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 sacram