Thoughts

Harakas pp225-258; Patitsas: “The Marriage of Priests”; R.B. Hays: “Divorce and Remarriage”; R. Dreher “Orthodoxy and Me”; Advertisement

“Marriage can never be seen as ephemeral; rather, it figures forth the ultimate redemptive intention of God.”[1]

If there is one thing that can be said of marriage and sexual purity, it is that the meaning and significance thereof go far, far deeper than it would at first seem[2]. Harakas compares modern faithlessness with the unfaithfulness of ancient Israel (p225ff): the prophet Hosea is even instructed by God to marry a prostitute to symbolize Israel’s unfaithfulness to her God (Hos. 1:2-3). Sexual purity is an important preparation for marriage according to Harakas (p235). This, along with the ascetical self-sacrificial love required in marriage, implies the offering of oneself to one’s spouse as an unblemished sacrifice (and the collective offering of the married couple as an unblemished sacrifice for their children). Not only society, but even epistemology itself is related to the issue as knowing-as-communion in a pre-fall sense becomes knowing as objectified knowledge after the fruit is taken for its own sake (Patitsas p82).

Harakas points out that along with the most common path, marriage, the church also blesses the path of virginity in monasticism, and that there will also be those who live celibate lives outside of monasteries. The difference here is a looser bond of community – in marriage, spouses are bound together by sacrificial love and mutual submission; in monasticism, monastics are bound together in mutual submission and obedience to their abbot; even in Jon Chrysostom’s church community in Constantinople, widows and virgins were perhaps organized into their own communities (or at least, their care was specifically considered by the church). Yet today, those who are living celibate lives ‘in the world’ are generally left without any particular support. This could be one reason for the cataclysmic events in the Roman Catholic Church as described by Rod Dreher[3]. The Church hierarchy’s response was shame: to cover up rather than to confess and repent.

The abuse scandal is just one aspect of the systemic collapse of all understandings of both meaning and virtue in matters relating to sexuality, gender and marriage. Even the advertising industry plays its role here – both in living out the collapse and also in highlighting it: the advertising messages which “make us feel as if we have an intimate, even passionate relationship with a product”[4] note the brokenness of most intimate relationships and attempt to salve that wound with materialism and consumerism.

Matters of sexual purity, ‘gender’ and marriage were mostly taken for granted in the past, so that while Scripture and Tradition address issues of virtue in these areas, more basic concepts are often taken for granted, or built on foundations which are themselves challenged today. Hence “The Marriage of Priests” article attempts to express a basic hermeneutic for understanding the meaning of ‘gender’[5]. Evdokimov[6] uses the Theotokos and John the Baptist as archetypes for woman and man, but somewhat unconvincingly, especially because of the way the Theotokos is a model not only for women but also for men in both her humble, self-sacrificial submission to God and her designation as ‘invincible General’. Soloviev[7] is concerned to point out the feminine aspects in man and the masculine aspects in woman, which somehow answer each other in the coming together of man and woman as well as the more instinctively felt masculine in man meeting the feminine in woman. However his attempt to resolve this through an overly romantic vision of sexless love is also ultimately unconvincing. This article, with the beautiful method of maintaining proper distinction without setting up abrupt separation between man and woman through the use of the sequence of priest and prophet/king or king/prophet, makes a far more compelling case for the archetypal nature of these two saints.

The way in which Christ is the salvation of all mankind, male and female, is also better described through seeing the ‘new Eve’ as completed not primarily in the Theotokos, but in Christ – and in the Theotokos inasmuch as she is the bearer of Christ. Uniting the vocation of men and women in the priestly vocation is also a clear fulfilment of the image of God in all people, as well as showing the mutual self-sacrifice required in marriage. Seeing the fall as a break in the communion (an act of infidelity) with God that communion between people depends on also relates closely the fall to the unfaithfulness of Israel which is overcome in the perfect marriage of Christ with his Church. And the break in this communion seen as objectification brings us back to the modern condition of broken communion when intimacy is sought in materialism and commercialism (even as it pertains to sexual relationships, where the ‘knowing’ in a pre-fall sense of communion is lost in an unconnected sexual act).

Christian marriage as an icon of the union of Christ with his Church (which is his very body) is beautifully illustrated by the summary of Christ-like masculinity in the words of St Silouan “All these will be saved, only I shall be lost” and Christ-like (Church-like) femininity as “I don’t know anything – that I might know Someone”[8].

[1] “Divorce and Remarriage” p304

[2] Note the connection between marriage and society in terms of faithfulness and relations of self-sacrifice; Rod Dreher notes that “the sex-abuse scandal can’t be easily separated from the wider crisis in the American Catholic Church”; Harakas notes the negative effects both of society on the family and of the debasement of family on society (pp226-229).

[3] There is also the issue of ‘filioquist’ ecclesiology and mediaeval hierarchical understandings: the church dispenses the sacraments to the people and the people are responsible to the church which rules over them. Hence Rod Dreher is criticized for not giving unquestioning trust and obedience to the hierarchy, and the hierarchy protects the clergy rather than the innocent victims. (Though it is not for non-Catholics to be complacent, since this kind of self-justification and desire for self-preservation goes with power in any human institution; and in any case where proper humility and self-sacrifice is lost, the church becomes a human institution.)

[4] Blurb for Jean Kilbourne’s book on advertising

[5] I can’t bring myself to remove the inverted commas: I know ‘gender’ is now almost universally used as synonymous with (or at least instead of) the more traditional ‘sex’ – the revisionist agenda supported by the squeamishness of so-called ‘conservatives’, but the topic of vocabulary alone here is huge in terms of the validity or not of ‘gender identity’ as separate from biological sex, the significance of biology, a gestalt concept of self-construction versus a Christian concept of theosis or some kind of demonic ‘ungrowth’, etc, etc.

[6] Woman and the Salvation of the World

[7] The Meaning of Love

[8] “Marriage of Priests” p96.

By the way, I also like the way this defuses the critique of some of the revisionist writers on sexuality such as Elizabeth Stuart and Michael Vasey by speaking of the “inner as well as mutual integration” and the

“gender-reversing calling” showing how to escape the ‘ersatz masculine/feminine’ (which Leanne Payne speaks of) without needing the ‘social critique’ of the so-called ‘queer’ sexualities.

Also, the idea of the Eucharistic priestly ministry as being too well-suited to the feminine might explain St Paul’s requirement of head coverings for women.

(Chryssavgis: Soul Mending, pp35-48; Fr Arseny pp30-96)

Again the depth of weakness and height of glory of the priesthood are evident in these readings: from the weakness of a freezing cell, Fr Arseny enjoys the glory of serving with angels; from the weakness of death, he enjoys the glory of serving with other saints in a heavenly Liturgy.

It is important to note that in these two events, the two points of greatest weakness for Fr Arseny are transformed by God into the two experiences of greatest glory. Chryssavgis notes that the idea of the priest being “aware of his own personal weakness as being the very occasion of divine strength through him deepens and broadens the notion of the authority of ministry as service (diakonia)” (p37). Indeed for Fr Arseny, living in a place where his priestly dignity and authority has been totally stripped from him, it is apparent that the authority he comes to hold through service grows precisely out of his weakness. In such a place, where most people were desperate to hold on to what little they could of themselves and for themselves, a career criminal said to Fr Arseny, “you do not live for yourself, but for others” (p61) and submitted to his priestly dignity in a life confession.

“God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise” (1 Cor 1:23, as quoted by Chryssavgis p35) and all God’s priests must accept that they are some of those foolish things. The foolish ‘things’ should not be ashamed of their foolishness: it is the wise who are put to shame by the foolishness. If our shame in our foolishness causes us to cover our weakness, it becomes a block to our weakness being used to manifest divine strength (cf Chryssavgis p35,38). Like Fr Arseny, all who minister must be “kneeling internally” as Chryssavgis puts it, admitting our weakness and woundedness (p35) like St Paul, the “chief of sinners”, so that our weakness can be an opportunity for the divine strength which is “made perfect in weakness” (p38). Out of the weakness of fear of interrogation, Fr Arseny was given intense prayer (p81). He responded to being cast into a freezing, metal punishment cell as an opportunity: “God has allowed us to pray aloud”! And out of this weakness came the divine strength which allowed him not only to pray aloud, but to serve with angels for two whole days, surviving the freezing temperatures along with his cellmate (p34-7).

This intensity of prayer which brings strength out of weakness should be a characteristic of the priestly vocation which “arises precisely from and leads precisely to the Cross” (Chryssavgis p36) – and beyond the cross to the resurrection-communion: out of death comes life, but a life which is continually broken and distributed, poured out and distributed in communion for the benefit of all. The weakness manifest as service Fr Arseny’s life describes is properly symbolised in the fact that he is given his old, tattered prison jacket as the vestment in which to serve the heavenly Liturgy among the angels, saints and martyrs.

Because of his authority gained from service in the camp, when Fr Arseny lay sick, the other prisoners, to whom death was an everyday occurrence, cared about him, feeling his impending death “in a special way” (p43) and in prayer, he felt their support. Seeing their souls and understanding the way they had shared suffering together, he understood he could not leave them. In this moment of clarity he also understood that among people he had previously seen as ordinary prisoners, there were great saints and “true ascetics in the faith” (p45). He prayed, “O Lord! Where was I? Pardon me and have mercy on me. I only saw myself. I was deluded, I did not have enough faith in people.” Chryssavgis points out that it is in the communion (koinonia) of the Church, in our common work (leitourgia) that we can fully face and overcome our weaknesses. In speaking of our failings and hard-heartedness, the gospel speaks to “communion and love, the love that is true and costly” (p40-41) in which we can face our weaknesses together in order to allow divine strength to be manifest in our body. “Each person contributes to this divine-human community, not simply by the service that each renders but by the sacred mystery that each one is” (Chryssavgis p40).

May we, through the cross of our own weakness, through the communion of persons in the one body of Christ, through the manifestation of divine strength in our personal weaknesses, come to know that heavenly Liturgy in which all our wounds will be glorified and our imperfections “changed from glory into glory”.

St Nicholas Cabasilas: The Life in Christ, Book VI; Hauerwas: “Christian Ethics as Informed Prayer”; Wittgenstein: “A Lecture on Ethics” and Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 6.4-7

“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent”[1]

Scruton, in “Thoroughly Modern Mill” from last week’s readings, wrote about a wisdom that is “deeper and rarer than rational thought”. This week’s readings go even further, discussing ethics and epistemology in terms beyond rational/intellectual language. Cabasilas discusses holding on to grace in order to know and perform “the duties to God which we all have in common” (p160) through clinging “to that [Christ’s] Heart and that Head, for we obtain life from no other source” (p161). Hauerwas considers a way to discover the “form and content of Christian ethics” in worship and liturgy. Wittgenstein shows how language and propositional thought is not equal to the task of discovering ethics, which must be transcendent of these forms, and can be discovered perhaps in poetry (it is certainly one with aesthetics), perhaps in paradox, but ultimately only in the inexpressible.

Cabasilas shows that while the commandments of Christ are “binding on all the faithful” and as propositional statements permitting intellectual comprehension are important guides on the spiritual path, nevertheless, it is ordering “his life according to Christ’s heart” that provides ‘the way’. It is notable that it is the heart that must be “filled with good thoughts” – not the mind. It is not through thinking about God, but through contemplation, musing, and meditation on God and the revelation of God that the ‘good’ is known (p172). It is the heart of love that suffers – the “proof of friendship” (p163) and the aesthetics of the immortal body are not weakened but rather strengthened by its bearing of those wounds (p164) – and in this aesthetic we discover our ethic of sacrificial love (as Wittgenstein says, “ethics and aesthetics are one”) and this ethic is lived through being united with our Saviour. Through spiritual means our ethic – the life we live – is built up, and through spiritual means it can also be destroyed by temptations to presumption and shame/despair (p168). Through purification it is built up (p175) and the pure life is lived in the Beatitudes (the “true philosophy”, p181) – which describe the ethic of life through approaching it from many sides (cf Wittgenstein’s “Lecture on Ethics”) and through describing the life of Christ in whose life we can find life, since “it was for the new man that human nature was created in the beginning” (p190) and he has become the “food of our thoughts” (p191).

Cabasilas ends Book VI by saying, “if we are thus with Christ by sacred rite, prayer, meditation, and reflection, we shall train the soul for every virtue” (p194). Hauerwas has discovered this same principle (six centuries later he writes with the expectation that it will be seen as a “novelty” – after Kant, the immanent world of ethics and the transcendent world to which worship aspires are irreconcilable). Hauerwas points out that “life is in fact a rehearsal for worship” and while Wittgenstein comments on the unity of ethics and aesthetics, Hauerwas points out, against all modernist assumptions, that in fact good, beauty and truth are a unity. Worship also forms the ethical life since its vision is greater than the modernist division of public and private, seeing society’s “politics” as being about the best use of all the gifts of God rather than just a materialistic economy; and finally, a rediscovery of the active and eschatological direction of worship overcomes the modern’s perceived divide between words and action. After all, in Christ we have the Incarnate Word. Hauerwas describes the experience of a tribe newly converted to Christianity: they experienced (rather than read about) the fact that the Eucharist constituted the church, they required peace between brothers sharing in communion, and they experienced the liturgy as judgement on their social mores: in other words, one aspect of the Liturgy was “a corporate practice for discerning the good”.

Wittgenstein does not oppose language and reality, seeing that poetic language can sometimes contain what is inexpressible in logical language (p167). Hence when he comes to consider ethics, he wishes to go beyond the idea that “ethics is the general enquiry into what is good” by considering at least also aesthetics (so we have good and beauty in a search for truth), but also making several other statements, intended to increase understanding – illustrating the “background” against which language receives meaning (cf p166). He illustrates that it is not possible to reach judgements of absolute value from facts: i.e. one cannot get to what ought to be from what is. He goes so far as to say that ethics is “supernatural”. In attempting to express absolute value in words, the logical, factual content of the linguistic expression is discovered to be nonsense in each case: the language can only attempt to reach at a world inaccessible to it. From this he infers that all religious terms are used “allegorically” or as “similes” (although perhaps ‘symbol’ would be a more appropriate expression as in the symbol of faith, the creed – does the language participate in what it is attempting to express, rather than just standing for it?). In fact, there are no facts behind the similes. He suggests that to see the world in this way is to see it as miracle, as contrasted with a scientific way of looking at the world, which is able to see only facts. It is just the same with language, which is technically able to see only facts – hence to describe the transcendent in words is to “run against the boundaries of language” (p176) – hence the need for a practical apophaticism.

We speak only to show the inadequacy of language to these matters; “whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent”. But language and reasoning are given to us as gifts and they can aid our beginning, even if as we move further along the path we may reach a point where we see, like Aquinas, that all our intellectual struggle and reasoning is just straw. Out of pride, I could have left the paper blank after the Wittgenstein quotation, but it is better not to eschew the humble things, since everything that has been created can speak of God, even if only in muted or distorted tones (cf 1 Cor 13:12).

[1] Wittgenstein: Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus 6.7

(St John of Kronstadt pp81-127; Inner Kingdom ch3,9)

Again the depth of responsibility and heights of glory of the priesthood are evident in St John of Kronstadt’s description of priest as Pastor, Teacher, Confessor and Intercessor. He speaks of how the priest has to answer to God for his people – including for those things they “might have done had it not been for us” (p84). On the other hand, he speaks of how wonderful is the priest’s witness at the Judgement for those he has confessed: he is able to witness to the reality of their repentance (p105).

The work of being a confessor is hard. St John of Kronstadt speaks of the temptation to be irritated at the number of penitents waiting for their confessions to be heard (p83). His words on teaching in general no doubt apply also to speaking to a penitent in the context of confession. He says that every word should be valued (since it is through ‘word’ that God creates and sustains the universe) and the words must be words of spirit and life, not dead letters (p96-7). Met Kallistos in speaking of the starets notes the ability of the starets to “use words with power” (p135). This ability is undoubtedly related to the emphasis the spiritual father has on intercessory prayer for his spiritual children (the “constant intercession” is more important that any words of counsel – p138-9). Intercession has the potential to bring one close to him about whom one prays as illustrated in the story about St John Maximovitch, who, having prayed for four friends of a monk was able to tell the monk the following year which had died and which recovered (IK p151).

Met Kallistos speaks of the great significance of repentance in the Christian life, quoting St Isaac the Syrian (“This life has been given you for repentance. Do not waste it on other things.” – p43) and noting that the preaching of both St John the Baptist and Christ himself began with a call to repent. The significance of repentance in terms of true conversion (p45) and viewed positively as an eschatological illumination (p46) should also be a constant reminder to the priest-confessor and the spiritual father of the seriousness of their task. Hence St John of Kronstadt enjoins the priest-confessor to be a patient lover of souls, never hurrying, never sparing oneself, never being agitated nor irritated (p106): hearing confessions is a cross, but since it is a cross it is not only a school of self-denial for the priest, but also the “touchstone of a priest’s love for his parishioners” (p108) – and the priest needs to take care not to focus on the sin in a penitent but on the image of God he or she bears (p112), enabling him to constantly intercede for his people with his heart as well as his lips (p124) knowing that he can take no credit himself for his prayers since it is only openness to the Spirit who prays through him (p125). St John of Kronstadt speaks of the transformative power of confession (p112) and Met Kallistos emphasises that the role of the confessor is not that of judge (Christ is the judge) nor even that of physician (Christ the physician being the central meaning of confession as a sacrament of healing) but only that of “God’s usher” (IK p49-51) – witnessing the transformation and healing brought through repentance, and using his discernment given through constant intercessory prayer for the penitent and specific prayer of preparation for the sacrament (CPP p109) in order to exercise the priest’s discretion whether and how to impose a penance and his greater responsibility in exercising his power to bind or loose.

Finally, Met Kallistos emphasizes the distinction between true spiritual fatherhood and the role of a priest-confessor. They may be united in one person, but frequently they are not. The priest-confessor is a role conferred by the Church institutionally, and the spiritual father is a role conferred charismatically, being “recognized as such by the people” in a process parallel to that of the acceptance of Church Councils (IK pp129-130). The priest-confessor is appointed and understands his role, whereas the spiritual father never claims his role for himself, but is always revealed by the initiative of those who seek him out (often involving a “movement of flight and return” seen in many great saints who sought a hermitic life before being sought out as spiritual fathers – IK pp131-4). Thus while a priest-confessor is easy to find, it may not be possible to find a spiritual father, in which case we have to do our best with the resources available to us: the Scriptures, other writings, and the informed advice of other travellers on the spiritual path, our spiritual brothers and sisters.

The key to all spiritual advice, whether given by a priest-confessor or a spiritual father, is the personal relationship between the confessor and the penitent, the father and the child. This is why books and rules are inadequate. Each human being is unique, and every relationship is therefore also unique. “Personal encounter” (IK p146) is the only way to learn many things where words (which on the page can be ‘dead letters’) are inadequate. Only the living word, through which we meet the Living Word, is adequate to this task.

Harakas pp36-81; Cloud: “Happiness isn’t Normal”; “Avoiding Ethical Rationalizations”; “Thoroughly Modern Mill”

“Wisdom is deeper and rarer than rational thought”[1]

Scruton shows how Mill failed to go deep enough in his moral philosophy, since relying on the intellect is to mistake the form for the content. He shows how the focus on a negotiation of ‘rights’ is an inadequate guide to ethics, whether the ‘right’ is decided by the majority (utilitarianism) or by the ‘sovereignty of the individual’ when no account is taken of the shared culture of the ‘individuals’ living together. Mill himself suffered from his early utilitarianism which left him “bereft of all emotional succour” being a “philosophy of the head which seemed to make no room for the heart.” Similarly, in “Happiness isn’t Normal”, Hayes’s criticism of cognitive therapy is that it wrongly assumes the intellect is totally in control. Like some of the advice from Orthodox Elders, he advises that focusing on negative thoughts, rather than correcting them, can intensify them. However his narrow concept of what ‘thoughts’ are, as being wholly the product of intellect interpreting emotion, and how to deal with them seems to involve a dangerous abstraction from one’s own mind – “Thank your mind for that thought.” Also, like the problems with Mill’s negotiation of moral norms, this “third wave” of psychological therapy has no basis outside the purely subjective to account for morality, although interestingly Hayes argues that he has never met a patient with “pathological values” (whatever he means by that) and that even in the case of rapists they are “being pushed around by their urges even when it’s deeply against their values.” Anyone who has wrestled with temptation will understand this (e.g. Rom. 7:19), and it is a support for the critique of cognitive therapy which suggests that a concentration on the problem in an attempt to fight it will succeed – all too often, the concentration gives the problem or temptation more power. Hayes suggests rather focusing on the positive values that one wishes to rule one’s life and accepting that there will be problems and suffering along the way – rather like taking up one’s cross and pursuing the narrow path that leads to salvation.

The dangers of trusting the intellect are also clear in “Avoiding Ethical Rationalizations.” Without wisdom, without a deeper and more expansive vision, trusting only in the rational, it is easy to get caught in the trap of justifications for one’s own unethical behaviour. This also shows how difficult it is to properly manage a system of morality which includes the concept of ekonomia. Without the proper spiritual and ecclesial context, this flexibility can always go astray, and the more the broader, shared ethos of morality is lost in a society, the more that society has no choice but to move towards greater legalism.

The “deeper” than the intellect that is missing in the above is found in the chapter from Harakas “The Ethical Relationship with God”. He shows how good and right are tied to God’s intrinsic goodness, and how they both the knowledge of good and right (in more than an intellectual sense) and the ability to live them out in practice are tied to communion with God. Morality is not just a rational, intellectual construct, but according to Harakas it is a spiritual choice – the renunciation of Satan (as is explicit in the baptismal service but is a continuing practice, not a once-for-all achievement). As a spiritual choice it is tied to faith. While belief is not a virtue, faith is – something not only held as dogma, but lived out in hope, in love, in prayer and in worship. Hope provides the eschatological context which is missing from the intellectual systems limited to this world, and thereby provides a freedom from anxiety. Love broadens out when it is seen that love for God and for neighbour are intrinsically linked, that the communion of love in the Trinity is infinitely expanded through the energies or grace of God to include all creation. Prayer, according to St John Chrysostom, is essential for virtue. It enables communion with God and the overcoming of temptation. The awe of worship casts the intellectual understanding of morality into a proper perspective, and provides the appropriate ecclesial context for its working out in practice, centred in Eucharistic communion with God.

If we are able to immerse ourselves in this ‘ethical relationship with God’ we find ourselves on the narrow path towards the wisdom that is “deeper and rarer than rational thought”.

[1] Scruton: “Thoroughly Modern Mill”

The priest must be “dignified yet modest, impressive yet kindly, masterful yet approachable, impartial yet courteous, humble but not servile, vehement yet gentle.” He must be armed with “earnestness and constant sobriety of life.” [1]

In these extracts, there is a striking similarity between St John of Kronstadt and Fr Arseny, both of whom live up to St John Chrysostom’s description of what a priest should be. One almost gets the impression that the one in the other’s (very different) place would have fulfilled the priestly vocation in a very parallel way. St John of Kronstadt describes how in prayer, when fully convinced in true faith of God’s action in response, God will accomplish everything: “at such a time there is no interval between God and yourself”[2]. Similarly, when Fr Arseny, out of his love for his fellow prisoners and his great faith simply calls on God commanding the prisoners to stop fighting, God answers his call, the fighting stops and the wounded are helped.[3]

Fr Arseny continually centres himself with the Jesus prayer, and by calling upon the Theotokos. St John of Kronstadt says that to call with faith and love upon the name of God and the name of the Mother of God will “enliven, hallow and comfort”[4]. The prayers of the Church are seen as a great blessing. St John of Kronstadt admits the temptation sometimes to shorten or rush the public prayers “wishing to finish the holy work the quicker that we may hasten after worldly vanity.”[5] By so doing, we neglect what is the source of peace, joy and health for ourselves and for those praying with us – “enlivening, strengthening and healing our body as well as our soul.”[6] Fr Arseny understands the value of these prayers. Without access to a church, service books, vestments or any material thing that he was accustomed to using in his priestly work before his arrest, he would recite the matins service, the akathist to the Mother of God, to St Nicholas and to St Arseny all by heart.[7] In fact, so strong was the power of his prayer and so fully did his prayer represent that of the Church, that on one occasion, an officer in the camp saw in him suddenly not “an old man in a patched up vest and torn pants, but a fully vested priest, who was performing the sacrament of prayer to God.”[8]

St John of Kronstadt emphasises that during the celebration of the Liturgy, the whole Church – in heaven and on earth – is assembled around the Lamb of God. He sees this holy assembly, he sees his brothers and sisters in the Church gathered among the saints and angels, and he wonders at the fact that he too is there, celebrating for his neighbour as for himself[9]. The awareness of the tremendous grace of being permitted to share in such a gift opens his heart “to love all, to care for all, to seek the salvation of all.”[10]

This love and care for all is demonstrated in Fr Arseny’s constant care for the sick prisoners, sharing his own meagre ration with them, and persevering in this care despite the lack of gratitude (and even contempt and mockery) on the part of the sick.[11] This love goes along with humility as he quietly takes abuse and derision, which St John Chrysostom says can make even the most valiant ascetic lose his head.[12] This love is also demonstrated in Fr Arseny’s full use of all the gifts he was given for the benefit of the souls in his care: “It is essential that even the ‘silly priests,’ as you call them, understand the soul of Russian art and, being shepherds of souls, they must show their flock the truth as it is in reality.”[13] Especially in a world where truth has been subjected to ideology, the priest has a particular responsibility to try to understand the direction of the culture that surrounds the Church, and to communicate this understanding to his people, that they may understand true reality.

The world of Fr Arseny is strongly in contrast to that of St John Chrysostom, where a man might seek out the priesthood for worldly reasons. Who would seek out the kind of priesthood that Fr Arseny found himself serving in? St John Chrysostom says, “the weakest athlete can keep his weakness secret as long as he remains at home and pits himself against nobody; but when he strips for the contest, he is soon shown up.”[14] What kind of preparation is there for the contest that Fr Arseny had to face? Yet in all that he did and all that he experienced, Fr Arseny found that the root of his life was the same: “I had my faith in Christ out there in freedom and I have it here within myself.”[15] He lived his life so much in the light and presence of God, and in service to others, that even some of the most hardened criminals and atheists were able to say “but you… I trust. I know you won’t turn your back on me. You live in your God…”[16] Truly it was with Fr Arseny as St John Chrysostom said it ought to be with any priest: “the beauty of his soul must shine out brightly all around, to be able to gladden and enlighten the souls of those who see.”[17]

[1] Priesthood p93, p86

[2] Counsels p68

[3] Fr Arseny p22-23

[4] Counsels p71

[5] Counsels p64

[6] Counsels p65

[7] Fr Arseny p12

[8] Fr Arseny p26

[9] See Counsels p63

[10] Counsels p78

[11] Fr Arseny p10, 12-13

[12] Priesthood p83 – those who cannot “bear insult and abuse and vulgar language and taunts from inferiors” must be barred from the priesthood.

[13] Fr Arseny p19. Note that St John Chrysostom says that piety is not enough for a priest, he needs to combine piety with “considerable intelligence”, Priesthood p89. Part of this is manifested in the priest’s responsibility to teach (especially in the absence of miracles – p115), to which St John Chrysostom devotes most of Book IV of his Six Books.

[14] Priesthood p85

[15] Fr Arseny p15

[16] Fr Arseny p21

[17] Priesthood p85

Reflection 1 on Counsels on the Christian Priesthood (St John of Kronstadt) chapters 1-3

The extract from this book continues the basic theme of the other readings in demonstrating both the extreme weight of responsibility of the priesthood and also its glory. The strongest impression from this text is the intensity and sincerity with which St John prayed for his people (“he was above all a ‘genius of prayer’”[1]). Out of his prayer, miracles came. In his prayer, he worked tirelessly for the benefit of the souls who were entrusted to him – there was no opposition between his prayer and its practical outplaying in his life’s work. How much this convicts us when we read of someone living out our faith this deeply: “we all shrink from the fundamental demands which the Christian faith… makes upon us” and, phrased as a greater challenge, “He was a man of outstanding faith… and I, alas, am not… why am I not?” [2] The answer to this latter question is provided by St John himself who says that it is essential to “live in a state of constant watchfulness”, “without ceasing praise and thank the Lord” (cf. 1 Thess 5:17), and “always be striving after holiness, with fasting… with humility of mind, obedience and patience.”[3]

In order to be able to heal others, a priest must “strive to be free himself from spiritual infirmities”. Attachment to ‘earthly cares’ needs to be laid aside: “If he is frightened of man, it means that he does not yet entirely cleave to God.”[4] He describes this attachment as a “wall” which we have to “pierce” by prayer.[5] But earthly cares are not the only difficulty: St John points out that the more holy the task, the greater the temptation and attack of the devil, whether it be through sloth, depression, despair or just doubt over the purpose of long prayers[6]. But the priesthood is not only a harbinger of greater spiritual attack, it is also a provision of weapons to use in the conflict: invoking the Holy Spirit over the Holy Gifts in the Liturgy brings confidence that he will come also in other situations[7]. The work of a priest is full of reminders and experiences that should bring him close to God, and if he can live a holy life, his prayer can “work wonders”[8].

[1] p11, Grisbrooke quoting G.P. Fedotov

[2] p16 and p27

[3] p35

[4] p38

[5] p54

[6] See pp43-44

[7] p54

[8] p56

p1/2 – Harakas pp82-104; Hymn of Entry pp17-40;
p2/2 – “Art, Music, Gossip”

This chapter from Harakas discusses ’Ethical Relations with the Self’. As he points out, as well as being explicit in the New Testament, this is also implicit in one of the most widely-known quotations from the Gospels: “love your neighbour as yourself” – the love of self being a given. However it is also clear that love of self can be unethical, for example in the case of pride, sometimes considered the “proto-sin”[1]. St Maximos the Confessor sees this sin as result of ignorance: a true knowledge of God and ourselves would leave no room for pride. Apart from this comment and a hint in the quotation from the Philokalia (“pride corrupts the whole soul”[2]), Harakas does not discuss the reasons why pride is a sin, nor the effects of the sin. It might have been useful to draw from this mention in the Philokalia of the corruption of pride the fact that as ‘corruption’, it is associated with death and antithetical to life, and from the comment of St Maximos, it is associated with a lack of knowledge of God – both of which facts clearly pit it firmly against any movement towards union with God. The proper aspect of self-love, as Harakas discusses in the subsequent section, is “heed thyself”[3]. A good spiritual self-love is a proper “attention to the virtues of the soul”[4] which in turn enables a loss of focus on the self, and an ability to focus on both God and neighbour.

Harakas goes on to discuss the proper context of life in the light of the life-giver, and the way in which spiritual life “in the world” plays itself out in a particular form of “obedience, purity and poverty”[5] involving ascesis, repentance and control of the passions. In order to live out this ethic, true self-knowledge is necessary (though very difficult to attain – Harakas speaks of the attentiveness, sobermindedness, discernment and humility which play a part in acquiring self-knowledge, though he could also perhaps have gone back here to obedience and made some mention of the role of the Church – the Christian community should play a significant role in enabling the individual person to come to self-knowledge given that in seeking to know oneself, the chance of self-delusion is so great).

Harakas notes, in considering emotional well-being, that it has often been too easy to see demonic possession in the mentally ill and fail to realise that “all disorders on the personal, social, and cosmic level are also the consequences of the condition of disorder that arises from our ontological separation from God.” Watchfulness is so important because not only our passions but our reason and intellect (nous) will lead us away from truth and life if they are separated from God. Hence the desirable state of apatheia, when the passions are so well disciplined that they do not disturb constant attention to God.

The beautiful thing about Hymn of Entry is the way Archimandrite Vasileios shows the essential unity of all aspects of the Christian life which we so frequently artificially divide into separate disciplines. “How beautiful it is for a man to become theology,” he writes.[6] From the beginning he points out that the Gospel is “not a systematic exposition”[7] of teaching because Christianity is not a philosophy nor a body of knowledge nor even a religion, but the content and locus of our faith is personal: “He left His body and sent His Spirit”. Thus a true understanding of Orthodox ‘ethics’ is the “unity of life and truth”[8] – there is a unity of theology and “reasonable worship” and “theology becomes holy action”. All of this is in the ecclesial context (the context of “His body”) – there is a continuity between the “personal consciousness” of each of the faithful and the Church as a whole[9] and through living in this life, one may become a theologian[10]. ‘Ethics’ are implicit in this life because there is no division between love and faith[11] and finally because of the life of Him who is Life: “Fortunate is the man who is broken in pieces and offered to others, who is poured out and given to others to drink.”[12]

Victor Keegan presents the “parallel universe” of virtual worlds in a largely positive light – or at least in terms of opportunities. Yet in a context where truth is largely irrelevant[13] how can love be possible? How can self-knowledge be attained? He comments that in the virtual world you are connect to those who share your interests rather than your geography. In other words, it is the ultimate in ghettoization. He acknowledges that it may be “partly” escapism, but this is accepted since “above all, it is fun, in three dimensions”. Keegan anticipates that children will grow up accepting “virtual worlds” to be “a normal part of their lives” – but is it a “part” of (real) life, or is it really a “second life”? Is it something that can be integrated into real life? The divorced couple he mentions did not seem to manage it. If one spends a lot of time in a “second life” in which one is masked, with the ability to present oneself not as one is but however one wants to be, what dangers are there spiritually and psychologically? What does it mean to relate to other faceless people when one is faceless, or worse, other masked people when one is masked? How can one have a personal relationship without the true person being known? Keegan comments on the business meetings that take place in Second Life – it would be interesting to know whether any studies have compared interaction in ‘virtual’ meetings with that which takes place in meetings where people are really face to face. Given the difference between emails and letters, and the difference between how people present comments on a blog or news item and how they discuss similar issues in real life, we should anticipate that there will be significant differences. Apart from all this, the economic questions are also significant. His comment “the production of extra units of virtual goods costs nothing” is telling – one could expect that the production of something without real existence would cost nothing; the remarkable thing is that it comes to have a value which can be priced in real currency: how perfect for a nihilistic age, materialism without even the material!

[1] p83, the sin that caused the fall.

[2] p83

[3] p84, in the discussion of St Basil

[4] p84, quoting St Maximos

[5] p86

[6] p35

[7] p17

[8] p18

[9] See pp20-21

[10] p23 – e.g. the thief: “Remember me, Lord, in Thy Kingdom”

[11] See p26

[12] p36

[13] It is a “parallel life in which you can shape the rules.”

Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving. (Col. 4:2)

As it is the duty of all men and women to fulfil the same commandments of the moral law over and over again, so it is our priestly duty to repeat over and over again the same prayers, beginning with the Lord’s Prayer itself, for it is not by variety of prayers that the soul is strengthened, but by their constant repetition, and so by their being brought into our heart, into our will, and into our whole life.

***

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. (Heb. 13:8)

When you pray with prayers that you have grown accustomed to, from praying them over and over again, remember that the Lord is for all eternity the same. Your heart may change and grow cold, but the same words or the same prayers still have the same power with the Lord, who himself is the same, yesterday, today and for ever.

Harakas pp1-35; “The Professional Panhandling Plague”; Plato Republic Book II

In this first chapter of Harakas’s book, he attempts to outline an introduction to the study of Christian Ethics, looking at the two foundations of Theology and the theoria of Christian Ethics and how the praxis of Christian Ethics is to be built on these[1]. He also points out that to rigidly divide theology, theoria and praxis would be artificial: they are all bound up in the ecclesial life which embodies Christian ethics.[2]

Some of the key themes he covers which must always be kept in mind when considering specifically Christian ethics include

· the fact that the purpose of the ethical life is theosis[3] which implies an orientation towards the Trinitarian life (though it would be more accurate to say that the real purpose of life is Christ, theosis being an effect of moving towards that telos),

· that there is therefore an implicit call to the ethical life being formed in “patterned relationships”[4] and a central focus on a “love-ethic”,

· that when speaking of ‘freedom’ in Christian ethics, this is not equivalent in Orthodox use to self-determination (αυτεξουσιον) but to the ability to act in harmony with the divine will without conflict,

· that the Tradition of the Church has a normative character for the method of approaching ethics and ecclesial life (including but not limited to the sacramental life of the Church) is the context for living this out: where the transfigured life of the person is formed and developed in embodied relationships[5].

The extract from Plato’s Republic shows Socrates being asked to justify the goodness of justice. His pupils see three classes of good: those undesirable in themselves but desirable for their consequences (e.g. medicine); those desirable only in themselves (e.g. joy); and those desirable both in themselves and for their consequences (e.g. knowledge). They would like to think justice would be in the third class, but can see no reason for putting it anywhere but the first. Surely justice would be a good in itself, they say, and yet if someone were free of the consequences he would never choose to behave justly because it is always a disadvantage to himself.

In the fleshing-out of this idea, they describe two men: one who lives ‘perfectly’ unjustly and through indulging all his desires builds up for himself wealth, comfort and good repute, and another who lives perfectly justly and for his pains and self-sacrifice suffers poverty and the scorn of all. In this we can see the same pattern as that described in the book of Job, where the world does not reward the upright and godly life. This itself, of course, along with the ‘suffering servant’ of Isaiah, is a prefigurement of Christ himself.

“The Professional Panhandling Plague” describes how the charity of those who give to beggars is abused by “street people who have made panhandling their calling”, often giving misleading impressions of their personal situations, demanding money by aggressive means and sometimes building up to violent crime. There are many ethical questions that arise from this article, one of the more subtle being the question of whether it is permissible to manipulate laws designed for other purposes to deal with the problem of the beggars (banning motorists from giving “framing the legislation as safety ordinances”), along with more familiar questions such as what responsibility the giver bears for the way the money is used and whether giving encourages the less honest ‘career-beggar’ and even violent crime.

[1] He claims to be doing something different from St Paul and St John Chrysostom in that modern circumstances require an “enumeration” of ethics which was not previously necessary (p3). In fact, both St Paul and Chrysostom do “enumerate” practical points of life precisely because they were not necessarily clear (or at least not always followed) by their hearers. What could not be done (and still cannot be done) is to come up with some exhaustive list of right actions for all occasions.

[2] p25, though he does sometimes tend to imply a too-rigid distinction, for example “faith is to be applied to life” (p3) – surely faith is life for a Christian, not a theory or collection of doctrines that is “applied” to a life that has in some way been constructed without it. He does get close to making this point: "… Christian truth is not a compilation of ideas and concepts, but rather, a reality experienced in the Christian community which reflects the mystical life of the Holy Trinity" (p9).

[3] p6, though rather than theosis he prefers the weaker term “God-likeness”

[4] p12

[5] p18-19, 25