasius' On the Incarnation.  When I read contemporary theology concerning salvation and the many questions pertaining to it from Catholic and Protestant theologians, I am frequently shocked at how often St. Athanasius' work corrects their misconceptions and false interpretations.  But he wasn't speaking to them directly.  If we constantly ask, however, "What are the alternatives to this thought?" we begin to see that the Patristic text teaches far more than it seems.  St. John Chrysostom may say something that doesn't seem all that profound until we realize that there are endless other ideas out there today in conflict with his thought.  What may be clear and obvious to us may not be to others; further, it may only be clear and obvious to us because we don't see the alternatives.  When we learn to see Chrysostom in the light of so many false teachings around us, we begin to understand and appreciate his orthodoxy to a much greater extent.

5) St. John's approach to Scripture and the Faith reveals the Mind of the Church.  We too often today hope to walk away from a text with a list of facts to memorize.  Very often, Chrysostom does not offer us those facts.  What he does offer, however, is far more significant and far more valuable.  When we delve into his God-illumined heart and mind, we learn to think the way he thinks and (hopefully) live the Faith the way he lived it.  He reveals to us the Mind of the Church.  When we truly learn the Mind of the Church, when questions arise that a particular Father may not have answered, we will still know what their answer would be, even if not in their exact words.

6) Finally, we ought to read Chrysostom always with the practical in mind, just as he always provides practical guidance, even in the most theological of his homilies.  Chrysostom was a brilliant teacher, to be sure, but he was also a brilliant shepherd.  He is able to go from an obscure theological point to an admonish against the passion of anger seamlessly so that, in the end, we don't know how he got to where he is.  If we read St. John Chrysostom without asking, "How ought this affect my life?" we are missing a great deal, including his central hope for our salvation.  As a pastor, Chrysostom has much to give, if only we will receive it.  

These are the general principles I try to follow when reading Chrysostom, and they have helped me tremendously to not only admire this great Saint but to truly love him.  In truth, one can't simply read Chrysostom; one must breathe him.  We must make his mind our mind, his heart our heart, seeing with his eyes and hearing with his ears.  When we immerse ourselves in his Spirit-filled words rather than simply looking for facts and answers to specific questions, we learn so much more and benefit far beyond our expectations.  I pray that, for the readers of this, you will learn from my mistakes and recognize the depth of this Saint, so that you too will fall in love with reading Chrysostom...

Challenging Premises: Extremism

One of the ongoing themes of this blog will be that we must learn to question premises if we are going to be a truly thinking culture.  We often argue political and religious subjects based on terms given to us... but these very terms are very often problematic at the least.  If I ask, for instance, which is the best tasting meat of all, steak or chicken, you may challenge the terms by stating that there are many other types of meat which one might consider "best."

In politics, one of the key terms that always seems to pique my interest is the word "extreme."  We are often asked asked to debate - and more often told - whether particular politicians or political opinions or movements are "extreme."  The problem is, something can only be considered extreme left or right depending on where your political "center" is.

Take, for example, the Tea Party.  The Tea Party movement has been based more than anything upon the themes and beliefs of the Founding Fathers of this country.  Though certain Tea Party adherents have deviated with their own ideas here and there, the main thrust of the movement has been for lower taxes, smaller government, greater State, local, and individual liberties, a move toward greater personal responsibility, and the preference of local charities and social apparatuses over government welfare.  None of these would have been challenged by any of the Founding Fathers.  They are the very principles of the Constitution of this country, either directly or indirectly.  And yet, the movement was labelled as "extreme" throughout the media.  How can this be?  To the Tea Party members, their views were "middle of the road."  They weren't unreasonable in any way.  Their vision of the political spectrum could be seen as such:

<Left (large fed gov't) -------- Center (Federalism w/ limtd centrl gov't) -------- Right (libertarianism) >

For the Tea Party activist, extreme right would be libertarianism or (further to the right) anarchy, or lack of any governing body.  This is a fairly simple diagram also of how the Founding Fathers viewed their political views.  The Articles of Confederation were a bit too far to the right; the Constitution created a Republic that fit properly and comfortably in the middle of the spectrum.  For the media, however, (and most Americans today) their center has shifted very far to the left.  Their spectrum would look more like this:

<Left (Communism) -------- Center (Large federal gov't / semi-Socialism) ----- Right (Federalism) >

Thus, when someone claims political "extremism," more often than not this is telling you more about their politics than their subject's.  The term, in fact, is mostly used to discredit a position so that one does not have to engage it... It keeps one from being exposed to the criticisms of one's opponents.  It is amazing how, with the phenomenon of the Tea Party, very few made the point that the vast majority of the charges of "extremism" could have been equally levied against the Founders of the country, for they were proposing identical positions.

Interestingly enough, this same sort of thinking could be applied to the theology of the Church.  Today, so many modern theologian challenge "extremism" of ultra-conservative Orthodox Christians (I don't like the use of the terms "conservative" and "liberal" in speaking of Orthodox theology, but for ease of use, they will be utilized here).  There are, to be sure, some whose positions as "defenders of Orthodoxy" are indeed extreme...  But when the path that is represented by the vast majority of the Saints is deemed "too conservative," this shows that the spectrum being taken for granted is the real problem.  The Fathers always took the "royal, middle path," neither being too loose nor too strict.  As such, they ought to be placed at the center of our theological spectrum, with the mind of the Fathers being viewed neither as too "liberal" nor too "conservative."  If they fall off to either side of our theological thought, then we know we have a problem either with our understanding of their thought or with our own theological spectrum.

If we are to speak of a "center," either politically or theologically, and extremes at either side, we first must recognize that our "center" is relative.  There are, after all, many political commentators, philosophers, and theologians who would consider my views "extreme."  For me, this is not a problem; if some such figures considered me "middle of the road," only then would I start to worry...

St. Gabriel, Intercede for Us!

 Quite a few years ago, I was reading Youth of the Apocalypse: And the Last True Rebellion (found here).  Of the stories of modern holy figures that take up the latter part of this book, one story stuck with me, even until today.  It was the story of a monk in the country of Georgia who, during the height of Communism, committed an act that was shocking in its brazenness and inspiring in the zeal from which it came.  The monk, seeing a banner of the Lenin streaming down the side of a building in the town's square, sneaked into the structure, scaled the stairs, and poured kerosene (or gasoline or some other flammable substance...) down the banner.  He yelled down to the townspeople who had gathered for a rally that they once venerated true icons and worshiped their true Lord, Jesus Christ.  Now, their worship had fallen upon false idols of atheism and worldly power.  Then, before all the people and the authorities, he set the banner on fire.  

Such a story always caused me to wonder about this hieromonk and the rest of his life.  Well, as it turns out, this monk, Father Gabriel Urgebadze, was recently glorified in the Church as a Saint.  

A declaration of this glorification in which he is called "St. Gabriel: Confessor and Fool for Christ" can be found here.  His life, well worth one's time, can be found here.  

St. Gabriel, intercede for us!

Darkness without Discernment: A Book Review

Of the many types of Christian books I enjoy reading, I suppose that the types dealing with the demonic are the ones about which I am the most circumspect, both because they require the most discernment and caution and because they provide such a mixed bag of quality and understanding from the author.  As an Orthodox Christian, I read such figures as Elder Paisios (among many other modern Orthodox Elders) or St. Anthony on the topic of the demonic, and I find a great deal of understanding of the nature and tactics of Satan and the demons... an understanding far beyond my own knowledge.  Their expertise is twofold: firstly, they have learned from the experience of their encounters with the demonic, and secondly, they are spiritually advanced Saints, so much so that they view spiritual warfare and all things concerning man and God through Divinely-illumined eyes.  They are spiritual warriors of an elite class whose holiness was gained through years of struggle in prayer, fasting, and worshiping in the Divine Services of the Church.

In the case of Michael Leehan's Ascent from Darkness, I think that we unfortunately get the account of someone who has experience with the demonic but without the understanding needed to fully understanding his own experiences or to express them in a way beneficial to other Christians.  In fact, I found this book to be far more disconcerting than uplifting.  

Whenever speaking of the demonic and experiences with them, one needs a great deal of discernment in when and how to express those experiences to others.  Personally, I have had a few experiences of demonic activity; it is very rare that I speak of these experiences, however, because a focus on Christ and explaining experiences of the Divine are so much more inspiring and encouraging. Further, stories of the Saints and of Christ's Light don't have the possibility of leaving a personal feeling unsettled, unlike stories of the demonic.  In cases dealing with darkness and evil, it becomes very easy to cause the focus to shift off of Christ and for these stories - while they are intended to be inspiring - to become unpleasant and even dangerous.  

In the case of Leehan's book, nearly 200 of the 250 pages deal with the author's days in satanism and spiritual darkness.  He leaps from one story to another about the rituals in which he participated, the control the demons took over him, the actions his dark worship led him to take... The darkness included self-mutilation, voices, visions, depression, hatred, anger, confusion, thoughts of murder, and other results of his participation in the worship of Satan.  Despite the many years in this dark delusion, I've read other accounts that didn't go into nearly as much detail or take nearly as many pages which showed a greater depth of understanding of the demonic worship in which the authors had participated and more "advancement," if I can put it this way, in the ranks of demonic "powers" and "spirituality."  

Part of the problem is Leehan's very poor writing style.  He moves from one scene to another, often disconnected, with little explanation of what was happening "behind the scenes" (i.e in his understanding of the demonic in his life).  I am unsure of whether he did not understand his own actions and thoughts enough to describe them or if he simply didn't want to write about them deeply, but there seems to be so little introspection in his book.  There is little if any deep explanation of why, on one page, he is depressed and confused, while on another he is angry and driven by demonic forces while on yet another he is attending a Christian church but not participating.  There is no real attempt to try to explain the life he was living.  This becomes tiresome for the reader, as Leehan tells stories without any clear point and describes confusing actions without explanation.  

When his conversion occurs, it is again without introspection.  It is all so much on the surface.  His explanation of the grace and peace of Christ are sentimental and vague.  There is little here that is deep or profound compared to what one can get elsewhere (such as in the writings of Orthodox Saints), and unlike many reviews I've read, I found the book too scattered, too focussed on the demonic and evil without introspection, too ready to tell fantastical stories for the shock factor and reading pleasure without caution of the dangers of such stories to be inspiring.  

While I wouldn't dare to question the sincerity of the author or the transformation he feels, I found one last thing troubling.  I have read and listened to many others who have dabble or dove into demonic worship and eventually scrambled out, and none of their conversions seemed as... dare I say "easy"... as this one.  I am not suggesting that Leehan did not struggle, but when he did decide to accept Christ, everything seemed to end.  The spiritual struggle seemed to end without even a modest protest from the demons.  He admits that he still struggles with sin and falls, but there is something that seems too simple.  I recall an Orthodox Christian who, when he was baptized, felt the demons actually leaving him... and it was physically painful until they completely left.  I am not spiritually advanced enough to offer a real appraisal of Leehan's experience, but I can at least compare his to many others that I've read and confidently state that his account stands apart in lacking many of the struggles and features that were common to all the others.  This, in itself, was curious, at the very least.  

Ultimately, I think that, while some books in this small genre ought to be read with great discernment, others ought not be read at all.  This is one of those books.  I pray all the best of Leehan, but this book left me feeling too invaded by his own darkness to cause me to recommend it.  

An Interesting... and Somewhat Disappointing... Debate

I watched (well, listened to, mostly) this entire debate today.

http://www.christianpost.com/news/richard-dawkins-loses-debate-against-former-anglican-head-rowan-williams-at-cambridge-university-full-video-89364/

The actual debate can be viewed here:

http://gnli.christianpost.com/video/richard-dawkins-andrew-copson-amp-arif-ahmed-debate-rowan-williams-tariq-ramadan-amp-douglas-murray-8404

I could really write a lot about the debate, but I really only want to comment on two things.  First, I found the questions from the audience extremely disappointing.  I suppose I was quite hopeful that they would be more thoughtful and critical.  Instead, many of them were based on false premises and wouldn't have been asked if a bit more thought were put into them.

I must confess that, one of my greatest concerns for this blog is that it come off as being very negative.  In truth, I am and have always been a very positive and optimistic person.  However, I think we have to be realistic about the state of our culture.  And one of the things I will likely post about frequently is that I believe, as a people, that we have lost the ability to think.  Thinking is a skill, and it is a skill that requires a lot of work.  To be able to spot logical fallacies, to have the mental acuity to not only pick out the premises behind one's arguments but to point out their falsity is an incredibly rare ability today.  I certainly do not believe that I am a skilled thinker in any way, but I do attempt to practice this skill.  We are, unfortunately, a highly unreflective people.  When we do reflect, we often only think as far as, "How can I object to argument 'x' because I believe 'y'?"  This is the source of most of the questions asked.  They didn't engage the material presented in a thoughtful way but sought to simply rebuff arguments before they even had to consider what was being said.

Second, I was (as I often am) extremely disappointed first in Richard Dawkin's presentation and more so in his warm reception.  He is welcomed by so many as a true intellectual, but he hardly has an original or (as he is so fond of demanding of others) an "open-minded" thought.  The monks at St. Gregory Palamas in Etna had a wonderful article in Orthodox Tradition essentially challenging him as a pseudo-intellectual and, for lack of a better term, a hack.  (That article can be found in this collection: http://www.ctosonline.org/new/DD.html)

So to have someone who is so intellectually dishonest and, frankly, unscholarly (not to mention intolerant and sadly shallow) so welcomed in our culture as a stalwart of scientific thought and icon of brilliance says either something very terrible about the intellectual state of our culture or the sad state of atheism.  Either way, I find it incredible how very far his presentation of Christianity is from the Orthodox understanding of things.  I doubt, however, that becoming aware of the depth and differences of Orthodoxy would change his mind, much... It's just unfortunate that so many people accept his criticism of a Christianity I don't know.

With all that considered, it was still an interesting debate.

The Quietest Moment of the Super Bowl

Yesterday, as so many did around the country, I went to someone's house in order to attend a Super Bowl party.  This party, in particular, was sponsored by my parish's high school youth, though it has become a family affair over the years.  Throughout the first half of the game, I travelled back and forth between the two televisions in the home: the one, in front of which were all the adults, and the other, in front of which were the youth.  No matter what was happening on the screen - whether it was the game or the commercials - light to heavy talking occurred without pause.  Based on past experiences, I knew that this was not out of disinterest in a (so far) lopsided game: the constant comments and conversation was part of the party.  It wasn't until the halftime show that things went quiet... in front of both tv sets.

The adults were divided by gender: the males on the couches before the tv and their wives standing off to the side. The kids were gathered together upstairs. I spend a few minutes with the youth but quickly became uncomfortable. I don't know if I was any more comfortable when I went down to visit with their parents.

Beyonce performed various songs from her musical career, though the focus was not greatly on her music. Her performance began with her wearing a very tiny outfit, parts of which she ripped off as she walked across the stage. Her clothing, however, was only a small part of the provocative nature of the show. The sexual nature of her performance was in no way understated, in no way subtle. It was intentional and in-your-face. Quite literally, every pose, every step, every facial expression was sexually-charged.

When I went downstairs and joined the parents, I mentioned to an aunt of one of the youth's that I couldn't understand what the appeal of someone like Beyonce was. To me, she seems self-invovled to an extreme, sings uninteresting music (it can be described as "catchy," but certainly nothing beyond that), composes laughably terrible lyrics, and is incredibly overexposed in popular media. My comment was met, however, with seeming shock and almost offense. I was informed that Beyonce was beautiful, talented, and entertaining. How could I not understand this?

To me, entertainment has become so shallow and so obvious. Do we want to make things more exciting? Make the sounds louder and the songs catchier. Make the sights flashier with more people, larger screens, and more abundant flashing lights. Make the sexuality everything but mysterious. Leave nothing to the imagination. Just make everything such an intense feast for the eyes and ears, make it louder and brighter than anything heard or seen before, that the audience can't help but sit and take it all in, like gluttons at an entertainment feast.

And here, in this performance, we had Beyonce surrounded with people dancing like she danced, singing her songs with her lyrics, flanked on the left, right, below, and above with images of herself, images multiplied a thousand times over and blown up to 10 times her size. Every step she made was surging with sexual and self-obsessed swagger. And we all loved it. People in the crowds screamed and reached for her, even when she was 30 feet away, just to be a little closer.

The sexuality of the performance was my first concern and is perhaps the most obvious subject for comment.  To see a room full of the Church's youth viewing something I found embarrassing (yes, I should have found a reason to turn the channel, at the very least...) was disheartening; to then see all of their fathers glued to the set with their wives not in the least surprised or upset was far more so.  We have become so desensitized to something that would have been considered borderline pornography not very long ago.  And we desire to be entertained by such things.

There is more to comment on here, though.  Our attention has been so transformed over the years by technology.  Who hasn't watched a video on YouTube labelled "part 1" and been delayed for minutes or hours or even days before watching "part 2" because the thumbnails down the right side of the screen of recommended videos grabs our attention.  TV, computers, internet, cell phones, and various other things have transformed our brains so that we are constantly taking in every pixel for a fraction of a moment before moving onto the next.  Halftime shows as I witnessed yesterday would have given me a headache 10 years ago; today, they are the very definition of entertaining.

I was thinking the other day about interviews with actors and actresses.  In the 1950s and '60s, if you watch interviews with the Hollywood elite, they are slow and methodical, discussing the craft of acting with interesting questions and somewhat insightful answers.  These answers can go on and on, but no audience member falls asleep or has to pull out a book to pass the time.  Today, on late night shows, the "interviews" are shallow, quick, and full of pre-planned stories and jokes.  We aren't interested in the person but in being entertained.

The Super Bowl halftime show is a symptom of our short attention span and need for visual and audible instant gratification on a massive scale.  Is it any wonder, when we can stare at such spectacles without blinking, without considering what it is that we're watching, with no introspection, that we priests are told not to speak for more than 10 minutes in a homily for fear of "losing" the entire congregation?
But there is a third and perhaps even more serious issue at play.  The halftime show was an overblown exposition of a woman not only being an entertainer but being an idol.  The fan excitement over Beyonce bordered on worship, and nobody - including these Orthodox parishioners - seemed to care.  Their response was, "How could someone not respond to Beyonce in this way?"  To me, I found it all uninteresting except in that it was a terrible commentary on where we are as a people.

I wonder how we got here, but more so, I wonder how we can turn things back around.  That halftime show should have come on and caused both the youth and their parents to scatter, to take the time to speak with one another in fellowship and complete disinterest at what was occurring on the screen... if not that, then outright disgust and fear.  Unfortunately, when became the quietest moment of the Super Bowl was not a time for reflection, but a time for our passions to be satisfied.  Thinking back to St. John Chrysostom's condemnation of those who went to the gladiator games, I wonder what he would have to say about what we consider entertainment today... something perhaps far less bloody but just as... if not more... harmful.