Friday, December 08, 2006

The Power of the Cross

From a sermon preached by Fr. Bulgakov

at the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

14 September, 1924

Today the Lord's Cross is raised before all the world; today 'the Cross is raised and the world hallowed', and the faithful are called to worship the thrice blessed Tree on which Christ was crucified. We pray to the tree of the Cross, and we pray to the holy life-bearing Cross itself, we invoke it, we call to it: 'Thou art my mighty defence, tri-partite Cross of Christ, hallow me with thy power that I in faith and love may worship thee and glorify thee.' 'Rejoice, life-bearing Cross, unhindered victory of godliness, the door of Paradise, the confirmation of the faithful, the defence of the Church...impregnable armour, bane of devils...bestowing mercy upon the world.' 'O Cross of Christ, thou hope of Christians, teacher of those in error, haven of the storm-tossed, victory in battle, pillar of the universe, physician of the sick, resurrection of the dead, have mercy upon us.' 'Those who rely upon thee, O thrice blessed and life-giving Cross, rejoice together with the heavenly hosts.' 'Invincible, unfathomable and divine power of the life-giving and honorable Cross, do not forsake us sinners.' 'O glorious and life-giving Cross of the Lord, help us together with our Holy Lady the Mother of God and all the saints, world without end. Amen.'

But however much we may revere the actual precious and life-bearing Cross of the Lord, surely we are not tree worshippers who pray to a tree as to a living being, as to an intelligible essence? Is it to a tree, even if it be thrice-blessed, that we pray, or to the divine power and mystery of the Cross manifested to us in that tree? Worship of Christ's Cross is indeed inseparable for us from the worship of of the Cross abiding in heaven, a divine and unfathomable power. The earthly Cross leads our minds to the contemplation of its archetype the heavenly Cross, as indivisibly united to it as the divine and the human nature are indivisibly but without confusion united in Christ. The heavenly Cross of the Lord shone forth on earth in the tree of the Cross, the instrument of our salvation.

At the creation of the world the seed of trees for the Cross was planted in it--the cedar, the oak, the cypress; on the day when the earth was bidden to bring forth every kind of plant, the trees for the Cross sprang up. But the Cross made of wood is the symbol of the Eternal Cross, the revelation of the mystery of the Cross. The sign of the Cross is written upon the world as a whole, for in the words of the Church anthem, it is the 'four pointed power' binding together the 'four corners of the world' as 'height, breadth, and depth'. It is written too in the image of man with his arms outstretched: Moses and Joshua praying with their arms uplifted prefigured the Crucified. The form of the body calls forth, as it were, the tree of the Cross, for it is itself a Cross, the centre of which is the heart. In the image of the Cross the Creator inscribed His own image in the world and in man, for according to the testimony of the Church, the Cross is the divine image printed upon the world. What does the sign mean? It proclaims God's love, and in the first place God's love for His creation. The world is created by the power of the Cross, for God's love for the creation is sacrificial. The world is saved by the Cross, by sacrificial love; it is blessed by the Cross and overshadowed by its power. But the mystery of the Cross, is even more profound, for it wondrously the image of the Tri-Personal God, of the Trinity in unity. The Church teaches that it is the symbol of the unfathomable Trinity, the three-membered Cross bearing the tri-personal image of the Trinity. The Cross is the revelation of the Holy Trinity, and the power of the Cross is a divine power. When we call in prayer upon the incomprehensible, invincible, and divine power of the precious life-giving Cross, we pray to the Source of life, the Trinity in unity, one and divine in life and substance. The Cross is God Himself in His revelation to the world, God's power and glory.

God is love and the Cross is the symbol of divine love. Love is sacrificial. the power and flame, the very nature of love is the Cross, and there is no love apart from it. The Cross is the sacrificial essence of love, since love is a sacrifice, self-surrender, self-abnegation, voluntary self renunciation for the sake of the beloved. Without sacrifice there can be no acceptance, no meeting, no life in and for another; there is no bliss in love except in sacrificial self-surrender which is rewarded by responsive fulfilment. The Cross is the exchange of love, indeed love itself is exchange. There is no other path for love and for its wisdom but the path of the Cross. The Holy Trinity is the Eternal Cross as the sacrificial exchange of Three, the single life born of voluntary surrender, of a threefold self-surrender, of being dissolved in the divine ocean of sacrificial love. The tri-partite Cross is the symbol of the Holy Trinity. How is this true? In the Cross three lines meet and intersect; they approach one another from different points but as they intersect they become one in the heart of the Cross, at their meeting point. Similarly in the Holy Trinity the divine life of the Tri-unity is an eternal meeting, exchange of self-surrender and of self-discovery in the two other Hypostases. No limits can be set on love or sacrifice. Renouncing oneself in order to live again in the other--such is the bliss of love. He who loves another loves the Cross as well, since love is sacrificial. Love itself, God, in the Eternal Cross surrenders Himself for the sake of His love. The three points in which the lines of the Tri-cross end are images of the Three Divine Self-subsistent Hypostases, and the point of their intersection is the co-inherence of the Three, the Trinity in unity in sacrificial exchange.

The bliss of divine love is the sacrificial bliss of the Cross, and its power is a sacrificial power. If the world is created by love, it is created by no other power than the power of the Cross. God who is love creates it by taking up the Cross in order to reveal His love for the creature. The Almighty Creator leaves room in the world for the creature's freedom, thus as it were humbling Himself, limiting His almightiness, emptying Himself for the benefit of the creature. The world is created through the Cross of God's love for the creature. But in creating the world through the Cross, God in His eternal counsel determines to save it, also through the Cross, from itself, from perishing in its creatureliness. God so loved the world that from all eternity He gave His only begotten Son to be sacrificed on the Cross to save the world and call it to eternal life through the death of the Cross and Resurrection. God seeks in the creature a friend, another self, with whom He can share the bliss of love, to whom He can impart the divine life, and in His boundless love for the creature He does not stop at sacrifice, but sacrifices Himself for the sake of the creature. The boundlessness of the divine sacrifice for the sake of the world and its salvation passes all understanding. The Son humbles Himself to become man, taking upon Him the form of a servant and becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross. The Father does not spare His beloved, His only-begotten Son, but gives Him to be crucified; the Holy Spirit accepts descent into the fallen and hardened world and rests upon the Anointed, Christ, dwells in His Mother, and sanctifies the Church. It is the sacrifice not of the Son alone, but of the consubstantial and indivisible Trinity as a whole. The Son alone was incarnate and suffered on the Cross, but in Him was manifested the sacrificial love of the Holy Trinity--of the Father who sends Him, and of the Holy Spirit who rests upon Him and upon His sorrowing Mother. The Cross was prepared in the world by God for God and was therefore prefigured in the Old Testament by many symbols and images. And the Cross appeared to the world as the salutary tree, as victory over the world; hence the sign of the Cross will victoriously appear in heaven at the second glorious coming of the Son of God, and in the heaven of heavens there ever shines the Holy Cross, the vision of which was vouchsafed to St. Andrew.

Demons tremble at the blessed sign of the Cross. The Cross is to them a consuming fire. Why do they tremble at this fore of love? Because they hate love, because they are darkened by selfishness and cannot abide the path of the Cross; they are united in their legions by the power of common hatred and not love. The cheering and comforting fire is to them an unendurable flame.

The Cross is the figurative inscription of God's Name, working miracles and manifesting powers, like the name of God revealed to Moses. The Cross is the symbol of the Holy Trinity, the sacred sign of God who is in love, burning up enmity, malice, and hatred.

This heavenly Cross has been revealed to us men in the Cross of Christ, in the blessed tree the image of which we worship and kiss with awe. We are signed with it as soldiers of Christ, we wear it on the breast and carry it in our hearts. A Christian is essentially a Cross-bearer. The sweetest Name of Jesus is said to have been inscribed on the heart of St. Ignatius of Antioch, the God-bearer; and similarly the heart of a Christian holds the Cross of the Lord which has pierced it once and for all and set it aglow. A Christian lives in God, and, in so far as he enters into the love of Christ, shares both in the burden and in the sweetness of His Cross. To worship the Cross and to glory in it is for him not an external commandment, but an inner behest: 'Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his Cross, and follow Me.' we can only worship the Cross to the extent to which we share in it. He who is afraid of the Cross and in his inmost heart rejects it worships it falsely and deceives his own conscience. This is why today's feast is both sweet and terrible, and the Church accompanies its celebration with a strict fast. The Cross shines in the sinful darkness of our heart, illumining it and at the same time exposing it. Our sinful, self-loving nature fears it and resists it. Why deceive ourselves? The natural man is afraid of the Cross. And yet we must overcome this fear; we must bring forth the tree of the Cross in our hearts, lift it up, and worship it. We must lay on our shoulders, too, as did Simon, the Cyrenian passer-by, the burden of Christ's Cross. Everyone must take up his Cross and never leave it, and, raising the Cross in his own soul, help to raise it in the world.

The Saviours command to bear one's Cross is not a harsh infliction of pain, but God's great mercy towards man. It is a sign of God's love for man, of great respect for him. God wants His highest creation to participate in His Cross, in His joy and bliss. It was vouchsafed to Adam while still blissfully ignorant of good and evil to taste the sweetness of the Cross through obeying the divine command not to eat of the fruit of tree of knowledge. The tree of life and the tree of knowledge grew together in the garden of Eden. That was the paradisal sign of the Cross: renouncing his own will and doing the will of the heavenly Father, man was crucified on the tree which became for him the tree of life, full of eternal bliss. But through the whispering of the wily serpent, Adam and Eve rejected the Cross; they came down from it having willfully disobeyed. And the tree became deadly for them and gave them knowledge of good and evil, which entailed exile from paradise. But the New Adam, the Lord, the Son of man and only-begotten Son of God, ascended the Cross which the first Adam had forsaken; He was lifted up on the Cross so as to draw all men unto Him, for there is no way except that of the Cross to the sweetness of paradise. The ancient serpent tries to get Him too, saying to the Crucified through the mouth of his servants: 'Come down from the Cross!' But the new temptation was rejected, and the tree of knowledge became once more the tree of life, a life-bearing garden, and those who taste its fruit partake of immortality. In every man so long as he lives there lives the seed of the old Adam; he hears the unceasing whisper seconded by his natural frailty and infirmity: 'Come down from the Cross, don't torture yourself.' The world wars against the Cross, is driven to fury by the preaching of the gospel; love of the world is hatred of the Cross. But love of God is also love of the Lord's Cross, for our hard, rebellious heart can only love it if it be pierced by the Cross. Sweet are thy wounds to my heart, O most sweet Jesus, and it knows of no greater sweetness!

O Glorious Miracle, the width of the Cross matches the breadth of heaven, since divine grace hallows all. Amen.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Creaturely Freedom part 2

"Freedom is personal (The Bride of the Lamb, p. 130)." Yet created being is not allways person. Freedom in creation grows towards personhood. That is all creation is capable of participating in the freedom of personal life. Freedom is the way personal life is expressed. Inorganic matter is not 'dead' or 'lifeless' it is capable of participating in life at all its stages of evolution. Life is simply 'dorment' in what we call inorganic matter, but it is not absent here. At the first stage of the evolution of life, the threshold from inorganic to organic is crossed. This is a step 'natural' to inorganic matter, and is in no way a violation of it. In the words of prof. Stuart Kaufmann ",.. matter must reach a certain level of complexity in order to spring into life. This threshold is not an accident of random variation and selection; I hold that it is inherent to the very nature of life (At Home in the Universe; the Search for Laws of Self-Organization and Complexity, p. 43)." Created being then is not 'dead' or 'lifeless' but "it is a series of gradations of life (The Bride of the Lamb, p. 130)." Inorganic matter is alive and is responsive to the divine command 'to bring forth' as the Genesis story tells us. Organic and inorganic are "two different states of one living world (The Bride of the Lamb, p. 130)." In inorganic matter freedom is dorment and it only becomes active in living things. All living things have some form of freedom which is manifested in spontaneity of movement and sensitivity, no matter how dim. This phenomenon is what Fr. Bulgakov calls 'natural freedom' which he contrasts with 'personal freedom'.

Natural freedom is sophianic but not hypostatic, that is natural freedom at its highest peak is individual, but not personal because the evolution of the sophianic themes cannot produce a person. Natural freedom is expressed in the free movement of a stone decaying due to erosion, it is expressed in a flower opening and closing at rising and setting of the sun, it is expressed in a deer migrating according to the seasons. All of these are freedom expressed on different levels of freedom. A deer, is an individual, but not a person. The deer has no spirit even if it has a soul. The plant can be said to be an individual, but not a person, and neither can a stone. Sophia is personal but not a person. A person is necessarily a spirit/hypostasis personalizing (hypostatizing) a nature (and nature is of course sophianic). In Genesis 2 we see God taking dust from the earth out of which he forms the bodily substarte that will become a human person.

Here we are at a breaking point. It is at this point that the Creator breathes His breath into the face of an individual creature (the bodily substrate – perhaps a hominid) and makes it a person, gives it a hypostasis. God not only creates on the basis of His Divine Sophia, but also on the basis of His Divine Hypostasis. Creaturely Sophia receives its hypostasis from God so that created being (nature) can be hypostatized (see Fr. Sergius Bulgakov, The Orthodox Church, Ch. 14 and Fr. Dumitru Staniloae "The Experience of God, Vol. II, ch. 2-3).

Friday, September 08, 2006

Creaturely Freedom part 1

Freedom, or to understand freedom, is one of the pillars of sophiology. Yet, freedom is difficult to understand because this word is used to cover a wide range of different meanings. Fr. Bulgakov speaks of this character of freedom as somewhat of a chameleon character of freedom. Freedom, Fr. Bulgakov continues, does not have a positive content. It is not a thing in itself. Rather; "It is inevitably correlative to something, expresses not what but how (Fr. Sergius Bulgakov, The Bride of the Lamb, p. 125)." Freedom is a modality which manifests itself in different ways under different circumstances dependent upon its subject/object. "Freedom in general does not exist; only the freedom of something, in something, from something, to something, or for something exists. Freedom is a predicate, which can be predicated in relation to different concepts or essences, and it is more negative or delimiting than positive in its application (Bride, p. 125)." Whenever freedom is taken as some-thing in itself, that is whenever it is seen or considered outside of these relations that determine it, a mistake in categories takes place. The categorie of modality is mistaken for the categorie of reality. Such substantial freedom (freedom as a substance) is purely fictional and illusory. It doesn't exist; other than in our minds where the mistake in categories is made. Freedom exist exclusively within the limits of existent objects/subjects. Freedom is therefore necessarily a relative concept. Absolute creaturely freedom does not exist, such contradicts the very nature of creaturely freedom. Again, "the concept of freedom gets its positive content only depending upon that to which it is applied,.. (Bride, p. 126)."

Freedom as such cannot be apllied or ascribed to God. There is no boundary, no limit, for God so that He could be free of, from, in, to, or for. There is no place in God for relative, limited being. In other words freedom is inapplicable to God because God is not a creature. God is higher than freedom. Although one could also say that God is supra-freedom, and therefore God is also higher than necessity, or one could say that God is supra-necessity. Human persons are created in the image of God and bear a certain resemblance to the Divine Person. This means that a creaturely I is self-positing. This is a German Idealist concept that Fr. Bulgakov uses to expound an Orthodox anthropology. The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy credits Johan Gotlieb Fichte with the discovery of this concept and explains it very briefly: "Fichte is suggesting that the self, which he typically refers to as "the I," is not a static thing with fixed properties, but rather a self-producing process. Yet if it is a self-producing process, then it also seems that it must be free, since in some as yet unspecified fashion it owes its existence to nothing but itself (Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Entry: Johann Gotlieb Fichte)." This allows us to say that to be free is an inalienable aspect of being a person. Without this autonomous being a person does not exist, this self-positing is what it is to be free, to be a person.

This self-positing of the creaturely I is possible, in Fichte's system, only because of an not-I. Self-positing is to be self-aware, and to be self-aware the self-positing activity of the I needs a check or resistance of something that is not I, not part of the self. This something is nature in Fichte's concept, but in Fr. Bulgakov nature is necessarily included in the selfpositing activity of the I. Fr. Bulgakov criticizes Fichte on this point and corrects him: ",.. Fichte's insight remained limited, because, from this self-positing he excluded natural self-determination, while including only pure I-ness. However, nature does essentially enter into the creative self-positing of I, for outside of nature, there is nothing for I to posit in itself in order to live (Bride, p. 41)." Fr. Bulgakov likens Fichte's idea of the act of self-positing without nature essentially entering into this action, but as outer limit to I to a source of light deprived of space to be illumined. Such a light does not shine because it has nothing to illumine. However, Fr. Bulgakov does agree with Fichte that the selfpositing I needs to meet some resistance, some limit not other than itself, a mirror in which its can see itself and thus become aware of itself as I. This is another self, another selfpositing I. This is not to say that nature does not pose a limit to the I, it does insofar as it is not-I but it is included in I's selfpositing. Nature is the necessary medium in and through which a naked, pure I manifests, or better yet, reveals itself. I lives in its nature, and cannot live without it. Co-I's form another limit to the selfpositing I. "To deepen the analysis of nonself, Bulgakov uses Feuerbach's concept of 'Thou' according to Bulgakov, in this nonself, the self can see only itself, unless it discerns in it another self, which is 'thou'. Without the 'Thou', or without this 'self' in the other, the 'self' cannot understand or actualize itself in its own consciousness (Fr. Michael Meerson, Russian Religious Thought, p. 146)." The creaturely person is free, within the limits of nature and other I's. In fact, limitations are the necessary foundations of freedom since freedom is only a modality and not a substance in its own right. Freedom arises only in unfreedom. "The creaturely I is not absolute; its very freedom is unfree, confined within certain boundaries (Bride, p. 127)."

Returning to the concept of absolute freedom it may be said that God is absolutely free. He has no need of a non-self outside Himself to be the absolute tripartite selfpositing triple I or I am. The Trinity is therefore fully autonomous and selfsufficient unto Itself. In the Trinitarian Person itself God has His Other, His 'Thou'; ",.. I and Thou are contained in one trinitarian Person (Bride, p. 127)." But what is it that makes God to be free from freedom? Free from any limits and boundaries? Fr. Bulgakov answers that it is love. Or more precisely the love of the Trinitarian Persons among one another. It is the power if this love that allows the personal principle to be fully revealed so that every possible limitation is overcome in God. The Divine Person is fully revealed in Its Nature. In the creaturely person nature is givenness or unfreedom. "God's nature is fullness, in which neither what is given nor what is proposed exists (Bride, p. 128)." For God nature is not a limit, a boundary, which could constitute a duality and therefore would give rise to creaturely freedom in God. God, if you will remember, is free from freedom because He is above freedom. God has His nature "which as ousia or physis, is the root and depth of divine being and which, as Sophia, is its selfrevelation in God (Bride, p. 128)." It should be understood that Sophia in Fr. Bulgakov's sophiology cannot be simply identified with the Divine Ousia. The Divine Ousia is revealed in Sophia, but not identical to her. Sophia bears very strong resemblance to the Palamite Energies. In fact, as Fr. Bulgakov specifically says, by accepting the Palamite synthesis the Church has definitively set a course towards sophiology.

Gregorios

Friday, September 01, 2006

Pantheism

The Bride of the Lamb; Section 1, Chapter 1, Paragraph 1

Fr. Sergius concerns himself here with a theology of creation. Fr. Sergius writes: 'In the Christian understanding of the relation between God and the world, it is first necessary to exclude two polar opposites: pantheistic, or atheistic, monism on the one hand and the dualistic conception of creation on the other (Bride of the Lamb, p. 3).' Fr. Sergius speaks out against pantheism and unhesitatingly asserts that it is atheism. I had to read that a couple of times when I first worked my way through this book. Pantheism, far as I know, is not usually classified as an atheistic philosophy. Fr. Sergius is the first to have confronted me with that idea. Yet his reasoning, I believe, is simple and insightful.

Since pantheism doesn't distinguish between God and the world, God and the world are ultimately identical. In Christian theology God is other from the world. Creator and creation cannot be simply identified. For this identification denies the reality of God. The philosophy of pantheism has no place for the transcendend God and effectively denies Him. Fr. Sergius therefore concludes that pantheism, even if it is clothed in the language of mystical experience, is atheistic.

Another problem I think Fr. Sergius correctly identifies is that pantheism denies the creation of the world. For the world is self-sufficient and has no Creator. The world must, therefore, be eternal and uncreated. The philosophy of pantheism is absolutely incompatible with Christianity. Fr. Sergius writes: "For pantheism, the world is is self-evident and does not need an explanation fior itself (Bride, p. 4)."

Gregorios

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

On Mary

A Brief Satement of the Place of the Virgin Mary in the Thought and Worship of the Orthodox Church


Presented to Section IV of the Edinburgh Conference

by the Rev. Sergius Bulgakov D.D.


Sobornost NO 12 December 1937


The veneration of Our Lady in the Orthodox Church rests on not any dogmatic definitions besides the definition of the Third Ecumenical Council, as Mother of God (theotokos) but rather on the tradition of piety, explained dogmatically in theological doctrine. Despite this fact veneration has so important a place in the whole life of the Orthodox Church that it cannot be passed over in silence. For according to Orthodox feeling, nothing in the Church cab be achieved without her blessing and intercession. The main idea of this veneration is, of course, the Incarnation of the Logos taken from its human side. The Mother of God is, so to say, the personal humanity of Christ from which is taken His human nature; and in this sense she is representative of all human kind in its dignity and sanctity predestined for the Incarnation. In that sense she is the "second Eve," the flower on the tree of humanity, the ripest fruit of the whole history of the Old Testament Church. She represents the free will of the handmaid of God which was given in obedience to the will of God. her participation in the Incarnation of the Logos is in that sense necessary and essential, and she was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit in the Annunciation and became His perpetual dwelling, the "Spirit-bearer."

The Incarnation is achieved through the action of two persons of the Holy Trinity: of the Holy Spirit who is incarnating the Logos, and the Logos Himself who is incarnated; and through teh action of the blessed woman who was able and holy enough to receive the conception of the Logos. Through this action of God Himself, the Mother of God in the Incarnation came into perpetual, eternal, and indissoluble connection and nearness with the Lord Incarnate. This idea is expressed in her Icon, in which she is depicted usually with the Child in her arms. This is actually the Icon of the Incarnation. In that aspect she is not only an individual human personality, but the whole of humanity, its personal head and representative, its heart and its Holy of Holies. She belongs to this humanity and as its representative she shares its destinies in original sin as the common sickness of mankind, resulting in mortality. She needs salvation herself, and she recognizes God as her Saviour (Luke i. 47). But sh does not realise the original sin in personal sins because she is holy and sinless even from her nativity (which is celebrated in the Orthodox Church as a great feast) and particularly after the Annunciation, which means her personal Pentecost.

As the Mother of Christ, who gave Him flesh and humanity, she is glorified and resurrected by her Son, is exalted and, as is said: " is seated at the right hand of Christ." She does not cease to belong to the created world, which is not left by her, but she is in the state of the last glorification which is predestined for the creature. She is not subject even to the Last Judgment, to which even angels are subject. She is there present merely for the propitiating of her Son who will be the Judge.

She is glorified by the Church as the Queen of Heaven and earth. That means that she is in a certain sense teh centre of the whole created universe, of all elements. Of course, she is no "goddess," but a creature herself, and she has this power because of the grace of God which abides upon her in full degree. In that sense she is
"more honorable and glorious than the Cherubim and Seraphim,
exalted above all angels, and surpasses the Saints."

To her and through her our prayers to her Son are raised, although this does not mean that we are not able to pray to God direclty and personally. Yet even in our personal prayers we always are connected with our Mother who is the Mother of our Saviour. The Blessed Virgin belongs to the Communicatio Sanctorum as the head of this holy company. But at teh same time she cannot be simply included or identified with it because of her personal nearness to Christ and her complete glorification.

This whole practice of piety and the corresponding teaching is given us only in a limited degree in the Holy Scriptures, in spite of the fact that the main ideas of the Incarnation from the Virgin Mary are given in it, and are recognised in creeds (Apostolic and Nicene). The further development of the veneration of the Blessed Virgin is due to Holy Tradition, to the inspiration in the life of the Church, which is of certain religious self-evidence. It has an axiomatic character, as a necessary conclusion of the experience of the Church which was and is enriched from age to age.

Of course this piety absolutely excludes even any thought of the possibility for Mary after the Annunciation and Nativity of Christ to have had a husband and children by human marriage. She is not only Virgin and the Mother of Christ, but still more: Ever-Virgin (Aei-parthenos). That means that in her is the original virginity and purity of mankind which is proper to it in its creation.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

By Jacob's Well

The Journal of the Fellowship of St. Alban and St. Sergius, no. 22, 1933, p. 7-17.
by
Fr. Sergius Bulgakov


An article on the actual unity of the apparently divided Church: in prayer, faith, and sacrament (John 4, 23).
The language of the New Testament frequently coins the term :"the Church" or "the Churches." On the one hand there is the mystical unity of the Church as the Body of Christ, on the other hand there are the specific communities in which such life was realized. We still use the same terms, not only in the abovementioned sense but als in that of different Christian confessions. We must admit that such use of the "Churches" often shocks us, for in our own minds, for example we often think that actually there exists only one Church, namely the Orthodox Church -- whereas all that stands outside Orthodoxy is not the Church. But the evidence of the use of language cannot be explained away by mere civility ot hypocrisy, for it contains a concept that a sort of these "non-Churches" belongs to the Church." For actually these Churches are distinct to us from the non-Christian world. Already in the Gospel narrative we trace this relativeness in connection with the idea of the Church. Our Lord, who came not to destroy teh law but to fulfill it, belonged himself to the Jewish Church. He was a faithful Israelite carrying out its precepts, and this in spite of all its exclusiveness. And yet we get a solemn witness about the Church universal in our Lord's conversation with the Samaritan woman by Jacob's well. We are equally struck here both by the very fact that this conversation (which so astonished teh disciples) took place, and by the universal "good news" of Our Lord's message. Believe Me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem ... but the hour is coming, indeed is already here, when true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: that is the kind of worshipper the Father seeks (Jn 4, 21, 23). And he then reveals to her, a Samaritan, that he is the Christ.

All the events in the life of Our Lord have not only a temporary but also an eternal significance, ad this is also true of his conversation with the Samaritan woman. For even at the present time we find that we stand by Jacob's well and also ask Jesus Christ about where we must worship the Lord. And even now we, who are the "Jews," know what we worship "for salvation is from the Jews" (Nulla salus extra ecclesiam -- "Outside the Church there is no salvation"). And in our day also Our Lord reveals himself to the Samaritan woman and calls on all to worship in spirit and in truth. The harsh, unbending, unrelenting institutionalism of the one saving Church conflicts here with a service in the Spirit, which "blows where it pleases, and you can hear the sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from and where it is going." (Jn 3, 8). There exist between the Church and the Churches not only a relationship of mutual expulsion but also one of concordance. This unity is simultaneously something already given and something we must attain to. Ni single historical Church can so confine its attention to itself alone as to ignore the Christian world beyond its own limits. Even heresies and schisms are manifestations taking place only within the life of the Church -- for pagans and men of other faiths are not heretics and schismatics to us. One can picture differently the ways to Church unity, but its very existence already assumes the fact of actual unity. The Church is one, as life in Christ by the Holy Spirit is one. Only, participation in this unity can be of varying degrees and depths.


Therefore, quite naturally, there are two aspects in the relation of Orthodoxy to non-Orthodoxy: a repulsion in the struggle of truth with an incomplete truth, and a mutual attraction of Church love. History and a sad realism apprehended more of the former aspect of this relationship, for the spirit of schism and division is not only a characteristic of "heretics" and "schismatics." The will for division is the evil genius that first split up the West and East, and which ever since persues its devastating work further and further.
But can the realization of the truth of our Church be silenced even for a moment, or conversely, can we ever fail to be aware of the untruth of those who think differently? Might not such an attitude result in the sin of lack of faith, which seeks to avoid confessing its own truth and perhaps suffering for it? And so in repulsion and attraction, unity and division, we see a peculiar dialectic of Church life, which compromises the thesis and the antithesis, and we observe that the greater exertion of the one, the acuter the other. The way of "ecumenical" Church life, which strived for Church unity, is simultaneously associated both with a fuller realization of confessional differences and a growing consciousness of unity. But although there seems to be no escape from this antinomy, the Spirit of God actually transcends it through a new kind of synthesis that is brought about, not by means of a new agreement or compromise, but by a new inspiration. The distinction between various confessions lies first of all in dogmatic differences, and then in religious and practical discrepancies that result from them. These are on the surface and are apparent to all. But that which constitutes Church unity (that which is already given) -- this is hidden in the very depths. Meanwhile this task is a duty both of Church love and of practical utility. One must realize and express the positive spiritual basis of Christian "ecumenicsm" not only as an idea but also as an actuality existing by grace. We experience it as a breathing of God's Spirit in grace, as a revelation of Pentecost, when people begin to understand one another in spite of the diversity of tongues.


Let us try to express quite concisely this positive basis of unity, which actually exists even now in the Christian world.

Prayer

The division that occurred in the Church, whatever its origin, was associated with a separation in prayer and remains as an unhealed wound in the Body of the Church. Such is the logic of our frail nature, which cannot contain the entire truth, but only parts of it. Dissociation in prayer, having once arisen, strives to become permanent, lasting, and constant. We are now faced by the strange and provoking sight of Christians praying to God and their Saviour, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in separate communities. Moreover, this division is enforced in the rules of the Church, which, arose, it is true, in the fourth and fifth centuries, but which retain even now the force of actual law. They have not been cancelled formally, although life itself cancles them. The general purpose of these rules in the first place was of course to banish "indifference" by applying protective measures, which were then in accord with the accute struggle with heresy. But measures of defense loose their significance when there is no attacking party -- and we see this state of affairs in a whole range of interconfessional relationshps in our own time. We are bound to recognize not only that whuich separates us, but also that which remains common to us all, notwithstanding divisions. The ability to distinguish in life all that constitutes the common heritage of the whole Christian world is the great achievement (only possible through grace) of contemporary "ecumenism," namely the movement striving for Church unity. An encounter between Christians of different confessions, as Christians, is a great joy that is bestowed on us in our time by the Holy Spirit and a new revelation of the universal Pentecost. Nothing is easier to criticize than this "pan-Christianity" by pointing out that there can exist no "Christianity in general," but only one true Church in its indestructible concreteness and wholeness. This is true, no doubt, in the sense that the fullness of worship in an ordained and divinely inspired cult can only exist in unanimity. But even so tehre still remains Christianity as such -- as faith in our Lord, love for him, and worship directed to him -- and this Christianity endures not only in Orthodoxy but as something common to all confessions. We are particularly clear about this and aware of it in missionary work where Christians are compelled, when confronted by pagans, to get a fuller and deeper consciousness of their own Christianity.

The united prayer of Christians, belonging to different confessions, in Churches and outside them, is becoming a more and more usual occurence at the present time. This new practice is not merely a liberty that is quite out of place where strict discipline is exercised, but a common Christian achievement, a capacity for uniting in that which is an actual reality. A time will dawn when the Orthodox Church will define certain rules for this practice and will give the required directions. Meanwhile all this is done in a groping manner, as circumstances demand. This united common prayer can be based dogmatically on the fact that the name of Our Lord is hallowed and called on by all Christians. Christ is present in his name to each one who prays thus, "For where two or three meet in My name, I am there among them" (Mt 18, 20). In truth all Christians who call on Christ's name in prayer are already actually one with Christ; when we lift our eyes to heaven, earthly barriers cease to exist for us.

But is this actually so? Do these barriers remain even in our union in prayer? Yes, in a certain sense they remain. For we cannot unite in everything with our brethren in prayer. For example, we cannot pray to the blessed Virgin and to teh saints with Protestants. We can find differences in worship even with Roman Catholics, although these differences may not be so essential. But we are not compelled to be silent over these differences, and, if so, is this not treason to Orthodoxy? We must not close our eyes to the fact that such dangers, generally speaking, do exist. The position of Orthodoxy in its relation to the Protestant world is especially unfavorable in this case, precisely because Orthodoxy, for the sake of communion in prayer, is forced to adapt itself by, as it were, minimizing itself, thereby losing some of its fulness. Of course, if this is done out of love for the sake of Church "economy" it is permissible, for it is then regarded as a sacrifice of love, in accordance with the Apostle Paul's principle of being "all things to all men." Our brtethren, however, should realize that this is only a sacrifice of love and a condescension to their weakness, not a denial of our own faith.

However, in communion in worship with the non-Orthodox we must "know our measure" so that no distortions or poverty may result in our prayer life. But there is also a positive side to this communion in prayer. We are wont to pride ourselves on our liturgical wealth, as compared to the severe and simple rites of the Protstants. And yet we must not close our eyes to the fact that, in actual practice, we are far from realizing to the full this wealth of ours. so that in some instances it lies upon us as a dead weight of custom. Protestantism, in spite of, its apparent liturgical poverty, knows a living extempore prayer, in which the human soul in a childlike way turns directly to Our Father in heaven. This is the wealth of Protestantism even though it is associated with liturgical poverty.

The Word of God

The Holy Gospels are the commin property of the entire Christian world. Through the Gospels Christ himself speaks directly to the human soul. The soul listens to him and adores him in worship. Generally, in our attitude to the non-Orthodox, we underestimate the power of the Gospels. The four Gospels give us a marvelous icon of our Saviour, drawn by the Holy Spirit of God -- a veritable icon in words. When the Eternal Book is studied not only by the mind but also with the heart, when the soul "bows down over the Gospels," then the sacrament of the Word, born in that soul, is celebrated.

People incline to minimize this direct impact of the Word of God (efficiateas verbi - "efficaciousness of the Word"), addressed to every single soul, stressing in an exaggerated way the significance of holy tradition for its correct understanding. In practice the significance of holy tradition for a living response to the Word of God should not be exaggerated. It has bearing on theology and on certain disputed questions of a dogmatic nature. One might add here that the importance of tradition does not in any way exclude, but actually presupposes, a direct response to the Word of God, which has its life in the Church -- both in its soborny (Catholic, communal) consciousness (tradition), and in personal interpretation. And what is especially important is the fact that nothing can replace our personal life with the Gospel (the same applies to the whole Bible). We should be ready to admit the fact that among Orthodox nations the personal reading of the Word of God is considerably less widespread than it is among Protestants, though this is partly replaced by its use in divine worship. The Bible and the Gospels are common Christian property, and the entire Christian world, without distinction of confession bends in prayer over the Gospels. It may be urged that a true understanding of the Gospels is given only to the Church. This is, of course, the case in one sense, yet sincere and devout readers of the Gospels through this alone are already within the Church -- that is, in the one and Evangelical Church.

The Spiritual Life

A Christian who lives in the Church necessarily has also his personal life in Christ, which is simultaneously both personal and "of the Church." Dogma and dogmatic peculiarities cannot fail to be reflected in this personal experience. But in the absence of Christological differences there is a wide field of common faith, even where dogmatic divergences actually do exist. For can one say that "Christ is divided" for a contemporary Orthodox, Roman Catholic, or believing Protestant? In their love of Our Lord and their striving towards him, all Christians are one. This is why the language of the mystics and their experience is common to all. We find that spiritual life, in which the divine is really tasted, unites Christians to a far greater extent than does dogmatic perception. When we sense these tremulous contacts our souls respond to them independently of confessional relationships. It may be that this is the most important result of interrelations of various confessions, which though not reflected in formulae and resolutions, represent a spiritual reality. During the Lausanne Conference this feeling of a kind of common spiritual experience of unity in Christ was remarkable strong. It became clear to all that something had happened above and beyond anything written down in the reports and minutes. On the other hand, apart from this kind of experience as such, there cannot be any Christian unity; for this can only be realized through Christian inspiration in a new vision of Pentecost, for which we aspire and which, in part, we already obtain. This unity in Christ, established by the similarity of Christian experience, is a kind of spiritual communion of all in the one Christ, established long before Communion from the same Chalice can take place. This de facto similarity in the experience of the Christian world, in spite of all its multiplicity, insufficiently realized. Unfortunately, we tend to stress our dogmatic disagreements much more than our common Christian heritage. A mystical intercommunion has always existed among Christians, and in our days more so than previously. Mutual fellowship among the representatives of theological thought, an interchange of ideas, scientific and theological research, a kind of life in common "over the Gospel" -- all this tends to make the existing division between Christian confessions already to a certain extent unreal. Symbolic theology is also tending more and more to become "comparative" instead of being "denunciatory." This is even more evident when we come to mystical, pastoral, and ascetic works, and especially to the lives of the saints. With what attention and devotion the Western saints, such as St. Genevieve, St. Francis of Assisi, and others. And we ought to cultivate deliberately this spiritual interpenetration, which is naturally increasing more and more. In this way we shall appropriate to ourselves the gifts that have been bestowed on others, and through comparison we shall come to know our own nature more fully and deeply.

Thus there exists even now a certain spiritual unity within the Christian world, although this is not expressed in any formulae. But we should add to this mystical, adogmatic unity of the Christian world the reality of its dogmatic oneness. Owing to a certain onesided-ness, Christians of various confessions are actually sensitive to their dogmatic differences, while they do not feel their mutual agreement in the same way. The definition "heretic," which is really only applicable to certain features of a world outlook, is extended to the entire man, who is completely anathematized for a particular heresy. This was so throughout the course of Christian history. But it would be absolutely inconsistent for us to adopt such language today. For it is time at last to say openly that there exist no heretics in the general sense of the term, but only in a special and particular sense. Such an interpretation, among many others, can be given to the words of the apostle Paul: "It is no bad thing either that there should be differing groups among you" (1 Cor. 11, 19). Of course, in itself, a special heresy stands also for a common affliction, which is detrimental to the spiritual life without, however, destroying it. And it is perhaps difficult and impossible for us really to define the extent of this damage during the epoch when the particular dogmatic division arose. We must not also lose sight of the fact that in addition to heresies of the mind there exist heresies of life, or one-sidedness. One can, while remaining an Orthodox, actually tend toward monophysitism in practice, by leaning either toward Docetic spiritualism or Manicheism, or toward Nestorianism by separating the two natures in Christ, which leads in practice to the "secularization" of culture. And perhaps in this sense it will be found that we are all heretics in various ways. Yet it by no means follows from this that Orthodoxy and the Orthodox Church do not exist. It only shows that heresy, as a division, only exists within the limits of the Church and not outside it, and it implies a defectiveness in Church life.

From this it follows that heresy is only partial damage, we must take into account in dealing with heretics not only that which is heretical but also that which is Orthodox in them. For example through having an incorrect doctrine on the Filioque, do Roman Catholics cease to believe in the redemptive work of Our Lord, or in the sacraments of the Church? And although this seems obvious, all Christians must yet realize not only their divisions but also their agreement. Our Creed, The Nicene Creed (it is true, in its defective form owing to the Filioque), together with the ancient Apostolic and Athanasian Creeds, concstitute the general confession of Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, and Protestantism, and we must never lose sight of this basis of our dogmatic unity.

The Sacraments

At the present time it is in the sacraments that the Christian confessions are most effectively separated from one another. Sacramental fellowship is still only a remote aim, which still remains unaccomplished in the relationships between Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, and Protestantism. In the relationship between Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism on the one hand, and Protestantism on on the other, the main barrier is the absence of valid orders and apostolic succession. This barrier does not arise between teh first two confessions. Now, in the vast majority of Christian confessions, sacraments are recognized, in spite of all the diversity of theological teaching associated with them. What attitude ought we to adopt toward the efficacy of these sacraments, and in what measure can this or that theological interpretation associated with them be considered decisive? Although the latter can effect the efficacy of sacraments (only, however, from the side of ex opere operantis, and not of ex opere operato), nevertheless, given the existence of a common faith (say in the Eucharist), the significance of doctrinal diversity in the realm of eucharistic theology may be greatly exaggerated.

We ought to insist first of all, as a general principle, on the efficicacy of teh sacraments in various Church communities. But can we adopt such a principle as our guiding line? Or are sacraments, generally speaking, ineffective beyond the canonical limits of a Church organization, to be regarded only as devout customs, or according to the blasphemous opinion of some as "sacraments of the demons?" The latter opinion is the child of confessional fanaticism that can never be confirmed by theological arguments, and is on the contrary in direct contradiction to the true mind of the Church. One might also add that a mere recognition of teh power of teh sacraments outside Orthodoxy is sufficient, for such a reduction of the question merely to that of their subjective effectiveness (ex opere operantis) evades a direct answer to the question as to their objective value (ex opere operato). It undoubtedly holds that, in the absence of canonical Church fellowship, the sacraments celebrated outside the canonical limits of a given Church organization -- canonically and practically, as it were -- cease to exist. But does this canonical ineffectiveness (nonefficitas) imply their mystical invalidity (nonvaliditas)? Does it mean that on being separated canincally, and in acertain measure dogmatically also, we find that we are separated from our mysterious unity and fellowship in Christ and in the gifts of the Holy Spirit? Has Christ been really divided in us, or are the non-Orthodox thereby no longer "in Christ," being estranged from his Body? One ought to think deeply before answering this question, which is perhaps the most essential for us in our relations with the non-Orthodox. This question falls into two parts: the significance of canonical divisions and that of dogmatic divisions, in relation to effectiveness of sacraments.

The first question is answered by stating that canonical divisions (raskol) only prevent the possibility of a direct and unmediated communion in the sacraments and do not destroy their efficacy. The invisible fellowship therefore of those who have been separated is not broken. This constitutes great joy and consolation when we are faced with the sad and sinful fact of canonical divisions in the Church. We ought to consider that although we are canonically divided from the Roman Catholic Church, we never ceases to remain with it in an invisible sacramental communion (ex opere operato) so to speak. Generally speaking, if one wanted to be consistent in denying the efficacy of the sacraments on a canonical basis, one could only do it by accepting the Roman Catholic teaching on the supremacy of the Pope and obedience to his jurisdiction as an essential condition of belonging to the Church. However such a deduction is not made even by the Roman Catholic Church, which admits the effectiveness of sacraments in Orthodoxy. The Romanizing tendency in Orthodoxy sometimes goes further than Rome in this direction, conditioning the effectiveness of sacraments by canonical stipulations, though theologically such a point of view cannot be supported. Conversely, one could say that teh divided parts of the Church, at least where apostolic succession exists, are in an invisible, mysterious communion with one another through visible sacraments, although these are mutually inaccessible.

Now let us consider to what extent a digression from dogmatic teaching can destroy the efficacy of teh sacrament. We ought to mention here, first of all, the cases where damage affects not separate sacraments but their celebrants. We speak here of Protestantism, where, through the destruction of a rightly ordained priesthood through grace, teh question of te actual efficicy of the sacrament is raised in spite of its full recognition in principle. Can one speak of "sacraments" in Protestantism? Fortunately there are grounds for answering this question not only in the negative. The basis of the answer lies in the fact that the Orthodox Church recognizes the efficacy of Protestant baptism, which is evident from the fact that it does not re-baptize Protestants who join it. This admission is of extraordinary significance. It testifies to tha fact that, at least in regard to the sacrament of spiritual birth in the Church, we abide in fellowship with Protestant Christians as members of the One Body of Christ. Baptism also contains within itself the general possibility of a mysterious life in the Church; in this sense it is the potential of all future sacraments. In Protestantism there is only a partial existence, both because of the diminution of the number of sacraments, and especially, through the absence of priesthood. But even so, does this allow us to draw any conclusions as to the complete inefficacy of sacramental life in Protestantism, in particular, for example, regarding Holy Communion? Strictly speaking we have no right to come to such a conclusion, and not only because of the subjective basis pointed out by Bishop Theophanes, but also because of the objective principle of a sacrament, according to which the sacrament belongs to the entire Church -- although it is realized through the priesthood by virtue of its inevitable participation. There is no such priesthood in Protestantism, but the people of the Church -- the "royal priesthood" -- remain there and the potential power of of Holy Baptism is fulfilled and revealed there in other ways, in certain devout rites and prayers instead of in effective sacraments. But if these are ineffective, can we say they are nothing? One cannot say this, for the priesthood is not a magical apparatus for the celebration of the sacraments, but a ministration of the Church that exists in the Church and for the Church. Therefore we ought to interpret Theophanes' expression "according to their faith it shall be given them" in the sense that our Lord does not deprive this flock of His grace, although it has been separated from the fulness of Church life. Nevertheless we can speak of communion in sacraments (apart from baptism) in relation to Protestants only in the general and indefinite sense of their participation in the life of the Church through grace, but of nothing beyond this. A more direct and true communion in the sacraments with the Protestant world is hindered by the absecne of a rightly ordained priesthood: this is the threshold over which Protestantism must pass, the reestablishment of an apostolically ordained hierarchy.

These barriers do not exist, however, for those sections of the divided Church that have retained this succession and have therefore a correctly ordained priesthood. Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism belong to this category, together with the ancient Eastern Churches (as well as the Episcopal Church in Protestantism and Anglicanism*, particularly in the case of a positive solution of the question of Anglican ordination). The priesthoods of Roman Catholicismand Orthodoxy are mutually uncanonical owing to the existing schism, but this does not prevent their mutual recognition of each other. The following conclusion, of the utmost importance, follows from this: Churches that have preserved their priesthood, although they happen to be separated, are not actually divided in their sacramental life. Strictly speaking, a reunion of the Church is not even necessary here, although generally this is hardly realized. The Churches that have preserved such a unity in sacraments are now divided canonically in the sense of jurisdiction, and dogmatically, through a whole range of differences; but these are powerless to destroy the efficacy of the sacraments.

What is required for a complete reunion, and where do we start? The predominant formula runs: sacramental fellowship must be preceded by a preliminary dogmatic agreement. But is this axiom so indisputable as it appears? Here on one scale of the balance we have a difference in certain Christian dogmas and teological opinions, and an estrangement that has been formed through centuries; on the other we have the unity in sacramental life. May it not be that a unity in the sacrament will be the only way toward overcoming this difference? Why should we not seek to surmount a heresy in teaching through superseding a heresy of life, such as division? May it not be that Christians sin now by not heeding the common eucharistic call? And, if this siiso, then for Orthodoxy and Rome there still remains a way to their reunion on the basis of a fellowship in sacraments.

Of course, the Holy Spirit alone can make it clear that reunion is not far away, but already exists as a fact that only needs to be realized. But it must be realized sincerely and honestly for the sole purpose of expressing our brotherhood in the Lord. And the way towatrd reunion of the East and West does not lie through tournaments bnetween theologians of the East and West, but throigh a reunion before the altar. The priesthood, celebrating the one Eucharist; if the minds of the priests could become aflame with this idea, all barriers would fall. For in response to this, dogmatic unity will be achieved, or rather, a mutual understading of one another in our distinctive features. In necessaris unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas -- "In what is necessary unity, in what is of lesser importance freedom, in all things love."

A realization of our unity as something given, and at the same time, of our disunity as a fact that we cannot ignore is present, is a vital antithesis in the soul of the modern Christian. This antinomy cannot leave him in peace. He cannot remain indifferent to it, for he must seek its resolution. The ecumenical movement of today** is the expression of this search.

* Fr. Sergius is speaking of Anglicanism prior to the ordination of women and of the Episcopal Church prior to the ordination of an active homosexual Bishop. These acts are serious breaches in their hierarchy and have invalidated the Anglican-Episcopal hierarchy at least in part and perhaps as a whole. The ecclesial relations between Orthodoxy and these Churches has been damaged accordingly. Perhaps beyond healing.

** Today is 1933. Fr. Sergius observations need to be qualified in the present situation.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

The Sanctity of the Church

The Sanctity of the Church
by Fr. Sergius Bulgakov

The Church is holy. This quality of the Church is self-evident. Should not the body of Christ be holy? The sanctity of the Church is that of Christ Himself. The word of the Old Testament: "Be ye holy, for I am holy" (Lev. 11:44-5) is realized in the New by means of the Incarnation, which is the sanctification of the faithful in the Church. The sanctification of the Church, accomplished by the blood of Christ, has been realized by the Holy Spirit, which was poured into it at Pentecost, and lives for ever in the Church. The Church is the House of God, as our bodies are the temples of the Holy Ghost. Thus life in the Church is sanctity in both an active and a passive sense: in the fact of sanctification and our acceptance of it. Life in the Church is a supreme reality in which we participate and by means of which we become sanctified. Sanctity is the very being of the "spirit of the Church." It may even be said that the latter has no other characteristics. Life in God, deification, sanctity, are the evident marks of the spirit of the Church, its synonyms. The apostolic writings call Christians "saints": "All the saints" — such is the name habitually given to members of Christian communities (II Cor. 1:1; Eph. 1:1; Phil. 1:1, etc.).
Does this mean that those communities were particularly holy? It is sufficient to remember Corinth. No, this term applies to the quality of life in the Church; everyone sharing in that life is sanctified. And this is true not only for the time of the Apostles, but for all the existence of the Church, for Christ is one and unchangeable, as is the Holy Spirit.
This question of the sanctity of the Church was asked, and the Church gave the answer, at the time of the struggle against Montanism and Donatism. The relaxation of the discipline of penance caused such a reaction amongst the Montanists that they, in overweening pride, began to preach a new doctrine according to which the Church should be a society of perfect saints. In the same way the Church rejected the idea of the Donatists, which made the efficacy of the sacraments depend upon the moral value of its administrants, thus undermining faith in the sacraments themselves. Warring against Montanism and Novatianism, the Church defined the principle that its membership includes not only the good grain but also the tares. In other words it is composed of sinners to be saved: "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us" (I John 1:18). In opposition to Donatism, the Church decided that sanctification is conferred in the sacrament by all ministers validly constituted, not by virtue of their personal sanctity, but by action of the Holy Spirit, living in the Church.
The Church is objectively holy by the power of the life divine, the sanctity of God, of the angels and of the saints in glory; but it is holy also by the sanctity of its members who are now living and who are now being saved. Sanctity in its primary, objective meaning is given to the Church, it is its divine side. And this sanctity cannot be taken away nor diminished. This is grace, in the precise meaning of the word. Above all, the Church is called holy with reference to the power of sanctification it possesses. The action of this power extends to the life of humanity fallen in sin; the Light shineth in the darkness. Salvation is, fundamentally, a process, in which light is separated from darkness and sin is vanquished. In attaining a certain quantitative degree, victory over sin accomplishes a qualitative change as well, as a result of which the sinner becomes just and holy.
There are always many saints in the Church, but often they are unknown to the world. But the sanctity of any man, however great, is never complete sinlessness. Perfect holiness belongs only to God; in the light of that holiness, He "finds faults, even in the angels" (Job 4:18). Hence the criterion of absolute sanctity is not applicable to man, and concerning man, only relative holiness may be spoken of. This ideal of human, relative sanctity should be obligatory on all the members of the Church. But then it must be asked, what is the degree of sanctity below which members of the Church cannot descend? This consideration is the basis of a certain discipline in the Church whose exigencies are binding upon all. Different epochs show a corresponding difference in the rigor of definition of these exigencies. The sects (ancient and modern Montanists) wished to limit the number of members of the Church by establishing the most severe rules (absence of "mortal sin"). The Church, on the other hand, applied a more indulgent discipline. The question of greater or less severity in discipline has, in itself, great importance. Whatever the solution, it is always essential that personal sinfulness should not forcibly separate a member from the Church and from its sanctity. In the works of Hermas, for example, we find this characteristic expression: "To the saints who have sinned" (Pastor, vis. 11:24). What is of decisive importance is not complete freedom from sin, but the road that leads toward it. The man whose sin separates him from the Church remains in union with the Church so long as he follows the way of salvation and receives the sanctifying grace.
Certain members of the Church are cut off by the sword of excommunication, especially in cases of dogmatic deviations. But the great mass of those who are being saved and who are neither white nor black, but grey, remain in the Church and share its sanctity. And faith in the reality, of that sanctifying life justly allows the Church to call all its members holy: "Holy things to holy people," proclaims the priest, while breaking the bread for the communion of the faithful. To oppose themselves, in the role of saints, to the Christian world fallen in sin, as the members of some sects claim to do, is phariseeism. No one knows the mysteries of the judgment of God, and it will be said to certain ones who prophesied and worked miracles in the name of the Lord: "I never knew you" (Matt. 7:23). When we speak of the sanctity of the Church, it is first of all the sanctity conferred by the Church; the sanctity attained or realized by its members comes only after that. It is indubitable that sanctity, true divine holiness, does not exist outside the Church, and is conferred by it alone.
From this it may be inferred that sanctity is generally invisible and unknown and that, in consequence, the true Church is also invisible and unknown. But such a conclusion, accepted by Protestantism, would be false, because then the Church would be considered only as a society of saints, and not as a power objectively given, a power of sanctity and of divine life as the body of Christ. This life is given, although invisibly, still in visible forms, and in view of this given, sanctifying power the Church cannot be considered invisible. It is given to the conscience of the Church, not to personal but to collective conscience, to know the saints within it who have been pleasing unto God and who have won, in themselves, the victory over sin. The Church has knowledge of them in their life. After their death this knowledge becomes certain, and that is canonization. Doubtless, many things still remain unknown to humanity, and in this sense it is possible to speak of the unknown Church. The idea is expressed by the Church itself when it celebrates the feast of All Saints, that is, saints known or unknown. But this limitation of knowledge is not the same thing as the invisibility of the Church. From the holiness of the Church it follows that there are instances where certain of its members are glorified for their sanctity. A vivid example of this occurs when the Church canonizes a saint. There comes a time when the Church changes the character of the prayer which relates to a certain person. Instead of praying for the repose of his soul and for the pardon of his sins, instead of praying for him, the Church begins to address itself to him, asking his intercession for us before God by his prayers. He has no further need of our prayers. At the moment of the glorification of the saints, during the solemnity of their canonization, there is a decisive and solemn time when instead of the prayer for the glorified saint: "Give rest, O Lord, to the soul of thy servant," there is heard, for the first time, a prayer addressed to the new saint: "Holy Father, pray to God for us."
According to the belief of the Church, the relations of love with the saints already glorified by God are not interrupted by death. On the contrary the saints, in constant relation with us, pray for us and aid us in all our life. Certainly their life — a life of glory and of divine love — knows neither division or isolation. They are in mysterious relations of love with the glorified Church and with the earthly militant Church. This is the communion of saints. It is not a communication of works "of supererogation," which idea is not recognized by the Orthodox Church; it is loving aid and assistance, an intercession by prayer, a participation in the destiny of the world. The exact means by which this participation takes place remains veiled as one of the mysteries of the beyond. The Church believes that angels guard the world and human life and are the instruments of Providence, that the saints take part in the life of man on earth; but this participation is hidden from mortal eyes.

The Unity of the Church

The Unity of the Church
by Fr. Sergius Bulgakov

The Church is one. This is an ecclesiological axiom: "There is one body and one spirit, as you have been called to one hope by the vocation given you. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, there is one God and Father of us all" (Eph. 4:4-6). When the Church is spoken of in the plural, therefore, it is for the purpose of recording the existence of many local Churches within the one Church, or of pointing out that there are different confessions, which have a separate existence in the heart of the same Apostolic Church. Such an expression is certainly inadequate and leads to error. Just as there cannot exist several Truths, so there cannot be many "Churches." There is only one true Church, the Orthodox Church. The question of the interior unity of a plurality of "churches" and of their relation to the Church will be studied later. It must be stated at the outset that in spite of plurality of historical forms in the one Church, an essential pluralism is inadmissible. According to the theory of "branches of the Church" the one Church is operating differently, but in equal measure, in the different "branches" of historic Christianity, Orthodoxy, Catholicism, Anglicanism. This theory leads to the conclusion that the tradition of the true Church exists everywhere and nowhere. This brings us to the idea of a "church invisible, the concept of the Church is lost in historic relativity. Because of the multiplicity of gifts and of the achievements of historic Christianity the unchangeable unity and the continuity of tradition preserved by the Orthodox Church is often unnoticed.
This being granted, another question arises: how is it that each ecclesiastical society considers itself to be the true Church? Human narrowness, ignorance and error are surely the cause. Orthodoxy is that one true Church which preserves the continuity of the life of the Church, that is, the unity of tradition. To admit that this one true Church no longer exists on earth, but that its branches contain the parts, is to abandon belief in the promise of Our Lord, Who said the forces of hell should not prevail against the Church. This would be acknowledging that to preserve the purity and thus the unity of the Church had been something beyond human power; that the foundation of the Church upon the earth had not succeeded. This is a lack of faith in the Church and its Head. Consequently it must be understood, first of all that the unity of the Church means the true Church without spot; that it is unique on earth. But this does not deny to the churches (in the plural) a certain degree of the true spirit of the Church. In speaking of the unity of the Church, the absolute character of that idea must be confirmed, and the relativity of the different historic forms of the Church (the churches) can be explained only in the light of that affirmation. The Church is one and consequently unique, and this one unique Church, this true Church, which possesses the truth without spot, and in its plenitude is Orthodoxy. The doctrine of the unity of the Church is connected with the unity of Orthodoxy, and with the special form of that unity.
The unity of the Church is both internal and external. The internal unity of the Church corresponds to the unity of the body of Christ and of the life of the Church. Life in the Church is above all a mysterious life in Christ, and with Christ, a unity of life with all creation, communion with all human beings, of whom the saints are the chief on earth and in heaven, and also with the world of angels (vide Heb. 12:22-3). It is life in the Church, and consequently must be defined, first of all, qualitatively and not quantitatively.
This quality, the unity of the life of the Church as the body of Christ, is manifested by a certain identity of life (unity of ecclesiastical experience) among its members, a oneness not dependent on this external unity and even, in a certain sense, preceding it. Those unknown to the world and who know it not — hermits and anchorites — live in the unity of the Church just as much as those who live in organized ecclesiastical societies. This internal unity is the foundation of the external unity.
According to the Orthodox belief, this idea is expressed in the words of the Lord, addressed to Peter after the latter's confession of faith, a confession which he uttered as coming from all the Apostles. "Thou art Peter and upon this rock I will build my Church" (Matt. 16:18), said the Master. Orthodoxy understands the rock of Peter to be the faith he confessed and shared with all the Apostles, an inner unity of the true faith and life. This unity in the life of the Church as a special interior quality, reveals itself exteriorly, in the life of the historical, militant Church on earth. Unity is manifested by unity of faith and conscience, by doctrine, by the unity of prayer and sacraments; and thus by unity of tradition and by a unique ecclesiastical organization founded on the latter.
There are two ideas of Church unity: the Eastern Orthodox type and the Roman Catholic. According to the first, the Church is one by virtue of its unity of life and doctrine, even making an abstraction of external unity or of organization, which may or may not exist. For the Roman Church, where a sort of assimilation of Roman law and Christianity is realized, the ecclesiastical organization possesses decisive value. The Roman-catholic church exists in the unity of ecclesiastical power in the hands of its unique representative; in a word, unity is realized by the Pope of Rome, and by the loyalty of the whole Roman-catholic church to him.
Orthodox unity, on the contrary, is realized in the world in a diffuse manner, not by unity of power over the entire universal Church, but by unity of faith, and, growing out of this, unity of life and of tradition, hence also the apostolic succession of the hierarchy. This internal unity exists in the solidarity of the entire Orthodox world, in its different communities, independent but by no means isolated from one another. These communities recognize reciprocally the active force of their life of grace and of their hierarchy; they are in communion by means of the sacraments (intercommunion). Such a form of Church unity existed in Apostolic times: the Churches, founded by the Apostles in different cities and different countries, maintained a spiritual communion. This they expressed especially by their salutations, as in the Epistles of St. Paul: "All the Churches of Christ salute you" (Rom. 17:16), by mutual aid, above all to the Church in Jerusalem, and, in case of need, by direct relations and by councils.
This type of the unity of the Church, a unity in plurality, was established because it alone corresponded to the Church's true nature. It is the system of national autocephalous Churches, living in union and mutual accord. Their union is above all doctrinal and sacramental. The autocephalous Churches confess the same faith and are sustained by the same sacraments: they are in Sacramental Communion. Then they have canonical relations. This means that each of the autocephalous Churches recognizes the canonical validity of the hierarchy of all the other Churches. While the hierarchy of each autocephalous Church is entirely independent in the exercise of its ministry, it is joined by this mutual recognition with, and finds itself under the silent observation of, the hierarchy of the entire Orthodox world. This does not often appear when ecclesiastical life is normal, but becomes evident in the case of any violation. Then the hierarchy of an autocephalous Church lifts its voice to defend Orthodoxy which has been transgressed by another Church. Different Churches intervene. In one way or another, by means of a council or by correspondence, the interrupted union becomes re-established. The history of the Church bears witness to this in the discussions concerning Easter, discussion on the "lapsed," the Arian, Nestorian, Eutychian, pneumatological and other disputes. This, by the way, is not at all in agreement with the Catholic point of view, according to which an intervention of this sort, such a right of defense of ecumenical Orthodoxy, belongs to the Roman See only.
The smallest of the institutional unities of which the ecumenical Church is composed is the diocese. This clearly follows from the place in the Church belonging to the bishop: "nulla ecclesia sine episcopo." In exceptional circumstances, such as a time of persecution, a local Church may be deprived of its bishop or separated from him for some time, yet does not cease to form part of the body of the Church. But such an exception, which cannot last long, only confirms the general rule. History and canon law indicate that the local Churches, in each of which a bishop is the centre, form part of a new canonical unity more complex, at the head of which is found the council of bishops and the primate. As ecclesiastical organization developed, there have been formed, jure ecclesiastico, archbishoprics, metropolitanates, patriarchates, possessing, in the person of a leading hierarch, a chief priest invested with special powers, specially defined but by no means unlimited. In this way there arose in the ancient Church the pentarchy of patriarchal Churches which the canons of the Church have always ranged in order of dignity: Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch and Jerusalem. These canons are formally in force in our day, but have actually become archaic, partly because of the Roman schism, partly because historical changes have greatly diminished the importance of the Eastern patriarchates. This last fact is allied with the formation of new patriarchates, among which first place certainly belongs to that of Russia. More recently other patriarchates have been created in Serbia, in Roumania, in Georgia, as well as many new autocephalous Churches after the Great War.
Thus ecclesiastical history shows that the independence of different Churches is no obstacle to their canonical union. This union is evidenced, in certain extraordinary instances, by councils composed of representatives of different Churches testifying certainly to their interior union — or by special hieratic agencies which express that unity. Such agencies are the patriarchs in general and above all the first of the patriarchates — that of Rome, especially before the separation. After the separation, the primacy devolved upon the second patriarchate, that of Constantinople, but this primacy is now more a primacy "de facto," than a canonical primacy, not to mention the fact that the "specific gravity" and historical importance of the see of Constantinople were entirely changed after the fall of Byzantium. In the universal Church primacy of jurisdiction never belonged to any patriarch, even to the Roman; there was only a primacy of honor (primus inter pares). The ecumenical Church has no individual head and has felt no need of one. Its organization changes according to the needs of the time. The canonical vestment of the Church is woven on the loom of history, although always in accordance with the Church's divine foundations.
The autocephalous organization of the Orthodox Churches leaves intact the concrete historic diversity which corresponds to the many nationalities within it. Our Lord saith: "Go and teach all people." This gives to nationality its right of existence, its historic originality, joined nevertheless to the unity of life in the Church. The first preaching of the Apostles, one in its content, sounded forth in all languages, and each people heard it in its own tongue. In the same way the autocephalous national Churches preserve their concrete historical character; they are able to find their own forms of expression. The multiple concrete unity of which, in the New Testament, the Churches of Asia are the type, still remain the ideal of the Church.
Its opposite is the Roman idea of a super-national or extranational unity, which, in its practical realization, tends to incarnate itself in the pontificial state. This state does not confine itself to the Vatican city, but would, if that were possible, expand to include the entire world. From the Roman point of view, the unity of the Church is the unity of administration concentrated in the hands of the Pope, a spiritual monarchy of the centralist type. The practical advantages of such absolutism are obvious. But thess advantage are bought too dearly, at the price of transforming the Church of Christ into an earthly domain.
The plurality of autocephalous Churches brings into the life of the Church difference of opinion; it leads to some "provincialism" which, however, is now disappearing in the face of the leveling process of culture in the civilized world of our day. We have here the natural limit imposed by history. In any case, second-rate goods cannot be bought, like Esau's mess of pottage, at the price of a birth-right. A worldly autocracy cannot be substituted for Christian unity.
A natural rapprochement of peoples and of national Churches can remedy all existing inconveniences. Liberty is as indispensable as air; contemporary humanity cannot breathe without it. And the decentralized organization of Orthodoxy, that co-existence of national Churches, autonomous but united, corresponds much more with the contemporary spirit than the centralization of Rome, whose desire to join all Churches under its rule is utopian. To save the Christian world from the indefinite subdivision to which Protestantism leads and from despotic uniformity as advocated by Rome — this is the vocation of Orthodoxy. The Orthodox concept of unity has preserved for local Churches their own originality, their particular aspect, and at the same time it has maintained the unity of tradition. Such is unity in the Church, as Orthodoxy understands it. It is unity in multiplicity, a symphony in which many motives and voices are harmonized.

The Hierarchy

The Hierarchy
by Fr. Sergius Bulgakov

Its Nature.
St. Paul (I Cor. 12) develops the thought that the Church is the body of Christ, composed of different members. All these members, while of equal value, like the members of the same body, differ as to their place and function; hence gifts differ, and ministries, but the Spirit is one. In these words St. Paul announces the general principles of the hierarchic and ecclesiastical construction of society. The hierarchical basis, not denying but rather realizing general equality of all, in the presence of natural and spiritual differentiation, is natural to every society with spiritual purposes. All the more, then, is it natural to the society which is the Church. The Orthodox Church was hierarchical in different aspects; the Lord Himself laid the foundations of the hierarchy of the New Alliance, when He called the Twelve Apostles, when He initiated them into the mysteries of His teaching and made them witnesses of His life. Each Apostle was called personally by Our Lord to the apostolic ministry. By this fact each received the apostolic dignity, but, at the same time, the Twelve together formed a certain unity — the assembly of the Apostles-which, after the fall of Judas, was re-established by a new election (Acts 1:15-26). Within the limits of the Twelve Our Lord sometimes made distinctions, choosing three or four Apostles (Peter, James, John and sometimes Andrew) to be present on the Mount of the Transfiguration or at the place of prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Their prominence brings a principle of organization into the mutual relationships of the apostolic group, gives a hieratic constitution to the apostolic hierarchy itself, which, in turn, serves as prototype for the hieratic relations between equal bishops. This may be observed again in the distinction of James, Cephas and John, considered as pillars by St. Paul. The constitution of the assembly of the Apostles, in spite of the equality of its members, may be compared to the universal Episcopate: in this, side by side with bishops, there are patriarchs, and among these certain priorities exist, or even a unique priority — priority of honor and not of rank, certainly. Our Lord not only singled out the Apostles by their calling, He especially consecrated them by His priestly prayer (John 17), by sending them the Holy Spirit, by His breath. He gave them power to remit sins (John 20:22). But their real consecration was accomplished by the descent of the Holy Spirit in the shape of tongues of fire, which "rested on each of them" (Acts 2:3).
In the Apostles Our Lord laid the foundation of the hierarchy; to deny this would be to oppose the will of the Lord. Of course the Apostles, by their consecration, did not become equal to or like Our Lord, "vicars of Christ," or substitutes for Christ, neither in the person of St. Peter, nor in the persons of the Twelve taken collectively. Our Lord Himself lives invisibly in the Church, as its head; since His Ascension, He lives in the Church "always, now and forever and to eternity"; the hierarchy of the Apostles did not receive the power to become vicars of Christ, but that of communicating the gifts necessary to the life of the Church. In other words, the apostolic hierarchy was instituted by the power and the will of Christ, but neither in the person of a prime hierarch (the Pope), nor in that of the entire apostolic assembly, does it take the place of Christ on earth. To the hierarchy belongs the authority to be mediators, servants of Christ, from whom they received full power for their ministry.
This ministry consists above all in preaching "as eyewitnesses of the Word," "as witnesses" (Acts 1:8) of the Incarnation; in conferring the gifts of the Holy Spirit on the newly baptized and in ordaining others to perform priestly functions, whatever they may be. In a word, the Apostles were given power to organize the life of the Church, and at the same time they were charismatics who united in themselves the gift of the administration of the sacraments with those of prophecy and of teaching. Associated with the Twelve were other Apostles, not of the same dignity — as it were, inferior. These were the 70 Apostles or disciples spoken of in the Gospel, and the Apostles (other than the Twelve) mentioned in the apostolic epistles. First place here belongs certainly to St. Paul, whose superior dignity, equal to that of the original group, is testified to by himself and recognized by the others. To this same group belong, further, all those who saw the risen Lord (I Cor. 15:5-8), for example, James (de "brother" of Jesus), Barnabas, Silas, Timothy, Apollos, Andronicus, and Junius. But this apostolate (see the "Didache" document of the end of the first century) differed essentially from the proto-apostolate, the apostolate of the Twelve, who possessed the plenitude of gifts, who were invested with full power by Christ, and sent by Him to "bear witness."
These twelve Apostles, called by Our Lord, died before the end of the first century. In the East, there remained only the "old man" John, who outlived all the others. Did the power of the apostolic ministry in the Church end after the death of the Apostles? In a certain sense, it did. It ended after its mission was accomplished, after having laid the foundation for the Church of the New Covenant and having preached the Gospel to all the world. The apostolate in the plenitude of its spiritual gifts has not and cannot have personal continuity, and the Roman idea that the Apostle Peter continues to exist, in the person of the Pope, is a heretical invention. The apostolic gifts and powers were personal; Our Lord gave them to the Apostles in calling them by name. Besides, the apostolate is a synthesis of different charismatic gifts, a synthesis which we do not find in any of the hieratic powers of their followers in the apostolic succession. Nevertheless, the Apostles did not leave the world without bequeathing a heritage, a continuation of their ministry. The Apostles transmitted what had to be received by their successors. Outside the personal apostolic dignity, which could not be transmitted, they gave those gifts which belong either to Christians individually or to the Church as a society. They gave to all believers the gifts of grace of the Holy Spirit, which, conferred by the laying-on of hands, make those believers an elect body, a "royal priesthood," a "holy nation" (I Peter 2:9), but they agreed that these gifts should be communicated by means of a hierarchy, instituted by them, whose authority exists by virtue of direct and uninterrupted succession from the Apostles.
After the Apostles the communication of the gifts of the Holy Spirit in the Church became the prerogative of the hierarchy, that is of the episcopate, with its presbyters and deacons. Beginning from the end of the first and the outset of the second centuries, in the works of St. Ignatius, of St. Irenæus of Lyon, of Tertullian, and later, in the third century, in the works of St. Cyprian, the idea is developed that the Church is centered about the bishop, and that the bishop exists by virtue of the apostolic succession, which is a divine institution. In certain cases, examples are indicated of that succession interrupted (as in the sees of Rome, of Ephesus, of Jerusalem). It is impossible to state, historically, the place, the time and the manner of the institution by the Apostles of the hierarchy in its present form, that is in the three orders: bishops, presbyters, deacons. The documents of the beginning of the first century are silent on this point. Or indeed, if we find suggestions about the hieratic dignities it is evident that the orders there have another meaning than that of our day, or that the distinction and the correlation between the three degrees, very clear today, at that time lacked precision (Acts 20:17-28; Titus 1:5-7; I Tim. 3:2, 5, 7; I Peter 5:1). In any case, if we find in the writings of the Apostles indications about bishops and presbyters, these indications cannot be considered direct proofs of the existence of the three degrees of priesthood in the sense we give them now.
To prove that in the first century there existed a hierarchy with three orders, in the sense accepted today, is hardly possible, and scarcely necessary. The picture given in I Cor. 12:14 corresponds rather with a life not yet well organized, but rich in inspiration and characterized by a diffusion of spiritual gifts. The charismatics naturally found leadership and direction in the Apostles. Doubtless also the Apostles instituted, by the imposition of hands, leaders among the groups, who were named bishops or presbyters, or angels of the Church (Apocalypse), not to mention ministers and deacons. What is indisputable is the presence of the hierarchy about the Apostles, by the side of the Apostles, and it cannot be admitted that the formation of that hierarchy is the result only of a natural development of communal organization and that it was not also the realization of the direct will of Our Lord. In this connection we note that in Asia Minor (Epistle of St. Ignatius) and in Rome (Epistles of Pope Clement, work of St. Irenæus) towards the beginning of the second century, there existed a "monarchical" episcopate; that is, local churches having as heads bishops, as sole true charismatics, about whom presbyters and deacons are gathered. At that period the dogmatic expression of this system is still unstable and intermittent (as in the epistle of St. Ignatius the "Théophore"), but the custom, as well as the consciousness of it, is already present.
This transition from an unordered general "charismatism" to a closed clergy with an episcopate at its head remains a puzzle for the historian. It is sometimes understood by Protestants to have been a sort of spiritual catastrophe or general falling into sin, as a result of which amorphous communities everywhere became infected with institutionalism, adopted the forms of the organization of the State, and thus gave rise to "ecclesiastical law." This is an instance of the lack of feeling, so characteristic of Protestantism, for the oneness of the Church and its tradition, because of which much apparent difficulty and uncertainty arise. This leads to the idea that inwardly there is a break between the first and second centuries, an idea which leads to an absurdity — namely, that the Church could continue its existence in the true sense, free from hierarchical organization, only a few decades, after which the Church suddenly became afflicted with the hierarchic leprosy, and for 1,500 years ceased to be itself, until, suddenly, the Church was "healed" of this ailment and again became sound in anti-hierarchical Protestantism.
The hierarchy, in Episcopal form, with presbyters and deacons dependent on it, responds to a natural necessity in the Church. Nothing is more natural than the need for such an hierarchy. The grace of the Holy Spirit given to the Church is not a personal, subjective inspiration of one or another person, which may exist or not; it is rather an objective fact in the life of the Church, it is the power of an universal Pentecost continuously active. The tongues of fire of Pentecost, sent down on the Apostles, live in the world and are communicated by the Apostles to their successors. The assembly of the Apostles was the hieratic receptacle and the tongues of fire the method of transmission of the gifts of grace of the Church. In view of this, the charismatic succession of the Apostles became necessary and inevitable. But this had to happen in a well defined manner, valid for all, and not accidental; that is, by the regular succession of the hierarchy, which — to put it in terms of sacramental theology — must operate not "opere operantis" but "opere operato." A form for this succession, prepared and instituted by God, was in existence: that of the priest of Old Testament, which, according to the Epistle to the Hebrews, was the prototype of the priesthood of the New Testament. Nevertheless, this latter was not simply a continuation of the old. It was a new creation proceeding from the great High Priest, not after the order of Aaron, but after that of Melchisedec. This High Priest is Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who sacrifices to the Father not the blood of lambs, but His own blood, at once the priest and the sacrifice. The presence of Christ on earth naturally rendered superfluous and impossible the existence of a hierarchy outside Himself, but the formation of a hierarchy is also impossible without Our Lord, without His command. And the Apostles, as proto-hierarchs, transmitted to their successors their hieratic powers, but certainly not their personal gifts, in full plenitude.
We cannot affirm that the Apostles instituted this succession immediately, but the fact of such institution cannot be denied. After some fluctuations in terminology, the hierarchy was sell defined in the second century, after the type of the priesthood of the Old Testament; yet always with a difference. For the Church which lives in the unity of tradition, the institution of the apostolic succession of the hierarchy is axiomatic. Tradition remains the same, always possessed of the same power, whether a certain form or institution appears in the first or the second or the twentieth century, if only the new form contains, not a denial, but a completion of what has previously been contained in the substance of tradition. The destruction or the denial of the content of tradition of the Church is a break and a spiritual catastrophe which impoverishes and deforms the life of a Christian group by taking from it the fullness of its inheritance.
Such is the effect of the abolition of the apostolic succession in Protestantism. It has deprived the Protestant world of the gifts of Pentecost, transmitted in the Sacraments and the cult of the Church by the hierarchy, which received its power from the Apostles and their successors. The Protestant world thus became like Christians who, although baptized "in the name of the Lord Jesus," have not received the Holy Spirit transmitted by the hands of the Apostles (Acts 19:5-6).
The fact of Apostolic succession, and the continuity of the laying on of hands, which cannot be disputed, especially from the beginning of the second century, is in itself sufficient evidence of its divine institution. This applies equally to the Eastern and the Western Churches. Of course, this laying-on of hands is not to be conceived as some form of magic, and the priesthood is valid only in union with the Church. The fact that all Orthodox Christians possess grace and that in a certain sense a universal priesthood exists, in no way contradicts the existence of a special priesthood, the hierarchy. The universal priesthood is not only compatible with the hierarchy, but is even a condition of the existence of the latter. For certainly the hierarchy cannot come into being and continue in a society deprived of grace; on the contrary, in such societies the hierarchy loses its power, as is the case in groups become entirely heretical or schismatic. But both gifts and ministries vary. While there may be different degrees of priesthood in the limits of the same hierarchy, there ought to be a difference between the hierarchy and the laity, even granted a universal priesthood. The election by communal choice, while a preliminary condition, is entirely compatible with the decisive value of the laying-on of hands by Bishops. Human will and choice cannot alone take the place of the divine act of imposition. And the officer elected by the group does not by that election become either a hierarch or a charismatic. The hierarchy is the only charismatic ministry of the Church having permanent value; it takes the place of a vanished special "charismatism." Generally speaking, this is the explanation of the historic fact that the unregulated charismatism of the primitive Church was replaced in the time of the Apostles by the apostolic succession.
The hierarchy must be understood as a regular, legal charismatism for a special purpose. Partly for the mystical transmission of the gifts of grace, the succession of life in grace. As a result of this regulation, bound up with the external fact of the hierarchical succession, the hierarchy, not losing its charismatism, becomes an institution, and thus into the life of the Church is introduced institutionalism, canonical law. But this institutionalism is of a very special nature, of which we must here take account.
Above all, and this is the most essential thing, the hierarchy is the power for administering the sacraments; consequently the hierarchy carries in itself that mysterious power, superhuman and supernatural. According to the testimony of ancient writings (Apostolic Fathers such as St. Ignatius the Théophore) the bishop is he who celebrates the Eucharist, and only the Eucharist celebrated by a bishop is valid. The sacrament of the breaking of bread occupied at once the most important place in the Christian life; it became the organizing force in the Church and especially for the hierarchy. After Pentecost, the believers "persevered in the doctrine of the Apostles, in the breaking of bread and in prayer" (Acts 2:42). The central significance of the Eucharist in the life of the Church is attested by many documents of the first and second centuries. It was natural that, at first, the Eucharist should be celebrated by the Apostles, also by the charismatics (prophets of the Didache) instituted by the Apostles. But in post-apostolic times the administration of the sacrament of the Body and Blood fell to bishops alone. Little by little, in the usage of the Church, other sacraments were joined to the first. Then the hierarchy, that is the bishops and the clergy dependent on them, immediately joined together for the administering of the sacraments as a consequence of the sacramental "charismatism." This latter, being the foundation of the mystic life, of the life of grace in the Church, had to have permanent representatives. The bishop, possessed of the fullness of charismatic power, naturally and inevitably became the centre around whom revolved all the ecclesiastical community, which depended essentially upon him.
It is thus easy to understand the logic of Christian thought of the first centuries, from St. Ignatius to St. Cyprian. According to them, "episcopum in ecclesia esse et ecclesiam in episcopo." From this general charismatic foundation there came, later in the history of the Church, the development of canonical law which defined the rights of the bishops, and still later the relations among the bishops. In the course of the centuries, local and ecumenical councils regulated these mutual relations, which give evidence of the complexity of the situation at that time. The essential point is that the bishops, notwithstanding administrative differences due to circumstances, are entirely equal from the charismatic viewpoint: among them there never was a super-bishop, "episcopus episcoporum," never a pope.
To appreciate properly the nature of the Episcopal authority we must bear in mind its special features, arising from the nature of communion in the Church. It must be noted that in spite of its being often labeled "monarchical," the authority of the Church is of quite a different nature from that of the state. It is a spiritual authority, which is above all a form of service (Luke 22:26). In the use of his power the bishop works with the Church, but never above the Church, which is a spiritual organism, one of love. Agreement with the Church, and union with it, is the very condition of the existence of the bishop. This union cannot be expressed in terms of constitutional right, such as those of democracy or of limited monarchical power, because these categories of right are not applicable here. If the Church law has authority at all, it is always an authority sui generis. The Episcopal power may be even more absolute than that of an absolute monarch and still remain entirely latent and diffused in the union of the bishop with his people.
The example of the Church in Jerusalem, its relations with the Apostles, as the first bishops, serves as a guiding rule in this connection. Notwithstanding all the plenitude of their power, really "super-episcopal" (for over and above the plenitude of Episcopal power they had also full apostolic authority personally), the Apostles decided all essential questions in union with the people (see Acts 1:15-26; 6:2-6; 11:23; 15:6, 25). And if history tells us that the ecumenical as well as many local councils were usually composed of bishops alone, this fact should not be interpreted as a new canon law abrogating the council of the Apostles and giving to the rank of bishop, as such, power over the Christians, valid without their participation. This fact must be understood not as an expression of the power of the bishops over the Church, but rather as a representation by the bishops of the churches of which they are the heads and with which they remain united. That the "elders and the brothers" of the council of Jerusalem were not actually present at all subsequent councils was the result of practical considerations or technical convenience. As a matter of fact, the all-Russian Council in Moscow, 1917-18, consisted of diocesan bishops, together with their flocks, priests and laymen. Thus organized, the council of Moscow followed more exactly than the ecumenical councils the canon law of Jerusalem. The difficulties of travel, due to contemporary means of communication, sufficiently explain the solely hierarchic composition of the councils. It may also be held that the people of the Church were represented by the Emperor and his functionaries.
It is true that in Roman Catholicism the presence of bishops alone has become a general rule, for the hierarchy has been understood rather as authority over the Church, a power of which the Pope-monarch is the head. But we do not know, in the history of apostolic times, one single instance of the Apostles having acted as a personal authority over the Church, independent of it. As to the personal gifts of the Apostles -for example, that of performing miracles — these were not allied to their prerogatives as representatives of ecclesiastical power, but belonged to them as one of the "gifts" of their apostolic ministry. This is why, up to the present time, the people of the Church have the right to a voice in the choice of bishops; the people join even in ordination, when performed by bishops, for, at a certain moment, the people must announce if the elect is worthy — "αξιος” — or unworthy. "Let no one be ordained," wrote Pope Leo the Great, "contrary to the consent and will of the people, for fear lest the people, having been forced, begin to hate and to despise the undesirable bishop" (Epist. ad Anast. 84).
To understand thoroughly the hieratic principle of the Church, we must think not only of the unquestionable prerogatives of the hierarchy, but also of those, no less unquestionable, of the laity. The laity are not merely passive subjects with their only obligation that of obeying the hierarchy; they are not in any way vessels empty of "charism" to be filled by the hierarchy. The lay state should be considered as a sacred dignity; the name Christian has made "a people of God, a royal priesthood." The significance of this idea, although it is sometimes exaggerated in Protestantism, even to the complete denial of the hierarchy, must never be minimized. As a Christian having received baptism and the gift of the Holy Spirit through anointing, which may be conceived as a sort of ordination to the calling of Christian, the, laity is also charismatic, though in a limited sense, especially in connection with the celebration of the liturgy and the administration of the sacraments. They can, in case of need, administer baptism. Finally, in the sacraments whose administration is reserved to priests alone, particularly the Eucharist, even here the laity have a certain share; the priest, strictly speaking, cannot complete the sacrament alone, without the people. In other words, he administers the sacraments with the people, and the laity are co-administrators with him. In the spiritual organism which is the Church everything takes place in the unity of love, and not one organ can exist without the others. Nonne et laici sacerdotes sumus? Up to a certain point the words of Tertullian are applicable here.
Although the New Testament has no direct instances of the hierarchy in its now accepted three degrees, deacons, priests and bishops, yet on the other hand there is no evidence of a completely unorganized administration of the sacraments: this function seems always to belong either to the Apostles or to other individuals specially appointed. The hierarchy, in direct succession from the Apostles, and the One Who appointed them, is Christ Himself, acting in the Church. There can be no greater misfortune in the Church than that great movement beginning in the sixteenth century, by which whole congregations, whole nations, deprived themselves of the hierarchy. This is a deep sorrow of the Church today, and we must all pray for a time when our Protestant brothers should again seek and again receive a hierarchy.
Protestants find an opposition between prophecy and institutionalism. They think that the hieratic principle is antagonistic to the gift of prophecy which abounds in the Church when the hierarchy is eliminated. This opposition, which is justified in a certain degree by the excesses of Romanism, rests on a fundamental misunderstanding. In the beginning, at the time of the Apostles and in the primitive Church, different gifts existed, among them that of prophecy. St. Paul encouraged this: "I wish . . . that you might prophesy" . . . "aspire to the gift of prophecy" (I Cor. 14:5, 39). On the one hand the Apostle wished to safeguard prophecy for fear it would be extinguished ("Quench not the spirit, despise not prophecy"), but at the same time, he develops the idea of a body with divers members. And although prophecy was widespread in the Church in Apostolic times, it was not opposed to the "institutionalism" of the Episcopate, the presbyteriate and the diaconate, which we find existing in the Apostolic epistles and in the Acts.
The hieratic principle has as much value for the Church as that of prophecy. The acquisition of the gifts of the Holy Spirit is the end of the Christian life, according to the definition of St. Seraphim, the greatest Russian saint of the nineteenth century. The first Christian preaching of St. Peter contained the prophetic words of Joel, applied to the Christian Church: "I will fill with my spirit every creature, your sons and your daughters shall prophesy" (Acts 2:17), and that Pentecostal word is always to be heard in the Church. The Orthodox Church repeats here the words of Moses: "Would that all Jehovah's people were prophets" (Num. 11:29). But this idea of general prophecy, the acquisition of the Holy Spirit, which the Church encourages, may become an illusory pretension when it denies the hierarchy in the name of a universal priesthood; prophecy then transforms itself into a pseudo-prophetic excitement. This latter was overcome in the Church in "montanism," and the Church continues to prevail over all such successive heresies. Such an error leads, besides, to a ritual officialdom, devoid of grace, as in the case of ministers elected but not consecrated, who claim to replace the divinely instituted hierarchy. They pretend to concentrate in themselves the general gift of prophecy, thus depriving their flock of it. Is this not "institutionalism," bureaucratic instead of hierarchic, when the latter is eliminated by the former?
The priestly service, as a charismatic mediation, cannot be merely mechanical or magical: it presupposes the spiritual participation of the person who serves as a living mediator. In acting as mediator between God and man in the sacrament, in causing the descent of the Holy Spirit, the priest makes himself the instrument of that descent; he renounces his own individuality, he dies with the victim, he is at the same time sacrificed and sacrificer, he who offers and that which is offered" in the image of Christ, the High Priest. This death is renunciation of self; the minister of the hierarchy is the minister of love. The connection between the clergy and the laity does not consist in the authority of the former over the latter, but in their mutual love. The pastors receive the special gift of compassionate love. The sufferings and the faults of others become theirs. They care for souls in applying to them acts of love and of pardon, as well as the corrections of discipline. The clergy are charged with an especial responsibility toward their flocks, a responsibility non-existent for the laity; the latter repay their pastors by loving and honoring them. The flock groups itself naturally around the shepherds, and the Church is thus composed of hieratically organized communities.
The hierarchy is a sort of skeleton of the body of the Church. Certainly if at any time there appears in the Church a manifestation of the Spirit and its power — through any man whatsoever — all ecclesiastical society relates itself to this "prophetic" minister, pastors and flocks, regardless of hieratic difference, follow the prophet. The personal authority of St. Seraphim of Sarov, or of Father John of Kronstadt, or of the "startsi" (elders) of the monastery of Optina (Fr. Ambrose and others), was greater than that of any hierarch. But this authority never encroached upon the prerogatives of the hierarchy. It kept within its limitations and by no means abolished them. This fact confirms once more the compatibility between prophecy and hierarchy.
The duties of the shepherd include the duty of instruction in the Church. This duty is joined so naturally to the priesthood that it would seem strange to have it otherwise. Not only the reading but also the preaching of the word of God, direct instruction, form part of the pastoral ministry. The words of the pastor, independent of their greater or less value, have an importance deriving from the place and time where they are spoken, for they form a part of the divine service. In this role of doctor of the Church the pastor can neither be replaced nor supplanted.
But the duties of the doctor are not limited to preaching in the temple. Hence the right and the duty of the hierarchy to preserve intact the teaching transmitted by the Church, protecting it from deformation and announcing to believers the basis of true doctrine. The maintenance of this basis is assured by various appropriate measures, belonging to the ecclesiastical calling; even to excommunication. Within the limits of his diocese, the bishop guards the purity of the doctrines taught and pronounced; the council of bishops of a regional Church, or even, in cases of more general importance, the council of bishops of the ecumenical Church, define ecclesiastical truth which has been obscured or has never been made clear in the mind of the Church.
If it is remembered that priests must not only preach in the temple but teach elsewhere, then the general question arises concerning the nature of that teaching, in so far as it belongs to the hierarchy alone. Here enters the question of infallibility. In the Church there are shepherds and the flock; there are then two parts, those who teach and those who are taught. The teaching authority of the Church cannot be diminished with impunity. But this does not at all mean that all teaching belongs to the pastors and that the laity are entirely without this function, having only the duty of passive acceptance of doctrines taught. Such a point of view, which sharply divides ecclesiastical society into two parts, the active and the passive, does not agree with the true inwardness of Christianity, and we must contrast this idea with that of the universal priesthood, of the anointing of the people of God. It is to the people, to all believers.
If the administration of the sacraments, if, especially, the imposition of hands was the prerogative of the Apostles (and later of the hierarchy instituted by them) the preaching of the Gospel was to a certain degree considered the duty of all believers, for every believer is called by Our Lord Himself to confess (and thus to preach) before men (Math. 10:32-3; Luke 18:9). And truly we see that the preaching of Christ was the work, from the beginning, not only of the Apostles, but of believers in general (Acts 6:5; 8:5-36); and not only by men, but also by women of whom some were glorified by the Church as equal to the Apostles because of their preaching of the Gospel (St. Mary Magdalene, St. Nina, apostle of Georgia, St. Thecla the Martyr, and others). The Christian mission is not limited to the hierarchy, but is the duty of each Christian, who says "I believe and I confess," and who, in so doing, becomes a preacher. The great deeds of the martyrs, who confessed their faith, are the best sermons.
If, further, we consider preaching, not only among unbelievers, but among Christians, we find in Scripture numerous witnesses to the active role of the laity. Note also that the Scriptures do not know the word "laity," but that the New Testament calls Christians simply "believers," "disciples," "brothers," etc. The laity then share in the gift of teaching, thus proving the existence of a special gift of teaching (James 5:19-20; I Thess. 5:11; Hebrews 3:13; Gal. 6:1; I Cor. 14:26; Col. 3:16; I Tim. 1:7, 3:2, 17; I Peter 4:10-11). But if the laity have not the right to preach during services (as they have not the power to celebrate the mysteries during which the word is preached) they are not deprived of the right to preach apart from the service, and, still more, to preach outside the temple. A certain limitation of the right of the laity to preach was introduced for practical and disciplinary reasons, but not at all because of charismatic inferiority, or of the incompatibility of the right of preaching with the status of the laity. In the Church there is no place for speechlessness and for blind obedience, as the Apostle says in Gal. 5:1.
But, if this is true of the work of edification in the Church, still less can the laity be denied the right to scientific study of doctrinal problems, or even to be theologians. At all events in our day, by the very force of circumstance, such occupation is equivalent to teaching. The exercise of this right may be regulated by the hierarchy, but not abolished. Theological thought is the conscience of the Church; it is its very breath of life which cannot be controlled externally. Besides the general grace given to Christians by the Holy Spirit, there can be a special election, formerly termed the prophetic ministry, which must not be overlooked. Because of a certain timidity and the difficulty of recognizing this election, it is seldom designated as prophecy; but certainly the springs of this gift in the Church have not dried up.
In our time the terms "prophet" and "prophecy" have become rather literary epithets. But these words ought to express our religious conviction that prophecy has not ceased and cannot cease in the Church. The Apostle expressly forbade the scorning of prophecies and the extinction of the spirit (I Thess. 5:19-20). But the spirit bloweth where it listeth; the gift of prophecy by the Holy Spirit is not connected with the hieratic ministry, though it may be united with it. It is true that discrimination between spirits and the recognition of authentic prophecy is a difficult task for the Church, for there is always the danger of error. Hence the Apostle Paul says: "Prove all things and hold to that which is good" (I Thess. 5:21). Nevertheless he himself warns us not to quench the spirit. Such an extinction would occur if the laity were forbidden to be theologians. To be sincere one must be free; freedom does not mean "free thought" but freedom of thought; it is neither simple ignorance of traditional ecclesiastical doctrine nor license. Freedom is a true and personal inspiration, penetration into the depth of what is crystallized in the Church, a desire to make real the experience of the Church in the realm of personal feeling and thought. This latter corresponds with fundamental reality, for the tradition of the Church is also personal experience realized in individuals. This domain of free inspiration in the Church, and also that of scientific study, is preferably the domain of "prophecy." But this domain is not the exclusive privilege of the hierarchy. It belongs to the Church.

The Infallibility of the Church.
Does any member of the Church possess of himself personal infallibility in his judgment of dogma? No, he does not — even when he speaks "ex cathedra." Every member, every hierarch of the Church is liable to error and to the introduction of his own limitations. The history of the Church bears witness in this regard that no hieratic position, however exalted, secures one against the danger of error. There were heretic popes (Liberius and Honorius), not to mention the frequent divergencies of ideas between certain popes, implying certainly that one or the other was wrong. There have been patriarchs (of Constantinople and Alexandria), bishops, priests and laity, who were condemned as heretics. No one can pretend to personal infallibility in theological matters, and such infallibility attaches to no single office. This holds for all hierarchs taken separately, and even as a whole — when they are subject to external pressures.
The ecclesiastical authors, St. Ignatius the Théophore, St. Irenæus, St. Cyprian, admonish believers to gather around their bishops, and the teaching of the bishop is considered the norm of the truth of the Church, the criterion of tradition. This special authority of judgment, allied to his office, belongs to a bishop as such, and even more rightly to the head of a particular Church, joined with him in unity of life and grace, of love and thought. The bishop who confesses the faith, in the name of his Church and as its mouthpiece, is joined with it in union of love and in conformity of thought, in the spirit of the words preceding the recitation of the creed in the Orthodox liturgy: "Let us love one another that we may in the same spirit confess . . ." In other words, the right to voice the doctrine of the Church belongs to the bishop, as someone not above but in the community of which he is the head. In the same way the assembly of bishops, the Episcopate of a church ecumenical or local, united in special council, or living in union and in connection, either by correspondence or by means of intermediaries, does not possess the necessary supreme authority to expound doctrine except in union with the Church and in harmony with it. The Episcopate neither legislates for, nor commands the Church independently of that organization, but is its specially endowed representative. The authority of the bishop is fundamentally the authority of the Church; as the latter is constituted hierarchically it expresses itself by the mouth of the episcopate.
Since the episcopate are the final authority for the administration of the sacraments, it is clear that their doctrinal decisions have sacramental authority. These decisions are canons or ecclesiastical laws which must be obeyed, since the Church must be obeyed. Thus it follows that the hierarchy, represented by the episcopate, becomes a sort of external doctrinal authority which regulates and defines the dogmatic teaching of the Church. Certainly such doctrinal definitions by a hierarch or by the whole episcopate invested with ecclesiastical authority must be distinguished from personal theological opinions of some bishops, considered as private theologians or authors. These private opinions are by no means obligatory for their flocks. These opinions vary with the personal capacities of their authors. Only those acts done in accordance with the pastoral ministry have the force of law for the flock.
Inasmuch as the Church is a unity of faith and belief, bound together by the hierarchic succession, it must have its doctrinal definitions supported by the whole power of the Church. In the process of determining these truths the episcopate gets together with the laity, and appears as representative of the latter. Hence the authority of the bishops to announce doctrinal truths and demand adherence to them.
According to the Ruman-catholic teaching, truth is held to be a sort of external knowledge belonging only to one person, the Pope, and communicated by him to others. Here we have a clear division of the Church into the teachers and the taught, which is directly opposed to the words of the Savior to His disciples, among whom was Peter. "But be ye not called teachers for one is your teacher . . . the Christ" (Matt. 23:8-10).
Whatever the organ of ecclesiastical infallibility which announces dogmatic truth to the Church, whether it be individual or collective, it equally deprives the Church of the general gift of teaching and of integral infallibility. Our Lord spoke only of Himself as pastor of the sheep. This means that the Church, the body of Christ, has Christ as its head. He is the Truth, and the Church is the support of the Truth. In relation to Him, the Church can have only a passive being, the "flock of Christ." It is vain for the bishops of Rome to attribute to themselves the power of Christ over the Church. As "successor" of Peter, the Pope wishes to be the vicar of Christ on earth, but Christ left no vicar after Him. He lives, Himself, in the Church, "now, always and forever." The Church is infallible as such, in its being as a Church. Each member of the Church, inasmuch as he shares in the life of the Church, lives in the truth; this is why infallibility belongs to the whole Church. "With us the guardian of piety is the very body of the Church, that is, the people themselves, who will always preserve their faith unchanged" (Epistle of the Eastern patriarchs, 1849).
It is unthinkable that the mind of the Church, its very conscience, should belong to one only among its members, to a hierarch placed above the body of the Church and announcing to it the truth. A hierarchy placed above the people, that is, outside them, separated from them, is no more capable of proclaiming the truth of the Church, than the people separated from the hierarchy or than a single individual. In this separation from the Church and this opposition to it (ex sese) the hierarchy would be outside the Church and deprived of its spirit, for this spirit is union in love, and truth in the Church is given only in the measure of that unity. The pretension of the Pope to be the voice of the truth destroys the unity of the Church; it puts the Pope in the place of the Church; "l'église c'est moi."
The same is true of the hierarchy considered as the collective episcopate. A guiding dogmatic principle is offered here by the Jerusalem council of the Apostles from whom the hierarchy, in the measure of their service, continue the succession. Strictly speaking, the succession of gifts of the Holy Spirit, given to the Church at the time of Pentecost and descending by the Apostles and their followers, extends to the whole Church. We see this exemplified in the Council of Jerusalem where there were assembled "the Apostles and with them the elders," that is, the older members of the community, people devoid of hieratic character. "Apostles and elders and brothers" (Acts 15:23), that is proto-hierarchs, the holy Apostles, in union with elders and brothers, decided and gave their pronouncements together. The fact is significant, for here is exemplified all the positive force of the unity of the Church, and, in accordance with that union, the assembly proclaimed: "It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us" (Acts 15:28), in other words, to the Holy Spirit which lives in us.
Hence the question of an single organ of infallibility in the Church is erroneous: the idea of the Church — a spiritual organism whose life is unity in love — is replaced by the principle of a concentrated spiritual power. This is heresy!
Here we touch the very essence of the Orthodox doctrine of the Church. All the power of Orthodox ecclesiology is concentrated on this point. Without understanding this question it is impossible to understand Orthodoxy; it becomes an eclectic compromise, a middle way between the Roman and Protestant viewpoints. The soul of Orthodoxy is sobórnost according to the perfect definition of Khomiakov; in this one word of his there is contained a whole confession of faith. Russian ecclesiastical language and theology use this term in a large sense which no other language possesses; by it is expressed the power and the spirit of the Orthodox Church.

What then is sobórnost?
The word is derived from the verb "sobirat," to reunite, to assemble. From this comes the word "sobor," which, by a remarkable coincidence, means both "council" and "cathedral." Sobornost is the state of being together. The Slavonic text of the Nicene creed translates the epithet καθολική, when applied to the Church, as "sobórnaia," an adjective which may be understood in two ways, each equally exact. To believe in a "sobórnaia" church is to believe in a Catholic Church, in the original sense of the word, in a Church that assembles and unites: it is also to believe in a conciliar Church in the sense Orthodoxy gives to the term, that is in a Church of the ecumenical councils, as opposed to a purely monarchical ecclesiology. To translate "sobórnost," I have ventured to use the French word "conciliarité, which must be used both in a restricted sense (the Church of the Councils) and in a larger sense (the Church Catholic, ecumenical). Sobórnost may also be translated as "harmony," "unanimity." Orthodoxy, says Khomiakov, is opposed both to authoritarianism and to individualism, it is a unanimity, a synthesis of authority. It is the liberty in love which unites believers. The word "sobórnost" expresses all that.
This term evokes the ideas of catholicity and of ecumenicity, ideas connected but distinct. Ecumenicity means that the Church includes all peoples and all parts of the earth. This is the meaning that Roman Catholics generally give to the word "catholicity." A rather quantitative conception of catholicity (universal diffusion) has predominated in the West since Optat de Miletus (De schism. donat II, 2) and especially since Augustine (De unit. eccles. 2).
In the East, on the contrary, catholicity is understood in a sense rather qualitative (cf. Clement of Alexandria, Strom., vii. 17, and above all St. Ignatius: "Where Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church." Smyrn. 8). Catholicity or sobórnost may be defined qualitatively. That corresponds to the true meaning of this concept in the history of philosophy, notably according to Aristotle, where τς kαθ’oλον means “that which is common,” while τς kαθ’ekαστον, means, "that which exists as a particular phenomenon." Here is a "Platonic" idea, according to Aristotle, an idea which exists, not at all above things, or, in a certain sense, before things (as in Plato), but in things, as their foundation and their truth. In this sense the Catholic Church means that which is in the truth, which shares the truth, which lives the true life. Then the definition τς kαθ’oλον, that is, "agreeing with all," "in entirety," shows in what this truth consists. It consists in the union of all (oλον) in one faith and in one tradition.
In "sobórnost" understood as "catholicity" each member of the Church, equally with the assembly of the members, lives in union with the entire Church, with the Church invisible, which is itself an uninterrupted union with the Church visible and forms its foundation. Then the idea of catholicity, in this sense, is turned inward and not outward. And each member of the Church is "Catholic" inasmuch as he is in union with the Church invisible, in the truth. Both the anchorite and those who live in the midst of the world, the elect who remain faithful to the truth in the midst of irreligion and general heresy, may be "Catholic." In this sense catholicity is the mystic and metaphysical depth of the Church and not at all its outward diffusion. Catholicity has neither external, geographical attributes, nor empirical manifestations. It is perceived by the spirit which lives in the Church and which searches our hearts. But it must be connected with the empirical world, with the Church visible. Catholicity is also conciliarity, in the sense of active accord, a participation in the integral life of the Church, in holding the original truth.
But why is catholicity, in the sense of external Ecumenicity, most often indicated as among the attributes of the true Church by the some Fathers like St. Cyprian and St. Augustine? They affirm that the Church is not limited to one place or one nation, but that it is everywhere and for all peoples; it is not the Church of a narrow circle, a sect, but it is the Church for all humanity. There is a direct and positive relation between catholicity in the external sense and ecumenicity, the same relation as between the idea and the manifestation — noumenon and phenomenon. The things which are most profound and most interior are just those which belong to all men, for they reunite humanity, which is divided. These things have a tendency to spread as fully and largely as possible, although this is hindered by opposing forces: sin, common to humanity, and temptation. Certainly, as both the words of Our Lord Himself and other eschatological indications in the Bible tell us, only the elect will remain faithful in the latter days in the midst of temptations ("and if these days are not shortened, no creature will be saved").
There are, then, many positive reasons why the universal truth should become the truth for all, but because of negative factors opposing that universality, the truth is realized only in limited fashion. Thus a quantitative criterion, only, of truth is insufficient, and the rule of Vincent of Lérins: quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus creditum est is more an ideal than a reality; it is difficult to find a single epoch in the history of the Church when this principle was completely realized.
Ecumenicity, like the truth, like catholicity, is not dependent upon the quantitative, for "where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them."
Integral conciliarity is not quantity but quality; it is participation in the Body of Christ, in which the Holy Spirit works. Life in Christ, by the Holy Spirit, is life in the truth, a life of unity, a life possessing wisdom and integrality; the spirit of integral wisdom. Divine Wisdom (Sophia) which is the Church existing in the spirit before time, constitutes the foundation and the source of catholicity. The truth of the Church is, above all, life in the truth, and not just theoretical knowledge. This life in the truth is accessible to man, not by opposition to the object of knowledge, but in union with it. It is never given to him in isolation or separated from other men, but in a union, living and immediate, in the unity of many in one whole (the image of the Holy Trinity, consubstantial and indivisible). The truth is given to the Church. He who lives in union with others, who frees himself of his "I," who renounces and leaves himself — he become capable to understand the truth.
Only the Church is infallible, not only because it expresses the truth correctly from the point of view of practical expediency, but because it contains the truth.
Life in the Church, then, is life in the truth, and the truth is the spirit of the Church. In the place of truth we may say "conciliarité," for it is the same thing: to live in union with the Church is to live in the truth, and to live in the truth is to live in union with the Church. From the rational point of view this may appear a vicious circle. But the "vicious circle" in logical reason is a natural and necessary attribute of ontological assertion. Really to seek a criterion of the truth of the judgments of the Church, not in itself but outside it, would be to postulate the existence of a knowledge or a definition "supra-ecclesiastical," by the light of which the Church would understand its own spirit. Such an exterior definition of the Church does not and cannot exist. The Church knows itself directly.
This self-knowledge is the Church's infallibility. The catholic attempt to find an external, ultra-ecclesiastical authority for infallibility in the Pope has been unsuccessful, because it has proved to be impossible to proclaim every personal decision of the Pope infallible, thus making the Pope and the Church absolutely equivalent. The Pope is considered to be infallible only when he speaks ex cathedra. But there is no definition of "ex cathedra" and there can be none.
The conciliarity of the Church is much richer in content than everything which is manifest, "explicit," in ecclesiastical doctrine. The actual dogma, the obligatory doctrine expounded in the symbolic books, always expresses a part of the Church's knowledge only. In the life of the Church there are certitudes which have never been defined dogmatically. There is, above all, the "catholic" consciousness of the Church, concerning which there has never been any dogma, although it would seem that such a dogma ought to be the foundation for all others. All doctrines concerning the Virgin Mary and her cult, the veneration of saints, the after life, the Last Judgment, the Church's ideas on the subject of life, of civilization, of creative activity and of many other things which the conciliarity of the Church contains and manifests, have never been dogmatically defined by Orthodoxy. The Church is its own self-evidence, the foundation of all definitions. It is the light which contains all the fullness of the spectrum.
Sobornost is the true, although hidden, source of the dogmatic knowledge of the Church, but its character is superrational, intuitive — the means of "knowing" and "seeing." What, then, is its connection with dogma as truth expressed in rational terms? And what is dogma? The conscience of the Church is super-personal. Truth is revealed not to the individual mind, but to the unity of the Church. It is mysterious and unknown in its ways, like the descent of the Holy Spirit into human hearts. The integral nature of the Church's consciousness was manifest at Pentecost, at the moment of the foundation of the New Covenant. The Acts of the Apostles note very specially that the Spirit descended upon the Apostles, all together and in unanimity. "They were all filled with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:1 and 4).
It is said of the first community which was formed after Pentecost: "All those who believed in the same things, had all things in common" and every day all together they continued steadfastly in the temple" (Acts 2:44 and 46). This togetherness is in general the norm of the spirit of the Church. It is a special quality of conciliarity, of integrality, which has no immediate quantitative value, but which means that individuality has been left behind for the attainment of a supreme spiritual, super-individual reality. The Church can exist "where two or three are gathered together" in the name of Christ. These ecclesiastical cells or local churches may, in fact, be ignorant one of another, with no direct relationship. But that is of no significance, for their unity in the spirit is in no way diminished. The same life in the Spirit is revealed in divers epochs and places. In a word, catholicity is the supreme reality of the Church, as the body of Christ. In the living experience of the unity of many in one, there appears what is known as conciliarity (sobórnost), so that conciliarity is the only way and the only form of the Church. It is an unceasing miracle, the presence of the transcendent in the immanent, and, in that quality, can be an object of faith. The Church as truth is not given to individuals, but to a unity in love and faith it reveals itself as a supreme reality in which its members share in the measure of their "sobórnost."
In having a single Source of spiritual life, the Church necessarily tends to unity of thought and of doctrine. This unique doctrine within certain limits assumes a normative value and becomes the subject of preaching. The immediate and concrete experience of the Church contains the germ of dogma: from this experience dogma is born, as a definition of truth by means of words and ideas. This definition depends on historic circumstances. It is, in a certain sense, pragmatic. Dogma expresses a certain side of truth, sometimes for polemic ends — to deny such or such an error, as for instance all the Christological dogmas. It is the answer of the Church to the questions put by a certain epoch. And certainly such a pragmatic answer contains a general ecclesiastical truth, which could be found and given to humanity only by means of history. But, in spite of all their importance, it cannot be said that dogmas express the whole of the faith. They are like guide-posts on the road to salvation. A given experience contains in its depths much more than its oral, rational expression. "Sobornaia" consciousness cannot remain superpersonal: it inevitably becomes personal experience, belonging to individuals. The character of feeling and consciousness varies with the individual, of course, whether he be man or child, layman or theologian. A personal, religious consciousness is given to each one, but once given, it may either remain confused or it may be enlarged and deepened. Hence arise theological thoughts and theological system. Both are normal reflexes of an integral religious experience. A personal religious consciousness, personal theological thought, seeks to enlarge, to deepen, to affirm, to justify its faith and to identify it with the super-individual perception of the Church. This faith tends to be united with its primary source, the integral experience of the Church, attested by ecclesiastical tradition. This is why theological thought, which, in its quality of individual creative work and of individual perception in the Church, has necessarily an individual character, cannot and should not remain egotistically individual (for this is the source of heresy, of division), but should tend to become the theology of tradition and to find in the latter its justification. It is not that these thoughts should simply repeat in other words what already exists in tradition, as it seems to formal and narrow minds, the "scribes and Pharisees" of our day. On the contrary, that thought should be new, living and creative, for the life of the Church never stops and tradition is not a dead letter, but a living spirit. Tradition is living and creative: it is the new in the old and the old in the new. Each new theological thought, or more exactly each new expression, seeks justification, support in the tradition of the whole Church, in the largest sense of that word, including first of all Holy Scripture and after that oral and monumental tradition. If the acts of the councils are studied it will be noted what space is occupied with the justification of each conciliar decision by testimony taken from tradition. This is why obedience to tradition and accord with it are the internal tests of individual consciousness in the Church.
Although different forms of "conciliation" can exist, outside of regular councils, nevertheless ecclesiastical assemblies or councils, in the real sense of the word, are the most natural and the most direct means of conciliation. This is just the place which the councils have always held in the life of the Church, beginning with the Council in Jerusalem. The councils are, above all, the tangible expression of the spirit of conciliarity and its realization. A council must not be considered as a wholly exterior institution, which, with the voice of authority, proclaims a divine or ecclesiastical law, a truth otherwise inaccessible to the isolated members of the Church. By a natural process the significance of the councils is determined in that they receive, later on, the authority of permanent ecclesiastical institutions. But the institution of canonical legislation, of jus ecclesiasticum, has only a practical and not a dogmatic character. The Church, deprived, for one reason or another, of the possibility of convoking councils, does not cease to be the Church; and among other traits, it remains "sobornaia," conciliar, in the internal sense, for that is its nature.
Lacking councils, there yet remain other means of "conciliation," for example, the direct relations between different local churches in apostolic times. It must be noted that, in our day, in the century of the development of the press and other means of circulation, councils have lost a great part of the utility of former times, such as those of the ecumenical councils. In our day ecumenical, universal conciliation is being realized almost imperceptibly, by means of the press and of scientific relations. But today the councils hold their special, unique place in conciliation because they alone offer the opportunity of immediate realization of the conciliarity of the Church. The meetings of representatives of the Church, in the cases where it is given to them to become ecclesiastical councils, actualize the conscience of the Church, in regard to some question which has been previously the object of personal judgment. These assemblies can demonstrate the conciliarity of the Church and become, consequently, true councils. Then, conscious of their true conciliarity and at the same time seeking it, the councils say of themselves: "It has pleased the Holy Spirit (who lives in the Church) and us." They consider themselves as identical with the Church where the Holy Spirit lives. Every ecclesiastical assembly expresses in its prayer the desire to become a council. But all ecclesiastical assemblies are not councils, however much they pretend to be or fulfill the exterior conditions requisite to that end, for example, the pseudo-councils of Ephesus, the iconoclastic council of 754, the council of Florence, which the Orthodox Church does not recognize as councils. It must be remembered that even ecumenical councils are not external organs established for the infallible proclamation of the truth and instituted expressly for that. Such a proposition would lead to the conclusion that, without councils, the Church would cease to be "catholic" and infallible. Apart from this consideration, the mere idea of an external organ to proclaim the truth would place that organ above the Church, it would subordinate the action of the Holy Spirit to an external fact, such as an ecclesiastical assembly. Only the Church in its identity with itself can testify to the truth and the knowledge of conciliarity. Is a given assembly of bishops really a council of the Church which testifies in the name of the Church, to the truth of the Church? Only the Church can know. It is the Church which pronounces its yes. It is the Church which agrees, or not, with the council. There are not, and there cannot be, external forms established beforehand for the testimony of the Church about itself.
The life of the Church is a miracle which cannot be explained by external factors. The Church recognizes or does not recognize a given ecclesiastical assembly representing itself as a council: this is a known historical fact. Another historical fact is that to be accepted by the Church as such, it is not sufficient for an ecclesiastical assembly to proclaim itself as a council. It is not a question of a juridical and formal acceptance. This does not mean that the decisions of the councils should be confirmed by a general plebiscite and that without such a plebiscite they have no force. There is no such plebiscite. But from historical experience it clearly appears that the voice of a given council has truly been the voice of the Church or it has not: that is all. There are not, there cannot be, external organs or methods of testifying to the internal evidence of the Church; this must be admitted frankly and resolutely. Anyone who is troubled by this lack of external evidence for ecclesiastical truth does not believe in the Church and does not truly know it. The action of the Holy Spirit in the Church is an unfathomable mystery which fulfils itself in human acts and human consciousness. The ecclesiastical fetishism which seeks an oracle speaking in the name of the Holy Spirit and which finds it in the person of a supreme hierarch, or in the Episcopal order and its assemblies — this fetishism is a terrible symptom of half-faith.
The idea of "sobórnost" implies a circle; the conciliarity of the councils is proved by that of the Church, and the conciliar consciousness of the Church is proved by the Councils. But this logical circle is not, practically, a vicious circle; it expresses only the identity of the Church with itself. It may be asked, where, when and how the ecumenicity of a council is declared. The authority of conciliar decisions, even those of ecumenical councils, from the very first was not self-evident, for these decisions were later confirmed. Almost every ecumenical council confirmed, directly or indirectly, preceding councils. This would be quite incomprehensible if the councils were considered in themselves as organs of infallibility.
We must then ask the following question: to whom in the Church belongs the power to proclaim doctrinal truth? To the authority of the Church which is centered in the hands of the episcopate. As a rule, the councils are composed of bishops. This, it is true, is not because of some canon law which excludes the presence of clergy and laity; on the contrary, the latter were present with the bishops at the Council of Moscow in 1917-18. The bishops take part in the councils as representatives of their dioceses — hence the rule that only diocesan bishops are present. They testify not "ex sese" but "ex consensu ecclesiæ," and, in the persons of the bishops, it is the Church which participates in the councils.
But the doctrinal value of the council of bishops is not confined to rendering judgment; it is their province not only to offer opinions, but also to use their power to formulate necessary decisions and to proclaim dogmatic definitions, as is proved by the ecumenical and certain local councils. This sometimes gives the impression that the ecumenical council 7 is the external organ of infallible judgment. This theory contains much that is vague as to details; to what does the infallibility belong-to the Episcopal dignity? But if each bishop is transformed into a pope there is always the possibility of a bishop becoming heretical. This is well proved by history. On the other hand, it is possible to have disagreements among bishops, and it is an historical fact that a doctrinal decision has never been rendered unanimously. It is true that the dissenting bishops at a given council were then sometimes anathematized and excommunicated, so that the unanimity of all the episcopate was insured. Nevertheless, it is well understood that such questions are not decided unanimously, but by the majority — what majority is unknown. Let us add the fact that only a certain portion of the episcopate was represented at the ecumenical councils and that the number of bishops present varied greatly. Even the smallest number of bishops, however, may be the "soborny" voice of the Church, if the Church recognizes them as such.
The idea of a collective papacy in the episcopate, taken as a whole, by no means expresses the Orthodox doctrine on the infallibility of the Church, for the Episcopal dignity in itself does not confer dogmatic infallibility. A dogmatic judgment and its value depend more on sanctity than on dignity; the voice of a saint has more value than that of the regular clergy and bishops. The latter are doubly responsible for their judgments because they are invested with hieratic powers. Nevertheless a certain power to proclaim doctrinal definitions does belong to the council of bishops, his council being the supreme organ of ecclesiastical power. It is only in this aspect that ecumenical or local councils can legislate. The Episcopal order possesses the authority to safeguard the purity of doctrine in the Church, and in the case of profound differences in the heart of the Church, can render a decision having the force of laws. Such a decision should put an end to dissensions. Those who do not submit are cut off from the Church. This has been the usual procedure in the history of the Church. The judgment of the council of bishops is proclaimed by its presiding officer. For a national Church this is naturally its patriarch or its chief hierarch; for the ecumenical Church it is naturally the chief patriarch, primus inter pares.
We must distinguish between the proclamation of the truth, which belongs to the supreme ecclesiastical authority, and the possession of the truth which belongs to the entire body of the Church, in its catholicity and its infallibility. The latter is reality itself; the former is only a judgment passed on reality. This judgment — or dogma — has an abstract and pragmatic value, for it is the response of the Church to the questions of heretics or of those who are in doubt. It possesses, so to speak, agreement with an absolute and supreme end, while not possessing concrete religious plenitude which lives in the Church; it is a catalogue of the truth and not the living truth itself. Nevertheless this dogmatic judgment is indispensable as truth conceptually expressed and later as the norm for the life of the Church. Here we must note the difference between the infallibility of the decisions of the council of Chalcedon, for example, and that of the multiplication table. We are dealing with the same sort of distinction as between "the truth" and "the fact." The infallibility of a given Church judgment consists in its correspondence with the purpose of the Church, its accuracy in expressing truth in the given circumstance.
But, by its proclamation, the organ of ecclesiastical power does not become of itself, "ex sese," the possessor of infallibility; that belongs only to the Church in its ecumenicity. The ecclesiastical authority (the council of bishops, or sometimes even a single bishop in the limits of his diocese) is only the legal organ for the proclamation of the mind of the Church, the expression of the truth of the Church, and becomes thus in a certain sense "pars pro toto" This is why such judgment, though clothed in legal forms, must yet be accepted by the Church as to its content. This may be accomplished at the very moment of proclamation; then the dogmatic definition of the council of bishops immediately attains an ecumenical character. Nevertheless it may happen that even after the council its decisions are not accepted; either for some time — as after the first council of Nicea — or for ever, as in the case of the iconoclastic council of Ephesus. These councils were then convicted of pseudo-conciliarity. It develops that they were not true councils.
Thus a conflict may arise between certain members of the Church and the ecclesiastical power. It follows that the dogmatic definitions of the council are not received blindly, by virtue of the duty of passive obedience. Rather it is by the activity of individual conscience and intelligence, or by confidence in the council and obedience to its proclamations, that these definitions are received as expressing the truth of the Church. In such a way "conciliation" takes place, not only before the council but also afterwards, for the reception or rejection of the conciliar decision. Such has always been the practice of the Church, and such is the dogmatic significance of the proclamation of dogmatic truth by the council. There is no place in the "sobórnost" of the Church for a dogmatic oracle, either individual or collective. The Holy Spirit, Who lives in the Church, Himself points out the way to unanimity, and the decision of the council is only a method of achieving it. We thus face the following conclusion: As there exists on earth no external authority whatever — for Our Lord Jesus Christ, risen to heaven and become the invisible head of the Church, has left us none — the decisions of the councils have of themselves only a relative authority; that authority becomes absolute only by its reception in the universal Church. The Church has already vested with this infallibility the definitions of the seven ecumenical councils and of certain local councils, for example, the council of Carthage, and the councils of Constantinople of the fourteenth century, which established the doctrine of divine energies and of the "Light of Mt. Tabor."
This idea of an authority relatively infallible, represented by the legal organs of ecclesiastical power, beginning with the ecumenical council and ending with the diocesan bishop in the limits of his diocese — this idea, to Catholics and those who would ecumenize the Church, may appear contradictory. A certain contradiction may seem to be inherent here, for the submission of definitions to the consent of the faithful and the adhesion of the faithful to the definitions are simultaneously recognized as obligatory. On the one hand the orders of the ecclesiastical canon represented by the episcopate should be obeyed ("ecclesiam in episcopo esse," St. Cypr, ep. 66). Dogmatic definitions must be included among such orders. But the obligation does not derive from the infallible authority of the episcopate united in council "ex sese"; it derives from the duty of the Episcopal power to preserve the true doctrine, to guard its integrity, and to proclaim the laws obligatory for the faithful.
This obedience should not be blind, it should not be based on fear. It should be an act of conscience, and it is obligatory in so far as it is not directly opposed to the dictates of conscience. When the Apostles Peter and Paul were led to the Sanhedrin, which for them was still the legal and supreme ecclesiastical power, and were arraigned before the elders and the chief priests, and when these latter commanded them to cease preaching the Christ, they answered: "Judge yourselves if it is right, before God, to obey you rather than God" (Acts 4:19). This example should guide us. The dogmatic definition of a council, vested with the fullness of ecclesiastical power, certainly has a supreme authority for believers, and should be obeyed, even in doubtful and obscure cases. But there may be instances where, precisely, disobedience to ecclesiastical power or to a council, which had become heretical, is glorified by the Church. This happened, for example, in the time of the Arian, Nestorian and Iconoclastic discords. Such cases are, of course, exceptions; but were there only one, it would have great dogmatic value in principle, because it nullifies the case for an external infallibility above the Church such as Catholics ascribe to the Pope.
It may be asked, perhaps, where and when this doctrine of the conciliarity of the Church was developed. It must be answered that this idea has never been officially expressed in words; just as it is equally impossible to find in Patristic literature any special doctrine concerning the Church. Nevertheless, the contrary doctrine, that of an external organ of infallibility, has no more been expounded unless one takes into account certain isolated expressions, evidently inexact and exaggerated, in Irenæus, Cyprian, Ignatius the Théophore. But the practice of the Church, that is, all the history of the councils, presupposes the idea of conciliarity, of "sobórnost." The opposition to Roman pretensions, which later arose, made this still more evident.
Thus it may be said that the supreme ecclesiastical power, under the form of a council of bishops — ecumenical, national, or diocesan — has, in practice, the right to declare necessary doctrinal definitions and that these definitions ought to be accepted, barring exceptional and specially justified cases. Disobedience to ecclesiastical power is in itself a grave fault, a heavy burden on the conscience, even though it is sometimes inevitable. Thus the higher leadership of the Church is vested with an authority, "infallible" in practice, which is sufficient for the needs of the Church. Church history rightly testifies that such is the character of the supreme leadership of the Church. Otherwise it would be impossible to comprehend the history of the councils and their dogmatic definitions, which did not always or immediately put an end to dissensions, but which led little by little to unanimity. In practice such a "system without system" is altogether sufficient; it possesses the advantage of harmonizing liberty with obedience to the Church.
The absence of an external infallible authority in matters of doctrine, and the possibility of relatively infallible definitions by ecclesiastical authority, definitions which express the catholic conscience of the Church, this is the palladium of Orthodox liberty. It is at the same time the cause of the greatest astonishment: unto Catholics a stumbling-block and unto Protestants foolishness. The latter place above all the personal search for truth, a principle whose value cannot be overestimated in Christianity; they cannot understand the necessity of placing their own subjectivity beneath the objectivity of the Church: of testing the former by the latter. For them the doctrine of the Church identifies itself completely with their personal opinions, or at least with the consensus of such opinions. Ecclesiastical tradition, contained by the whole Church in common, simply does not exist for them. But proceeding from these ideas, it is possible to approach the idea of conciliarity, where, at least, there are no obstacles. The agreement of personal subjective opinions may be understood as the objective ecumenical truth, as its manifestation. Hence it is possible for Protestantism, full of the spirit of liberty, to understand Orthodox conciliarity, "sobórnost."
The idea of sobórnost encounters much more opposition on the part of Catholics. This is quite comprehensible, after the proclamation of the Vatican dogma. For them, it is the synonym of anarchy in the Church. Obedience "for itself," or blind obedience, is entirely in its place and natural in a monastery, for "the suppression of the will" is the very condition of monasticism, so to speak, its spiritual method. But the essential thing here is that the path of obedience has been freely chosen by the monk. In this sense the most absolute monastic obedience, accepted with the monastic vows, is really an act of supreme Christian liberty — although even here obedience does not free one from a Christian conscience and its responsibilities, should not become blind: if the "starets" (superior) or spiritual director becomes heretical, the bonds of obedience are broken at once. But in the Roman Church obedience to the Pope is obligatory for all — in all that concerns faith, morals, canonical discipline. An obedience without reserve is demanded, not only exterior, but interior. The necessity for blind obedience by all, to an external authority, is a system of spiritual slavery.
Finally, there is the judgment of ecclesiastical authority. It has the power to enforce measures of canonical discipline, it is called upon to act against those who do not think according to the norm. The history of the Church testifies sufficiently to this. This is why the idea that in Orthodoxy there exists no theological norm valid for the whole Church, but that each one is guided only by his own opinions, is altogether false. It is true, however, that in comparison with the Roman confession, Orthodoxy leaves more liberty to personal theological thought, to individual judgment in the domain of "theological opinions" ("theologoumena"). This is a consequence of the fact that Orthodoxy, while safeguarding essential dogmas, necessary to the faith, knows no theological doctrine, obligatory for all. It applies the principle: "in necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas."
In general the tendency of Orthodox doctrine is not to increase the number of dogmas beyond the limits of the purely indispensable. In the realm of dogma, Orthodoxy rather makes her own the rule, not to govern or dogmatize too much." The plenitude of life contained in the life of the Church is not completely expressed by the obligatory dogmas it professes; these are rather bounds or indications, beyond which Orthodox doctrine ought not to go, they are negative definitions more than positive. It is false to think that established dogma, "dogma explicita," exhausts all doctrine, i.e. "dogma implicita." On the contrary, the domain of doctrine is much more vast than that of existing definition. It can even be said that definitions can never exhaust doctrine, because dogmas have a discursive, rational character, while the truth of the Church forms an indissoluble whole. This does not mean that the truth cannot be expressed by concepts; on the contrary, the fullness of truth opens to us an inexhaustible theological source. These theological thoughts, which, in the case of mystics and ascetics, have an intuitive character, receive an expression more rational and more philosophical from theologians. It is the legitimate domain of individual creative work, which should not be bound by doctrine.
Sometimes subjective narrowness can lead to error. This is then corrected by the consciousness of the Church, as expressed in "sobórnost"; but there cannot and there should not be a unique theological doctrine, obligatory for all, as taught by Thomism. For theology and its teachings are not identical with the dogmatic. Forgetting that difference gives rise to much misunderstanding. The measures taken by Rome against "modernism" tend to hold all theology in the narrow confines of official doctrine, and that inevitably produces hypocrisy. Liberty in these spheres is the very life of theological thought. The ancient Church knew various schools of theology, and many very different theological individualities. It may be said that in the spiritual life this variety is most useful when it is greatest. Orthodox theology in Russia, in the nineteenth century and in our day, contains a whole series of original theological individualities, which resemble each other very little and which are all equally orthodox. The Metropolitan Philaret and A.J. Boukarev, Khomiakov, Dostoievsky, Constantin Leontiev, Matropolitan Anthony Hrapovitsky, Fr. George Florovsky, Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky, Archimandrite Konstantine Zaitzev, Professors Anton Kartachev, Vladimir Lossky, ** Fedotov, and many others, despite od some differences, express, each in his own way, the Orthodox conscience, in a sort of theological symphony. Here lies the beauty and the strength of Orthodoxy, and not its weakness, as Catholic theologians, and even sometimes Orthodox hierarchs, ready to transform their personal opinions into theological norms, are inclined to think. For Orthodoxy such pretensions are only abuse, or a falling into error. Orthodox theology developed marvelously in the East and in the West, before the separation of the Churches. After the separation it continued to develop in Byzantium, up to the end of the Empire, and it has continued that tradition down to the present day in Greek theology. But Orthodox thought has been undergoing an entirely original renaissance in the Russian theology of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and, although suppressed in Russia by the atheistic government, it flourished in the emigration.
It should be said of Orthodox theological thought that it is far from having been exhausted in the classic times of the patristic period or later on in Byzantium: a promising future opens before it. Orthodoxy now expresses itself in contemporary language addressing contemporary problems and needs. All this by no means lessens the unique value of the patristic period. But sincere theology must be modern, that is, it must correspond with its epoch. Our epoch has seen colossal revolutions in all the domains of thought, of knowledge, and of action. These revolutions wait a response on the part of Orthodox theology. Our time cannot be satisfied with an archaic or a medieval scholastic theology. This new development will continue in the lines of Orthodox tradition. But fidelity to tradition is not an artificial stylization. True fidelity is a right perception of the old in the new, a sense of their organic connection. The patristic works should be considered as monuments of the Orthodox vision and insight. These works are the testimony to the Church given by the holy fathers in the language of their time, which perceptibly from ours. It follows that some development of Orthodox dogmatics is possible — not in the creation of new dogmas, but of their interpretation and expression. Will this richness of thought be limited to the conciliar definitions, obligatory for all, and will these definitions be limited to those of the seven ecumenical councils? It is impossible to say, and the answer to this question is of no decisive importance. What is important is that the catholic conscience of the Church should be in movement and that it should be enriched as we advance in human history. And the new contact of the peoples of the West with the Orthodox conscience, as well as the contact of Eastern theology with the theological thought of the West, promises a fruitful future for Orthodox theology.
All these properties of Orthodoxy, connected with its "sobórnost," its conciliarity, result in its indefinable character, its unfinished state, if we may use the term. This is the impression received when Orthodox thought is compared with Latin precision. Very often, in questions of a secondary order, where Orthodoxy offers only theological opinions or devotional habitude, the Roman Church presents either dogmas completely formulated, or at least doctrines officially fixed, for instance, in the teaching about the future life, in its various phases. Some may think that this is an advantage and that the absence of such precision is a sign of weakness and immaturity. We do not deny this fact of incompleteness, which finds its partial explanation in the historic destinies of Orthodoxy. But fundamentally these traits are inherent in the Church as a whole, because its life has depths which are quite unfathomed. For "where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty" (II Cor. 3:17).

The Church as Tradition


The Church as Tradition
by Fr. Sergius Bulgakov


Holy Scripture and Holy Tradition.
NOT all human race belongs to the Church, and not all Christians belong to the Church — only the Orthodox. Both these facts give rise to problems which concern the searching reason of religious faith. Both problems have exhausted the theologians. How can it be, if Christ took upon Himself a whole humanity, that the Body of the Church, His Church, comprehends externally only that part of humanity which is in the Church? And how is it that of that section of humanity called to the love of Christ by baptism, only a portion live the true life of the Church, elect from among the elect? The Lord has given us no understanding of the first problem, and only a partial comprehension of the second, which we shall consider later. The salvation of mankind through entrance into the Church is not a mechanical process, independent of the will of man, but it presupposes the voluntary acceptance or rejection of Christ (Mark 16:16). Thus by faith one enters the Church; by lack of faith one leaves it. The Church, as an earthly society, is first of all a unity of faith, of the true faith preached to the world by the Apostles after the descent of the Holy Spirit. Since this faith must be expressed in words, confession, preaching, the Church appears as a society joined by its unity of religious, dogmatic consciousness, containing and confessing the true faith. This concept of the true faith, of orthodoxy, cannot be conceived as some abstract norm. On the contrary, true faith has a definite content of dogmatic teaching, which the Church confesses, demanding of its members the same confession. Thus a departure from the true faith means separation from the Church: heresy or schism.
The Incarnation took place in the world, not above it. It completed historic time without destroying human history, but rather giving it a meaning positive and eternal, and becoming its centre. In spite of its divine and eternal nature (or, more exactly, because of it) the Church has a history within the boundaries of human history and in connection with it. Christianity is greater than, but not outside, history; it has a history of its own. In this history the Church takes dogmatic forms; it provides the norms of true belief, of the profession of the true faith. And each member of the Church accepts the doctrine of the Church, expressed and fixed during all the time of its history. The life of the Church, while mysterious and hidden, does not for that reason become illogical and "non-dogmatic," on the contrary, it has a logos, a doctrine and a message. The Lord, who is the Way, the Truth and the Life, preached the Gospel of the Kingdom in revealing the meaning of the Scriptures announcing the dogmas concerning Himself, the Father and the Spirit. His Church concerns itself with the same things. For faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God (Romans 10:17). Knowledge comes from the preaching of the true faith; right living is necessarily connected with right believing; they come one from the other.
The fullness of the true faith, the true doctrine, is much too vast to be held in the consciousness of an isolated member of the Church; it is guarded by the whole Church and transmitted from generation to generation, as the tradition of the Church. Tradition is the living memory of the Church, containing the true doctrine that manifests itself in its history. It is not an archaeological museum, not a scientific catalogue, it is not, furthermore, a dead depository. No, tradition is a living power inherent in a living organism. In the stream of its life it bears along the past in all its forms so that all the past is contained in the present and is the present. The unity and continuity of tradition follow from the fact that the Church is always identical with itself. The Church has an unique life, guided at all times by the Holy Spirit; the historical form changes, but the spirit remains unchanged. Thus belief in Church tradition as the basic source of Church doctrine, arises from a belief in the unity and self-identity of the Church. The period of primitive Christianity is very unlike the present time, yet one must admit that it is the same Church like unto itself; by its unity of life, the Church binds together the communities of Paul and the local Churches of today. In different epochs, it is true, tradition has not been known and comprehended in the same degree by all members of the Church, and it may be said, practically, that tradition is inexhaustible, for it is the very life of the Church. But it remains living and active, even when it continues unknown. The essential principle of tradition is this: each member of the Church, in his life and his knowledge (whether it concerns scientific theology or practical wisdom) should seek to attain the integral unity of tradition, to test himself if he is in accord with it. He ought to carry in himself living tradition; he ought to be a link inseparably connected with all the chain of history.
Tradition has many aspects: it can be written, oral, monumental. Besides, there is one source of tradition which occupies a place apart, perfectly recognized; it is Holy Scripture. Does Scripture or tradition hold the primacy? At the time of the Reformation the Western Church tried to oppose Scripture to tradition; really no such opposition exists; the idea of such antagonism was produced artificially by conflicting desires, either to lessen the value of Scripture in behalf of tradition, or the reverse. Scripture and tradition belong to the one life of the Church moved by the same Holy Spirit, which operates in the Church, manifesting itself in tradition and inspiring sacred writers. In this connection we should note that the latest Bible studies make increasing use of the traditional and collective element. Analysis of the books of the Old and New Testaments, discloses some early sources from which these books were drawn. Holy Scripture thus becomes a sort of written tradition, and the place for those individual writers who wrote under the dictation of the Holy Spirit. Holy books such as the Epistles of the Apostles — are they other than chronicles of the life of the different churches, preserved by tradition? Scripture and tradition must be comprehended, not as opposed one to the other, but as united.
Holy Scripture is thus a part of the tradition of the Church. It is that tradition which affirms the value of the holy books in the Church. The canon of holy books which affirms their inspired character is established by tradition; the inspired nature of the Scripture is guaranteed by the Church; that is to say, by tradition. No one can of himself decide questions relative to the divine inspiration of the Scriptures and the presence of the Holy Spirit in the Bible. That is given only by the Spirit of God which lives in the Church, for "no one knows divine things, except the Spirit of God." This cannot then be a question of personal choice but depends only on the judgment of the Church. History tells us that among many written works, the Church has chosen a small number as inspired by God; among many Gospels it chose the canonical Gospels; after much hesitation, it included in the canon certain books (for example, the Song of Songs, the Apocalypse) and rejected others which were a part of them for a certain time (the epistle of Clement, the "Pastor" of Hermas); it has maintained the difference between canonical and non-canonical books (deuterocanonical, pseudo-epigraphal and apocryphal). It is right to say that the Word of God possesses an inherent witness to itself, an intrinsic efficacy, a sort of immanent evidence of its inspired character, and it would not be the Word of God, addressed to men, if it did not penetrate into human consciousness like a cutting sword. And yet it would be exaggeration and error to think that man could, by his own choice and after his own taste, establish that certain written works were inspired; these works he can comprehend only in the measure of his personal capacity, and in a manner of thought characteristic of a given time.
The Church has given us the Bible through tradition, and the Reformers themselves received the Bible from the Church and by the Church, that is to say, by tradition. It is not for each of us to establish anew the canonicity of Scripture. Each one must receive it as such by the hands of the Church which speaks through tradition. Otherwise Scripture ceases to be the Word of God; it becomes a book, a literary work, subject to philological and historical investigations. But the Word of God, while being studied as an historical document, can never become only a document, for its exterior form, although bearing the character of a certain historic epoch, nevertheless encloses the word of eternal life; in this same sense it is a symbol, the meeting place of divine and human.
We should read the Word of God with faith and veneration, in the spirit of the Church. There cannot be, there should not be, any break between Scripture and tradition. No reader of the Word of God can fully comprehend f the inspired character of that which he reads, for to the individual there is not given an organ of such comprehension. Such an organ is available to the reader only when he finds himself in union with all in the Church. The idea that one can himself discern, at his own risk and peril, the Word of God, that one may become interlocutor of God, is illusory: this Divine Gift is received only from the Church. This gift is received immediately, in its fullness, in union with the Church, in the temple, where the reading of the Word of God is preceded and followed by a special prayer. We there ask God to aid us in hearing His Word and in opening our hearts to His spirit.
The Divine word, it is true, can well enter the individual perception, become an individual good, thanks to the inherent efficacy of the Word of God and of its interior evidence; Protestants are right so to affirm. If there were not that individual, direct perception (the individual in the Church) the Bible would become a sacred fetish, spoken of by the Apostle when he says: "The letter killeth, the spirit giveth life." It is right that there should be this personal discovery of the Word of God, its comprehension by the individual. That comprehension may be immediate or not. It is not immediate when one receives the truths of the Word of God, not directly from the Bible, but by means of the divine service, pictures, preaching, etc. In any case, the personal reception is possible only if one is in spiritual union with the Church, if one feels himself close to the Church, if one participates in its entire life; nevertheless the reception must be an individual matter. Protestantism also accepts the canon of the sacred books, as a norm which should be our guide. The reformers wished to have their Bible separated from the Church. But the Bible cannot be separated from the Church, for, separated from the Church, it becomes simply a collection of "books," a human document," writings." The Church, then, gives us the Bible as the Word of God, in the canon of the sacred books, and ecclesiastical tradition bears witness to it. Only the transcendent can testify to transcendence. The Church, which partakes of the divine life speaks of that which is divine, especially of the divine character of the Word of God. As for the individual, he may or may not be in the Church, but he is not himself the Church. In the history of the Church the recognition of the Word of God and a statement of that fact is the origin of the canon of the sacred books. The canon, however, does not order, by some exterior law, the recognition or non-recognition of certain sacred books; it testifies rather to the fact that the Church has already accepted them. It declares, confirms and legalizes that acceptance which cannot from henceforth be doubted. The ecclesiastical power, the councils of bishops, which express the knowledge of the Church, have only to give a true expression, an unchangeable formulation to that which already exists in the life of the Church, to that which is given by the Holy Spirit guiding that life.
And here a council operates not as an authority only, but as an organ of the Church. And only after this solemn proclamation of the truth already accepted by the Church, the canon of the holy books becomes the norm of ecclesiastical life, a law to which the individual conscience should be adjusted.
Ecclesiastical tradition is always alive; the process never stops; it is not only the past, but also the present. Touching the canon, the ancient Church formulated its definitions only under the most general forms, replying to questions which arose then: which are the books forming part of the Word of God and which are those not a part of it? The Church thus established only a sort of general catalogue of Scripture. Its decisions have absolute authority concerning what is excluded from or not included in the canon. It is a negative judgment, clear and simple, which certainly has primary importance. The positive verdict, on the contrary, gives only a very general judgment as to the value of the books included in the holy canon. It gives no indication of the character of divine inspiration, which differs among the books. It says nothing about the immediate authorship of the books of the canon, which in certain cases do not correspond to their titles. Nothing is said on the question of inspiration itself, of the correlation of divine and human which works in these books, of their history, nor of the interpretation of the relationship between their content and their historical background. In a word, the whole domain of Old and New Testament science-isagogic, hermeneutic: this domain is still far from being completely explored, it is still nothing but a domain of open questions, it is the domain of living tradition which is being created.
We also follow the march of history, and the Word of God seems to evolve somewhat according to our understanding. It does not change in its eternal content, but in the form accessible to human comprehension. Thus tradition, at the point of crystallization represented by the definitions of the Church, even in regard to the Word of God, is never finished and exhausted. Once fixed, tradition certainly becomes obligatory in the very measure of its authenticity and demands that great attention be given to it, particularly for the traditional attribution of the sacred books to one or another author. It is impossible to ignore these attributions, but it is not necessary to take all of them literally. The Church does not object to the study of the Word of God by all means possible, particularly by the methods of scientific contemporary criticism; more, it does not decide beforehand on the findings of that criticism, provided only that a pious and religious sentiment is preserved toward the sacred text as toward the Word of God. On the one hand it is impossible in Orthodoxy to have a rationalistic criticism, without faith, without religious principles, entirely detached from religion, a criticism which decomposes everything and which abolishes "the method of veneration." Such rationalism has made itself felt in liberal Protestantism.
Orthodoxy affords liberty for scientific study, provided the fundamental dogmas of the Church and the ecclesiastical definitions are safeguarded; it would be inadmissible, for scientific reasons, to change the canon of the holy books, to abrogate or to add to it. If the divinity of Our Lord is not accepted, His miracles, His Resurrection, the Holy Trinity — scientific study becomes tainted by an interior imperfection; it becomes blind and opinionated concerning all the Scriptures where these points are touched upon.
Such a science of the Word of God, a science without faith, contradicts itself. This internal contradiction affects equally all attempts to establish "scientifically" by means of historical criticism the veritable essence of Christianity outside the Church and its tradition. Thus a hopeless confusion arises between different domains, a confusion which, in advance, condemns scientific studies to religious sterility. It must be admitted from the very first that ecclesiastical science, while completely free and sincere, is not without premises, but a science dogmatically conditioned, a science of things believed or not. In this it is like the rationalistic science of unbelievers, which proceeds also from certain negative premises. Thus, for example, it is not possible, while retaining full liberty of scientific criticism, to study the gospel stories of the Resurrection of Christ, if one has not an exact dogmatic attitude upon the fact of the Resurrection (belief or unbelief). Such is the nature of a science dealing with belief. That science is not so difficult for those who do not believe as for those who half believe; the latter take as a decisive criterion their personal point of view, detached from ecclesiastical tradition. This is the position of certain extreme forms of liberal Protestantism. The truth is one, but men learn to know it by the discursive processes of development. And the Orthodox consciousness has neither to fear nor to be disturbed by Biblical criticism, for, by means of that criticism, there is gained a more exact idea of the ways of God and the action of the Holy Spirit, which has operated in the Church in different times and in different ways.
Orthodoxy has no reason to shun the modern scientific spirit, when it is a question of genuine research and not of giving free rein to the prejudices of an epoch; on the contrary, that scientific spirit belongs to Orthodoxy as does everything living and active in human history. Orthodoxy has an universal scale; it cannot be measured by one epoch only, which would give it an exclusive and particular imprint. It includes and unites everything truly creative, for the hidden promptings of real creativeness and of real knowledge proceed only from the Spirit of God Who lives in the Church.
Ecclesiastical tradition gives testimony to Scripture, and Scripture is itself a part of tradition, but its uniqueness is not thus lessened; it preserves its own nature as the Word of God; known anew and guaranteed by tradition, it lives as an independent and primary source of faith and doctrine. The inclusion of holy Scripture in tradition by no means compromises its originality and its value as the Word of God; the Word of God is above all other sources of faith, especially of all tradition in all its forms. Tradition adapts itself to the different needs of different epochs; holy Scripture, that is the voice of God addressed to man, has absolute value, though revealed under a conditioned historic form. It is the eternal revelation of divinity, a revelation addressed not only to this age but to the ages to come, and not only to the world of men but to that of angels, the eternal good tidings of the angel who flew in the midst of heaven (Rev. 14:6). From this point of view, it must be said that Holy Scripture and tradition are unequal in value; first place belongs to the Word of God; the criterion of the truth of Scripture is not tradition (although tradition testifies to Scripture), but on the contrary, tradition is recognized when founded on Scripture. Tradition cannot be in disagreement with Scripture. Tradition always supports itself by Scripture; it is an interpretation of Scripture. The germ found in Scripture is the seed; tradition is the harvest which pushes through the soil of human history.
The Word of God is at the same time the word of man, which contains the inspiration of the Holy Spirit; it has been, so to speak, uttered by Him. It has become of the same nature as the God-Man, divine and human at the same time. In whatever fashion inspiration is understood, it must always be admitted that its human form depends upon historical circumstances, such as language, time, national character. Contemporary Biblical science is learning more and more to distinguish this historical form, and thus we increase our comprehension of the concrete side of inspiration. But although dependent upon historical circumstance, Scripture always preserves its divine power, since the Word of the God-Man, the Word of God addressed to man, could be spoken only in a human language. But that human historical form becomes an obstacle to the understanding of the Word of God; it becomes transparent only under the guidance of the Spirit of God, Who lives in the Church; so that to understand the inspired Scripture a special inspiration, inherent only in the Church,, is necessary.
Holy Scripture, the Bible, was compiled in the course of centuries from among books by various authors, of different epochs, of different content, of different degrees of revelation. This is true of the two Testaments; the Old, which is no longer valid as a covenant, and the New, which is not yet completely manifested. The Bible is not a system, but a conglomerate, a mosaic in which the divine word is written by God through His profets. The Bible does not have a finished, exterior form or system. The canon of the holy books has been formed by ecclesiastical definitions, but that is only an exterior fact; it possesses the force of a fact, and not that of interior self-evidence. The fullness of the Word of God does not consist in an external "finish" of its form (this it does not have), but in its interior fullness, which is manifested in inseparable connection with the Church tradition. The Church has always lived under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, it has always possessed the fullness inherent in it, nevertheless it has not always had the Bible, at least in its present form. The books of the Old Testament came into it as they took form, and not all at once. The Church of the New Testament, during the first flourishing days of its existence, lived entirely without sacred books, without even the Gospels; these were produced only in the course of the first century, and were made part of the canon, together with the Epistles, much later, finally taking definite form at the beginning of the fourth century. This shows that it is the Holy Spirit, living in the Church, which is essential, and not one or another of its manifestations. It must be added that the content of the Word of God differs in its different parts, both as to the general purpose of the books (law, historical books, books of instruction, prophetic books, Gospels, Epistles, Apocalypse), and as to their own substance. All the Bible is the Word of God, all Scripture is divinely inspired (II Tim. 3:16). But one may distinguish among its parts those more or less important for us, at least within the limits of that which is accessible to us. The Gospels are for us different from the books of Ruth or Joshua; the Epistles are not the same as Ecclesiastes or Proverbs. The same distinction obtains between canonical and deutero-canonical books.
Protestantism has arbitrarily impoverished its Bible by excluding the deutero-canonical books. This distinction in degree of divine inspiration seems contradictory. Can there be degrees of inspiration? Is there not simply presence or absence of inspiration? This simply means that divine inspiration is concrete and that it adapts itself to human weakness and consequently can be greater or less. This is why the non-canonical books have a certain authority as the Word of God, but less authority than that of the canonical books. Speaking generally, the Bible is an entire universe, it is a mysterious organism, and it is only partially that we attain to living in it. The Bible is inexhaustible for us because of its divine content and its composition, its many aspects; by reason, also, of our limited and changing mentality. The Bible is a heavenly constellation, shining above us eternally, while we move on the sea of human existence. We gaze at that constellation, and it remains fixed, but it also continually changes its place in relation to us.
It is highly important to establish a right relationship between the Word of God and tradition in the life of the Church. The Word of God may be considered as the unique and primary source of Christian doctrine. Protestantism has become the religion of a book instead of being that of the spirit and of life — the religion of the New Testament scribes. But the Bible, considered solely as a book, ceases to be the Bible, which it can be only in the Church. Biblical orthodoxy, which is developed in certain branches of Protestantism and in certain sects, dries up Christianity, making of it a legalistic religion. Catholicism of the Middle Ages neglected Bible reading; it had no confidence in such reading, which produced a direct " anti-Biblicalism." Certainly, each member of the Church has the right to possess the Bible. In fact, the degree of Biblicalism in a church corresponds to its level of ecclesiastical culture. This varies among different peoples, and, in this particular, first place belongs to Protestantism. To forbid the reading of the Bible to laymen, nowadays, would be heresy. As a matter of fact no Church does forbid it. But, the connection between Scripture and tradition being so close, a man not knowing the Bible cannot be considered as deprived of Christian instruction, where the vacancy is filled by living tradition; oral, cultural, plastic. And just as the Church, at its best moments, has had the power to exist without the written word, certain communities continue to live without the Scriptures in our day. A Christian can and should have a personal attitude towards the Bible, a life united with the Bible, just as he should have an individual prayer-life. This personal connection comes from long years of frequent reading of the Word of God. We have examples of this among the Fathers of the Church whose speech was impregnated with Biblical expressions. They thought in terms of the Bible — lived with it. The Word of God became an inexhaustible source of instruction. But such a personal feeling toward the Bible does not remain individual and isolated; does not lose its connection with the Church. The attitude of the Church does not extinguish the personal sentiment; on the contrary, it makes it more definite. For all that is ecclesiastical lives only in that which is personal, and it is in the union of the individual and the collective that the mystery lies, which is the spirit of the Church.
The Word of God is used in the Church in two ways: liturgically and non-liturgically. In the first instance the Bible is used not simply in separate readings, but is made a part of the daily rite. This liturgical reading gives a passage a special value. The. event whose story is read happens in spirit in the Church; that is not an account of something which happened in the past and no longer exists; no, it is also the event itself. Such are, for example, the readings about the Gospel events, especially on great feast days. The Church mystically re-lives the happening itself, and the reading of the Gospel has the force of an event.
When Scripture is read outside the service, it is necessary, from the very first, to discriminate between the scientific point of view and the religious. It is not that these points of view mutually exclude or oppose each other, but that each of them makes its special emphasis. The scientific study of Scripture, as a work of literature, differs not at all from other categories of scientific study. The same methods are used. The results of scientific study are inevitably and naturally applied to the religious interpretation of the content of the Word of God in so far as they help to attain a more exact understanding of its historic context.
Scientific study, while maintaining full liberty in its own limited domain, cannot pretend to interpret Scripture from the point of view of dogma — and yet this often happens. Still this scientific study does partake, in a certain degree, of dogmatic exegesis. In reality, knowledge of the sacred text, under all its possible aspects, has necessarily a certain value for religious interpretation. A scholar cannot begin his work by taking himself as his sole point of departure. He must study the work of all his predecessors and carry it on without a break in the continuity. Thus it is equally impossible that an interpreter of Scripture, working to understand the religious point of view, should ignore the results of scientific study already made, without prejudice. Thanks to contemporary scientific study the sacred text may be seen anew; what may be called the scientific tradition is normal and inevitable. This tradition, by the way, dates from the most ancient times, beginning with the interpreters of the "Septuagint," the Great Synagogue and the Holy Fathers.
The Church, then, applies to the interpretation of Scripture this self-evident general principle: the understanding of Holy Scripture must be based on tradition. In other words, when one undertakes to understand the Word of God from the point of view of faith and dogma, one must necessarily be in accord with the interpretation of the Church handed down by the divinely-inspired Fathers and teachers of the Church and from the apostolic times. After His resurrection Our Lord opened to His disciples the understanding of the Scriptures (Luke 24:45). This understanding continues to be opened to us by the action of the Holy Spirit in the Church. Thus the treasure of wisdom of the Church is formed; not to use it would be folly. This principle curbs the individual will by placing man face to face with the Church, subordinating him interiorly to the control of tradition, making him responsible, not only as an isolated individual, but also as a member of the Church. In practice, it amounts to this: in obvious cases his conception of certain events or doctrines must not be in disagreement with the fundamental conceptions of the Church; in less obvious cases he is obliged to collate his opinions with what predominates in Church tradition; he must himself seek such verification and agreement. For the spirit which lives in the Church is one — it is the spirit of unity.
This principle by no means excludes a personal feeling toward the Word of God, or the individual effort to understand it. On the contrary, when the individual does not apply himself personally to the Word of God, it remains a closed book. But this individual feeling must not be egotistically individual; it must be full of the "spirit of the Church." We must be, within ourselves, in union with the Church and feel keenly our "sonship" in the unique life of the unique Spirit. If then, we aspire to be connected with Church tradition, this is a natural need springing from free personal feeling; for liberty is not license of free will, but love and concord.
In practice, after having found the testimony of tradition, the exegetist ought to connect his own opinion with such testimony, and to try to place his opinion in the context of interpretation given by the Church. Scientific study also tends to understand each question in connection with its history; in this sense, science also seeks a sort of tradition in history. But, for science, history is rather a succession of events, than a unique manifestation of the spirit which lives in it; it is more the history of errors than a testimony to the truth. And yet the difference in the point of view of the separate communions in regard to tradition is often exaggerated. It is thought that Protestantism denies all tradition because it accepts this only in limited fashion, and denies certain particular traditions — which do not correspond with the tradition of the whole Church. Protestantism began by denying the primacy of the Pope, indulgences, etc., and came at last to reject all tradition. For tradition in regard to one or another question is not expressed in some Church rule obligatory for all, which is the result of a conflict of opinions (like the definitions of the Councils) but includes opinions of great authority and of different shades of meaning, sometimes even contradictory. The differences of exegesis and of method in ecclesiastical writers are too well known to be overlooked. If a guide is sought in tradition, it must be accepted not as an external norm or an order, but as an internal and creative work.
In the Roman Church where the Pope is the supreme authority, there is no place for such an attitude toward tradition, for the meaning of tradition here is that which the Pope attributes to it. Such a state of affairs does not exist in Orthodoxy, and fidelity to tradition expresses itself by the tendency to be in accord with the spirit of the doctrine of the Church.
This fidelity, consequently, does not shut out liberty and the creative spirit, but even presupposes them. It is not a substitute for a personal understanding and by no means does away with such understanding, but only enriches it.
Tradition is not a law; it is not legalistic literalism, it is unity in the spirit, in faith and in truth. It is natural and appropriate to the conscience of the Church, while proud individualism and egocentrism are contrary to the Church's nature and spirit. As Scripture is given to the Church and by the Church, it must be comprehended also in the spirit of the Church, that is in connection with ecclesiastical tradition and not outside it. But the fact remains that God has given us a thought of our own, and that our personal work cannot be done in the past. In other words, ecclesiastical tradition does not put the voice of the past in the place of the voice of the present; in it the past does not kill the present, but gives it full force. That it is necessary to follow ecclesiastical tradition and to seek in it its own individuality, to drink of the source of Church unity, is an axiom of Church consciousness. If the Church is, and if the Word of God is confided to it, it is evident that the perception of truth is given to us as members of the Church and that we, in consequence, ought to preserve the spirit of the Church.
Fidelity to tradition — in that which concerns the divine word — such is the spirit of the Church. It is now time to consider the general dogmatic question: what is tradition?


The Nature of Church Tradition.
The tradition of the Church is an exterior, phenomenal manifestation of the interior, noumenal unity of the Church. It must be comprehended as a living force, as the consciousness of one organism, in which all its previous life is included. Thus tradition is uninterrupted and inexhaustible; it is not only the past, but also the present, in which the future lives, as well. We have an image of living tradition in the relationship between Old and New Testaments. The Old Testament is not abrogated, but completed, by the New. Still the Old contains the New within itself in a preparatory form, as its own fulfillment, its own future. And from the Old Testament there stream rays of light into the new age, beyond the Second Coming — light which extends from the Creator to the Fulfillment when He shall be "all in all."
Tradition is not a sort of archaeology, which by its shadows connects the present with the past, nor a law — it is the fact that the life of the Church remains always identical with itself. Tradition receives a "normative" value precisely because of this identity. And as the same spirit dwells in each man living the life of the Church, he is not limited to touching the surface of tradition, but, in so far as he is filled with the spirit of the Church, he enters into it. But the measure of that spirit is also the measure of sanctity. This is why sanctity is an interior norm used to determine what constitutes Church tradition. The light of sanctity thus illuminates tradition.
From an exterior point of view, tradition expresses itself by all that is impregnated with the Spirit of the Church, and in this sense it is inexhaustible. Into the personal conscience of each member of the Church there enters only a drop of that sea, a grain of that treasure. But here, quality matters more than quantity. The timid and trembling light of a candle lighted at the sacred flame preserves that same flame. The candles burning in the temple whose many fights transform themselves into one light, represent Church tradition as diffused in the entire Church.
In the interior life of the Church, its tradition assumes many forms, literary, liturgical, canonical documents, memorials. All the life of the Church at all times in its existence, as far as it is fixed in documents — this is Church tradition.
Tradition is not a book which records a certain moment in the development of the Church and stops itself, but a book always being written by the Church's life. Tradition continues always and now not less than formerly; we live in tradition and create it. And nevertheless the sacred tradition of the past exists for us as present; it lives in our own life and consciousness. Moreover, between the past and the present there is this difference, that the present is for us fluid and without form, still being created, while the tradition of the past is offered to our knowledge under forms already crystallized, accessible to intelligence.
Tradition concerns faith and life, doctrine and piety. Primitive tradition was oral — Our Lord Himself wrote nothing and taught His disciples by word of mouth, and primitive teaching was also oral. But little by little tradition became written. In practice, the Church picks out from the written body of tradition the most essential parts and gives them the force of ecclesiastical law (the Canon), their acceptance and acknowledgment become obligatory for all Christians. Such a minimum of tradition obligatory for all, but by no means exhausting all tradition, the Church has forced from the decisions of the Councils, ecumenical and local, possessing most authority, supreme organs of the ecclesiastical power of an epoch. Such a profession of faith, obligatory for all, is the Nicene Creed recited during the liturgy (to which may be added the Apostles' Creed, which has less value and is not of liturgical use, and especially the Athanasian Creed). Then come the dogmatic definitions of the seven ecumenical councils. Anyone who does not accept this minimum of Church tradition by that fact separates himself from the society of the orthodox. The canons of the ecumenical and local councils, concerning various sides of the life of the Church, are also obligatory. But the value and importance of these practical rules cannot be compared with the dogmatic definitions mentioned above, many among them being the outcome of historic circumstances. Thus certain canons have been simply abrogated by others more recent (something which cannot happen to dogmatic definitions); other canons, without being formally abrogated, are no longer in force. Ceasing to be living tradition in the Church, they enter the domain of history and of archaeology. But it is just upon these ecclesiastical laws which are based upon tradition, that the organization of the Church and the hierarchical order rests. As regards Church services, a ruling also obligatory for all is the so-called Typikon which fixes all the services during the entire ecclesiastical year. But the Typikon, also, does not have the value of the dogmatic canons; its requirements change according to varying conditions of life and place; it is obligatory only in a general manner. In principle the order of service can assume different forms; as happened, for example, before the separation of the Roman-catholic church, when there were two rites — Eastern and Western-and two liturgies, each of equal value, though such differences in regard to dogma were not permitted. And when such a difference appeared in regard to the procession of the Holy Spirit ("filioque"), it led to separation. All the order of the services and the sacraments belongs especially to the domain of Church tradition — written and oral — and both are equally important.
By means of the services certain dogmas of Christian doctrine which have not been declared by the definitions of the ecumenical councils, acquire the force of law. For example: reverence of the Mother of God in Orthodoxy, the doctrine of the Seven Sacraments, the cult of holy images and relics, the teachings about the future life, many things which liturgical tradition suggests for our acceptance, in a manner sometimes more powerful than conciliar decision. Thus the dogmatic definitions of the Councils of Constantinople of the fourteenth century concerning the doctrine of Gregory Palamas about the light on Mt. Tabor are confirmed by the services of the second week of Lent; on the other hand, the definitions of the Councils of Constantinople of the seventeenth century on transubstantiation, which are not confirmed liturgically, have less authority.
The maxim of St. Vincent de Lérins on tradition: "quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus traditum est" — is often considered as a guiding rule on the subject. Nevertheless, this principle, systematically applied, cannot have the universal importance which is sometimes attributed to it. First, this maxim excludes all possibility of the historic origin of new dogmatic formula (this includes even the pronouncements of the seven ecumenical councils), for they do not agree with the semper of the maxim. So, to demand that tradition should be ecumenical quantitatively — ah omnibus et ubique — does not seem to correspond to the essentials of things, for then local traditions would become impossible (and nevertheless these traditions can, in the course of time, become universal). Besides, it can happen that the truth of the Church is professed not by a majority but by the minority of members (for example, at the time of Arianism). In general the above maxim makes impossible all movement in Church tradition, which is nevertheless movement itself; the life of the Church would be condemned to immobility, and its history would become superfluous and even impertinent. This is why the maxim of Vincent de Lérins, understood formally, does not correspond at all with the whole of the life of the Church. Thus it can be accepted only in a limited and relative sense, in the sense that true dogmas, already proclaimed by the Church as such, are obligatory for all. The point in question here concerns the definitions of the seven ecumenical councils; their denial would be truly in contradiction — ,direct or indirect — with the profession of faith which is the foundation stone of the Church: "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." To the maxim of Vincent de Lérins must be added the word ascribed to St. Augustine: "In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas." This latter maxim better expresses the real life of tradition where one part which is certain and already manifest must be distinguished from another part which is not yet so revealed and in that sense doubtful, problematic.
Outside this part of tradition fixed by the Church as lex credendi or lex orandi, or lex canonica or lex ecclesiastica, there remains a vast domain of tradition which has not the same clearness and remains a problem for theological knowledge and science. The monuments of Church tradition are, first of all, ecclesiastical literature in the wide sense of the word; the works of the Apostolic Fathers, the Fathers of the Church, the theologians. Afterwards come liturgical texts, architecture, iconography, ecclesiastical art; finally usage and oral tradition. All this tradition, while produced by the same unique Spirit Who lives in the Church, is at the same time impregnated with historic relativity. On certain points of detail differences, divergences and contradictions are permitted. All these gifts of tradition should be studied, compared, understood. It seems necessary, in depending upon the monuments of tradition, to fix upon what can truly be called the tradition of the Church. The measure of the plenitude of this comprehension may vary. Certain epochs can have a more or less sharp perception of different aspects of the doctrine of the Church. Then, all that preserves the living memory of the Church forms the volume of tradition. The quality of ecclesiastical tradition is the unique life of the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit in all times. The life of tradition consists in the inexhaustible creative work of the Church by which the depths of its knowledge are manifested. Thus Church tradition is the life of the Church in the past which is also the present. It is a divine truth revealed in human words, deeds, and decisions. It is the divine-human body of the Church, living in space and time. Least of all is it an external, obligatory law, which is only a small part of tradition. It is rather an inner law of the Church, arising from its unity.
Is the Church capable of historic development, particularly of dogmatic development? This is the question which presents itself on the subject of Church tradition as history. On the one hand this question is answered by the facts themselves, for it is obvious that dogmas are developed in history and that, in consequence, the Church knows a development of dogma. The primitive Church, in comparison with the epoch of the ecumenical councils, was comparatively adogmatic, and the contemporary Church is richer and more full of dogmatic "content" than the ancient Church. But on the other hand, the Holy Spirit, Who resides in the Church and the eternal life which He gives us, knows neither diminution nor augmentation, and thus the Church is always identical with itself. This arises from the fact that the Church is the union of human and divine life; its substance is invariable in its plenitude and its identity with itself, but its human element lives and develops in time, lives not only with the grace-endowed life of the Church, but also with the life of the world. The leaven of the Kingdom of God is mixed with a dough which ferments according to its own laws. The historical development of the Church consists in a realization of its super-historic content; it is, so to say, a translation of the language of eternity into that of human history, a translation which — notwithstanding the unchangeableness of its content — nevertheless reflects the peculiarities of a given epoch and language; it is a varying form, more or less. adequate, for an invariable content. In this sense it is possible to speak of dogmatic development and just on this account it is equally impossible to speak of stagnation or immobility in the consciousness of the Church.
Dogmatic definitions are made with the means and content of a given epoch and thus these definitions reflect the style and the peculiarities of that epoch. The Christological controversies and the definitions of the ecumenical councils most certainly reflect the spirit of Greek thought. These are, in a certain sense, translations of the fundamental truth of the Church into the Hellenistic tongue. Even contemporary dogmatic controversies, in matters of ecclesiology, for instance, are marked by the spirit of modern times and its philosophy. That is to say, the expression of dogmatic formulae is determined by historic circumstances, so to speak, pragmatically. This does not lessen their significance but merely indicates their connection with the inevitable historic development of the Church. Dogmas arise from the need to understand anew and to re-interpret anew the elements of the experience of the Church. This is why, in principle, new dogmatic definitions will always be possible. In fact, in the thought of the Church, new thoughts and new dogmatic definitions are always ripening, while the unique and divine life of the Church remains always identical with itself, outside of and above history.
Let us distinguish between that part of Church tradition which remains absolutely unchanged and that in which a certain development is possible. The Spirit of God living in the Church never changes, neither does Christ Himself, but on the other hand we must clearly recognize the inevitability of dogmatic development in the revelation of Church consciousness, since certain of its expressions are of purely historical origin and pragmatic in character. This recognition of pragmatism or historism in dogmatic development, and hence in dogmatic forms, in no wise diminishes the significance of dogma. It does not introduce a general historic relativism, according to which dogmas may not only arise, but grow old and die. Relativism relates to forms and not to content. As to the latter, it partakes of the unity and constancy of tradition. It cannot be abrogated, and in this sense, the content of dogma is without fault and, so to speak, absolute. But though content is absolute, form is not, although we should recognize the higher appropriateness of a given form and its content. For instance, Greek philosophy was accepted as the most satisfactory form for the expression of Christology. This pragmatism of form is nevertheless no hindrance to the special divine inspiration which, so the Church holds, is evident in the dogmatic decisions of the ecumenical councils. We should remember that the Word of God has its historic external form, belonging to a definite historical epoch, bearing the marks of that time, yet in no way thereby losing its divine inspiration. On the other hand, we must not identify the dogmatic formula of Church tradition, formula of historic origins, with the Word of God which bears within itself its own absoluteness and eternity. If, for instance, we trace the development in Church literature of the Trinitarian formula, we shall see that some writers, even the most authoritative, give it an approximate and inexact expression, which we can accept only in its historic sense. Of course, in this connection, the dogmatic definitions of the ecumenical councils rise above the rest like mountain-peaks, although even these, for their complete understanding, demand an historical as well as a spiritual commentary.
All Church traditions consists of such relative-absolute, pragmatic, historically-conditioned expressions of the one life of the Church. This means that it must always be historically comprehended in its expression and in its unity, perceived from within. This means, also, that tradition is never completed, but continues such throughout history. Our epoch, our life, in so far as they are in union with the Church, are the continuation of tradition. It results from this, also, that tradition, to be the true tradition of the Church, should be a living tradition. This means we should live it in our lives. To make living tradition, a personal inspiration and an effort of the spiritual life are necessary. Tradition is not something static, but something dynamic; it is lighted at the fire of our enthusiasm. The scribes and the Pharisees of all epochs would transform tradition into dead archaeology, or into an exterior law, into the letter that kills. But the power of tradition is not at all in such a spirit (even in the instances where the law demands that tradition be submitted to): to accept tradition interiorly, to receive it in one's heart — that is what makes the force of tradition. Nothing is more false than the idea, prevalent in the West, of the Eastern Church as the Church of tradition, a church frozen into an immobility of ritualism and traditionalism. If such a spirit exists anywhere, it is only a proof of partial feebleness, of local decadence, it corresponds not at all to the very essence of tradition which is the inexhaustible torrent of the life of the Church, to be understood only by a life of creative effort.
In this sense tradition must be creative; it cannot be otherwise, for the creative effort of our life revives in us all the strength and all the depth of tradition. This act of creation is not personal, individualistic — but it is the act of the Church, a Catholic act, it is the very witness of the Spirit Who lives in the Church.
Infallibility of the Church, then, is not theoretical and abstract; it is not the criterion of knowledge, but is a testimony borne to truth of life, practical truth from which flows the truth of dogma as the object of knowledge. Primum vivere deinde philosophari. In this sense, all the life of the Church is one and the same truth, in spite of differences in its dogmatic formulae. It was the same in the time of primitive Christianity, when all the dogma of the Church was comprised in the profession of faith, and at the time of the ecumenical councils with their rich theology. Heresy is not only a dogmatic error, but a corruption of that true life, from which follows a falling-away from the unity of the Church in dogmatic consciousness, as well. The sufficiency or fullness of Church tradition does not mean that, as something finished, complete, it cannot be added to, but that the doctrine taught by the Church is always sufficient for true life, for salvation. Each epoch of Church history is complete for itself, not defective, feels no need of any additions to enable its life in God. And fullness and infallibility are only other ways of stating the fact that the Church contains the true life, is the pillar and confirmation of the truth. Unity of tradition is established by unity of life, and unity of tradition establishes unity of faith which is witness to the unity of the Church. What connection is there between the profession of faith and all ecclesiastical tradition? The profession of faith is a brief expression of the content of tradition. This expression is made effective by the organs of the Church, the ecclesiastical councils or the organs of Episcopal authority; it takes, then, the power of an ecclesiastical definition; the infallibility and the changelessness inherent in the Church become characteristic of it. How that profession is determined is a question of fact. We have here to elucidate a question of principle, what is the organ of this infallible judgment? Does it exist in the Church? This leads us to study the question of the hierarchy in the Church.

The Church


The Church

by Fr. Sergius Bulgakov


Orthodoxy is the Church of Christ on earth. The Church of Christ is not an institution; it is a new life with Christ and in Christ, guided by the Holy Spirit. Christ, the Son of God, came to earth, was made man, uniting His divine life with that of humanity. This divine-human life He gave to his brethren, who believe in His name, although He died, rose again and ascended into heaven, He was not separated from His humanity, but remains in it. The light of the resurrection of Christ lights the Church, and the joy of resurrection, of the triumph over death, fills it. The risen Lord lives with us, and our life in the Church is a mysterious life in Christ. "Christians" bear that name precisely because they belong to Christ, they live in Christ, and Christ lives in them. The Incarnation is not only a doctrine, it is above all an event which happened once in time but which possesses all the power of eternity, and this perpetual incarnation, a perfect, indissoluble union, yet without confusion, of the two natures — divine and human — makes the Church. Since the Lord did not merely approach humanity but became one with it, Himself becoming man, the Church is the Body of Christ, as a unity of life with Him, a life subordinate to Him and under His authority. The same idea is expressed when the Church is called the Bride of Christ; the relations between bride and bridegroom, taken in their everlasting fullness, consist of a perfect unity of life, a unity which preserves the reality of their difference: it is a union of two in one, which is not dissolved by duality nor absorbed by unity. The Church, although it is the Body of Christ, is not the Christ — the God-Man — because it is only His humanity; but it is life in Christ, and with Christ, the life of Christ in us; "it is no longer I who live, but Christ Who liveth in me" (Gal. 2:20). But Christ is not only a Divine Person. Since His own life is inseparable from that of the Holy Trinity, His life is consubstantial with that of the Father and the Holy Spirit. Thus it is that, although a life in Christ, the Church is also a life in the Holy Trinity. The body of Christ lives in Christ, and by that very fact in the Holy Trinity. Christ is the Son. Through Him we learn to know the Father, we are adopted by God, to Whom we cry "Our Father."


The love of God, the love of the Father for the Son and that of the Son for the Father, is not a simple quality or relation; it possesses itself a personal life, it is hypostatic. The love of God is the Holy Spirit, which proceeds from the Father to the Son, abiding upon Him. The Son exists for the Father only in the Holy Spirit which rests on Him; as the Father manifests his love for the Son by the Holy Spirit, which is the unity of life of Father and Son. And the Spirit itself, being the love of two persons, in keeping with the very nature of love lives, so to speak, in Its personal existence outside Itself in the Father and the Son.

The Church, in her quality of Body of Christ, which lives with the life of Christ, is by that fact the domain where the Holy Spirit lives and works. More: the Church is life by the Holy Spirit, because it is the Body of Christ. This is why the Church may be considered as a blessed life in the Holy Spirit, or the life of the Holy Spirit in humanity.

The essence of this doctrine is revealed in its historical manifestation. The Church is the work of the Incarnation of Christ, it is the Incarnation itself. God takes unto Himself human nature, and human nature assumes divinity: it is the deification of human nature, result of the union of the two natures in Christ. But at the same time the work of assimilating humanity into the Body of Christ is not accomplished by virtue of the Incarnation alone, or even by the Resurrection alone. "It is better for you that I go (to my Father)" (John 16:7). That work required the sending of the Holy Spirit, Pentecost, which was the fulfillment of the Church. The Holy Spirit, in the form of tongues of fire, descended on the Apostles. The unity of these, the unity of the twelve presided over by the Blessed Virgin, represents the whole of mankind. The tongues of fire remained in the world and formed the treasure of the gifts of the Holy Spirit which reside in the Church. This gift of the Holy Spirit was conferred in the primitive Church by the Apostles after baptism; now the corresponding gift, the "seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit," is accorded in the sacrament of confirmation.

The Church, then, is the Body of Christ. Through the Church we participate in the divine life of the Holy Trinity, it is life in the Holy Spirit by which we become children of the Father and which cries in our souls: "Abba, Father," and which reveals to us the Christ living in us. That is why, before attempting any definition of the Church as manifested in history, we ought to understand the Church as a sort of divine fixed quantity living in itself and comparable only with itself, as the will of God manifesting itself in the world.

The Church exists, it is "given" in a certain sense, independently of its historic origin; it took form because it already existed in the divine, superhuman plan. It exists in us, not as an institution or a society, but first of all as a spiritual certainty, a special experience, a new life. The preaching of primitive Christianity is the joyous and triumphant announcement of that new life. The life is indefinable, but it can be described and it can be lived.

There can thus be no satisfactory and complete definition of the Church. "Come and see" — one recognizes the Church only by experience, by grace, by participation in its life. This is why before making any formal definition, the Church must be conceived in its mystical being, underlying all definitions, but larger than them all. The Church, in its essence as a divine-human unity, belongs to the realm of the divine. It is from God, but it exists in the world, in human history. If the Church is considered only in its historic development and if it is conceived only as a society on this earth, its original nature is not understood, that quality of expressing the eternal in the temporal, of showing the uncreated in the created.

The essence of the Church is the divine life, revealing itself in the life of the creature; it is the deification of the creature by the power of the Incarnation and of Pentecost. That life is a supreme reality, it is evident and certain for all those who participate in it. Nevertheless, it is a spiritual life, hidden in the "secret man," in the "inner chamber" of his heart; in this sense it is a mystery and a sacrament. It is above nature — in other words, it exists apart from the world; still it is included within the life of the world. These two attributes are equally characteristic. From the viewpoint of the former, we say the Church is "invisible," different from all that is visible in the world, from all that is the object of perception among the things of the world. One might say that it does not exist in this world, and, judging by experience (in Kant's use of the term), we encounter no "phenomenon" which corresponds to the Church; so that the hypothesis of the Church is as superfluous for experimental cosmology as the hypothesis of God for the cosmology of Laplace. Thus it is correct to speak, if not of a Church invisible, at least of the invisible in the Church. Nevertheless, this invisible is not unknown, for, beyond the scope of the senses, man possesses "spiritual vision," by means of which he sees, he conceives, he knows. This vision is faith, which in the words of the Apostle, is "the evidence of things not seen" (Heb. 11:1); it lifts us on wings to the spiritual realm, it makes us citizens of the heavenly world. The life of the Church is the life of faith, by means of which the things of this world become transparent. And, naturally, these spiritual eyes can see the Church "invisible." If the Church were really invisible, completely imperceptible, that would mean simply that there were no Church, for the Church cannot exist solely in itself apart from mankind. It is not altogether included in human experience, for the life of the Church is divine and inexhaustible, but a certain quality of that life, a certain experience of the life in the Church, is given to everyone who approaches it. In this sense everything in the Church is invisible and mysterious, it all surpasses the limits of the visible world; but still the invisible may become visible, and the fact that we may see the invisible is the very condition of the existence of the Church.

Thus the Church in its very being is an object of faith; it is known by faith: "I believe in one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church." The Church is perceived by faith, not only as a quality or an experience, but also quantitatively: as an all-embracing unity, as a life unique and integral, as universality, after the pattern of the oneness of the three Persons of the Holy Trinity. Only the infinite subdivision of the human species is accessible to our sight, we see how each individual leads a life egotistical and isolated; the children of the same Adam, although they are social creatures, altogether dependent on their brothers, do not perceive their essential unity, but this unity manifests itself in love and by love, and it exists by virtue of participation in the one divine life of the Church. "Let us love one another that in the same spirit we may confess" proclaims the Church during the liturgy. That unity of the Church reveals itself to the eyes of love not at all as an exterior union — after the fashion of those we meet in every human society — but as the mysterious, original source of life. Humanity is one in Christ, men are branches of one vine, members of one body. The life of each man enlarges itself infinitely into the life of others, the "communio sanctorum," and each man in the Church lives the life of all men in the Church. In God and in His Church, there is no substantial difference between living and dead, and all are one in God. Even the generations yet to be born are part of this one divine humanity.

But the Church universal is not limited to humanity alone; the whole company of the angels is equally a part of it. The very existence of the world of angels is inaccessible to human sight, it can be affirmed only by spiritual experience, it can be perceived only by the eyes of faith. And thus our union in the Church becomes even larger through the Son of God, in that He has reunited things earthly and things heavenly, has destroyed the wall of partition between the world of angels and the world of men. Then to all humanity and to the assembly of angels is added all nature, the whole of creation. It is entrusted to the guardianship of angels and given to man that he may rule over it; it shares the destiny of man. "All creation groaneth and travaileth together" (Rom. 8:22-3), to be transfigured in a "new creation," simultaneous with our resurrection. In the Church man thus becomes a universal being; his life in God unites him to the life of all creation by the bonds of cosmic love. Such are the boundaries of the Church. And that Church, which unites not only the living, but the dead, the hierarchies of angels and all creation, that Church is invisible, but not unknown.

It may be said that the Church was the eternal end and the foundation of creation; in this sense it was created before all things, and for it the world was made. The Lord God created man in His image, and thus made possible the penetration of man by the spirit of the Church and the Incarnation of God, for God could take upon Himself only the nature of a being who corresponded to Him and who in itself contained His image. In the integral unity of humanity there is already present the germ of the unity of the Church in the image of the Holy Trinity. Thus it is difficult to point to a time when the Church did not exist in humanity, at least in the state of design. According to the doctrine of the Fathers, a primordial Church already existed in Paradise before the fall, when the Lord went to speak with man and put Himself into relation with him. After the fall, in the first words about the "seed of the woman" the Lord laid the foundation of what may be termed the Church of the old covenant, the Church wherein man learned to commune with God. And even in the darkness of paganism in the natural seeking of the human soul for its God, there existed a "pagan sterile church," as some of the songs of the Church call it. Certainly the Church attained the fullness of its existence only with the Incarnation, and in this sense the Church was founded by Our Lord Jesus Christ and realized at Pentecost. On these events, the foundation of the Church was laid, but its fullness is not yet attained. It is still the Church militant, and it must become the Church triumphant, where "God shall be all in all."

It is impossible, then, to define the limits of the Church in space, in time, or in power of action, and in this sense the Church, although not invisible, is not completely comprehensible; nevertheless that does not make the Church invisible in the sense that it does not exist on earth under a form accessible to experience, or even in the sense that it is transcendent only, which would in reality mean its non-existence. No, although we do not comprehend its whole meaning, the Church is visible on the earth, it is quite accessible to our experience, it has its limits in time and space. The life invisible of the Church, the life of faith, is indissolubly connected with the concrete forms of earthly life. "The invisible" exists in the visible, is included in it; together they form a symbol. The word "symbol" denotes a thing which belongs to this world, which is closely allied to it, but which has nevertheless a content in existence before all ages. It is the unity of the transcendent and the immanent, a bridge between heaven and earth, a unity of God and man, of God and the creature.

But if the Church as life is contained in the earthly Church, then this earthly Church, like all reality here below, has its limits in time and space. Being not only a society, not comprehended in or limited by that concept, still it exists exactly as a society, which has its own characteristics, its laws and limits. It is for us and in us; in our temporal existence. The Church has a history, just as everything that exists in the world lives in history. Thus the existence eternal, unmoved, divine of the Church, appears in the life of this age as an historic manifestation, has its beginning in history. The Church was founded by Our Lord Jesus Christ; He has ordained that the profession of faith of Peter, spoken in the name of all the Apostles, is the corner-stone of His Church. After the resurrection He sent the Apostles to preach His Church; it is from the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles that the Church of the New Covenant dates its existence — at that time there rang from the mouth of Peter the first apostolic appeal inviting entrance into the Church: "Be ye converted, and let each one be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ — and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38): "And there were in that day nearly three thousand persons added to the Church" (Acts 2:41). Thus was laid the foundation of the New Covenant.