Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Warmth of Dickens


An excerpt from an “Orthodox Survival Course” given by Hieromonk Seraphim in 1975, as reproduced in Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works:

In our present society, boys by the time they are fourteen or fifteen years old know all about sexual sins, much more than even married people used to know. They know exactly what is going on in the movies, they see it, and the whole atmosphere in which they live is one of indulgence. “Why fight against this sort of thing?” it is said. “It’s natural.” Obviously, they are being prepared for a life of indulgence in sin.

Such a boy may be given the standard of truth, which is chastity, virginity; but this is a very high and difficult standard if all he has in mind is the abstract idea of chastity in order to fight against this all-pervading atmosphere of sensuality which attacks not only the mind but also the heart – and the body directly. He sees everywhere billboards which lead to temptation, and the magazines which he can now look at are frightful; and all this is much stronger than the single idea of being pure. In fact, everybody will laugh at that idea, and the poor boy will have a very difficult time not just in resisting, but even in seeing that he should resist temptation, because all the evidence is against it except for that one little abstract truth that he should be pure. In this respect he can be helped by literature...

The boy can read something like David Copperfield, which describes a boy growing up: not some kind of monk or ascetic hero, but just an ordinary boy growing up in a different time... It’s true that this is a worldly book about people living in the world – but that world is quite different [from today’s world]. Already you get a different perspective on things: that the world has not always been the way it is now; that the standard which is now in the air is one kind of world and there are other kinds; and that this is a different, normal world in which, although the element of sex is present, it has a definite role. You get strength from seeing what was normal in that time, from the way Dickens describes this young boy growing up and falling in love. He is embarrassed to be around the girl and never thinks about dirty things because nothing like that ever comes up; whereas if you read any contemporary novel that’s all you get. This book shows a much higher view of love, which is of course for the sake of marriage, which is for the sake of children. The whole of one’s life is bound up with this, and the thought never comes up in this book that one can have some kind of momentary satisfaction and then pass on to the next girl. David Copperfield is full of dreams of this woman, how he is going to live with her and be a big man of the world. It is assumed that he has sexual relations after he’s married, but this is involved with what one is going to do with one’s whole life.

Again, this gives strength to a boy who is himself occupied with precisely these temptations. When he asks questions like, “How do I behave towards a girl?” – an abstract sort of standard doesn’t help much. But if he sees how this fictional person, who is very true to life at a different age, was so embarrassed, so concerned, so polite, so idealistic and tender, this inspires him to behave himself more normally, according to past standards. And in such a novel we see how many sides there are to the whole question of love and sex, how complicated it is in our whole human nature. Although no Orthodoxy is preached, the whole atmosphere is filled with at least a large remnant of Christian values, and this gives a definite help to the boy on his own level, not on a spiritual level, but on the level of his leading an everyday life in the world.

Also, Dickens communicates an extremely warm feeling about life, about human relationships, which is not given in schools today. And this very feeling of warmth about human relationships might have more effect on keeping a boy pure than giving him the abstract standard of Orthodoxy...

The warmth of Dickens can help break through one-sided rationalism better than years of arguments, because even if you accept the truth you can still be cold and rationalistic and insensitive. Simply reading Dickens can already produce in one tears of gratitude for having the true religion of love. The earnestness and compassion of Dostoevsky can help break through one’s self-love and complacency. Even someone like Thomas Mann, who doesn’t have the qualities of great warmth and compassion, can give one a deeper insight into the wrongness of the path of Western life.
Fr Seraphim had this to say about films, when asked if there were any that portray Christian virtue:
There are a lot of them, but they don’t make them any more. Maybe they do once in a while, but it is very rare. Old movies, especially ones that are dramatizations of novels or classic plays, are often very well done and there is a point to them. Everything in Dickens is that way; it is full of Christianity. He doesn’t mention Christ even, but it is full of love. In The Pickwick Papers, for example, the hero Mr Pickwick is a person who refuses to give up his innocence in trusting people. Finally he gets put in the debtor’s prison because he trusted someone. There comes to him the man who put him in prison and seduced his relative, and who has now been put in prison himself. Mr Pickwick weeps over the man and gives him money so he can buy a meal, because the man has no money to but food in debtor’s prison. One sees this man, this criminal who has been taking advantage of everyone, and one little tear forms in the man’s eye. In the end Mr Pickwick is triumphant, because he trusted men; and he wins because people’s hearts are changed.

There are lots of old movies like this which show either the passions of men, the innocence of men, or various Christian virtues. In fact, these nineteenth-century novels on which they are based are very down-to-earth and real; and they show how to live a normal Christian life, how to deal with these various passions that arise. They do not give it on a spiritual level, but by showing it in life, and by having a basic Christian understanding of life, they are very beneficial. I don’t know of any movies nowadays that are that way. Maybe here and there you can find one, but they have all become so weird... For examples, Dickens is heartwarming with regard to normal, everyday life, but the recent movie E.T. is heartwarming with regard to some kind of freakish thing, which becomes something like a savior.

I think we should seek out more of these old movies. For a group – say, a church group – to get together and show these old movies would be very good, especially for the young people.

Reading Group: Comments are Open

There is only one reading group post this week, on the chapter on the moral idea of the dogma of the Holy Spirit, and it can be found here. Let's get the discussion going!

Fr John Behr on the Trinity

Taken from The Living Pulpit (April-June, 1999), by Fr John Behr:

The Trinity: Scripture and the Greek Fathers

Some 30 years ago, Karl Rahner claimed that most Christians are “mere monotheists,” that if the doctrine of the Trinity proved to be false, the bulk of popular Christian literature, and the mindset it reflects, would not have to be changed. Unfortunately, this is largely still true.

Defining the doctrine of the Trinity as a mystery which cannot be fathomed by unaided human reason invites a position such as Melanchthon’s: “We adore the mysteries of the Godhead. That is better than to investigate them.” But the danger of not reflecting carefully on what has been revealed, as it has been revealed, is that we remain blinded by our own false gods and idols, however theologically constructed.

So how can Christians believe in and worship the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and yet claim that there is only one God, not three? How can one reconcile monotheism with trinitarian faith?

My comments here follow the structure of revelation as presented in Scripture and reflected upon by the Greek Fathers of the fourth century, the age of trinitarian debates. To avoid the confusion into which explanations often fall, it is necessary to distinguish between: the one God; the one substance common to Father, Son and Holy Spirit; and the one-ness or unity of these Three.

The Father alone is the one true God. This keeps to the structure of the New Testament language about God, where with only a few exceptions, the world “God” (theos) with an article (and so being used, in Greek, as a proper noun) is only applied to the one whom Jesus calls Father, the God spoken of in the scriptures. This same fact is preserved in all ancient creeds, which begin: I believe in one God, the Father...”

“For us there is one God, the Father... and one Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 8:6). The proclamation of the divinity of Jesus Christ is made no so much by describing Him as “God” (theos used, in Greek, without an article is as a predicate, and so can be used of creatures; cf. John 10:34-35), but by recognizing Him as “Lord” (Kyrios). Beside being a common title (“sir”), this word had come to be used, in speech, for the unpronounceable, divine, name of God Hiself, YHWH. When Paul states that God bestowed upon the crucified and risen Christ the “name above ever name” (Phil 2:9), this is an affirmation that this one is all that YHWH Himself is, without being YHWH. This is again affirmed in the creeds. “And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God... true God of true God.”

According to the Nicene creed, the Son is “consubstantial with the Father.” St Athanasius, the Father who did more than anyone else to forge Nicene orthodoxy, indicated that “what is said of the Father is said in Scripture of the Son also, all but His being called Father” (On the Synods, 49). It is important to note how respectful such theology is of the total otherness of God in comparison with creation: such doctrines are regulative of our theological language, not a reduction of God to a being alongside other beings. It is also important to note the essential asymmetry of the relation between the Father and the Son: the Son derives from the Father; He is, as the Nicene creed put it, “of the essence of the Father” – they do not both derive from one common source. This is what is usually referred to as the Monarchy of the Father.

St Athanasius also began to apply the same argument used for defending the divinity of the Son, to a defense of the divinity of the Holy Spirit: just as the Son Himself must be fully divine if He is to save us, for only God can save, so also must Holy Spirit be divine if He is to give life to those who lie in death. Again there is an asymmetry, one which also goes back to Scripture: we receive the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead as the Spirit of Christ, one which enables us to call on God as “Abba.” Though we receive the Spirit through Christ, the Spirit proceeds only from the Father, yet this already implies the existence of the Son, and therefore that the Spirit proceeds from the Father already in relation to the Son (see especially St Gregory of Nyssa, To Ablabius: That there are not Three Gods).

So there is one God and Father, one Lord Jesus Christ, and one Holy Spirit, three “persons” (hypostases) who are the same or one in essence (ousia); three persons equally God, possessing the same natural properties, yet really God, possessing the same natural properties, yet really distinct, known by their personal characteristics. Besides being one in essence, these three persons also exist in total one-ness or unity.

There are three characteristics ways in which this unity is described by the Greek Fathers. The first is in terms of communion: “The unity [of the three] lies in the communion of the Godhead” as St Basil the Great puts it (On the Holy Spirit 45). The emphasis here on communion acts as a safeguard against any tendency to see the three persons as simply different manifestations of the one nature; if they were simply different modes in which the one God appears, then such an act of communion would not be possible. The similar way of expressing the divine unity is in terms of “coinherence” (perichoresis): the Father, Son and Holy Spirit indwell in one another, totally transparent and interpenetrated by the other two. This idea clearly stems from Christ’s words in the Gospel of John: “I am in the Father and the Father in me” (14:11). Having the Father dwelling in HIm in this way, Christ reveals to us the Father, He is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15).

The third way in which the total unity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is manifest is in their unity of work or activity. Unlike three human beings who, at best, can only cooperate, the activity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is one. God works, according to the image of St Irenaeus, with His two Hands, the Son and the Spirit. More importantly, “the work of God,” according to St Irenaeus, “is the fashioning of man” into the image and likeness of God (Against the Heretics 5.15.2), a work which embraces, inseparably, both creation and salvation, for it is only realized in and by the crucified and risen One: the will of the Father is effected by the Son in the Spirit.

Such, then, is how the Greek Fathers, following Scripture, maintained that there is but one God, whose Son and Spirit are equally God, in a unity of essence and of existence, without compromising the uniqueness of the one true God.

The question remains, of course, concerning the point of such reflection. There are two directions for answering the question. There are two directions for answering the question. Theological reflection is, to begin with, an attempt to answer the central question posed by Christ Himself: “Who do you say that I am?” (Matt 16:15). Yet at the same time, it also indicates the destiny to which we are also called, the glorious destiny of those who suffer with Christ, who have been “conformed to the image of His Son, the first-born, of many brethren” (Rom 8:29). What Christ is as first-born, we too may enjoy, in Him, when we also enter into the communion of love: “The glory which though hast given me, I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one” (John 17:22).
See also my Attempt to Summarize Trinitarian Theology, which was highly influenced by Fr John. See also the following online articles by Fr John:
The following books are available as "limited previews" by Google Books:
He has also completed a new book, which should be published in March 2011: The Case Against Diodore and Thedore .

Second Marriages


Q & A with Fr Job:
Question: How is the Mystery of marriage performed, if one of the spouses is marrying a second time, and the other for the first time? As far as I know, there are two rites of marriage.

Answer: If one of those marrying is being married for the first time, then the Mystery is always performed in its full rite.

Fr Andrew Louth, Again

Source.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Why is a Priest Needed in Confession?


Q & A with Fr Job:
Question: The temple of God is found in the heart of each person, and a person can commune with God directly. Why does Confession take place only with the participation of a priest, why can’t one confess directly to God?

Answer: Having in himself the image of God and the likeness of God, man not only can, but is called to direct communion with his Creator. Prayer is a real address of a believer to his Heavenly Parent. If someone sincerely repents of a sin done by him, of course God will forgive him. But for salvation this is not enough. The Lord came down to earth and was incarnate so that man would be transfigured and reborn. To make him a new creation in Christ (cf., 2 Cor. 5:17). For this the Lord established the Holy Mysteries – sacred actions in which, under a visible image, by the power of the Holy Spirit, the invisible grace of God is given, freeing man from life in sin and giving him life with God. Man cannot perform upon himself a single Mystery – Baptism, Marriage, Unction. For this reason the Lord established the Church, and in it – clergy. Jesus Christ gave them the spiritual power to perform the Mysteries (and Confession among them): “Verily I say unto you, whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Mt 18:18). This was said to the Apostles, but through them to their successors, for the life of the Church is not limited to apostolic times. When, during his third missionary journey, the Apostle Paul was in Miletus he wrote to Ephesus, and “called the elders of the church” (Acts 20:17), and reminded them of their pastoral responsibilities: “Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to al the flock, over the which the Holy Spirit hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with His own blood” (Acts 20:28).

According to the Holy Apostle Paul, man in indeed a temple: “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy: for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are” (1 Cor. 3: 16-17). Make note: the inner temple can also be a a defiled state. Such a person is not in a condition for communion with God until, with the help of God, this temple is restored and consecrated. This can be accomplished only when one begins regularly to participate in the Church’s Holy Mysteries.

Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev (2 of 2)


While it is clear that an individual painter of icons is a person largely molded by his historical and societal circumstances – the very evolution of iconography attests to this reality – a given image becomes an “icon” in the theological sense only inasmuch as it participates in God: “For just as iron plunged in fire does not become fire by nature, but by union and burning and participation, so what is deified does not become God by nature, but by participation.”[5] As such, the work of the iconographer is deliberately de-personalized: he neither signs his icons nor seeks to express personal creativity, but rather conforms to canonical rules of depiction. The iconographer is not – or, in any case, should not be – an individualistic artist defined by his time and place.

It is notable that very little is known about the historical person of Andrei Rublev, and it is almost impossible to determine which of his works are “authentically” his. The popular image of Rublev as the proto-typical Russian iconographer is due to what Robert Bird calls his “constant re-interpretation”[6] from a monk mentioned in the same breath as Daniil the Monk and other iconographers, to the standard-bearer of traditional Moscow-school icon painting, to patriotic artistic hero. As such, the film shows an Andrei Rublev many times removed from the historical personage, and one who is portrayed less as iconographer and more as modern artist. Tarkovsky, naturally, was working within the confines of Krushchev’s militantly atheist Soviet Union and, as such, his positive depiction of Rublev was itself an act of bravery that lent intellectual and artistic credibility to the depiction of religion. Robert Bird, noting Tarkovsky’s awareness of the association of Soviet cinema with official atheism, argues that he deliberately avoids the depiction of Orthodox practice and experience as well the transcendent life on-screen. Instead Tarkovsky contrasts the black-and-white narrative of Rublev’s life with a color display of his icons, thereby conveying “a sense of the distance between historical life and Rublev’s transcendent icons” thereby raising “our gaze towards those icons, making their full glory visible to our limited sight.”[7]

Nonetheless, his mythic depiction of Andrei Rublev as artist and patriotic hero of the Russian renaissance, building on previous Soviet portrayals of Rublev by Il’ia Glazunov, Vladimir Prebytkov, and Andrei Voznesensky, did more to obscure the image of Rublev than to illumine it. Tarkovsky, in Bird’s words, “wholly transformed the public image of Rublev, by emphasizing the gulf that remains between our limited imagination and the reality of the icons.”[8] This creation of a new, largely secularized “icon” of Rublev can be seen in two highly symbolic moments. The first speaks of the final destruction of the real, ecclesiastical St. Andrei Rublev. During the shoot a fire caused by the filmmakers damaged the historic Dormition Cathedral in Vladimir. It was awkward, Bird notes, “that a film advertised as recovering the historical Andrei Rublev might endanger his only surviving frescoes.”[9] The second symbolic moment speaks of the replacement of the St. Andrei Rublev, the sainted iconographer of the Orthodox Church, with the image created of him by Tarkovsky himself: the statue of Rublev erected outside the Andrei Rublev Museum in Moscow depicts him as portrayed by Anatolii Solonitsyn in Tarkovsky’s film.

[5] Ibid., 33.

[6] Bird, 18.

[7] Robert Bird, “Canonizing Andrei Rublev: Aesthetics, Ideology, and the Making of a Russian Saint” in Vladimir Tsurikov (ed.), The Trinity-Sergius Lavra in Russian History and Culture, vol. 3, Readings in Russian Religious Culture, (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity Seminary Press, 2005), 138-139.

[8] Ibid., 139.

[9] Bird, Andrei Rublev, 27.