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Swimming the Bosporus, Chapter 4: Entering the Shallows
I had heard of the Church Fathers but, as noted in my last post, the first book I’d actually read by one was On the Incarnation by Athanasius of Alexandria.
The Fathers were a loose collection of Christian writers and thinkers who established the intellectual and doctrinal foundations during the first 750 years of Christianity. Some were taught by the apostles themselves, many participated in church councils, and others wrote about controversies facing the early church.
Read the previous entries: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
I had read an endless assortment of Christian, philosophical, and secular books, all of which pointed to the truth in their own way. It was as if they showed me part of an elephant, perfectly describing the ear, the trunk, or a leg. All useful knowledge, but I didn’t know how they interrelated.
This book was different. On the Incarnation showed me the whole elephant. Athanasius wove all the threads of knowledge I had into a complete, perfect tapestry. Finally, everything fit into place.
The book is only 100 pages, so it didn’t provide a systematic theology with charts and graphs but it led me to search out other Church Fathers. I read everything I could find in rapid succession.
“When I first opened his De Incarnatione I soon discovered I was reading a masterpiece … for only a master mind could have written so deeply on a subject with such classical simplicity.”
― C.S. Lewis in his introduction for On the Incarnation
Growing up Protestant, Christian history wasn’t a thing. I didn’t learn about the Church Fathers, the councils, or the Great Schism between the Eastern Orthodox and Rome. Instead, I got something like this:
- Jesus
- Acts of the Apostles
- People getting things wrong
- Martin Luther, John Calvin, and 80 bazillion denominations
The millennium-and-a-half represented by point three was basically ignored unless we were kvetching about the Pope and those dastardly indulgences.
Off and on I had wondered what happened during those silent 1,500 years but figured it wasn’t too important if I never heard about it. Turns out they were anything but silent.
I listened to freebie audiobooks by Ignatius of Antioch, Polycarp of Smyrna, Justin Martyr, Clement of Rome, Ambrose of Milan, Gregory of Nyssa, Basil the Great, and Gregory of Nazianzus. Many were quite short, so I knocked out all those in about three weeks.
Yeah, yeah, I was a bit obsessed. When I find something interesting, I need to know everything I can about it tout suite. Why didn’t anyone tell me about these dudes?
John Chrysostom, John of Damascus, John Climacus, John Cassian, Cyril of Alexandria, Pope Gregory I, and Augustine followed. Those took a lot longer, but each added more detail and depth to what I learned from St. Athanasius.
When I ran out of books, I headed to YouTube and watched all of Theoria‘s videos. I downloaded Orthodox podcasts; Ancient Faith has a slew of them dealing with the here-and-now instead of early heresies and martyrdoms.
Intellectual knowledge is fine but knew I needed to experience Orthodoxy. It’s not enough to think the right thoughts and believe the right things; you have to get the heart involved. I tend to live in my brain, so it took a bit of time to set down the earbuds and drag myself to church.
It’s important to avoid being just “Online Orthodox.” There are many sincere seekers on the Web, but also an odd internet subculture of dilettantes who share memes, argue, and spew invective about why Orthodox folks are awesome and everyone else is anathema. A lot of these angry young males haven’t bothered to visit a church, let alone join one, but will casually accuse learned priests and deacons of heresy. It’s toxic and gross, using Orthodoxy as a “trad” pose and a weird form of identity politics. Internet’s gonna internet.
Finally, I popped into a liturgy at a Greek Orthodox church down the street. I had been there before, but only for their epic Greek Festivals. Even took a church tour years back. (My youngest, about eight at the time, demanded we join because “it smells pretty.”)
I didn’t know what the heck was going on but I enjoyed my first liturgy. The incense made me sneeze. The parishioners were incredibly kind despite my blonde daughters and me standing out like sore Scandi thumbs. I knew we couldn’t partake of Communion, so we slipped out when that began.
Time to check out a few more, I thought. Next up was a Russian Orthodox church a bit further off and I went alone. A church member slid in and explained what was going on and the Priest made a beeline after liturgy to welcome me. Again, incredibly kind. The incense still made me want to sneeze.
Note: The Orthodox Church is a communion of churches, each governed by its own bishop. So, you’ve got a Greek church, Russian church, Serbian church, etc., each with its own leaders. But if a Russian Orthodox businesswoman is visiting another town with a Greek parish, she can take Communion there. They’re all one, just different jurisdictions.
Church number three! This one was Antiochian (Syrian) Orthodox which includes a lot of “converts” like me. One guy handed me a service book to help me follow along. Wait a minute, he looks familiar. “I used to attend the same megachurch as you,” he said. “So did she, and him, and that family,” pointing them out. Guess I’m not the only pilgrim.
I had a wonderful discussion with the priest after liturgy. I asked how long it takes to join and he said about two years. “Bah, I just read 347 books, I’ll ace the test now, padre!”
No, he said, you need to live it. Take in the liturgy, no need to follow it line-for-line. Meditate. Pray. Experience Orthodoxy.
After praying about it, this felt like the place. And, you know what? The incense didn’t make me want to sneeze.
Chapter 5.
This is fourth in the series “Swimming the Bosporus,” on my journey from the megachurch to the Orthodox Church. Installments every Sunday morning. Chapter 1 is here. Chapter 2 is here. Chapter 3 is here.
How does that work with the Uniate churches? We’ve attended a Ukrainian Catholic service and a Byzantine Catholic service at churches in San Diego where a cousin’s family are members. We sat out the Communion, but watched. These were Lenten evening services, and there was food and discussion afterwards. Their rites are Orthodox, but I never though to ask if they have communion with Orthodox churches.
You finished Augustine? Kudos.
I have been of the opinion that one never really finishes Augustine, even if one has read all the books.
I don’t know if it’s the same in Orthodox churches. But in a Catholic church anyone who cannot receive the Eucharist — including Catholics who haven’t get received the sacrament of Reconciliation after committing mortal sin — can cross one’s arms in front of one’s chest and bow before the priest to receive a blessing.
I have been working on a position paper on Christian Universalism for some months now. While I had done incidental readings in the Church fathers for many years, this got me deep into their biographies as well as their writing and some etymology to help understand their context. Not for novices on the fence, oh my. Several of these guys had a Christian phase and sometimes it was their final phase, like Augustine going from pagan to Manichean to Christian.
Then there was Tertullian, going from pagan to Christian to an odd heresy where priests could be women and they swapped cheese for the wine in communion. Certain wags have tried to set him up as a Roman imperialist distorting Christian doctrine to suit the propaganda requirements of the emperor. The problem, of course, is that he is long dead before Constantine comes to power and Tertullian’s Church is generally at best tolerated and subject at any time to vicious persecution. Making themselves the propaganda arm of empire simply wasn’t a thing, then.
And Origen. We remember Origen because he was the most prolific Christian writer of his age by far, and he relayed and created some of the most important ideas in Christendom in powerful prose. But he was a bit off here and there. As a teen he was afflicted with sinful lust and deeply affected by scripture where Christ instructs that if your eye afflicts you (drawing you into sin), pluck it out, so Origen did some home surgery. There were no little Origens in his future. Parental guidance suggested.
As usual, the history is a lot more fun and interesting than it’s reputation, and in the end the Church seizes on their wisdom and prays for them in their failings.
Interesting. But it suggests some anatomical confusion. Or poor aim.
Pretty sure that’s the same in Orthodox churches.
There is a confoundment involved, no question. He was shocked when the Church disciplined him for what he considered to be an act of obedience.
As I understand it, Uniate and Byzantine Rite Catholic churches assume many of the forms of the East, but are only in union with the Catholic Church.
This is actually a good example of the common temptation to oversimplify Biblical teachings.
That statement by Christ is indeed true literally, not just figuratively. If your immortal soul is on the line and God promises to resurrect the body in glorified form, then clearly temporary pain and loss of one’s vision is a small price to pay for that salvation.
But that’s only the first step in logic we are challenged to take. Too many people stop at the obvious and isolated meaning of a single statement in The Bible. That’s like judging a person’s life and personality by a single statement. It’s an absurd approach to understanding. We must piece everything we know together.
By doing so, we understand that such self-violence is unnecessary; that it represents an intolerably low standard of self-discipline. God also states that He will provide all one needs to live a holy life. The Lord offers us spiritual strength and accompaniment to overcome any challenge. To pluck out one’s own eye is to give up on oneself, to give up on God’s grace, to mar His beautiful work, to negate so many opportunities which the Lord might place in one’s path.
The better we understand the whole of the Word and His works throughout history, the better we might understand any particular part.
I am so enjoying following your journey, Jon. Your sincerity mixed with your self-effacing humor is wonderful. Thanks for sharing.
I’ve not seen that, but in the parishes I’ve attended (Greek Orthodox), antidoron (“in place of the gift”) is distributed at the end of the Liturgy. It is bread that was blessed but not used as part of the Communion. It was historically reserved for those who cannot receive Holy Communion so that they would receive a Blessing in place of Holy Communion. This practice has changed over time and all those present at the Divine Liturgy receive Antidoron as a blessing.
It also is a last vestige of the earliest Eucharistic Feast, where the Eucharist was part of a communal meal. “In place of the gifts” is something of a later understanding.
The various Eastern Rite Catholic churches all stem from Eastern Orthodox churches who shifted authority to Rome. Sometimes this was compelled, as when Poland conquered Ukraine, at other time voluntary because being in union with Rome provided some hard military protection from Ottoman or Arab rule, while also offering financial assistance, at times when the Orthodox in various areas could not directly help.
They generally retain the liturgies, and often the theology of their Orthodox cousins. My own church rented space from a Byzantine Catholic church before it was able to obtain its own building, and relations continue to be very warm.
Why slip out? There have been many times when I felt I could not take Communion at an Orthodox service. You just stand in your pew (or in your place, if the church has no pews) until it is over. Watching the communicants in line is (for me) one of the most rewarding parts of the liturgy, even when I don’t take Communion. Especially watching the children.
This is a great series. “Ricochet: Come for the heterodox thinking. Stay for the Orthodoxy”.
Mostly because my kids were bored. It was much longer than what we were used to.
So your wife is all in on this too? I understand that among couples, the husband is generally the one more smitten with Eastern Orthodoxy.
They are long.
I bought this little blue book called St. Athanasius on the Incarnation, with intro by CS Lewis at a library sale for $1.00. This copy is by A.R. Mowbray & Co Ltd. London, 1970. Someone underlined areas and wrote notes in the margins. It sat on my bookshelf until Easter week last year. My mother in law passed after several illnesses got the best of her that week. She was our last remaining parent. On the way to the funeral home, I got a text from my friend in Massachusetts that Notre Dame was engulfed in flames. It felt surreal. I remembered this book. It brought such peace and perspective during a horrible week.
Fine, you talked me into it, but I’m frugal.
…
There is an OCA church near me where they are extra-long. The priest does all of the prayers twice, once in Slavonic, and again in English. The Greek church near me alternates English and Greek, so they tend to be standard length, as is the Serbian church, which sticks entirely to Slavonic.
Wow, how do you live with that? We pray our liturgy in Hebrew, and if it’s an English-speaking congregation, the sermon may be in English. But we don’t repeat the whole thing over in the other language.
Skipsul, do you understand enough Greek or Slavonic to make out what they are saying? If so, do you find that these languages express the liturgy better? I have found constant repetition with a certain amount of understanding of the words DOES lead to fuller comprehension of the meaning and nuances of the original text of the liturgy, but it can be a long and arduous slog before one reaches that point.
Interesting. I read something a while ago about how more women than men attend church in America. It talked about how some churches have sort of feminized their message and it showed a study where, on average, pastors in America had lower testosterone level than men in other professions. But then, when your priests all have that Duck Dynasty thing going on, maybe that makes things more manly.
Nooooo… Very supportive, but not attending with me. Was going to chat about that in the next post.
We need a sad button.
☹️