Having briefly detoured onto Douglas John Hall, I return for my third and final comment on that evening spent listening with Fr. Christy. The tone of these final reflections will be markedly different from those previous, because frustrating as Fr. Christy’s lecture was he was nevertheless Orthodox and thus inevitably had something to offer me, an explanation which challenged my Western conceptions of religion by its very foreignness. The particular topic is the church’s celebration of holy days.
I come from a tradition which represents the ultimate extreme of the Reformations rejection of all external form and ostentation of the Roman Catholic tradition. If it stank of papism, high church, or tradition the Restoration churches ran from it as from the plague. Since the celebration of any holidays is never prescribed for Christians in the New Testament, the celebration of them is unnecessary. What is both unnecessary and still required of some many “denominational” Christians must be evil. Thus, not only do Restoration churches not celebrate minor holy seasons like Lent, Advent, Pentecost, the Ascension, the Annunciation, and other insignificant events in the life of Christ, but they have even wholeheartedly rejected any religious celebration of Easter and Christmas. You will often find in Churches of Christ both Christmas trees and Santa themed parties but very rarely a nativity. I have attended more church sponsored Easter egg hunts in my life than I have services in celebration of the resurrection. At most, the preacher will structure his sermon to match the basic themes of nativity or passion, but this is a courtesy afforded even to non-religious holidays like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and (most despicably of all, in my opinion) Independence Day.
I have been more or less complacent with the status quo for a long time now. I refuse to attend church anywhere during the week of Christmas or Independence Day (which, sadly, falls on a Sunday this year), and I make a point of attending Easter and Lenten services at churches not associated with the Churches of Christ. Beyond that, I have adopted a ‘no harm, no foul’ attitude about holy days. I wish I celebrated them more – I even tried to mimic traditional Orthodox practices at the latest feast of Transfiguration – but I see (or at least I saw) no pressing need to introduce them to them into my life or into the life of the church. Two events conspired to change that.
This last Easter was of particular importance to me. The combined observance of Lent and Easter in both the East and the West had a substantial spiritual impact on me, focusing my thoughts on the unity of the church total and the profundity of its Easter message. My various Lenten observances further prompted me to redefine and deepen my spiritual and intellectual identity. In the midst of this spiritual revivification, my professor related to us an encounter he had with an elder in his church. The man approached him, quite sincerely, complaining, “I don’t understand why the denominations insist on celebrating the resurrection on Easter. It isn’t as though we actually know what day Christ was raised.” My professor was rightly appalled and explained as best he could that we could quite easily pinpoint to the day when Christ died. Easter, he lamented, no longer fell precisely on that day because of various ecclesiastical adjustments to the calendar, but (unlike with Christmas) the date of Easter is not entirely arbitrary.
Which lead me to my first realization about holy days. The celebration of holy days serves a didactic function in the church. A person who truly understood the chronological significance of Jesus’ death, coinciding as it was with the Passover and the remembrance of God’s salvation of His people through their obedience and sacrifice, could never have made such an obvious blunder about the date of Easter. The incident my professor related is representative of a profound ignorance which pervades the church about the particulars of the life of Christ. (I am not speaking here merely of the Restoration churches, but more broadly of low church Protestant denominations and Evangelical groups that have largely abandoned any sort of serious yearly study of the Scriptures.) The focus has shifted so thoroughly onto contextualizing the Gospel that simply knowing the Gospels has been lost in the shuffle. We have lost a real sense of the life of Christ as it progressed historically, in time. It is not merely a parable that is meant to be mined for culturally relevant paranaesis; it is the life of a real man, temporal as we are, who lived day to day and who died on a particular day. Having snapshot-ed and dissected Jesus for our purposes, we have abandoned both the conception of him as a real man who, like us, experienced life sequentially with particular events representing major historical moments in time (a concept that ought to dominate our Christology and which enlivens our understanding of the mystery of Incarnation) and the knowledge of the particular facts about that life. Such a loss of knowledge has more tragic, though more furtive, consequences than academic blunders like the ones my professor related.
The second event which awakened me to the value if not the necessity of Christian holidays was Fr. Christy’s lecture. Commenting on the upcoming (now past) observation of the Ascension, Fr. Christy drew out the analogy of the Church as bride in a potent apology for the celebration of holy days for the Orthodox and a trenchant criticism of the abandoning of holy days in many Protestant denominations. If the Church truly is the bride of Christ and Christ our bridegroom, then our relationship to Jesus and his life ought to reflect that relationship on every level, according to Fr. Christy. It is typical, expected, and perhaps even required (though I realize that personally I present a rather glaring exception) that spouses should commemorate the significant life events in each other’s past: birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s days, etc. Even loved ones who have passed will still have not only those aforementioned days remembered, but also the day of their death. We commemorate – through both joyous celebration and solemn remembrance – the momentous occasions in the lives of the people we love. How is it not appropriate then that the Church, as the bride of Christ, should not want to make a celebration or memorial of every significant event in the life of Jesus which we have recorded.
Here is illustrated the existential function of holy days in the life of the church. Fr. Christy painted a beautiful picture of a church that did not merely study the life of Christ (something which, as already mentioned, is itself abandoned in many churches) but lives the life of Christ with him every year. When the savior is born the church celebrates that birth. The whole body walks with him as he travels through Judea teaching, preaching, and healing. They ascend with those select disciples onto the Transfiguration Mount and behold with wonder the manifestation of Moses and Elijah. They taste the mix of triumph and anxiety as they enter to Jerusalem for the last time with the Lord. The church, who cherishes Christ as more than a deliverer but as a lover and a spouse, truly weeps as he is tortured and executed. They wait with eager anticipation for the promise of resurrection and exult at its arrival. They watch Jesus ascend on the clouds and confess the promise that he will again return on them. When her own birthday, Pentecost, comes, the church rejoices in her own rebirth. The observation of these holy days is more than merely an intellectual exercise intended to remind us that Christ lived a real life; it is a corporate reliving of that life. How spiritually impoverished are we who have lost sight of that?
I will be the first to admit that reality is not nearly as picturesque as Fr. Christy has painted it, and the actual experience of innumerable Christians who either do not understand or do not care about this existential function testifies to the flaw in any system. Nevertheless, it is a great travesty that rather than trying to purify the experience and educate the participants that we have merely condemned the practice altogether. We forfeit not only the knowledge which, to borrow from the language Gregory Palamas, comes from intellection but also the knowledge of the heart which comes through our direct experience of God. If the church really is the body of Christ on earth, then perhaps it is time it started living out the life of Christ more fully. This is an emphasis which is by no means ignored in the modern, Evangelical rhetoric, but it has been restricted to missiological and charitable applications. I submit that a church that is not experiencing the personal life of Christ, the human life shaped as it was by the momentous events of its story, cannot properly, truly, authentically express the outworking of that life for the lost and the poor. Before we can be Christ to the world, we must know what it is to be Christ. Superficial as it may sound, the observance of holidays is a substantial means to that end.
Showing posts with label Paul Christy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Christy. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
An Evening with Father Christy: The Greek (?) Orthodox Church
In this second installment of my reflections on Fr. Paul Christy’s lecture, I’d like to depart from the questions of church history which dominated his talk and address a peripheral issue. The Father addressed on a number of occasions the text of Scripture, commenting that when one goes back to the original Greek and translates it without agenda, the validity of Orthodox claims become self-evident. (I will not, for the sake of space and tact, address at length the claim that the Orthodox translate from the original text. Let it suffice to say that it is arguable whether the Byzantine recension on which the Orthodox translation is based is in fact more “original” than the much older Alexandrian recension on which the agenda-driven Protestant translations are based. As for the question of whether or not the Orthodox translation lacks agenda, I hope the answer to that will come in due course.) On two particular instances I would like to call his translation into question.
The Particularizing Function of the Article
It is Fr. Christy’s belief that the church in Acts is “liturgical, hierarchical, and sacramental.” To substantiate the first of these claims (the only one I truly object to), Fr. Christy directed us to Acts 2:42, which a Protestant (myself in this case) might translate: “but they continued steadfastly in the apostolic teaching and in fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer.” Fr. Christy objects that this is a misrepresentation of the text, which actually says, “the prayers.” The reference to “the prayers” is understood by Fr. Christy to be a reference to the liturgical prayers of the early church. There is, however, a flaw in his unbiased translation, viz. the confusion of the English definite article with the Greek article. The article in Greek does not have an exclusively particularizing function in the way that Fr. Christy would require in order to definitely demonstrate that the reference here is to a particular set of prayers.
To demonstrate this, I turn to trusty Daniel B. Wallace and his Greek Grammar:
The function of the article is not primarily to make something definite that would otherwise be indefinite. It does not primarily “definitize.” There are at least ten ways in which a noun in Greek can be definite without the article. For example, proper names are definite even without the article. Yet, proper names sometimes take the article. Hence, when the article is used with them it must be for some other purpose. Further, its use with other than nouns is not to make something definite that would otherwise be indefinite, but to nominalize something that would otherwise not be considered as a concept. To argue that the article functions primarily to make something definite is to omit the “phenomenological fallacy” - viz., that of making ontological statements based on truncated evidence. No one questions that the article is used frequently to definitize, but whether this captures the essential idea is another matter.
Wallace divides the function of the article into three concentric categories: definitize, identify, conceptualize. Whatever definitizes, also identifies, and whatever identifies also conceptualizes. The reverse is not true. While every article conceptualizes in some sense, not every article identifies. Every article that identifies does not therefore definitize. To suggest that the presence of the article with prayer in Acts 2 must indicate a liturgical understanding goes beyond merely particularizing what is likely not a reference to particular prayers but anachronistically reads the later tradition back on to the text. Would Fr. Christy really embrace the logical implications of his understanding of the article?
John 2:25 becomes an enigma if the articles are made particular. Instead of saying, “Thus, he did not need to have anyone testify concerning man for he knew what was in man” it would say, “Thus, he did not need to have anyone testify concerning the particular man for he knew what was in the particular man.” Who is this man, Fr. Christy?
Or Matt 18:17, where “Gentile” and “tax-collector” are understood as concepts or categories, Fr. Christy would have us read “He will be to you as the Gentile and the tax-collector,” but which one? Which Gentile and tax-collector should we treat him as?
Do we suppose that Eph 5:25 is directed at particular husbands about particular wives or a general exhortation for wives and husbands? The article is present before both cases.
More frightening, if the article particularizes and the abstracts by its absence, what are we to do with John 1:1 where Jesus is not the God but merely a god?
Superimposing a particularizing function on the Greek article is fundamentally bad Greek (which I thought was ironic given the context in which the error occurred). It is not beyond the realm of possibility that Acts 2 is reference particular prayers. It is within the semantic function of the article to particularize, but it is by no means ironclad evidence of an agenda that most scholars do not identify that article as particularizing. An equally valid case might be made that it is evidence of bias that the Orthodox choose to see the prayers are particular. Wallace, for his parts, identifies the multiple uses of the article in Acts 2:42 as representing the “familiarity” function of the article, where it is used to designate concepts which are familiar to the audience. The readers were familiar with the practices of teaching, fellowship, prayer, and breaking bread to which Luke was referring. For my part, I wonder if the article is not anaphoric, reaching back to Acts 1:14 to draw continuity between the prayers of the apostles and the church. Either way, Christy’s translation is by no means clear cut.
The Hebrew Liturgist
The second support for the liturgical nature of the early church was an appeal Heb 8:2, where the word leitourgos appears. According to Christy, the typical translation of this word as “minister” is a deliberate rewriting of the text. He all but suggested that another Greek word must be assumed if the translation of minister is to be valid. For Christy, apparently no translation will suffice, since he suggest instead the transliteration “liturgist.”
I confess that without Wallace’s help, I never would have been able to discuss the “phenomenological fallacy.” I can, however, recognize the etymological fallacy when I see it. The only thing more erroneous than assume the static function of the article is assuming the static definition of the word. That our present term “liturgy” comes from the Greek used in Heb 8:2 does not determine the definition of the term historically. It would be grossly anachronistic to look up the word “liturgy” in a modern dictionary or even “leitourgos” in a modern Greek dictionary and assume that the Koine term “leitourgos” can be defined in the same way.
BDAG (the standard biblical lexicon) defines leitourgeo (the verb) as “to serve public offices at one’s own cost,” or generally “to perform public duties.” Within the biblical context, the definition is “to perform a religious service; minister.” This understanding is validated by historical information in TDNT concerning the ancient usage of the term “leitourgos.” “In distinction from the fulfillment of financial tasks, especially in respect of taxation, leitourgeo is the direct discharge of specific services to the body politic.” This usage would eventually be extended to cover all public service. “From the technical and wider technical use there then develops a general and non-technical use in which the words simply denote rendering a service and the significance of the laeitos is lost.” TDNT catalogs the usage of the term in the LXX (which seems an appropriate area of investigation given that the recent translation of the Bible for the Orthodox is from the LXX rather than the MT). In the LXX, leitourgeo and related terms are applied specifically to cultic service but not exclusively to any function of that cultic service and not even exclusively to Jewish cult. The meaning is not even exclusively cultic, as in 2 Kings 13:18 where the term simply refers to a servant. In the New Testament the usage is scarce but nevertheless varied. The term is used to refer to worship in general (Acts 13:2) and even to refer specifically to the collection being taken up for Jerusalem (Rom 15:27; 2 Cor 9:12). “The use of leitourgein, leitourgia in the NT is connected partly with general popular use (Rom 15:27; 2 Cor 9:12; Phil 2:30), partly with the preceding OT cultus (Lk 1:23; Hb 9:21; 10:11), and partly with an isolated figurative use of LXX terminology to bring out the significance of Christ’s death (Heb) or to characterize either Paul’s missionary work with its readiness for martyrdom, or the Christian walk of the community (Phil 2:17). Movement towards a new Christian terminology is to be found only in the one verse Acts 13:2, where leitrougein is used for a fellowship of prayer, which hereby is indirectly described as a spiritualized priestly ministry.”
All that to say what could have been said merely by looking at Phil 2:25. There the phrase “minister to my need” is used. The word translated “minister” is “leitourgon.” I would like to ask Fr. Christy, or anyone who wants to anachronistically transliterate rather than translate these terms, to explain to me in what sense Epaphroditus is a “liturgist to [Paul’s] need” and exactly why Paul would need the Philippian church to send him a liturgist.
I feel confident in asserting that the term “leitourgos” in Heb 8:2 refers to one who performs a religious service on behalf of the church (much in the same way that Epaphroditus should be understood as one who performs a service on behalf of Paul).
I feel even more confident in rebuffing the accusation that Protestants translate with an agenda while the Orthodox have some kind of monopoly on the “original Greek.” Fr. Christy’s translation and transliteration efforts are sufficient to demonstrate that any and all translation is by its nature interpretation. His, by no means above reproach, are in fact more transparent than others. He doesn’t even make an effort to make the method of translation consistent. I will fall short here of suggesting that the Father was attempting to deliberately prey on what he assumed was an audience that knew no Greek. I will say that it is irresponsible (and certainly I am softening my language for the sake of diplomacy) to perpetrate bad Greek onto those who don’t know any better. To the layman, “this says leitourgos, which means ‘liturgist’” is a self-evident truth. Little do they know (though I hope Fr. Christy knows) that the appearance of self-validation is by no means a necessary mark of truth.
The point: if you’re going to be Greek, you ought to be more precise with your handling of the original text not obviously less so. Falling into such obvious linguistic blunders with your own language makes your apology based on cultural continuity with the early church seem farcical.
The Particularizing Function of the Article
It is Fr. Christy’s belief that the church in Acts is “liturgical, hierarchical, and sacramental.” To substantiate the first of these claims (the only one I truly object to), Fr. Christy directed us to Acts 2:42, which a Protestant (myself in this case) might translate: “but they continued steadfastly in the apostolic teaching and in fellowship, breaking bread, and prayer.” Fr. Christy objects that this is a misrepresentation of the text, which actually says, “the prayers.” The reference to “the prayers” is understood by Fr. Christy to be a reference to the liturgical prayers of the early church. There is, however, a flaw in his unbiased translation, viz. the confusion of the English definite article with the Greek article. The article in Greek does not have an exclusively particularizing function in the way that Fr. Christy would require in order to definitely demonstrate that the reference here is to a particular set of prayers.
To demonstrate this, I turn to trusty Daniel B. Wallace and his Greek Grammar:
The function of the article is not primarily to make something definite that would otherwise be indefinite. It does not primarily “definitize.” There are at least ten ways in which a noun in Greek can be definite without the article. For example, proper names are definite even without the article. Yet, proper names sometimes take the article. Hence, when the article is used with them it must be for some other purpose. Further, its use with other than nouns is not to make something definite that would otherwise be indefinite, but to nominalize something that would otherwise not be considered as a concept. To argue that the article functions primarily to make something definite is to omit the “phenomenological fallacy” - viz., that of making ontological statements based on truncated evidence. No one questions that the article is used frequently to definitize, but whether this captures the essential idea is another matter.
Wallace divides the function of the article into three concentric categories: definitize, identify, conceptualize. Whatever definitizes, also identifies, and whatever identifies also conceptualizes. The reverse is not true. While every article conceptualizes in some sense, not every article identifies. Every article that identifies does not therefore definitize. To suggest that the presence of the article with prayer in Acts 2 must indicate a liturgical understanding goes beyond merely particularizing what is likely not a reference to particular prayers but anachronistically reads the later tradition back on to the text. Would Fr. Christy really embrace the logical implications of his understanding of the article?
John 2:25 becomes an enigma if the articles are made particular. Instead of saying, “Thus, he did not need to have anyone testify concerning man for he knew what was in man” it would say, “Thus, he did not need to have anyone testify concerning the particular man for he knew what was in the particular man.” Who is this man, Fr. Christy?
Or Matt 18:17, where “Gentile” and “tax-collector” are understood as concepts or categories, Fr. Christy would have us read “He will be to you as the Gentile and the tax-collector,” but which one? Which Gentile and tax-collector should we treat him as?
Do we suppose that Eph 5:25 is directed at particular husbands about particular wives or a general exhortation for wives and husbands? The article is present before both cases.
More frightening, if the article particularizes and the abstracts by its absence, what are we to do with John 1:1 where Jesus is not the God but merely a god?
Superimposing a particularizing function on the Greek article is fundamentally bad Greek (which I thought was ironic given the context in which the error occurred). It is not beyond the realm of possibility that Acts 2 is reference particular prayers. It is within the semantic function of the article to particularize, but it is by no means ironclad evidence of an agenda that most scholars do not identify that article as particularizing. An equally valid case might be made that it is evidence of bias that the Orthodox choose to see the prayers are particular. Wallace, for his parts, identifies the multiple uses of the article in Acts 2:42 as representing the “familiarity” function of the article, where it is used to designate concepts which are familiar to the audience. The readers were familiar with the practices of teaching, fellowship, prayer, and breaking bread to which Luke was referring. For my part, I wonder if the article is not anaphoric, reaching back to Acts 1:14 to draw continuity between the prayers of the apostles and the church. Either way, Christy’s translation is by no means clear cut.
The Hebrew Liturgist
The second support for the liturgical nature of the early church was an appeal Heb 8:2, where the word leitourgos appears. According to Christy, the typical translation of this word as “minister” is a deliberate rewriting of the text. He all but suggested that another Greek word must be assumed if the translation of minister is to be valid. For Christy, apparently no translation will suffice, since he suggest instead the transliteration “liturgist.”
I confess that without Wallace’s help, I never would have been able to discuss the “phenomenological fallacy.” I can, however, recognize the etymological fallacy when I see it. The only thing more erroneous than assume the static function of the article is assuming the static definition of the word. That our present term “liturgy” comes from the Greek used in Heb 8:2 does not determine the definition of the term historically. It would be grossly anachronistic to look up the word “liturgy” in a modern dictionary or even “leitourgos” in a modern Greek dictionary and assume that the Koine term “leitourgos” can be defined in the same way.
BDAG (the standard biblical lexicon) defines leitourgeo (the verb) as “to serve public offices at one’s own cost,” or generally “to perform public duties.” Within the biblical context, the definition is “to perform a religious service; minister.” This understanding is validated by historical information in TDNT concerning the ancient usage of the term “leitourgos.” “In distinction from the fulfillment of financial tasks, especially in respect of taxation, leitourgeo is the direct discharge of specific services to the body politic.” This usage would eventually be extended to cover all public service. “From the technical and wider technical use there then develops a general and non-technical use in which the words simply denote rendering a service and the significance of the laeitos is lost.” TDNT catalogs the usage of the term in the LXX (which seems an appropriate area of investigation given that the recent translation of the Bible for the Orthodox is from the LXX rather than the MT). In the LXX, leitourgeo and related terms are applied specifically to cultic service but not exclusively to any function of that cultic service and not even exclusively to Jewish cult. The meaning is not even exclusively cultic, as in 2 Kings 13:18 where the term simply refers to a servant. In the New Testament the usage is scarce but nevertheless varied. The term is used to refer to worship in general (Acts 13:2) and even to refer specifically to the collection being taken up for Jerusalem (Rom 15:27; 2 Cor 9:12). “The use of leitourgein, leitourgia in the NT is connected partly with general popular use (Rom 15:27; 2 Cor 9:12; Phil 2:30), partly with the preceding OT cultus (Lk 1:23; Hb 9:21; 10:11), and partly with an isolated figurative use of LXX terminology to bring out the significance of Christ’s death (Heb) or to characterize either Paul’s missionary work with its readiness for martyrdom, or the Christian walk of the community (Phil 2:17). Movement towards a new Christian terminology is to be found only in the one verse Acts 13:2, where leitrougein is used for a fellowship of prayer, which hereby is indirectly described as a spiritualized priestly ministry.”
All that to say what could have been said merely by looking at Phil 2:25. There the phrase “minister to my need” is used. The word translated “minister” is “leitourgon.” I would like to ask Fr. Christy, or anyone who wants to anachronistically transliterate rather than translate these terms, to explain to me in what sense Epaphroditus is a “liturgist to [Paul’s] need” and exactly why Paul would need the Philippian church to send him a liturgist.
I feel confident in asserting that the term “leitourgos” in Heb 8:2 refers to one who performs a religious service on behalf of the church (much in the same way that Epaphroditus should be understood as one who performs a service on behalf of Paul).
I feel even more confident in rebuffing the accusation that Protestants translate with an agenda while the Orthodox have some kind of monopoly on the “original Greek.” Fr. Christy’s translation and transliteration efforts are sufficient to demonstrate that any and all translation is by its nature interpretation. His, by no means above reproach, are in fact more transparent than others. He doesn’t even make an effort to make the method of translation consistent. I will fall short here of suggesting that the Father was attempting to deliberately prey on what he assumed was an audience that knew no Greek. I will say that it is irresponsible (and certainly I am softening my language for the sake of diplomacy) to perpetrate bad Greek onto those who don’t know any better. To the layman, “this says leitourgos, which means ‘liturgist’” is a self-evident truth. Little do they know (though I hope Fr. Christy knows) that the appearance of self-validation is by no means a necessary mark of truth.
The point: if you’re going to be Greek, you ought to be more precise with your handling of the original text not obviously less so. Falling into such obvious linguistic blunders with your own language makes your apology based on cultural continuity with the early church seem farcical.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
An Evening with Father Christy: History as Propaganda
It will undoubtedly come as a surprise to anyone who knows me to discover that the Orthodox Church is the target, in any sense, of my criticisms here. Nevertheless, I attended an “informational meeting” tonight at the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church which has compelled me to react here. Too much time reading adept apologetic theologians (e.g. Lossky) and intellectually honest historians (e.g. Meyendorff) – even my experiences with the kindly Fr. John Maxwell who was always patient and encouraging but most importantly humble – did not prepare me for the very frustrating experience of Fr. Paul Christy’s lecture. Whatever I say here and in future installments should be seen less as an assault on Orthodox beliefs and more as a corrective to the distortion of facts that inevitably occurs when I descend from my ivory tower to see the way information is being distributed on the popular level.
“This isn’t opinion folks; it’s history.”
One needn’t have a degree in history to realize that this statement is deeply flawed, and thus – since I do in fact have a degree in history – I was particularly appalled to find that it functioned more or less as a theme statement for everything that Fr. Christy had to say. The belief that history is somehow an objective reality which can be picked up, scrutinized, cataloged, and then utilized impartially is the same kind of nonsensical worldview that tripped up the reformers about the Bible. Even if everything the Father had said in his imaginative retelling of history had been factually accurate (and it wasn’t, but I’m not going to quibble over most of the little details), that does not therefore make it unbiased. There is no authoritative history, only more or less valid histories, histories which have greater or lesser factual probability. The moment the question of historical causality or continuity come into question the historian leaves the realm of concrete fact and necessarily embarks on speculation.
Early Church Math
Fr. Christy’s failure to grasp this not-so-subtle reality can be best expressed in this assertion of dubious value: “We don’t imitate the early church. We are the early church.” There is no doubt in my mind that the Orthodox Church has at its disposal a profound historical apology, if not the most valid historical apology. The above is not it. Reading that claim, I am left wondering in what sense the simple equation between the Orthodox Church and the early church (whatever precisely that means) is valid, and, having discovered its validity, how that equation is particular to the Orthodox.
Uniformity of Belief or Practice
Coming as I do from the Restorationist Movement, the most obvious way for a church to “be” the early church is through a uniformity of belief or practice. Certainly Fr. Christy beliefs in the substantial agreement between the biblical church and the present Orthodox Church in even the finest points of practice (e.g. liturgy, a question which will be dealt with at another time), but surely he would not suggest that a first century Christian could enter into the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church and feel totally at home. The church, particularly from the second through the fourth centuries, underwent substantial growth and change which makes any claim to uniformity with the earliest church at best a myth.
For example, the practice of infant baptism which is so thoroughly engrained in most Christian groups and no less so in the Orthodox Church was a subject not only of development and variation in the early church, but even of controversy. There is no need to rehash Everett Ferguson’s Baptism in the Early Church to demonstrate that the practice of pedobaptism was by no means standard throughout most of the early church. Even as late as the fourth century, common practice was not only to baptize adults but to delay baptism as long as possible, a fact evidenced by the lives of no less than the saints Constantine and Gregory the Theologian. The Didache continues to speak of strictly adult baptism in the second century. Towards the end of that century we have in Irenaeus and (in the early third) Origen and Hippolytus as the first concrete references to infant baptism. Not coincidentally this is also when Tertullian rages against the practice of baptizing infants.
Another favorite of Restoration historians is the monepiscopate. The biblical text is wholly ambiguous about the nature of congregational authority. The Pastorals could easily correspond either to the Orthodox understanding of ecclesiology or the Stone-Campbell one. More importantly, the earliest historical evidence is contradictory. On the one hand, the tendency towards a monepiscopate is clearly present in the East early in the writings of Ignatius of Antioch. On the other hand, 1 Clement would seem to indicate that Clement is part of a plurality of “elders.” Which ecclesiological structure is consistent with the earliest church?
There are other minor but no less obvious ways in which the beliefs and practices of the “early church” differ from that of the present church. The ecclesiological concept of autocephaly is by no means an early development. The liturgy said presently in the Orthodox Church is of fifth century origin. The presence of cathedrals is at the earliest a fourth century reality. Trinitarian formulations which form the backbone of Christian theology are fourth century and would undoubtedly be foreign if not repugnant to the likes of St. Justin Martyr or the multiplicity of subordinationists in the early church. The list of minor points of belief and practice could go on.
The point is not that Restorationists, chief among those who Fr. Christy might label “imitators,” have an authentic claim to being the early church by virtue of a uniformity of belief and practice. It is that no one does. Certainly the Orthodox Church doesn’t (or at least shouldn’t) object to the fact that they are not the early church by virtue of homogeny any more than the Pentecostals. The Orthodox believe in the organic growth of the church. To quote the aforementioned Fr. Maxwell, who is himself alluding to St. Vincent: “Inspite of the claims of lack of change, we must admit that many changes occur within the history of the Orthodox. Fr. Alexander Schmemann once said, that the "Orthodox Church is ever changing to ever remain the same." Change is part of life and growth. It occurs in normal development. A baby becomes a child, becomes a young person, becomes an adult, and then becomes elderly.”
Genetic Association
If not uniformity of practice, than what? Fr. Christy appeals additionally to the genetic association of the Orthodox Church to the early church. He can, he assured us, produce for us the bishops roll which links the present Ecumenical Patriarch to the apostle Andrew. This certainly seems the more compelling proof to me, and one that, utilized properly, might function productively in an Orthodox historical apologetic. It is not, however, an ironclad defense for the simple equation of the early church with the present Orthodox Church.
The simplest objection would be to point out that this is by no means an exclusive claim of the Orthodox Church. The Catholic Church has an equally valid claim, and in their eyes, a more valid claim based on the doctrine that apostolic authority flows out from Peter to whom the bishop of Rome’s scroll establishes lineage. Nor are these two peculiar in this respect. Perhaps underrated is the fact that Anglican bishops have an equal genetic relationship with the apostles. While Henry may have instigated the breach with Rome, he did not because of this appoint a brand new priesthood. The original clergy of the Anglican Church, those who appointed future clergy, were converted from the apostolic clergy of the Roman Catholic Church. Should they be so inclined, an Anglican bishop could trace his roots back to the apostles as well. The same is true for any “schismatic” sect which has a clerical system like that of the early medieval church.
What is more, there is no reason why the genetic association must be restricted to the clergy. The very basis for Reformation was the belief that the hierarchical church had abandoned its spiritual/intellectual genealogy. The effort was not to pioneer non-apostolic churches but to restore the spiritual apostolicity of a self-invalidating church. Even rejecting this position as valid, one cannot thereby reject all genetic relationship of modern Protestants to the apostles. The ELCA is genetically related to the Lutheran Church at large (something that can hardly be denied), and Lutherans are genetically related to the Catholic Church which is of apostolic descent. Or, more dramatically, the one cup Churches of Christ are genetically related to the Churches of Christ which are genetically related to the Stone-Campbell movement at large which is genetically related to the Presbyterian Church which is genetically related to the Reformed Movement which is genetically related to the Catholic Church which is of apostolic descent.
That convoluted presentation of apostolicity in the one cup churches is perhaps enough to prove Fr. Christy’s point in some people’s minds, but it raises the question of the value of genetic relationship. Is the ELCA more apostolic than the one cup churches by virtue of a less complicated genetic relationship? If so, then the complexity of the relationship establishes legitimacy and the Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans, Oriental Orthodox, Assyrian Church, and more all have an identical and equal claim to genetic authenticity. If, however, mere genetic relationship is sufficient than all denominations presently in existence have an equally valid claim to apostolicity since no church arose in a void but always in response to and in order to authentically continue the apostolic tradition.
Perhaps there is some other meaning to the simple equation of which I am not aware, but, regardless, the above should suffice to demonstrate the dubious value of the assertion that the Orthodox are the early church. That claim can only have value if it can first be defined and then particularized to the Orthodox. Otherwise it functions less as an apology and more as a speculative exercise in the value of static religion and genetic relationships.
History: Puddy in the Hands of Master
Beyond the unsubstantiated (and fundamentally unsubstantiatable) claim that the Orthodox Church is the early Church, Fr. Christy throughout presented a highly stylized retelling of a history that is not nearly as neat as he would like it to be. I concede that perhaps some blame may fall on the constraints of time and medium. The presentation was relatively short and extemporaneous method denied opportunities for precision or even, I imagine, for much fact checking. Some of the blame, however, must be put on the constraints of purpose. In spite of claims to the contrary, the presentation was obviously an apology for Orthodoxy tinged with notes of evangelism. There is nothing wrong with that (and I don’t think anyone was honestly expecting anything else), but to appropriate history to that end led Fr. Christy to oversimplify when it suited his purposes and, at some points, contort the facts to paint Orthodoxy in the best possible light.
Canon
The grossest oversimplification was his passing commentary on canon, which, of course, was the product of the church, not, as Protestants believe, the other way around. From the start, I should mention that I sympathize with that sentiment. The ignorant belief that the Bible was somehow handed down from God on a silver platter is perhaps the most detrimental fantasy that the mind of man has ever dreamed up. That does not, however, excuse presenting the development of canon as a coherent, deliberate event in the history of the church. The canon was a process that was undertaken by Christians as early as the first century. Certainly the canon was formalized in the fourth century, but Fr. Christy would have us believe that “there was no Bible until the fourth century.” I won’t rehash the entire history of canon here because I assume that most people who are reading this have some grasp of it. It should suffice to say that both the Gospel canon and the Pauline canon were both fixed and totally undisputed by the end of the second century, a fact evidenced by Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and p46. The suggestion that the church decided in the fourth century that, according to Fr. Christy, “it needed more than just an oral history,” grossly misrepresents the situation of the earliest church. The church has from its earliest times been a church of the apostolic texts.
More or less trivially, the particular discussion of Revelation in the place of canon disturbed me. Fr. Christy described it as questionable, entering only by the skin of its teeth. Ironically, there was no questioning of the book of Revelation until the third century Dionyius of Alexandria questioned it on the grounds of its millennialism. These objections had weight in the East, but Revelation saw almost no dispute in the West. Suggesting that it be relegated to some lesser status in the canon ignores that the doubts about it arose late and that they arose only in the east.
Finally, with regard to canon, the statement was made, in the course of a dramatic reenactment, that the “church in council” decided which books were valid and which were not. I would prefer that this be how it happened. If the church had held an ecumenical council or even a very large council to determine canon, canon history would be much easier to define. The truth of the matter is, contrary to popular conceptions, there was not great council on canon. Certainly every Christian should reject the prevailing notion that canon was decided under the shadow of Constantine at Nicea. More importantly, our most critical statements in canon history come not from concilliar decrees but from particular Fathers. With Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Dionysius already mentioned, Athanasius (whose Festal Letter in 367 gave us the first perfect canon list for the New Testament) and Eusebius (who categorized the biblical literature under the headings “undisputed,” “disputed but accepted,” “disputed and spurious,” and “heretical”) deserve to be added. Certainly smaller synods were held regarding canon, the late fourth century Council of Carthage springs to mind, but the church total by no means decided in a council what books would and would not be in Scripture. By the time they got around to meeting in Carthage, the canon had substantially been set.
Schism
Fr. Christy’s greatest sin with canon was merely oversimplification. His discussion of schism bordered on revisionist. He talked at length about the unified church that existed until the eleventh century. He made no small point of discussing how, after the Catholic Church instigated schism that they then began fracturing themselves in a way totally foreign to church history. Fr. Christy’s view of the first millennium of Christendom is idyllic but false. I wonder how the 76 million Assyrian and Miaphysite (Oriental Orthodox) churches would feel having been completely written out of church history. Fr. Christy dogmatically ignored the schisms in 431 and 451, even passing out charts diagramming church history which also omitted those schisms. While it served his vision of a monolithic church well, it was fundamentally dishonest to present those substantial schisms as never occurring. In reality, the church was never monolithic. From the very moment that standardization began there has been constant and substantial schism. The Arian schism which persisted in the West long after its conclusion in the East in 381 hadn’t even healed before the Nestorian schism which persists to this day. Twenty years later, another even more substantial schism occurred which also persists into the present. The church was divided between iconoclasts and iconodules in the eighth century. The East and West ruptured repeatedly, over monothelitism in the seventh century, during the Photian schism in the eighth century before finally breaking of in the eleventh century. The church was not only not a monolithic unity through history, but schisms be they temporary or enduring (and she experienced both at every stage of her development) were the status quo of Christendom.
Even the Great Schism and its effects were distorted to fit Fr. Christy’s paradigm (in spite of almost comical reiteration that he had no agenda). Most glaringly was the inclusion of filioque in a list of five “innovations” that resulted from the Great Schism. Ironically, the handout that the Father gave us concerning the timeline of the church correctly dates the introduction of the filioque into the creed in 589, nearly five centuries before the Great Schism. I know that Fr. Christy knew the actual history of filioque, as he later answered questions regarding its meaning and origin, but that did not stop him from including it in a number of errors resulting from alienation from the concilliar church. Surely Fr. Christy realizes that the filioque cannot have been a development from the schism since it was an integral part of the Photian Schism 150 years prior to the final breach. (Of course, perhaps that schism is among the ones that do not accord with Fr. Christy’s monolithic picture of Christian history.)
I realize of course that my quibbles here may seem nitpicky to the point of tedium, but my purpose is not to correct every historical error (factual or hermeneutical) that I believe Fr. Christy made. It is also not my intention to belittle the practice of historical apology in general or of the apologetic high ground of the Orthodox Church in particular. My objection is to the misappropriation of history - both the concept and the data – for propaganda. Appeals to history are not appeals to fact against opinion. They are rhetorical reworkings of facts in order to elucidate the realities of the present. To suggest that we may juxtapose the objective nature of history to the totally subjective nature of personal opinion is to fundamentally ignore what the telling of history is. It is the speculative reconstruction of a narrative on the basis of historical data. In ignoring this, Fr. Christy misappropriates history conceptually. Perhaps the greater infraction is that his speculative reconstruction did not make exhaustive use of the data. Whatever data did not conform to a preexisting paradigm was either excluded (as in the case of the manifold schisms in the early church) or reworked (as in the discussion of canon) in order to meet an agenda that the Father swore he didn’t have.
The point: a good conclusion supported by a bad argument has no credibility. If we are to make an apology for the Eastern faith, and that is (most will know) a hobby of mine, let it be an intellectually honest one.
“This isn’t opinion folks; it’s history.”
One needn’t have a degree in history to realize that this statement is deeply flawed, and thus – since I do in fact have a degree in history – I was particularly appalled to find that it functioned more or less as a theme statement for everything that Fr. Christy had to say. The belief that history is somehow an objective reality which can be picked up, scrutinized, cataloged, and then utilized impartially is the same kind of nonsensical worldview that tripped up the reformers about the Bible. Even if everything the Father had said in his imaginative retelling of history had been factually accurate (and it wasn’t, but I’m not going to quibble over most of the little details), that does not therefore make it unbiased. There is no authoritative history, only more or less valid histories, histories which have greater or lesser factual probability. The moment the question of historical causality or continuity come into question the historian leaves the realm of concrete fact and necessarily embarks on speculation.
Early Church Math
Fr. Christy’s failure to grasp this not-so-subtle reality can be best expressed in this assertion of dubious value: “We don’t imitate the early church. We are the early church.” There is no doubt in my mind that the Orthodox Church has at its disposal a profound historical apology, if not the most valid historical apology. The above is not it. Reading that claim, I am left wondering in what sense the simple equation between the Orthodox Church and the early church (whatever precisely that means) is valid, and, having discovered its validity, how that equation is particular to the Orthodox.
Uniformity of Belief or Practice
Coming as I do from the Restorationist Movement, the most obvious way for a church to “be” the early church is through a uniformity of belief or practice. Certainly Fr. Christy beliefs in the substantial agreement between the biblical church and the present Orthodox Church in even the finest points of practice (e.g. liturgy, a question which will be dealt with at another time), but surely he would not suggest that a first century Christian could enter into the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church and feel totally at home. The church, particularly from the second through the fourth centuries, underwent substantial growth and change which makes any claim to uniformity with the earliest church at best a myth.
For example, the practice of infant baptism which is so thoroughly engrained in most Christian groups and no less so in the Orthodox Church was a subject not only of development and variation in the early church, but even of controversy. There is no need to rehash Everett Ferguson’s Baptism in the Early Church to demonstrate that the practice of pedobaptism was by no means standard throughout most of the early church. Even as late as the fourth century, common practice was not only to baptize adults but to delay baptism as long as possible, a fact evidenced by the lives of no less than the saints Constantine and Gregory the Theologian. The Didache continues to speak of strictly adult baptism in the second century. Towards the end of that century we have in Irenaeus and (in the early third) Origen and Hippolytus as the first concrete references to infant baptism. Not coincidentally this is also when Tertullian rages against the practice of baptizing infants.
Another favorite of Restoration historians is the monepiscopate. The biblical text is wholly ambiguous about the nature of congregational authority. The Pastorals could easily correspond either to the Orthodox understanding of ecclesiology or the Stone-Campbell one. More importantly, the earliest historical evidence is contradictory. On the one hand, the tendency towards a monepiscopate is clearly present in the East early in the writings of Ignatius of Antioch. On the other hand, 1 Clement would seem to indicate that Clement is part of a plurality of “elders.” Which ecclesiological structure is consistent with the earliest church?
There are other minor but no less obvious ways in which the beliefs and practices of the “early church” differ from that of the present church. The ecclesiological concept of autocephaly is by no means an early development. The liturgy said presently in the Orthodox Church is of fifth century origin. The presence of cathedrals is at the earliest a fourth century reality. Trinitarian formulations which form the backbone of Christian theology are fourth century and would undoubtedly be foreign if not repugnant to the likes of St. Justin Martyr or the multiplicity of subordinationists in the early church. The list of minor points of belief and practice could go on.
The point is not that Restorationists, chief among those who Fr. Christy might label “imitators,” have an authentic claim to being the early church by virtue of a uniformity of belief and practice. It is that no one does. Certainly the Orthodox Church doesn’t (or at least shouldn’t) object to the fact that they are not the early church by virtue of homogeny any more than the Pentecostals. The Orthodox believe in the organic growth of the church. To quote the aforementioned Fr. Maxwell, who is himself alluding to St. Vincent: “Inspite of the claims of lack of change, we must admit that many changes occur within the history of the Orthodox. Fr. Alexander Schmemann once said, that the "Orthodox Church is ever changing to ever remain the same." Change is part of life and growth. It occurs in normal development. A baby becomes a child, becomes a young person, becomes an adult, and then becomes elderly.”
Genetic Association
If not uniformity of practice, than what? Fr. Christy appeals additionally to the genetic association of the Orthodox Church to the early church. He can, he assured us, produce for us the bishops roll which links the present Ecumenical Patriarch to the apostle Andrew. This certainly seems the more compelling proof to me, and one that, utilized properly, might function productively in an Orthodox historical apologetic. It is not, however, an ironclad defense for the simple equation of the early church with the present Orthodox Church.
The simplest objection would be to point out that this is by no means an exclusive claim of the Orthodox Church. The Catholic Church has an equally valid claim, and in their eyes, a more valid claim based on the doctrine that apostolic authority flows out from Peter to whom the bishop of Rome’s scroll establishes lineage. Nor are these two peculiar in this respect. Perhaps underrated is the fact that Anglican bishops have an equal genetic relationship with the apostles. While Henry may have instigated the breach with Rome, he did not because of this appoint a brand new priesthood. The original clergy of the Anglican Church, those who appointed future clergy, were converted from the apostolic clergy of the Roman Catholic Church. Should they be so inclined, an Anglican bishop could trace his roots back to the apostles as well. The same is true for any “schismatic” sect which has a clerical system like that of the early medieval church.
What is more, there is no reason why the genetic association must be restricted to the clergy. The very basis for Reformation was the belief that the hierarchical church had abandoned its spiritual/intellectual genealogy. The effort was not to pioneer non-apostolic churches but to restore the spiritual apostolicity of a self-invalidating church. Even rejecting this position as valid, one cannot thereby reject all genetic relationship of modern Protestants to the apostles. The ELCA is genetically related to the Lutheran Church at large (something that can hardly be denied), and Lutherans are genetically related to the Catholic Church which is of apostolic descent. Or, more dramatically, the one cup Churches of Christ are genetically related to the Churches of Christ which are genetically related to the Stone-Campbell movement at large which is genetically related to the Presbyterian Church which is genetically related to the Reformed Movement which is genetically related to the Catholic Church which is of apostolic descent.
That convoluted presentation of apostolicity in the one cup churches is perhaps enough to prove Fr. Christy’s point in some people’s minds, but it raises the question of the value of genetic relationship. Is the ELCA more apostolic than the one cup churches by virtue of a less complicated genetic relationship? If so, then the complexity of the relationship establishes legitimacy and the Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans, Oriental Orthodox, Assyrian Church, and more all have an identical and equal claim to genetic authenticity. If, however, mere genetic relationship is sufficient than all denominations presently in existence have an equally valid claim to apostolicity since no church arose in a void but always in response to and in order to authentically continue the apostolic tradition.
Perhaps there is some other meaning to the simple equation of which I am not aware, but, regardless, the above should suffice to demonstrate the dubious value of the assertion that the Orthodox are the early church. That claim can only have value if it can first be defined and then particularized to the Orthodox. Otherwise it functions less as an apology and more as a speculative exercise in the value of static religion and genetic relationships.
History: Puddy in the Hands of Master
Beyond the unsubstantiated (and fundamentally unsubstantiatable) claim that the Orthodox Church is the early Church, Fr. Christy throughout presented a highly stylized retelling of a history that is not nearly as neat as he would like it to be. I concede that perhaps some blame may fall on the constraints of time and medium. The presentation was relatively short and extemporaneous method denied opportunities for precision or even, I imagine, for much fact checking. Some of the blame, however, must be put on the constraints of purpose. In spite of claims to the contrary, the presentation was obviously an apology for Orthodoxy tinged with notes of evangelism. There is nothing wrong with that (and I don’t think anyone was honestly expecting anything else), but to appropriate history to that end led Fr. Christy to oversimplify when it suited his purposes and, at some points, contort the facts to paint Orthodoxy in the best possible light.
Canon
The grossest oversimplification was his passing commentary on canon, which, of course, was the product of the church, not, as Protestants believe, the other way around. From the start, I should mention that I sympathize with that sentiment. The ignorant belief that the Bible was somehow handed down from God on a silver platter is perhaps the most detrimental fantasy that the mind of man has ever dreamed up. That does not, however, excuse presenting the development of canon as a coherent, deliberate event in the history of the church. The canon was a process that was undertaken by Christians as early as the first century. Certainly the canon was formalized in the fourth century, but Fr. Christy would have us believe that “there was no Bible until the fourth century.” I won’t rehash the entire history of canon here because I assume that most people who are reading this have some grasp of it. It should suffice to say that both the Gospel canon and the Pauline canon were both fixed and totally undisputed by the end of the second century, a fact evidenced by Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and p46. The suggestion that the church decided in the fourth century that, according to Fr. Christy, “it needed more than just an oral history,” grossly misrepresents the situation of the earliest church. The church has from its earliest times been a church of the apostolic texts.
More or less trivially, the particular discussion of Revelation in the place of canon disturbed me. Fr. Christy described it as questionable, entering only by the skin of its teeth. Ironically, there was no questioning of the book of Revelation until the third century Dionyius of Alexandria questioned it on the grounds of its millennialism. These objections had weight in the East, but Revelation saw almost no dispute in the West. Suggesting that it be relegated to some lesser status in the canon ignores that the doubts about it arose late and that they arose only in the east.
Finally, with regard to canon, the statement was made, in the course of a dramatic reenactment, that the “church in council” decided which books were valid and which were not. I would prefer that this be how it happened. If the church had held an ecumenical council or even a very large council to determine canon, canon history would be much easier to define. The truth of the matter is, contrary to popular conceptions, there was not great council on canon. Certainly every Christian should reject the prevailing notion that canon was decided under the shadow of Constantine at Nicea. More importantly, our most critical statements in canon history come not from concilliar decrees but from particular Fathers. With Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Dionysius already mentioned, Athanasius (whose Festal Letter in 367 gave us the first perfect canon list for the New Testament) and Eusebius (who categorized the biblical literature under the headings “undisputed,” “disputed but accepted,” “disputed and spurious,” and “heretical”) deserve to be added. Certainly smaller synods were held regarding canon, the late fourth century Council of Carthage springs to mind, but the church total by no means decided in a council what books would and would not be in Scripture. By the time they got around to meeting in Carthage, the canon had substantially been set.
Schism
Fr. Christy’s greatest sin with canon was merely oversimplification. His discussion of schism bordered on revisionist. He talked at length about the unified church that existed until the eleventh century. He made no small point of discussing how, after the Catholic Church instigated schism that they then began fracturing themselves in a way totally foreign to church history. Fr. Christy’s view of the first millennium of Christendom is idyllic but false. I wonder how the 76 million Assyrian and Miaphysite (Oriental Orthodox) churches would feel having been completely written out of church history. Fr. Christy dogmatically ignored the schisms in 431 and 451, even passing out charts diagramming church history which also omitted those schisms. While it served his vision of a monolithic church well, it was fundamentally dishonest to present those substantial schisms as never occurring. In reality, the church was never monolithic. From the very moment that standardization began there has been constant and substantial schism. The Arian schism which persisted in the West long after its conclusion in the East in 381 hadn’t even healed before the Nestorian schism which persists to this day. Twenty years later, another even more substantial schism occurred which also persists into the present. The church was divided between iconoclasts and iconodules in the eighth century. The East and West ruptured repeatedly, over monothelitism in the seventh century, during the Photian schism in the eighth century before finally breaking of in the eleventh century. The church was not only not a monolithic unity through history, but schisms be they temporary or enduring (and she experienced both at every stage of her development) were the status quo of Christendom.
Even the Great Schism and its effects were distorted to fit Fr. Christy’s paradigm (in spite of almost comical reiteration that he had no agenda). Most glaringly was the inclusion of filioque in a list of five “innovations” that resulted from the Great Schism. Ironically, the handout that the Father gave us concerning the timeline of the church correctly dates the introduction of the filioque into the creed in 589, nearly five centuries before the Great Schism. I know that Fr. Christy knew the actual history of filioque, as he later answered questions regarding its meaning and origin, but that did not stop him from including it in a number of errors resulting from alienation from the concilliar church. Surely Fr. Christy realizes that the filioque cannot have been a development from the schism since it was an integral part of the Photian Schism 150 years prior to the final breach. (Of course, perhaps that schism is among the ones that do not accord with Fr. Christy’s monolithic picture of Christian history.)
I realize of course that my quibbles here may seem nitpicky to the point of tedium, but my purpose is not to correct every historical error (factual or hermeneutical) that I believe Fr. Christy made. It is also not my intention to belittle the practice of historical apology in general or of the apologetic high ground of the Orthodox Church in particular. My objection is to the misappropriation of history - both the concept and the data – for propaganda. Appeals to history are not appeals to fact against opinion. They are rhetorical reworkings of facts in order to elucidate the realities of the present. To suggest that we may juxtapose the objective nature of history to the totally subjective nature of personal opinion is to fundamentally ignore what the telling of history is. It is the speculative reconstruction of a narrative on the basis of historical data. In ignoring this, Fr. Christy misappropriates history conceptually. Perhaps the greater infraction is that his speculative reconstruction did not make exhaustive use of the data. Whatever data did not conform to a preexisting paradigm was either excluded (as in the case of the manifold schisms in the early church) or reworked (as in the discussion of canon) in order to meet an agenda that the Father swore he didn’t have.
The point: a good conclusion supported by a bad argument has no credibility. If we are to make an apology for the Eastern faith, and that is (most will know) a hobby of mine, let it be an intellectually honest one.
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