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Ethics of Organ Transplantation

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In my studies with the Saints Cyril and Athanasius Institute for Orthodox Studies, after reading The Basis of the Social Concept of the Russian Orthodox Church, I was assigned to answer the question, “Which social issue do you find most challenging or troubling in its treatment in the document, and why?” I’d like to share my response here.

Because I am personally intrigued by the idea of organ transplantation, I found section XII.7 to be particularly interesting, though I am concerned that it may not have gone far enough in some cases. The document does do a good job addressing all the salient points surrounding the issue of transplantation. The key points I identify are:

  1. The ability to improve or extend life
  2. The creation of a black market for organs
  3. The will of the donor
  4. Identification of the moment of death
  5. The integrity of the personal identity of the recipient
  6. The growing of fetuses for the purpose of organ donation

Transplantation of organs can be a blessing. An excellent example of a type of transplantation that improves the quality of life of the recipient is a cornea transplant. I have personally known a person who received a cornea transplant and his life was demonstrably improved. Consequently, I cannot make the case that organ transplantation is universally immoral. It does enable doctors to express compassion through healing.

I do believe that each of the six points above are addressed adequately, carefully, and mercifully in the document with the exception of item 5. The document states that, “in no circumstances moral justification can be given to the transplantation that threatens the identity of a recipient, affecting his uniqueness as personality and representative of a species.” I believe that this articulation is good as far as it goes. But I believe that it should have contained more detail rather than leaving the interpretation up to the judgement of doctors.

While modern medicine, rooted in reductionist thinking, does not see a link between personality and most organs other than the brain, medicine has not always held this position. Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), for instance, links various aspects of a personality to specific organs. For example, difficulty in making decisions is usually attributed to gallbladder issues. Worry is often linked to issues of the spleen. TCM is not unlike its ancient European counterparts. In Hippocratic medicine, the four humors (as opposed to organs) give rise to four temperaments. While modern medicine generally discards these paradigms as being rooted in ignorance, we continue to find that treatment modalities such as acupuncture established by these forms of medicine continue to be effective. Furthermore, the Fathers of the Church clearly teach that the nous resides in the heart. These ancient teachings raise questions about the spiritual impact of a heart transplant or even of blood transfusions.

Not only do we have traditional approaches to medicine and some teachings of the Fathers creating questions about transplantation, but there exists anecdotal evidence together with some scientific theories that call into question the belief that the heart is merely a pump. People have experienced personality change. While our contemporaries are astounded at such a notion, the ancients would probably have asked sarcastically, “what did you expect?”

These views are generally considered pseudoscience by mainstream scientists. Then again, frontal lobotomies were mainstream in the ’40s and ’50s, but are now banned in many countries on moral grounds. There have been enough questions raised for me to be concerned. And, the burden of proof lies upon the advocates of transplantation. Many who call themselves skeptics criticize what they believe to be a pseudoscientific explanation for personality transference. I consider myself a skeptic of the belief that transplantation does not impact the identity of the recipient and that the heart is merely a pump.

The following video poses interesting questions about heart transplants in particular.

Judith: Chapter 9 Commentary

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Jules Joseph Lefebvre, Judith, c. 1892

I’m pleased to make available a draft of my translation of chapter 9 of the Commentary on the Book of Judith by the Blessed Rabanus Maurus.

In Chapter 9, Judith stops and prepares for what she is about to do through prayer. Below I offer highlights from the commentary on her prayer.

Judith’s prayer hearkens back to more ancient events as she draws parallels between what is about to happen and Biblical events that bear similarities.

Rabanus notes that (verse 4):

in prayer, she aptly commemorates the act of Simeon the patriarch, who together with his brother Levi avenged the violation of his sister among foreigners by the sword of revenge, because it would happen that Holofernes, who wanted to commit an act of passion upon Judith, would be punished by his own sword in divine judgement.

The entire story she is referring to here can be found in Genesis 34 (and what a startling story it is!).

Later on Rabanus discusses how she compares the hoped-for subversion of the Assyrians with the drowning of the ancient Egyptians in the sea (verse 6):

Just as above she compared the immoderate with the passionate, so too she now compares the proud with those puffed up. For instance, she likened the Assyrians trusting in their arms to the Egyptians of old fighting against the Israelites, so that she might show that just as on that occasion the power of God was manifested in the submersion of Pharaoh and the Egyptians, so also here it can be revealed in the subversion of Holofernes and the Assyrians, because the same Lord, the same power, and the same justice endures both then and now, and through all the ages.

Judith uses this approach repeatedly as she asks for help from God. She points out how God acted in the ancient Scriptures and then asks Him to do it again in the present.

For further information about this translation project, please see my series of posts on Judith.

A Pause

I have been working on this translation for about one year now and I am over half-way done, having seven chapters left. As I may have mentioned before, this project was provoked by an assignment that I completed during the course of my studies with the Saints Cyril and Athanasius Institute for Orthodox Studies. For the past year, the institute has been somewhat dormant and in a state of uncertainty. I was pleased to discover that the Institute is back and consequently I will be taking the next semester off from translation to complete the final module of the certificate program. I may share some of my thoughts here as I progress through the reading and assignments, but I won’t have time to work on this translation.

Resurrection: The Saints

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hosios_loukas_28south_west_chapel2c_south_side29_-_ignatiosIn my previous post on the resurrection, I began talking about the Orthodox view of the resurrection. In this post I want continue that discussion by exploring  how the Orthodox and Catholic veneration of the saints testifies to the power of the resurrection.

Saint Ignatius of Antioch, writing in the first century or very early second century, on his journey to his martyrdom in Rome, wrote to the Church of Rome, pleading with them to allow his martyrdom to take place without interference. He viewed his martyrdom not as his death, but as his heavenly birth. He writes to the Roman Church:

It is good for me to die for Jesus Christ rather than to reign over the farthest bounds of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; Him I desire, who rose again [for our sake]. The pangs of a new birth are upon me. Bear with me, brethren. Do not hinder me from living; do not desire my death. Bestow not on the world one who desireth to be God’s, neither allure him with material things. Suffer me to receive the pure light. When I am come thither, then shall I be a man.1

Echos of Saint Ignatius’ sentiments are heard only decades later. A letter from the Church of Smyrna in AD 155 demonstrates very early veneration of Christian martyrs. It is indicated that the day of a martyr’s death was considered to be his or her heavenly birthday, which was celebrated annually just as the Orthodox Church continues to celebrate these birthdays today, with the celebration of the Eucharist. Furthermore, speaking as if in the present tense, the letter says that, “the martyrs we love as they deserve for their surpassing love to their king and master.”2 This indicates a very early veneration of martyrs.

The earliest recorded veneration of the relics of a saint occurred in the second century for the Holy Hieromartyr Polycarp, who is also the first recorded martyr outside the New Testament.

After his death, the Christians gathered up the remnant of the relics of Saint Polycarp because, as they said, “we afterwards took up his bones which are more valuable than precious stones and finer than refined gold, and laid them in a suitable place.”3 Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, was a disciple of the Holy Evangelist John, and readily fills Saint John’s description of the martyrs in heaven in Revelation 6:9-11:

I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the testimony which they held. And they cried with a loud voice, saying, “How long, O Lord, holy and true, until You judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then a white robe was given to each of them; and it was said to them that they should rest a little while longer, until both the number of their fellow servants and their brethren, who would be killed as they were, was completed.

This description by Saint John portrays an image of martyred saints standing before God himself in heaven. A striking type of this reality and an exemplification of our veneration is found in the fact that all Orthodox altars have the relics of saints built into them. Father Georges Florovsky provides a succinct explanation of this new reality:

The saints are alive and with daring they stand before the Lord; they are not dead … the death of saints is more like falling asleep than death,” for they “abide in the hand of God”; that is, in life and in light… and after He Who is Life itself and the source of life was ranked among the dead, we consider no more as dead those who depart with a hope of resurrection and with faith in Him.”4

Conclusion

From a reading of the Old Testament only, one might conclude that those who die are, like the SDA believe, completely unconscious of any earthly reality. This would be true if it were not for the power of the resurrection. The resurrection, however, changes everything. Before the resurrection, the dead were in hades and it was forbidden to communicate with them as King Saul did by enlisting the services of the witch of Endor to communicate with the prophet Samuel. However, when Christ, through death, descended into hades, he destroyed the gates of hell and released the captives, defeating the power of Satan and of death. At this moment, there was a fundamental shift in the “state of the dead.” The dead are no longer imprisoned. The saints of God are now able to stand with boldness before the Lord himself and offer supplications on our behalf, for “whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” This is why we offer prayers to the saints, asking them to offer supplications before the Lord on our behalf, just as we ask our friends and relatives to pray for us. The fact that we can speak directly to the saints and that they can hear and respond is a glorious confession of the power of the resurrection.

1 Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Letter to the Church of Rome, ch. 6.

2 Philip Schaff, History of the Church, v. 2, ch. 2.

3 The Smyrnaen Church, The Martyrdom of Polycarp, in The Apostolic Fathers, trans. J.B. Lightfoot, ch. 18.

4 Fr. Georges Florovsky, On the Veneration of the Saints.

Judith: Chapter 8 Commentary

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judith-veronese-2

Paolo Veronese, Judith Receiving the Ancients of Bethulia, oil on canvas.

I’m pleased to make available a draft of my translation of the commentary by the Blessed Rabanus Maurus on the eighth chapter of Judith. This chapter was nearly twice the length of previous chapters and so took some extra time (in addition to relaxing my focus on this work during Lent).

In this chapter Judith chastises the elders for setting dates. They had essentially given God a timeline to dish out his mercy upon them and agreed to give up the city if God hadn’t made himself known in five days. Judith, and rightly so, tells them that this was a very audacious thing to do and that they now need to pour out their souls in fasting, prayer, and repentance and hope they haven’t angered God. She makes her own plans and leaves them at the city gates to watch and pray.

There are a few interesting highlights in the commentary that I’d like to point out. First, Rabanus, like other Fathers before him, likes numerology. The strongest example of this follows (verse 7):

Furthermore, the very same Judith is found in the Scripture begotten in the fifteenth generation, which undoubtedly signifies that the Church itself emerged from the Patriarchs and Apostles through the number seven and the number eight of the Law and of the Gospel, and is appointed so that the glory of Heaven might be merited; for this number of steps was mystically presented in the Psalter and will reveal a type of the future ascension into the heavens, arriving at which the saints are justly able to say, “Behold now bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord: Who stand in the house of the Lord, in the courts of the house of our God” (Ps 133:1).

Rabanus follows the example of Saint Augustine of Hippo, who uses this same combination of seven and eight in discussing how high the water rose above the mountains during the flood. Augustine connects the fact that the water rose fifteen cubits above the mountains with baptism, which represents our regeneration, noting that the seventh day of rest (which epitomizes the Law), is thus connected with the eighth day of our resurrection (which epitomizes the Gospel) through this aggregate number of 15.

In the Vulgate and Septuagint, Psalms 119-133 (in translations based on the Masoretic Text like the King James Version, these are Psalms 120-134) are a sequence of fifteen Psalms or Odes of Ascent, also known as Graduals (note that gradus is the Latin word for step). Some scholars believe that these Psalms were sung by the Israelites as they made the journey to Jerusalem for the three great feasts. These Graduals continue to play a significant role in both the eastern and western liturgies. In the eastern rite, their principal use comes as the Church progresses through Lent toward Pascha. In the traditional western rite, these are sung at the third, sixth, and ninth hours on weekdays.

The second highlight that I would like to emphasize is that Rabanus sees the Ten Commandments as a an ancient and obsolete law. He likens Judith’s dead husband to the ten commandments, saying (verse 9):

She had Manasses for a husband, whose name is interpreted forgetful or necessity; who also, standing in the barley harvest over those binding sheaves in the field, died when the heat came upon his head. This is because she is discerned to be bound and subject either to the Ten Commandments of the Law or to a tribal custom from ancient times, but, with the coming Christ and with the sun of the Gospel growing brighter in the world, all that observance of the flesh ceased, and just as the gathering of the meager harvest came to a rapid finish, it was transferred through Christ to cultivation of the spiritual.

Rabanus teaches that the ancient law is a practice “of the flesh” and under the new covenant we are to cultivate the spirit rather than the flesh.

The third highlight that I would like to emphasize is how Rabanus Maurus speaks about prayer (verse 26).

“When therefore she had heard that Ozias had promised that he would deliver up the city after the fifth day” (Jdt 8:9), she reproved the idea, judging it inappropriate to establish for the Lord the time of His mercy, since He alone knew both the time and the manner of His mercy before all things; and because of this it is inappropriate for anyone to impudently demand anything of the Lord, but rather to refer everything to his judgment, just as a certain one of the Fathers is observed to have said as much in a prayer: “Son of God, as you will and as you know, have mercy on me.”

Rabanus is here quoting a prayer of Saint Macarius the Great. The full saying follows:

Abba Macarius was asked, ‘How should one pray?’ The old man said, ‘There is no need at all to make long discourses; it is enough to stretch out one’s hands and say, ‘Lord, as you will, and as you know, have mercy.’ And if the conflict grows fiercer say, ‘Lord, help!’ He knows very well what we need and he shews us his mercy.1

Finally, while Judith, who represents the Church, chastises the ancients, the priests of the Church should still be respected by those of us who have been placed under their leadership. The Blessed Rabanus describes it this way (verse 37):

Judith entrusts the ancients with the gate, because the Holy Church commends the careful protection of the camp of God to the priests of Christ, so that intently vigilant and skilled in oversight they might in this way strive unharmed to fortify and to protect against the ambushes of the enemy through the weapons of prayers.

For further information about this translation project, please see my series of posts on Judith.

1 The Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection, trans. Benedicta Ward, (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications 1975), p. 131.

The Resurrection: Orthodox Teaching

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1848-543395In our previous post on this topic, we first explored the Seventh-day Adventist (and similar annihilationist denominations), and second we explored the ancient Hebrew understanding of the state of the dead. While its easy to see how the SDAs could arrive at their view by reading Ecclesiastes with a modern worldview, the ancient Jewish view does not seem to follow the same path. In fact, it seems to be in line with the Orthodox view that, “Death is the common lot of men. But for man it is not an annihilation, but only the separation of the soul from the body. The truth of the immortality of the human soul is one of the fundamental truths of Christianity.”1

In the icon of the resurrection above, the entire narrative of human life and death up until this point is depicted, as discussed previously. Hades is depicted at the bottom of the image as a place of subterranean darkness filled with broken chains, manacles, and various forms of torture, along with death and/or the devil, who has been bound hand and foot and who no longer has any power over humankind.

This icon depicts Christ’s descent into Hades on Holy Saturday after His burial (cf. 1 Peter 3:19–20). The troparion of the feast represented by this icon explains in more depth what is happening in this image:

When You did descend to death, O Life Immortal, You did slay hell with the splendor of Your Godhead, and when from the depths You did raise the dead, all the Powers of Heaven cried out, O Giver of Life, Christ our God, glory to You!

In the image, we also see a number of other interesting features that help to illuminate the reality depicted herein. Christ is standing on the doors of Hades, which are broken. Just to the left of Christ, we see the Forerunner and Baptist John stretching forth his hand to point to Christ. This represents the fact that Saint John descended into Hades before Christ in order to act as His forerunner there as well as in the world of the living. From the two tombs on both the right and left, Christ raises the first-fallen, Adam and Eve. The fundamental meaning behind this depiction of Adam and Even is confirmed by The Holy Evangelist Matthew’s Gospel:

…and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the graves after His resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many (Matthew 27:52–53).

This story is explained in a unique way by Saint Gregory of Nyssa. His explanation is not necessarily the consensus opinion of the fathers, but serves to illustrate the fundamental change in the state of the dead initiated by the resurrection. Having sold himself into bondage to the devil, mankind was imprisoned by the devil in hades. In order to break mankind out of the prison, the Son of God descended, through death, into hades. The devil, failing to perceive the danger, admitted the Deity into hell, securing his own downfall:

As the ruler of darkness could not approach the presence of the Light unimpeded, had he not seen in Him something of flesh, then, as soon as he saw the God-bearing flesh and saw the miracle performed through it by the Deity, he hoped that if he came to take hold of the flesh through death, then he would take hold of all the power contained in it. Therefore, having swallowed the bait of the flesh, he was pierced by the hook of the Deity and thus the dragon was transfixed by the hook.2

(On this topic see also my recent posts: Purity of Heart and Descent into Hell)

Up until this point, interaction with the dead has been condemned because it required interaction with hades. Now that the dead are no longer imprisoned in hades, this situation has changed. For as Christ told Martha, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die” (John 11:25–26). Saint Athanasius the Great, in one of my favorite passages of all time, stunningly reveals the radical change in both the power of death over humanity, and the mind boggling transformation in Christian attitude toward death.

A very strong proof of this destruction of death and its conquest by the cross is supplied by a present fact, namely this. All the disciples of Christ despise death; they take the offensive against it and, instead of fearing it, by the sign of the cross and by faith in Christ trample on it as on something dead. Before the divine sojourn of the Savior, even the holiest of men were afraid of death, and mourned the dead as those who perish. But now that the Savior has raised His body, death is no longer terrible, but all those who believe in Christ tread it underfoot as nothing, and prefer to die rather than to deny their faith in Christ, knowing full well that when they die they do not perish, but live indeed, and become incorruptible through the resurrection. But that devil who of old wickedly exulted in death, now that the pains of death are loosed, he alone it is who remains truly dead. There is proof of this too; for men who, before they believe in Christ, think death horrible and are afraid of it, once they are converted despise it so completely that they go eagerly to meet it, and themselves become witnesses of the Savior’s resurrection from it. Even children hasten thus to die, and not men only, but women train themselves by bodily discipline to meet it. So weak has death become that even women, who used to be taken in by it, mock at it now as a dead thing robbed of all its strength. Death has become like a tyrant who has been completely conquered by the legitimate monarch; bound hand and foot the passers-by sneer at him, hitting him and abusing him, no longer afraid of his cruelty and rage, because of the king who has conquered him. So has death been conquered and branded for what it is by the Savior on the cross. It is bound hand and foot, all who are in Christ trample it as they pass and as witnesses to Him deride it, scoffing and saying, “O Death, where is thy victory? O Grave, where is thy sting?3

In my next post I will explore how the Orthodox and Catholic veneration of the saints testifies to the power of the resurrection.

1 Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky, Orthodox Dogmatic Theology, ch. 10.

2 Saint Gregory of Nyssa, The Homily on the Three-Day Period, quoted from “Bishop Hilarion Alfeyev on the Descent of Christ into Hades.”

3 Saint Athanasius the Great, De Incarnatione Verbi Dei, 5:27.

How the Resurrection Changes Everything

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For the living know they will die, but the dead know nothing; and they have no more reward, for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, hatred, and envy have now perished; And they have no portion forever in all that is done under the sun (Eccl 9:5–6 OSB).

image1Growing up Seventh-day Adventist (SDA), I knew this passage well as a proof text demonstrating the “state of the dead.” I believed that when I died, even if I died “in Christ,” I would in essence cease to exist until the general resurrection of the dead on the “last” day. Only my “breath” would return to God. For an extreme biblicist, it is challenging to read the above passage from Ecclesiastes and come to any other conclusion but that the dead are in stasis, lacking all sensibility. In essence they are no more than the molecules remaining from the decomposition of their bodies; cosmic dust. What Seventh-day Adventists and a handful of other protestant denominations fail to understand is the magnitude and immediacy of the resurrection. The resurrection for them and for many other protestants is some distant event that will happen in the future. Yet even many people from denominations that believe that the spirits of the just take up their abode in heaven after death, believe that they have “no portion forever in all that is done under the sun.” I have listened to at least one sermon by a Southern Baptist preacher who assured us that those who have passed from this life cannot see what goes on upon the earth, because, of course, “it’s not in the Bible.”

I posit that at the resurrection, there was a very clear and drastic change in how the people of God understood what the SDAs call “the state of the dead.” The pre-resurrection Jewish understanding of the state of the dead is drastically different than the post-resurrection Christian understanding. This is not to say that one is correct and the other is incorrect, but that this change in understanding was brought about by an ontological change in the state of the dead.

In this brief series, I would like to depict a very basic picture of the Jewish understanding of the state of the dead. I would then like to provide a brief sketch of the Christian teaching on the resurrection, and finally to discuss how this drastic change brought about by the resurrection is testified to by Orthodox and Catholic veneration of the saints. In this first post I will address the Old Testament (and SDA) understanding.

Judaic Teaching on the State of the Dead

In a sense, ancestors were attributed with great honor and a form of veneration. For instance, God is often referred to as the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” honoring these three patriarchs. But this veneration is very different from The Church’s living veneration of our saints. The patriarchs are remembered, but never directly invoked. In fact, throughout the Old Testament, there are very few references to communication with the dead. Furthermore, communication with the dead is condemned by the Law of Moses:

There shall not be found among you anyone who … conjures spells, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead. For all who do these things are an abomination to the Lord your God, and because of these abominations the Lord your God will destroy them before you (Dt 18:10–12).

Near the time of Christ, the common understanding of life after death resembled the views held by the Greeks (notwithstanding SDA teaching). The Old Testament Sheol is analogous to the Greek Hades, and Hades was considered to be a place where the souls of the dead were collected.

The following is an example of how the two concepts are similar. Between the Biblical concept of Sheol and the Greek concept of Hades, there is a similar division of the souls of those who were evil during earthly life from those who were good. In Greek mythology, Hades contains a place called the Elysian Fields, where the souls of those who were heroic and virtuous abode. Likewise, in the Judaic view held near the time of Christ, the righteous dead abode in The Bosom of Abraham (cf. Luke 16:23), which was separate from the place where the unrighteous stayed.1 This view is upheld by Christ’s parable of “The Rich Man and Lazarus,” in which the rich man, who lived a very sinful life, was separated by a vast chasm from the righteous Lazarus, who abode in the bosom of Abraham.

This concept has been understood, and translated in accordance with this understanding, since ancient times. The Septuagint, the primary version of the Bible used by the Orthodox Church, translates the word sheol as hades. The Septuagint has been demonstrated to be the text of the Scriptures that Christ and his Apostles quoted from in the New Testament Scriptures. It predates the New Testament. Likewise, the Vulgate, the primary version of the Bible used by the Catholic Church up until recently, translates sheol into various forms of the word inferno. The Vulgate was compiled only a few hundred years after Christ. It was not until the 1500s and the protestant reformation that Bible translators began replacing the word hades or sheol with grave or death.2

In the next post in this series, we will discuss the post-resurrection Christian view on the state of the dead.

1 F. Gigot, The Bosom of Abraham, In The Catholic Encyclopedia. (New York: Robert Appleton Company 1907).

2 Gary Amirault, The Hell Words of the Bible.

Descent into Hell

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For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth (Matthew 12:40 OSB).

2013_11_15_00_03Jonah’s flight from God brings him to a point in time when he must make a decision. He can choose between continuing to hide, or offering himself to save the seafarers onboard the ship. Just as Christ sought to “let this cup pass from me,” Jonah sought another path. But in the end, he saw that for the sake of others, he had to pass through suffering and, from his perspective, probably death.

Jonah, while reluctant, follows the pattern of Christ’s life. The Christian too, while reluctant, must follow this path. When initially given a command to obey, we disobey and hide from God. All of mankind has sinned and hidden from God as did both Jonah and Adam, but Christ, as the culmination of God’s winnowing action upon mankind, like the fine point of a needle, opens the way of salvation. Jonah’s descent into the depths of the sea for three days typifies Christ’s descent into hell and our descent in his wake through the baptism of water and of tears.

I recently experienced the joy of a friend’s wedding. Father Anthony, the presiding priest, observed in his homily that the act of martyrdom is present in each of the sacraments. Baptism demonstrates the death of self and the renewal into life brought by this sacrifice. Confession too contains the death and suffering of the self. The sacrament of marriage is replete with martyrdom and self-sacrifice for the sake of one’s spouse. And of course the ultimate sacrifice is evident in Christ’s self-offering of the Eucharist.

The prerequisite for redemption is sacrifice. Out of the depths of Christ’s sacrifice, he raises up his apostles unto the Gentiles just as Jonah ascended from the depths to the Ninevites. We must likewise, through our own self-sacrifice, ‘tradition’ the faith to our spiritual descendants. Saint Paul presents himself as a metaphor of Christ, revealing that he carries about in his own body the death of the Lord Jesus, that His life might be made manifest in his children (2 Corinthians 7-12). Like the risen Lord, Paul metaphorically dies so that his children might live. It is this continual cycle of death and rebirth that is the essence of tradition.

Ultimately, Christ’s resurrection and ascension culminate in our deification. Saint Athanasius the Great said that, “The Son of God became man that we might become god.” Christ, in his descent into death and ascent into life, ‘traditions’ unto us the purifying power of martyrdom and the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit in the outpouring of Pentecost. The purification experienced through martyrdom prepares us for the sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit.

Material persons are purified, sanctified, and deified. Bread and wine become God. Bones work miracles. The dead live.

The martyrs are those who have truly sacrificed everything for God. They are seeds who have been planted, died, and risen into true life. They have finally become human.

Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain. He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life (John 12:24-25).

Purity of Heart

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Because I have been practicing with the choir in preparation for Pascha, I had an opportunity to sing the hymn we sing at midnight:

Thy resurrection oh Christ our savior,
the angels in heaven sing,
enables us on earth
to glorify thee in purity of heart.

For some reason singing that caused me to think about the implications of what it says. It seems obvious and maybe intuitive, but I ended up spending several hours pouring through theology books in an attempt to find a good articulation of the reality.

I ended up with two passages from different theology books that, while perhaps not explicit about purity of heart, lead one on the path to understanding. The first passage relates in detail what happened at the death and resurrection of our Lord. This is taken from Orthodox Dogmatic Theology by Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky:

Christ, after His death on the Cross, descended in His soul and in His Divinity into hell, at the same time that His body remained in the grave. He preached salvation to the captives of hell and brought up from there all the Old Testament righteous ones into the bright mansions of the Kingdom of Heaven. Concerning this raising up of the righteous ones from hell, we read in the Epistle of St. Peter: “For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit; by which also He went and preached unto the spirits in prison” (1 Peter 3:18-19). And in the same place we read further: “For this cause was the Gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit” (1 Peter 4:6). St. Paul speaks of the same thing: quoting the verse of the Psalm, “When He ascended up on high, He led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men,” the Apostle continues: “Now that He ascended, what is it but that He also descended first into the lower parts of the earth? He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things” (Eph. 4:8-10).

To use the words of St. John Chrysostom, “Hell was taken captive by the Lord Who descended into it. It was laid waste, it was mocked, it was put to death, it was overthrown, it was bound” (Homily on Pascha).

I suppose one might wonder how one could have any purity of heart if one was held captive in hell. That’s somewhat crude, but it’s clear that death and hell are a factor that would prevent us from glorifying Christ in purity of heart.

The second passage I found helpful is from The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church by Vladimir Lossky:

The way of deification, which was planned for the first man, will be impossible until human nature triumphs over sin and death. The way to union will henceforth be presented to fallen humanity as salvation. This negative term stands for the removal of an obstacle: one is saved from something—from death, and from sin—its root. The divine plan was not fulfilled by Adam; instead of the straight line of ascent towards God, the will of the first man followed a path contrary to nature, and ending in death. God alone can endow men with the possibility of deification, by liberating him at one and the same time from death and from captivity to sin. What man ought to have attained by raising himself up to God, God achieved by descending to man. That is why the triple barrier which separates us from God—death, sin, nature—impassable for men, is broken through by God in the inverse order, beginning with the union of the separated natures, and ending with victory over death. Nicholas Cabasilas, a Byzantine theologian of the fourteenth century, said on this subject: “The Lord allowed men, separated from God by the triple barrier of nature, sin and death, to be fully possessed of Him and to be directly united to Him by the fact he has set aside each barrier in turn: that of nature by His incarnation, of sin by His death, and of death by His resurrection.” This is the reason why St. Paul writes: “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death” (I Cor 15:26).

This makes it clear that the last barrier is death and thus the resurrection is that event which finally unravels or removes the the last barrier to deification, and thus purity of heart.

Lazarus & Iconography

Brian Glass Leave a comment

Given that Lazarus Saturday is fast approaching, and I am particularly fond of this story, I want to share a comparison I did a while back of a western painting of the story of Lazarus with an Orthodox icon of the same story. There are many very striking western representations of the story, but I find the baroque of Jean-Baptiste Jouvenet particularly engaging.

jean-baptiste_jouvenet_-_the_raising_of_lazarus_-_wga12033What is striking to me about this image is not only the use of light to draw the eye to key points, but realism blended with the surreal. The characters have a three-dimensionality and detail, that while not quite photographic, is starkly contrasted with Orthodox iconography. And yet, the realism seems incongruous with the unbelievability of the scene. The image portrays what seems to me to be extreme chaos. The chaos revolves around the central figure of Christ who seems to anchor reality in place.

What almost destroys the coherence of the image is Mary, Lazarus’ sister. Her bright white garments almost seem to glow brighter than Christ himself. My eye is naturally drawn first to Christ, but before locking in on Him, it is almost distracted by Mary enough to take a short detour. But Christ is deftly positioned by Jouvenet, according to the rules of composition, to be the center of balance of the image. The eye is naturally directed from Christ to Mary next. Mary, just as in Orthodox iconography, pleads with Christ, taking a central role at his feet.

The eye finally moves from Mary to Lazarus, whose portrayal is perhaps one of the most intriguing aspects of this image. He is clouded in shadow, not having completely emerged from the cave. His expression, while difficult to discern, evokes a sense of astonishment mixed with awe. If the lighting were brighter, I could imagine tears.

The scene does seem to borrow a modicum of fashion influence from Jouvenet’s world and perhaps some European facial features, but I think this can be forgiven. We all tend to inject portions of our own experience back into our work. Additionally, one might wonder how a stone would fit over the mouth of this “cave,” but I think this too can be forgiven and chalked up to artistic license. Overall, this painting is quite remarkable and one that I would be proud to hang in my living room.

167996-pOn the right, you will find a fairly typical Orthodox icon representing the Biblical account of the resurrection of Lazarus.

Surprisingly, many of the features of this icon are found in the Jouvenet as well. Christ has a nimbus, Mary is pleading with him at his feet, and Lazarus is emerging from the cave. One might even note that Christ’s garments are very close in color. His toga is blue in both images, and while not bright red in the Jouvenet, his tunic is clearly of a reddish hue. Likewise, Mary’s garment is essentially white in both images. And of course, Lazarus’ grave clothes are white in both images.

What is most noticeably different between the images is the level of “passion” involved in the scene. Jouvenet draws you into the scene in an emotional way. Most of the key elements of the story are still there, it is the dynamism, emotional expressions, and the pure chaos that overwhelms the senses. The overwhelming difference between the two is how each makes you feel when you view it. The feeling I have when I view the Orthodox icon could almost be described as dispassionate.

Another key difference between the two images is the sense of noise. The icon removes nearly all extraneous information. All of the key elements of the story are portrayed in the image, but there is almost nothing extra. The story is fully told, but only the story. On the contrary, the Jouvenet creates an entire world full of things that quite possibly never existed. These features serve to convey a certain feeling and sense that that author wanted you to feel, but are not necessarily an accurate representation of the story. While beautiful, the baroque piece actually transmits a great deal of noise to the intellect of the viewer. The icon teaches us about the resurrection. The Jouvenet teaches us about our reaction to the resurrection. Because of this, the Orthodox icon is clearly better suited for pedagogical purposes and also for veneration. In venerating the Jouvenet, we would be venerating something more than the Biblical event. We would be venerating a creation of the mind of Jean-Baptiste Jouvenet. However, in venerating the icon, we much more closely venerate the Biblical event and only the Biblical event.

In conclusion, the Jouvenet is a beautiful work of art that can very much be appreciated by anyone who loves art. It does convey a sense of a real event in the life of Christ in a very beautiful and engaging way, albeit with a strangely emotive force. However, as a pedagogical tool or as a means of veneration, this beautiful painting is unsuitable. It cannot convey the story in its pure form. The Orthodox icon distills the image into its most fundamental aspects and conveys the meaning of the event to the intellect and the heart in a way that the Jouvenet does not. It reaches past the emotions into the soul of man.

The Hospitality of Abraham: Iconography

Brian Glass Leave a comment

rublev_troitsa

In our ongoing discussion of the Hospitality of Abraham, we have followed the story from the Old testament, through the New Testament, the writings of the Fathers, and the Liturgical witness. This final installment will take a brief look at the iconography and explore a few thoughts to help wrap up the discussion.

I have personally experienced an explanation of Rublev’s icon by several parish priests. Many of the aspects of the story in Genesis 18 are visible, including the famous oak tree at Mamre, which is seen near the top and just to the right of center, and Abraham’s ‘tabernacle’ or tent in the upper left of the icon. Food has been placed before the men by Abraham. The three men take on angelic form as is noted in Hebrews 13:2.

In addition, Saint Andrei Rublev has added some elements that cannot be directly discerned from the story in Genesis, but from later developments in Theology. For instance, the colors of the central figure’s garments closely match the typical colors that Christ wears in other icons. The green on the right-hand figure is reminiscent of the color we see most prominently at the feast of Pentecost, representing the Holy Spirit. Both of the rightmost figures are inclining their heads toward the leftmost figure, representing deference to the primus inter pares (i.e. the Father). The negative space between the two outermost figures approximates the shape of a chalice, while the central figure is inside this chalice. And a nearly perfect circle can be discerned in the outermost outlines of the three figures.

What has been left out is also of interest. Genesis 18:8 describes Abraham standing nearby under the oak tree and verse 10 describes Sarah standing in the doorway of her tent. Unlike earlier portrayals, Rublev chose to exclude some of these key features of the story so that the focus might center on the Holy Trinity. Even the colors of the angels are more vibrant than the colors of their surroundings.

Screen Shot 2017-03-17 at 2.37.06 PMThe Rublev icon is generally seen to be the ultimate evolution of the iconographic representation of the Old Testament Trinity. However, it appears that the iconographic tradition lagged behind the patristic tradition. Bunge claims that depictions of the story were from the beginning angelological1 and notes that we begin to encounter Christologically oriented depictions around the year 1000.2 The icon on the right shows such a Christological rendition, in which you can see the usual cross, indicating Christ, in the nimbus around the central figure. The tradition culminates in Rublev’s famous icon (c. 1410) in which we seem to have reverted to a purely angelological depiction, but find elements, however subtle, of the more advanced Trinitarian theology of the Nicene and post-Nicene fathers.

Conclusion

While knowledge of the evolution of the patristic understanding and iconographic tradition is edifying, the most important aspect of such a study is to obtain an understanding of what the church presently teaches us through an active participation in the life of the Church. The present teaching is the culmination of this progressive deepening process.

I believe that the first and foremost dimension of this teaching is the confluence of the Feast of Pentecost, Trinity Sunday, with the veneration of the icon of the Holy Trinity. The icon placed in the context of the birth of the church and the complete revelation of the Holy Trinity juxtaposes the type with the antetype. We see at once the Old Testament promise and its New Testament fulfillment. We see the beginning of the Old Testament Church juxtaposed with the birth of the New Testament Church. And we see a veiled image of God alongside a fuller revelation of the Holy Trinity. However, the most startling picture for me is Saint Cyril’s portrait of three persons walking and speaking in unison. The Trinity truly is One in essence and undivided.

1 Gabriel Bunge, “The Rublev Trinity,” trans. Andrew Louth, (Yonkers: Saint Vladimir’s Seminary Press 2007), p. 52.

2 Ibid, p. 48.