Clarifications on that crazy idea

Since at least two of the regular readers of this blog are my friends who served the United States military in the ongoing crisis in Iraq, I felt the need to clarify my statements in two previous posts on nonviolence as well as in the Comments section.

Yes, I believe that nonviolence is the Christian ideal to which Jesus Christ called his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount. I also believe that the posture of nonviolence is anchored in the New Testament as a whole and, following John Howard Yoder, that it finds its germ already in the Old.

But we live in a broken world that has very little space for ideals. In this broken world, shit happens. Mothers miscarry, parents divorce, bad men rise to power, governments turn racist. And while I still believe that nonviolence lies at the core of the Christian commitment to peace, by no means do I think that every situation comes in a clear black-and-white package. While I still believe that the suffering which comes from our nonviolent strategies is always redemptive, I confess that the consequences of such nonviolent choices are often disruptive and destructive not only for ourselves but, perhaps more importantly, for those affected by our choices.

I say this because I do not wish to dishonor the service of men and women who’ve sacrificed their lives to defend the citizens of their nation or strangers in others. Every war is a disaster whether its cause is reckoned just or not, and I respect the decisions of men and women who make sacrifices to attempt to alleviate it. I admire their bravery and greatness of spirit which I so seldom find in others, much less in myself.

And as for those among them who are Christians, I do not hesitate for a moment to call them my brothers and sisters in the one Lord. I am not yet so confident of my own exegetical conclusions as to criticize their sacrifice or stem my deep admiration for their heroic generosity.

Moriyo rahemelain oovadarain.

“Approach him who can alone save the lost”

A Christ-loving layperson asked the same Old Man if one should reflect a great deal about the sacred mysteries, and whether a sinful person approaching these would be condemned as being unworthy.

Response by John:

When you enter the holies, pay attention and have no doubt that you are about to receive the Body and Blood of Christ; indeed, this is the truth. As for how this is the case, do not reflect on it too much. According to him who said: “Take, eat; for this is my body and blood,” these were given to us for the forgiveness of our sins. One who believes this, we hope, will not be condemned.

Therefore, do not prevent yourself from approaching by judging yourself as being a sinner. Believe, rather, that a sinner who approaches the Savior is rendered worthy of the forgiveness of sins, in the manner that we encounter in Scripture those who approach him and hear the divine voice: “Your many sins are forgiven.” Had that person been worthy of approaching him, he would not have had any sins. Yet, because he was a sinful man and a debtor, he received the forgiveness of his debts.

Again, listen to the words of the Lord: “I did not come to save the righteous, but sinners.” And again: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but only those who are sick.” So regard yourself as being sinful and unwell, and approach him who can alone save the lost.

Letter 463, from Letters from the Desert: Barsanuphius and John, trans. John Chryssavgis (Crestwood: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2003).

Hat tip: Thicket and Thorp

A variation on the “Fool for Christ” theme

WordPress informs me that someone found this blog using the search terms “malankara orthodox church crazy”.

Whether you’re yurodivyi or just the normal kind of crazy, welcome.

Triumph, no triumph (being notes written a few weeks after finishing Chadwick)

I started reading Henry Chadwick’s The Early Church (Penguin, 1993) a year ago and only finished it last month. I feel as though this book has kept me company on a journey this past year, waking me up in stages to what I can best describe as the real Church.

The facts of history have a way of scattering illusions and smashing false absolutisms. I suppose one could say that my view of church history until recently resembled something of the Enlightenment hermeneutic of inevitable progress that’s charmed so many. I once saw the pilgrimage of the Church as a kind of steady, unbounded triumph of the Gospel over the many obstacles that were strewn along her path. Indeed, as I recall there is a popular work of church history that bears the title Triumph. I never read it and don’t intend to, but nevertheless the title was sufficient to sum up the views I once held.

It is not that I’ve lost hope in the Church. I’m not–at least I don’t think I am–a cynic by any stretch. It’s just that, the more I learn about church history, the more difficult it is for me to see the pilgrimage of the Church as an unstoppable victory march of any sort. There have simply been too many setbacks, lost battles and tragedies for any Christian to sum up the journey thus far with a word like “triumph”.

There is, for example, a thesis out there that the First Council of Nicea was a Constantinian machination to homogenize Christianity (or rather, “Christianities”) and thereby forge creedal unity that would safeguard the unity of the Empire. The (naive) counter-thesis, I suppose, would be that Council was nothing other than a genuinely spiritual event necessitated by the heresy of Arianism that threatened the very core of the Gospel.

The historical evidence, it seems to me, suggests that both theses hold some truth (perhaps one more than the other, though I don’t know enough to draw that conclusion just yet). I am not, by any means, suggesting a historical synthesis of the Hegelian kind. What seems to be the case is that the political and theological motivations for Nicea were fused, like two pieces of wax melted together. The outcome wasn’t so much a harmonious blend of two forces as much as it was an indelicate, indiscernible swirl.

But so what Nicea was in fact a political move of some sort? Does it invalidate the Creed? I don’t think so, though I used to fear that it would. I think the doctrine of the Incarnation stands on grounds more solid than the pure intentions of any emperor, bishop or deacon of Alexandria. I think it rests quite firmly on the witness of Scripture and the apostolic tradition. St. Athanasius, at least, seems to have thought the same.

I think the messes of history are many: the formation of the New Testament canon, the development of various liturgies, the controversy and aftermath of Chalcedon (nearer to my heart now than ever before), the condemnation of Origen, the Crusades, the Galileo incident (which, even after a more sober consideration of the facts, still shows Christians in pretty bad light)…. All these challenge the notion of church history as the record of a progressive triumph.

And what of absolutes? I’m not a relativist just yet, but many of things that I considered absolute, I no longer regard as such. The boundaries of the Old Testament canon, for example. Though my ecclesial affiliation is Syrian I find the the generosity of the Ethiopians quite intriguing, to say the least. The unchanging-ness of the liturgy is another. About time I gave up my idyllic notions about a “liturgy of the ages”, no? And if, I suppose, someone unearthed some strong evidence that Phoebe and Junia were more than deaconnesses then I’d say maybe it’s time we all re-thought a few certainties (but until then, I’m staying put)….

At times I wonder if I’m just slipping into a historicism of some sort—allowing history to absolutely shape, or rather reshape, my vision of the Church. (This, after all, has been suggested by some Catholic friends lately.) I’d like to think not. I’d like to think that I’m just learning to do what a teacher taught me to do some years ago—to read dogma historically rather than read history dogmatically. After all, the true Church must also be the real Church, no? Kyrie eleison.

How Christianity can make life meaningless

Life must not be a preparation for death, but victory over death, so that, in Christ, death becomes the triumph of life…. When it considers life only as a preparation for death, Christianity makes life meaningless, and reduces death to “the other world,” which does not exist, because God has created only one world, one life.

Fr. Alexander Schmemann, Journals, Entry for September 16, 1974