Hello, and
welcome to the inaugural podcast of Faith and Philosophy,
Reflections on Orthodoxy and Culture. Over the next few
weeks we will be looking at the relationship between the
Orthodox Christian faith as taught by the apostles of Christ
and preserved intact within the Orthodox Church today, and
the intellectual traditions and movements that have helped
to create and shape the culture in which we live.
I am an
historian of early Christianity by training, and a professor
of philosophy by vocation. I hope that over the next few
weeks we will come to understand that the dichotomy between
philosophy and faith between Athens and Jerusalem, is for
the most part, a false dichotomy. To live a life of obedient
faith in Christ, is nothing else than to live
philosophically, that is, to love and search after wisdom,
for Christ is, himself, the wisdom and reason of the Father.
The
philosophy teacher in me would like to plan out the whole
course of these podcasts so that every one logically leads
to the next. But let’s face it. If you have ever read the
Church Fathers, or any ancient philosopher, for that matter,
you know none of them were ever that organized, and the
reason is simple. For them, theology or philosophy, is a
lived discourse. It is something you do, not something you
just sit around and talk about.
So these
talks will not follow any grand scheme or outline. I may
revisit the same topic three or four times, but always from
a slightly different angle. The purpose, as always, will be
to explore the ways in which our Orthodox faith impacts our
relationship to, and our life within, our own culture. To
that end, I have chosen as my topic for today, A Tale of
Two Therapies.
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Those of
you who are familiar with the works of the late theologian,
Father John Romanides, or of Metropolitan Hierotheos
Vlachos, will recognize the theme of Orthodox Christianity
as a therapeutic science. That is, they present Orthodoxy,
above all, as a therapeutic method designed to heal the
human soul. I would add here, the Greek word for soul is
psyche, from which we get our words, psyche,
psychology, and psychiatry. Indeed, Metropolitan Heirotheos
entitled one of his books, Orthodox Psychotherapy.
On the other hand, in his book, For the Life of the
World, Father Alexander Schmemann railed against
those who would treat Orthodoxy as a means of helping people
get through life, and ultimately reconciling them with the
inevitability of death. In other words, he flatly rejected
any attempt to treat Orthodoxy as a form of secular, or even
religious, therapy.
It would
be all too easy, at this point, to assume that Fathers
Romanides and Schmemman are simply at odds with one another,
one treating Orthodoxy as a kind of therapy, and the other
denying it. But such is not the case, for what Father
Schmemann opposed was therapy conceived as a humanistic
endeavor, designed to reconcile man with the fact of his own
impending death. To this fact, and to all of the humanistic
strategies designed to help us accept it, Father Schmemann
opposed the Church’s Paschal exclamation, “Christ is risen
from the dead, trampling down death by death.” In other
words, Orthodoxy does not accept death as a fact, but
considers it an enemy to be overcome, and proclaims that
Christ has done just that.
Against
this backdrop, the Church’s therapeutic strategies, prayer,
fasting, vigil, self-denial, etc., can never be considered
mere coping mechanisms. They are not designed to help us
simply get through life until the moment of our inevitable
death. Rather, they are designed to help us participate in
Christ’s victory over death here and now. “Let us begin the
fast with joy,” we sing at the beginning of Lent, “that we
may all see the Holy Passion of Christ, our God, and rejoice
in spirit at his Holy Resurrection.”
What
Fathers Romanides and Schmemann have done, in fact, is to
stress two completely different, but complementary, and
mutually dependent, aspects of the Orthodox faith. Father
Schmemann has emphasized the objective fact that by his
incarnation, death and resurrection, Christ has destroyed
death and opened the depths of God’s immortal life to mortal
men. As a liturgical and sacramental theologian par
excellence, he has further emphasized for us that this
victory over death is offered to us objectively in the
sacramental life of the Church. Baptism is our
death and resurrection with Christ. The eucharist is
our participation in the deified humanity of the crucified
and risen Lord.
By the
same token, Father Romanides’ writings serve to remind us
that what is given objectively in the Church must be
received and lived subjectively by each one of us. Yet, as
we know, this is easier said than done. To truly receive and
live the life that Christ offers to us requires work, and
this precisely because, in St. Paul’s terminology, we must
strive against the old man, our nature that is subject to
the fear of death.
Metropolitan Hierotheos stresses the patristic image of the
Church as a spiritual hospital. The Church is the inn where
the Good Samaritan brings the man who fell among thieves
after he had been ignored by everyone else who passed by.
When every secular and religious help fails, Christ appears,
and offers us healing of body and soul in his Church.
It is
precisely because the Church is Christ’s hospital,
that our healing, our very salvation, depends on both of
these aspects. The objective fact of Christ’s victory over
death offered to us in the sacraments, and the subjective
appropriation of this gift through a life of humble
obedience and spiritual struggle. Without the grace of the
risen Christ, without a life anchored in the mystical life
of Christ’s body, churchly therapy becomes just another
humanistic attempt at self-improvement, fasting just another
dietary program, and prayer just another form of meditation.
On the other hand, without the Church’s therapeutic
discipline, the sacraments become magical rites, or just as
bad, mere social customs. Baptism without catechesis is just
another rite of passage. Communion without confession, just
another communal meal.
It is
imperative for us to remember, therefore, that when we hear
Orthodoxy described as a therapeutic science, and the Church
as a spiritual hospital, we do not understand these phrases
in the same way that they are used and abused in our popular
culture. When a celebrity gets arrested he blames alcohol or
prescription drugs and goes into rehab for a week or two.
When another celebrity has a public meltdown, she goes into
rehab for a day or two. At this rate, the 30-minute rehab is
almost inevitable. We have even reached the point where
celebrities who insult special interest groups have to check
into rehab as part of their public mea culpa. This last is
way too reminiscent of the gulag archipelago for my taste.
The point
is that Orthodox therapeia is not rehab. It is not
a crash program designed to help us cope with the stresses
of life. It is, rather, a tried and true method, tested and
proved again and again over the last 2000 years, of healing
our passions and disciplining our minds, so that the grace
of God, which is given to us freely in Christ, may grow
within us as a seed and transfigure us, as St. Paul tells us
in his letter to the Romans, “Be not conformed to this
world, but be transfigured by the renewing of your nous.”
Orthodox therapeia is precisely this transfiguring renewal.
May our
great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, the vanquisher of death,
through the intercessions of St. Innocent of Alaska, my
patron saint, who preached the Word of God to the native
peoples of Alaska in their own languages, and within the
context of their own cultures, and of the blessed Elder
Sophrony Sakharov, who spoke the Word of God to us within
the context of our own crazy, post-modern culture, have
mercy upon us all, and grant us a rich entrance into His
eternal kingdom.