Excerpts from the life (and death) of St. Mary of Egypt

In the monasteries of Palestine there lived a man renowned for his way of life and gift of words; from the days of his infant swaddling clothes he was reared in monastic trials of asceticism and good works. The name of the elder was Zossima.

...

Zossima used to tell how, when he was hardly weaned, he was placed in that monastery where he lived until his fifty-third year, following a life of ascetic labour. It was then, as he himself said, that he began to be tormented by the thought that it seemed as if he had attained perfection in everything and needed no teaching from any-one. And so according to himself, he began to reason with himself: Is there a monk on earth capable of affording me benefit or passing on to me anything new, some kind of spiritual achievement of which either I do not know or in which I have not succeeded? Can there possibly be found among the wisdom-loving men of the desert one surpassing me either in active life or in contemplation? The elder was reflecting like this when some-one stood before him and said: "Zossima, though hast worked valiantly within the measure of human strength, thou hast valiantly completed the ascetic way. But no-one among human beings has attained perfection and the ordeal ahead of the man already perfect is greater although you do not know this. And so that thou might know how many are the different ways to salvation, leave thy native land, out of thy father's house, as did Abraham, glorious among the patriarchs, and go to the monastery near the river Jordan."

Immediately, obedient to the command, the elder left the monastery where he had worked since childhood days and having reached the Jordan, the sacred river, he set out along the road leading to the monastery to which God had sent him.

...

The monastery observed a rule, because of which, I think, God led Zossima there. What the rule was, and how it was kept, I shall now tell you. On the Sunday, which gave its name to the first week in Lent, the Divine Mysteries were as always celebrated in the church, and everybody partook of the most pure and life-giving mysteries. And according to custom they also ate a little food. After this they all assembled in church and having prayed fervently, with prostrations, the elders kissed each other and the Abbot, embracing and bowing deeply, and they asked each other to pray for them and support and share with them in the coming conflict. Then, last of all, the monastery gates were opened and singing in harmony the psalm The Lord is my light and my gladness, Whom should I fear? The Lord is my refuge, Before whom should I tremble? and so on in due order---they all went out of the monastery. They left one or two brothers in the monastery, not to guard their property (there was nothing there to attract thieves) but so as not to leave the church without services. Each one took food with him, whatever he could and wanted . . . But for all of them there was one rule and command inflexibly observed by them all---not to know about one another, how the others were living and fasting. They crossed the Jordan at once and then parted from each other over the wide expanse of desert and not one approached another . . . [E]ach one lived by himself and with God singing psalms all the time and hardly touching his food.

After passing all the days of the fast like this, they returned to the monastery the Sunday before the life-giving Resurrection of the Saviour from the dead, when the Church has established that the feast with palms should be celebrated as the pre-feast.

...

And so Zossima also crossed the Jordan . . . As he himself said, something struck into his soul that he should go deep into the desert: he hoped that he might find some father living where who could quench his longing . . . He always interrupted his journey at the fixed hour of the day and rested a little from his labours---standing, singing psalms or praying on his knees.

And as he sang, not turning his eyes away from heaven, he saw on the right from where he stood a shadow of a human body. At first he was troubled thinking he saw the appearance of a devil and he even shuddered. But, protecting himself with the sign of the cross, and chasing away fear (his prayers were now finished) he looked and he saw in actual fact some kind of being, walking along at mid-day. It was naked, its body black as if scorched by the fierce heat of the sun; the hair on the head was white as wool and not long, coming down not lower than the neck. On seeing it, Zossima, as if beside himself with great joy, began to run in the direction in which the vision was going away . . .

But when the apparition saw Zossima approaching from afar, it began to run quickly into the depths of the desert. And Zossima, forgetting his old age, not even thinking of the difficulties of the way, tried to catch up with the fugitive . . . When Zossima ran near enough for his voice to be heard, he began to shout, wailing with tears: "Why are you running away from an old man, a sinner? O Servant of the true God, wait for me, whoever you are, I beseech you in the name of God, for whom you live in the desert..." [A]nd they both ran on to a place that looked like the bed of a dried up stream...

When they reached that place, the fugitive went down and then up on the other side of the ravine, and Zossima, exhausted and incapable of running any further, stopped on this side, intensified his tears and weeping which could be heard close to; it was then that the fugitive spoke: "Father Zossima, forgive me for God's sake, I may not turn round and face you. I am a woman and naked, as you see, with the uncovered shame of my body. But if you wish to fulfil one prayer of a sinful woman, throw me your coat, so that I can cover my woman's weakness, and turn to you and have your blessing." At this, dread and distraction fell on Zossima, according to his own words, when he heard her calling him by name, Zossima. But being a man of keen intelligence and wise in the ways of God, he understood that she would not have called him by his name, never having seen or heard of him before, if she had not been enlightened with the grace of insight. Immediately he obeyed her request and taking off his old and torn monastic cloak, he threw it to her and turned away, and she took it and partially hid the nakedness of her body, and then turned back to Zossima and said: "Why did you want to see a sinful woman, Zossima? What do you want to learn from me or see that you were not afraid to undertake such a heavy task?"

...

"My native land, brother, was Egypt. Already during my parents' lifetime when I was twelve years old I renounced their love and went to Alexandria. How there at eh outset I destroyed my virginity, how without restraint and insatiably I gave myself up to lust, it is shameful even to remember. It is more seemly to tell it briefly so that you should know of my passion and sensuality. For nearly seventeen years, forgive me, I lived as a fire for public depravity, but not at all for money, I am telling you the honest truth. Often, when they wanted to give me money, I would not take it. I did this to make myself available for as many as possible, I wanted to do it and I did it for nothing. But do not think that I was rich and because of that I did not take money. I lived on charity, frequently I spun flax, but I had an insatiable longing and an irresistible passion for wallowing in the mud. That was life for me, I considered lie to be any kind of desecration of nature.

So I lived. And then once in the summer I saw a big crowd of Libyans and Egyptians hurrying towards the sea. I asked a passer-by: "Where are these people hurrying?" He answered me: "They are all off to Jerusalem for the Elevation of the Honourable Cross which, as is customary, will take place in a few days." I said to him: "Won't they take me with them?"---"Nobody will stop you if you have the money for the passage and provisions." I said to him: "In face I have neither money nor provisions. But I will go aboard one of the ships. And they will feed me whether they want to or not. I have a body, and they can take that instead of money for my passage."

And I wanted to go (forgive me, father) so that I could have more lovers to satisfy my desires. I told you, Father Zossima, not to force me to tell of my shame. God knows that I am afraid that I am even defiling you and the air with my words."

Zossima watered the earth with tears and answered her: "For God's sake, my mother, go on, go on speaking and don't break the thread of such an edifying story." Then she continued her story and said: "When that young man heard my shameless words, he laughed and went away. But I, throwing down my distaff which at that time I used to carry about with me, ran to the sea where I could see that everyone else was hurrying. And seeing some young men standing on the shore, about ten or more in number, full of strength and agile in their movements, I thought them suitable for my purpose. (It seemed that some of them were waiting for more travellers while others had gone into the ship.) Brazenly as always I intruded into their company: "Take me also, I said, with out where you are sailing, you won't find me useless." And I added other worse words, which made everybody laugh. And when they saw how ready I was for infamy, they took me and led me to their own ship. The others came for whom they had been waiting and immediately we started on our journey.

How shall I tell you, man, what happened then? What tongue can tell, what ear comprehend, what took place on the ship during its voyage. And to add to all this I forced wretches even against their will. There is no kind of depravity which can be expressed or not expressed in words, of which I was not the teacher for these wretches---I am amazed, father, how the sea bore with our dissipation! How the earth did not open its jaws and hell did not swallow me alive for ensnaring so many souls! But I think God sought my repentance. He does not want the death of a sinner, but generously waits for his conversion. In this kind of work, we reached Jerusalem. All the days I spent in the city before the feast, I occupied myself in the same way if not worse. . . The holy day of the Elevation of the Cross came and I was still chasing, hunting young men. At dawn I saw that everyone was hurrying to church, so I began to run with the others. I reached the entrance if the church with them. When the hour came for the holy Elevation, I pushed and was squeezed in the crowd forcing its way to the doors. With great labour and effort I poor wretch squeezed myself right up to the very doors of the church at which the crowd would be shown the life-giving tree. But when I stepped on to the threshold of the doors, over which everyone else was freely going in, some kind of power held me back, not allowing me to go in. I was pushed back again, and found myself standing lonely in the entrance. Thinking that this had happened to me because of my womanly weakness, I again, mingling with the crowd, started to elbow my way through to the front. But I laboured in vain. Once more my foot touched the threshold, over which the others were crossing into the church, without meeting any obstacle. But only me, ill-fated, the church would not receive. It was as if a detachment of soldiers were posted to forbid my entry---so did some mighty power hold me back, and again I stood in the entrance.

Three, or four times I repeated this, and in the end I was tired and had no more strength to push and be pushed: I stepped aside and stood in the corner of the entrance. And with difficulty I began to understand the reason forbidding my seeing the life-giving Cross. The word of salvation touched the eye of my heart, and showed me that the impurity of my actions obstructed my entrance. I began to weep and grieve, beating my breast and groaning from the depths of my heart. I stood and wept and saw above me the ikon of the Most Holy Mother of God. And I said to her, not taking my eyes off her: "O Virgin, Lady, who gavest birth to the Word of God in the flesh, I know that it is not proper for me, foul and corrupt, to look upon thy ikon, thine Ever-Virgin, thine, O Pure One, thou who kept thy body and soul pure and unblemished. Corrupt as I am, it would only be right for me to make thy purity full of hatred and repugnance. But if, as I have heard, God became Man, born of thee, to call sinners to repentance, help me in my loneliness, for I have no help from anywhere. Command the entrance into church to be opened to me, do not deprive me of the chance of looking upon the tree on which God in the flesh, born of thee, was nailed and shed His own blood to redeem me. But command, My Lady, the door to be opened even to me for the holy worship of the Cross. And I call upon thee to be my guarantor of hope before God, thy Son, that never again shall I defile this body with shameful fornication, but that as soon as I see the Tree of the Cross of thy Son, immediately I shall renounce the world and everything that is in the world and shall go where thou, O Guarantor of Salvation, orders me to go and leads me."

...

Having reached the doors, which were out of my reach before---it was as if all the power which had been against me before was now clearing the way for me---I went in without difficulty and finding myself inside the holy place, the favour was granted to me to look on the life-giving Cross, and the Mysteries of God, and I saw how the Lord accepts repentance. I fell prostrate and bowing down to the holy ground, I, poor wretch, ran to the door, hastening to my Guarantor, I came back to the place where I had signed the undertaking of my vow. And kneeling before the Ever-Virgin-Mother of God, said these words to her:

"O Merciful Lady, thou hast shown through me thy love for mankind. Thou didst not reject the prayers of one unworthy. I have seen the glory which we unhappy ones rightly do not see. Glory to God who accepts through thee repentance of sinners. What more is there for me, a sinner, to remember to say? It is time, O Lady, to fulfill my vow, according to thy pledge. Now lead me wherever thou dost command. Now be for me the teacher of salvation, lead me by the hand along the way of repentance." At these words I heard a voice from on high: "If thou dost cross the Jordan, thou shalt find glorious peace." . . .

I reached the Church of St. John the Baptist near the Jordan. Having prayed in the church, I immediately went down to the Jordan and wetted my face and hands in its holy water. I made my communion of the most pure and life-giving mysteries in the Church of the Fore-Runner . . . I crossed to the other side . . . I found myself in the desert, and since that time until this day I withdraw and run, I live here clinging to my God who saves those who turn to Him from faint-heartedness and tempest."

Zossima asked her: "How many years, My Lady, have passed since the time when you began to live in the desert?" The woman answered "Forty-seven years already it seems to me since I left the holy city."

...

Zossima asked her: "But did you really not lack food and clothing?" She answered: "Having finished the loaves of which I have spoken [she had taken 3 loaves with her] for seventeen years I fed on whatever grew and anything which can be found in the desert. As for the clothes in which I crossed the Jordan, they were quite torn and worn out. I suffered a great deal from cold, and a great deal from summer heat: first the sun scorched me, then I froze, trembling from the cold and often falling on the ground I lay without breath or movement. I fought with many assaults and terrible temptations. But from that time until now the power of God in many different ways guarded my sinful soul and humble body. When I think from what evils the Lord delivered me, I have incorruptible food, the hope of salvation. I feed on and cover myself with the word of God, Lord of all. For not by bread alone will man live and all those having no clothes will be clothed in stone, having discarded the outer covering of sin."

...

[She said] "Now go in peace and you will see me again next year and I shall see you, if the Lord preserve you in His mercy. But, Servant of God, do what I shall now ask you. In the Great Fast next year, do not cross the Jordan as is your custom in the monastery . . . Stay in the monastery, father. At sunset, however, of the holy day of the Mysterious Supper, take for me the life-giving Body and Blood of Christ in a holy vessel worthy of such Mysteries, and bring it, and wait for me on the bank of the Jordan...so that I can receive and make communion with the life-giving Gifts."

...

When the monks again returned and the day came of the Mysterious Supper, he did what he had been told to do. He took in a small chalice the most pure Body and honourable Blood of Christ our God . . . He left late in the evening and sat down on the bank of the Jordan, awaiting the coming of the saint . . . He said to himself: "And what will happen if she does come? There is no boat. How will she cross the Jordan to me, unworthy one? O I am pitiful, wretched! Who has denied me, and deservedly, such a blessing?" And even while the elder was thinking, the holy woman appeared and stood on the bank of the river on the side from which she had come. Zossima got up, rejoicing and glad and glorifying God. And again the thought seized him that she could not cross the Jordan. He saw that she made a sign of the Honourable Cross over the Jordan (And as he himself recounted the night was moonlit) and then forthwith she stepped on to the water and moving over the waves came towards him. And when he wanted to prostrate she forbade him, calling out still walking on the water: "What are you doing, father, you are a priest and you are carrying the Divine Gifts." He submitted to her and she, coming on to the bank, said to the elder: "Bless, father, bless." He answered her, trembling (distraction had overcome him on seeing the miraculous occurrence: "In truth God did not lie when He promised that we should become like him in the measure of the strength of our purification. Glory to Thee, Christ, our God, showing me through this Thy servant how far I am from perfection." . . . Having made her communion of the life-giving Mysteries, se raised he hands to heaven and sighed and exclaimed with tears: "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace...". . .

Then she said to the elder: "Forgive me, father, and fulfil my other wish. Go to the monastery now and may the blessing of God keep you. And next year come again to the stream where I first met you. Come for God's sake and you will see me again for that is the will of God."

...

So, when a year had gone by, again he went into the desert, having done everything according to custom, and he hurried towards the miraculous sight.

Having walked through the desert and seeing already some indications that htis was the place he was making for, he looked to the right, he looked to the left, and he turned his eyes in all directions, as if he were a huntsman wanting to catch a much coveted animal. But seeing no movement anywhere, again he began to weep bitterly. And looking up to heaven he began to pray: "Show me, O Lord, thy pure treasure which Thou hast hidden in the desert. I beseech you, show me the angel in the flesh of whom the world is not worthy." Having prayed so,he came to the place which looked like a stream, and on the other side, facing the rising sun, he saw the saint lying dead: her hands were folded, as is proper, and her face turned to the East. Running up to her, he watered the feet of the blessed one with tears: He dared not touch her otherwise.

He wept for some time and said the appropriate psalms, then the prayer for the dead , and then he wondered to himself: "Is it right to bury the holy body? Or would that be displeasing to her?" And then he saw at her head the words traced in the earth: Father Zossima, bury in this place the body of humble Mary, return dust to dust, having prayed to the Lord for me who died on the first day of the Egyptian month of Pharmuti, called April by the Romans, on the self-same night as the Lord's Passion, after making her communion of the Divine and Mysterious Supper. Having read what was written, the elder was very happy to know the name of the saint. He realised that as soon as she had made her communion of the Divine Mysteries she was immediately transported from the Jordan to the place where she died. The journey which took Zossima with difficulty twenty days, Mary covered in an hour and then at once passed on to God. Glorifying God and shedding tears on the body, he said: "It is time, Zossima, to fulfil the command. But, how, O wretch, are you going to dig out a grave with nothing in your hands?" And at this he saw not far away quite a small piece of wood, thrown down in the desert. Picking it up, he set to digging the ground. But the ground was dry and would not yield to the efforts of the elder. He grew tired, he poured with sweat. He sighed from the depths of his soul and, raising his eyes, saw a big lion standing by the saint's body and licking her feet. When he saw the lion, he trembled from fear particularly because he remembered Mary's words what she had never seen any animals. But, protecting himself with the sign of the cross, he believed that he would be kept unharmed by the power of her who lay there.

And now, for the ailurophiles among us...

As for the lion, it walked up to him, expressing friendliness in every movement. Zossima said to the lion: The Great One ordered that her body should be buried but I am old and have not the strength to dig out her grave (I have no spade and I cannot go back all that distance to fetch suitable tools) so you do the work with your claws and we shall give the earth the mortal tabernacle of the saint." He was still speaking when the lion had already dug out with its front paws a hole big enough to bury the body.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . FIN

For whom does God intend a life of such utter devotion and contrition? Rather than only for the "greatest sinners," is it not necessary for sinners both "great and small" always humbly to repent for their sins? Contrition is for everyone! I mention this because the thought discursively (thankfully) crossed my mind that it was only those who had sinned greatly - in such extraordinary ways as St. Mary before her conversion - that God requires to spend the rest of their lives fasting, praying, and generally becoming meek before Him. But then the thought also came to me that Jesus died on the Cross for sinners such as these, and of all kinds; and because of the Resurrection, moreover, those formerly slaves of sin rise with Christ, the Lord of Life! Were I (or anyone) to excuse myself from requiring such devotion and contrition (because, *raspberry*, "I am not so great a sinner"), I should also excuse myself from the Resurrection. Not a very desirable conclusion, I must say.

I found the introductory sentences of the Life of Mary both jarring and edifying:

It is good to keep close the secret of a King, but to reveal gloriously the works of God. This is what the angel said to Tobit after the miraculous healing of his eyes from blindness, after all the dangers through which he had led him, and from which he had delivered him because of his piety. Not to keep the King's secret---that is a dangerous and fearful matter. But, to keep silent about the miraculous works of God---that is dangerous for the soul.

St. Mary of Egypt,
Pray for us sinners

From "The life of Hallowed Mother Mary of Egypt" in St. Andrew of Crete and St. Mary of Egypt, Ed. and Trans. by Sisters Katherine and Thekla, North Yorkshire: The Greek Orthodox Monastery of the Assumption, 1974, 65-84.

Two notes on the Incarnation

I recently came across two points about the Incarnation, as present in our Eastern teachings.

1.) Why Mother of God holding the Son? and not just an icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary?
"[T]his icon bears witness to the closeness of God. It gives us confirmation of the fundamental fact relating to our salvation: God became man." Wow, so simple. I guess I never really knew that, or thought about that much.
- From He Dwells in Our Midst: reflections on Eastern Christianity Ed. by T. Lozynsky, St. Catherine's, Ontario: St. Sophia Religious Association.

2a.) As a warning, I do not remember where I read this exactly - perhaps somewhere in the Service Book of the Holy Orthodox-Catholic Apostolic Church, by Isabel Hapgood.

2.) It is often noted that when we Eastern Christians bless ourselves, the thumb, index and third fingers are brought together to symbolize the Trinity; and the remaining two fingers symbolize the two natures of Christ, God and man. What is less often noted, and what I read - somewhere - is that those two last fingers are not only supposed to hang loosely - no! - they are to "dig deep into" the palm of the same hand, in order to symbolize the Incarnation. So when we bless ourselves, not only do we say, "In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit," but at the same time our hand gives glory to the Trinity, the Two natures of Christ, and the Incarnation. And that's even before the Trisagion. There is much upon which to reflect when the fingers are so arranged and one is blessing oneself and singing, "Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy and Immortal, have mercy on us..." ...especially given that the words usually spoken are, "In the name of the Father..."
As an additional thought: It seems (at least to me) that in our effort to "understand" each Person of the Trinity - or at least given the separate name there is for each Person and that we do not typically use some fuller form to the effect of: "God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit" - we sometimes lose sigh t(or at least I do), or on occasion are not mindful as we should, of God's unity. Fortunately, our formula for blessing ourselves beautifully unites the Persons into One, Holy God.

- The icon is from St. Catherine's Monastery at Mt. Sinai. I found it on holy-destinations.com/egypt : - )

Une bonne memoire de mon enfance!

And now for something completely different!

St. Basil's scepticism of the Greeks

"The wise men of the Greeks wrote many works about nature, but not one account among them remained unaltered and firmly established, for the later account always overthrew the preceding one. As a consequence, there is no need for us to refute their words; they avail mutually for their own undoing. Those, in fact, who could not recognize God, did not concede that a rational cause was the author of the creation of the universe, but they drew their successive conclusions in a manner in keeping with their initial ignorance. For this reason some had recourse to material origins, referring the beginning of the universe to the elements of the world; and others imagined that the nature of visible things consisted of atoms and indivisible particles, of molecules and interstices; indeed, that, as the indivisible particles now united with each other and now separated, there were produced generations and deteriorations; and that the stronger union of the atoms of the more durable bodies was the cause of their permanence. Truly, it is a spider's web that these writers weave, who suggest such weak and unsubstantial beginnings of the heavens and earth and sea. It is because they did not know how to say: 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.' They were deceived by the godlessness present within them into thinking that the universe was without guide and without rule, as if borne around by chance. In order that we might not suffer this error, he who described the creation of the world immediately, in the very first words, enlightened our mind with the name of God, saying: 'In the beginning God created.'"

From: St. Basil, Saint Basil: Exigetic Homilies, "Homily One On the Hexameron", Trans. by Sr. Agnes Clare Way, Washington, DC: CUA Press, 1963, pp.5-6.

Great Article

By Thomas Kania
Highlighted, reader-friendlier version is on this site: http://www.catholica.com.au/andrewstake2/105_ak_161208.php

Different approaches to theology in the West and the East…

In an address delivered at Christ Church, Oxford, in 2008, Cardinal Walter Kaspar made the claim that what the Orthodox Churches require is an Enlightenment similar to that experienced in the Christian West, in order for the Christian Churches of the East to rid themselves of pervading elements of superstition. Sadly, Cardinal Kaspar never followed up this remark by specifying exact examples of what elements of Orthodox practice constituted in his mind, 'superstition'; however he did comment within near the same breath that Eastern Christian liturgical practice was in the main too archaic and time consuming.

Vladimir Lossky in his text, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church (1998), expanded on what he perceived to be the fundamental precept for the study of Theology in the Eastern Christian tradition. According to Lossky, apophatic or negative theology is at the heart of the theological tradition of the Eastern Church. The Greek Fathers of the Church, such as Gregory of Nazaianzen and Gregory of Nyssa described God as being ineffable, and as such, that which could be said of God was but a mere fragment of what remained unknown and un-said. It was therefore critical for the theologian of the East to allow for a God within the liturgical, intellectual and personal spiritual life, Who was not so much a Being to be rationalized or fathomed, as a Divinity to be acknowledged, worshipped and experienced.

Lossky writes: "Negative theology is not merely a theory of ecstasy. It is an expression of that fundamental attitude which transforms the whole of theology into a contemplation of the mysteries of revelation. It is not a branch of theology, a chapter, or an inevitable introduction on the incomprehensibility of God from which one passes unruffled to a doctrinal exposition in the usual terminology of human reason and philosophy in general. Apophaticism teaches us to see above all negative meaning in the dogmas of the Church: it forbids us to follow natural ways of thought and to form concepts which would usurp the place of spiritual realities. For Christianity is not a philosophical school for speculating about abstract concepts, but is essentially a communion with the living God. That is why, despite all their philosophical learning and natural bent towards speculation, the Fathers of the eastern tradition in remaining faithful to the apophatic principle of theology, never allowed their thought to cross the threshold of mystery …That is also why there is no philosophy more or less Christian. Plato is not more Christian than Aristotle. The question of the relation between theology and philosophy has never arisen in the East". (Lossky, 1998, p. 42)

For a western theologian such as Walter Cardinal Kaspar, shrouds of mystery as Lossky alluded to, can in part be seen as a smoke-screen, an excuse for apparent intellectual stagnation — a breeding ground for 'superstition'. A descendant of the European enlightenment, Kaspar's term of reference would rest firmly on a cataphatic tradition that had been transformed over the centuries through the Scholastic tradition, and its dichotomy of theology and philosophy as distinct subjects; as well as the Scientific Revolution, and the subsequent debates between Faith and Reason, and Religion and Science. Lossky is correct in stating that in the Christian East these 'enlightenment' debates have never taken place — for in the case of Philosophy and Theology, both subjects are unified in the Eastern mind, by their common search for Truth; and in the case of Faith and Reason, Faith provides Reason — with an intellectual rationale to Love the Divine; Reason provides Faith — with a passionate thirst for knowing the Divine Object of desire. Clement of Alexandria would write of the Word of God and the Word's influence on the symbiotic life of Faith and Reason, by saying: "For the gates of the Word are gates of Reason, and they open by the key of Faith". (Tollinton, 1914, II, p. 307)

Moreover the apophatic grounding of Eastern theology, secures the position of Science not as an enemy of theology but as a significant element of a vaster panorama; for no matter how large the gamut of scientific exploration — that which remains incomprehensible to the human mind is still vastly superior to the published limits of human discovery. Tollinton when analysing the theology of Clement of Alexandria would also sum-up the Eastern mind: "He [Clement] refuses, for example, to separate Religion and Philosophy, Faith and Knowledge, Thought and Action. For Clement, each term demands the other. The distinctions are recognised, but the synthesis counts for more". (Tollinton, 1914, II, P.232) It is synthesis that the Eastern mind strives to attain, a unity of thought mirroring the unity in diversity of the Holy Trinity.

Apothatic Theology not the sole domain of the Christian East…

As an important aside, it would be too simplistic to state that apophatic theology is the sole domain of the Christian East. Importantly many Catholic mystics of the West speak in similar terms of God as do the apophatic theologians of the East. These mystical theologians, such as Meister Eckhart, are however all disciples of Pseudo-Dionysius. The Franciscan, St. Bonaventure, as but one example, reads almost like a Greek, when he writes in Itinerarium Mentis in Deum, warning of intellectual arrogance, a form of theologizing that rests on the unbridled use of reason — reason exercised without 'kenosis'. As Bonaventure notes: "reading without repentance, knowledge without devotion, research without the impulse of wonder, prudence without the ability to surrender to joy, action divorced from religion, learning sundered from love, intelligence without humility, study unsustained by divine grace, thought without the wisdom inspired by God". (Bonaventure, Prologus, 4: Opera Omnia, 1891, Vol. V, 296) One cannot aspire to writing the Truth, if one has from the outset a total disregard for the Word of God; elements of Truth will appear, for the mind bears the thumbprint of the Creator upon it, but as Bonaventure notes — the beginning of all Wisdom lies in God; and the getting of this Wisdom lies in a total self-emptying on the part of the theologian. Hence in the East, sophiology and 'kenosis' are married concepts.

Further, 'kenosis' is in the East a stop-valve concept in order for theological speculation to work firmly within the parameters of dogma. As Christ accepted the will of his Father in the Garden of Gesthemane, so too the theologians of the East accept the authority of the Church, and the teachings of the Fathers that have preceded them; not with a blind deference, but with a love and humility that acknowledges that they, the theologian, are a part of a Divine Conversation that cannot be revolted against no matter how gifted the individual intellect may be. In the East, contemporary theologians speculate about how the human being can be transformed into God, and not whether Jesus of Nazareth was God and Man, or whether St. Joseph was the biological father of Christ. The latter debates were carried out in previous centuries by the Fathers when they fought against the early heresies that confronted the Church. Within the context of the Eastern liturgy, hymns and chants recollect: St. Basil the Great, John of Damascus, Andrew of Crete, Gregory of Nazianzen, John Chrysostom and a host of other theologians who built a foundation of core teachings which the contemporary Eastern theologian knows now to be certain. The recitation of the names and teachings of these Fathers within the liturgical context, helps remind those who pray exactly what it is that we believe as Christians. This is not 'superstition' but an acceptance of the power of the Holy Spirit within the Church; as well as an engendering of personal context on the part of the Faithful, within the dynamic life of the Church — each of us being an integral part of a much larger picture. The Ukrainian Catholic sophiologist, Metropolitan Andrii Sheptyts'kyi, for all his intellectual and spiritual brilliance, would encapsulate this Eastern acceptance of all that has gone before in the phrase: "Maybe I am mistaken. It may be that my own love, or my love for my own, puts mirages before my eyes. Still, I think that […] I would always choose to be a wise beggar rather than a foolish tsar…". (Chirovsky, 1992, p. 45)

Such dichotomies that are widely discussed today in western theological circles, such as the difference between a person's religion and a person's spirituality, are also misleading when placed in the light of Eastern theology. Whereas the individual has a spirit that pre-exists the understanding of religion, both spirit and formal religion are inextricably intertwined as religion provides the individual with Divine ladders so as to ascend unto God.

As Lossky writes: "Far from being mutually opposed, theology and mysticism support and complete each other. One is impossible without the other. If the mystical experience is a personal working out of the content of the common faith, theology is an expression, for the profit of all, of that which can be experienced by everyone. Outside the truth kept by the whole Church personal experience would be deprived of all certainty, of all objectivity. It would be a mingling of truth and of falsehood, of reality and of illusion: 'mysticism' in the bad sense of the word. On the other hand, the teaching of the Church would have no hold on souls if it did not in some degree express an inner experience of truth, granted in different measure to each one of the faithful. There is, therefore, no Christian mysticism without theology; but, above all, there is no theology without mysticism". (Lossky, 1998, pp. 8-9) Therefore it is incorrect to say that in the East there is a latent anti-intellectualism, but it does mean that the desire to know God in the East, is always secondary to the experience of God: an experience that takes place primarily through prayer, through the Holy Mysteries, and through the Divine Liturgy. Theological enquiry is thus a part of the larger journey of the spirit up Mt. Sinai.

It should therefore be seen as impossible in the East for Theology to be studied and taught without an active Faith dimension on behalf of the theologian. The art of Theology requires of the theologian the journey of the mind into God. In short the art of theology is the art of love — a phrase that echoes Jean Gerson's definition of mysticism. By selflessly searching in a knowledge of God — one invariably, according to Eastern tradition, comes to an enhanced awareness of self. St. Gregory of Nazianzus would say of this beautifully: "In this way, one is — and one is always becoming — a spotless mirror of God and divine things, assimilating light to light, and adding clarity to indistinct beginnings, until we come to the source of the light that radiates in this world and lays hold of our blessed end, where mirrors are dissolved in true reality". (Gregory of Nazianzen, Oration 20)


However askance one might view the connection between theology and mysticism in the West — there is in the East, no separation between the study of the Divine and the passionate longing of the soul to be transformed in to God. This can be seen as the definitive marque of Eastern theology. This said, Ambrose of Milan was none the less vocal in his belief that theology cannot be studied without an integration of heart and mind. Perhaps what has been amputated for many theologians in the West, post-Enlightenment, is a sense of the Sacred, a sense of a personal relationship between God and man; a case of theology losing the affective element. This 'surgery' was perhaps conducted in order for the theologian of the West, not to be seen as a student of 'superstition', a student of the Old Faith, but a creature of reason over faith, a creature quite willing to stoop downward and to affirm the existence of the visible, but a student now too reticent to climb the mountain in order to be immersed in the Divine Darkness; perhaps out of fear for not being able to see any longer with one's eyes — or out of fear of losing grasp of the concrete.

In any event walking into the Divine Darkness requires that the theologian no longer see with the eyes — but instead look deeply with one's Spirit into the Unknown, a God shrouded in a tent of Darkness. As Sheptyt'skyi concludes: "It seems that all the Apostles at times purposely spoke darkly; the goal of such unclarity, when it is dictated by the will of the writer, and not by the loftiness of the subject, is to sharpen the will of the listeners, to force them into labour, searching, prayer, in order to overcome this difficulty … Thus, of all the images by which God represented to human beings His nature, darkness, the cloud which filled Solomon's temple, which appeared also at Christ's Transfiguration, is perhaps the most true and most perfect, for it expresses that holy unknowing which is the most perfect knowledge of the Godhead. The more one knows God, the more he is conscious of that endless abyss of unapproachable light". (Chirovsky, 1992, pp. 67 – 68)


Thomas Kania is a Research Fellow at Blackfriars Hall at the University of Oxford. He is currently on sabbatical from his position as Director of Spirituality at Aquinas Collhttp://www.iconmovies.com/home.htmlege, Manning. Prior to this appointment at Aquinas Dr. Kania was a lecturer for the School of Religious Education at the University of Notre Dame Australia as well as for the Catholic Institute of Western Australia at Edith Cowan and Curtin Universities. Dr. Kania belongs to the Ukrainian Church and is interested in ecumenical issues as well as contemporary problems facing religious educators.

Is it hard to believe?

So many people today do not.

On the one hand, we can side with two thousand years of Christendom, along with approximately two thousand more years of tradition leading up to Christ.

On the other hand, we can side with a number of modern and contemporary scientists, philosophers, theologians, and several billion lazy thinkers.


Is it hard to believe?