The Mystery of Confession: A Second Baptism

by Father Seraphim Johnson (+2009)

 

 

We all know that in Baptism God graciously forgives all the sins we have ever committed up until that time. But what happens when we sin again after Baptism? We cannot, in fact, be baptized again, so are we condemned to stay in our sin forever? Or has the Lord made some provision for us to renew our Baptism and to cleanse ourselves anew from our sins? When our Lord Jesus Christ washed His disciples’ feet at the Last Supper, He showed us that there is a way to be cleansed from our sins after Baptism. Let us review this event from the Gospel of Saint John:

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under His power, and that He had come from God and was returning to God; so He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around His waist. After that, He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around Him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to Him, “Lord, art Thou going to wash my feet?”

Jesus replied, “Thou dost not realize now what I am doing, but later thou wilt understand.”

"No,” said Peter, “Thou shalt never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash thee, thou hast no part with Me.”

“Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

Jesus answered, “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” For He knew who was going to betray Him, and that was why He said not every one was clean.

(John 13:3-11)

Now, let us notice several things in this passage. First, this event took place right before the disciples received Holy Communion for the first time. They were purified by this washing before they received the Holy Mysteries of the Body and Blood of the Lord. When Saint Peter objected to the Lord’s washing his feet, the Lord said that if He did not wash Saint Peter’s feet, then Saint Peter would have no part in Him and His kingdom. That is, Saint Peter would not be able to receive the Lord’s Body and Blood and share in the new life. When Saint Peter heard this, he impulsively asked the Lord to wash all of him, not just his feet. But the Lord reminded him that he had already been washed—he had received Holy Baptism, which had cleansed his whole body. What Saint Peter needed now was to have his feet washed.

The feet are the part of the body which comes into contact with the world: as you walk around, especially if you are barefoot or in sandals, as the Lord and the disciples were, your feet get very dirty. The rest of you might stay clean after a bath, but you couldn’t walk anywhere without getting your feet all dusty and grimy. And that is how it is for us too: after being washed clean in Baptism, we still have to walk around in this fallen world, and when we do so, our spiritual feet get dirty. We cannot be baptized again, but before we can come to Holy Communion and share in the Lord’s Body and Blood, we need to be cleaned again. The means by which we are cleaned is Confession of our sins, which spiritually corresponds to the Washing of the Feet in this Gospel. In his commentary on this passage Blessed Theophylact says, “Thus through confession we can wash ourselves to commune worthily of the supper, and not eat and drink condemnation to ourselves.” [1]

Saint Cosmas of Aitolia, the great missionary of Greece and Albania in the eighteenth century, explains Confession quite clearly when he says: “We too should keep our Baptism as pure and immaculate as possible. If by chance we err, as human beings, may the gracious God be glorified, He Who has granted us a second Baptism, holy Confession, because it is impossible for a person to be saved who hasn’t been baptized and one who is unconfessed.” [2] Saint Cosmas also tells us: “The man who is unconfessed is similar to one who is unbaptized and is unable to be saved… If he has not confessed, let him commune as many times as he will, it does not help at all, but rather causes harm, since he communes unworthily, and woe to him… First we should wash and cleanse our vessel, and then place the most precious Thing inside.” [3]

The Origin of Confession

When the Lord appeared to His Apostles after His resurrection from the dead, He established the Mystery of Holy Confession. He breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven” (John 20:22-23). In these words He granted His Apostles the power, through the working of the Holy Spirit, to release men from their sins, and also to bind them in their sins. The Church has used this power ever since. Initially, the bishops, as the direct successors of the Apostles, were the only ones to exercise it, but by the second century they allowed priests to act as their representatives in forgiving sins. The Mystery has two parts: the person who is repenting confesses his sins orally to a priest or bishop, and then, if he seems to have a true desire to stop sinning, the clergyman reads a prayer for God to forgive the sins confessed. After this prayer, the sins are forgiven, as if they had never been committed.

In the second and third centuries, the confession of sins was often done publicly, in front of the whole congregation, at least when major sins were being confessed—apostasy, betrayal of fellow Christians, heresy, and sins which were already public knowledge, like adultery. For such sins, a long period of special discipline and testing was necessary before a person could be readmitted to Holy Communion. In many ways this period paralleled the preparation for Baptism, and the person who had confessed a major sin was treated much like one coming for Baptism. He had to pass through a series of stages, including: (1) mourner—he stood outside the church and asked the forgiveness and prayers of the Christians going inside; (2) listener—he stood with the catechumens in the narthex of the church and listened to the first part of the Liturgy, through the Scriptures and sermon, but left before the Eucharist itself; (3) kneeler—he stood in the back of the church, knelt for special prayers and a blessing from the bishop, but left before Holy Communion; (4) stander—he stood with the faithful, but was not admitted to Holy Communion. During all this time, the penitent was given a special rule of extra prayer and fasting; and if he was willing to fast even more, the time he was excluded from Holy Communion might be reduced. In the case of particularly serious sins, the person might be cut off from Holy Communion for many years, or even until he was dying.

Public confession and the long periods of special discipline and testing began to be relaxed in the third century, starting in Africa, and gradually the Mystery of Confession became more as we know it today. [4] When we look at our own sins, we need to remember how seriously they were treated in the early Church, and we should think about how long we would have been cut off from Holy Communion had we lived then as we do now.

Who Needs Confession?

There is no one alive who does not sin. Saint Paul says, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). The Holy Apostle Saint John reminds us: “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make Him out to be a liar and His word has no place in our lives” (I John 1:8-10). In fact, everyone sins “continually,” as Saint Symeon of Thessalonica says, and therefore everyone must repent: laymen, monks, priests, bishops—everyone. [5] Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself tells us, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Matt. 4:17).

Sometimes we think that we don’t have many sins, so we must be making real progress in the spiritual life. People might even say that they don’t need to confess, since they have not done anything wrong. But, unfortunately, this does not mean that they are already saints; on the contrary, it is a bad sign, since the saints are more aware of their sins than most of us are. Abba Poemen, the Desert Father, once told a story about Abba Dioscoros: One day Abba Dioscoros’s disciple was in his own cell when he heard the abba weeping. So the disciple went and asked Abba Dioscoros what was wrong. “I am weeping over my sins,” the elder answered. “But you do not have sins, Father,” the disciple replied. And the elder said, “Truly, if I were allowed to see my sins, three or four men would not be enough to weep for them.” [6] The closer we grow to God, the brighter His light shines in our souls, and the more clearly we see our sins and shortcomings. So if we are growing in love for God, we should also have a constantly growing awareness of our own sinfulness and unworthiness.

If we don’t confess to God, we make the Devil happy, and our spiritual state grows worse and worse. Abba John the Dwarf says, “The enemy rejoices over nothing so much as over those who do not confess their thoughts.” [7] And Saint Symeon the New Theologian explains how the Lord gave Adam a chance to confess after he disobeyed in the Garden of Eden. When the Lord came in the evening and found Adam hiding, He asked him, “Where are you?” “Who told you you are naked?”—hoping that Adam would confess his sin and ask for forgiveness. But, as we know, Adam did not confess. Instead, as the saying goes, “he took it like a man—he blamed his wife,” and by implication he also blamed God, saying that it was the woman God gave him who caused him to sin. Then the Lord turned to Eve to see if perhaps she would confess. But she blamed the serpent. Since neither one was willing to say, “I have sinned, forgive me,” they were cast out of Eden. [8] How different our lives would be if only our first parents had confessed their sin, instead of hiding it and blaming each other for it! When we come to the Last Judgment, we also will have to choose between two answers to the Lord for all the sins we have committed in our lives. We can either say, “Lord, have mercy on me a sinner,” or we can make excuses and blame others for our sins. What we must remember is that the Lord accepts those who confess their sins, as He accepted the publican, the prodigal son, the harlot, Zacchaeus, and the thief on the cross. But He rejects those, like the Pharisee, who deny their sins or blame others for them.

How Often Should We Confess?

The simplest answer is: as often as possible. Saint Cosmas advises us to confess every day if possible, but if not, then weekly or monthly, but at least four times a year. [9] You see, at the moment we sin, we open the way for Satan to enter into us and start crowding God out of our lives. The longer we wait to turn back to God and confess, the more deeply and firmly Satan digs in and takes over, and the stronger sin’s grip becomes on us. Abba Poemen declared, “At the moment when a man goes astray, if he says, I have sinned, immediately the sin ceases.” [10] Once a monk asked his elder why the people in the world live such bad lives, but have so few strong temptations, while the monks try so hard and have a great many temptations. It seemed unfair, he thought. The elder answered that when worldly people fall, they don’t confess and get back up again, so they can’t fall again, since they are already flat on the ground. The Devil does not waste his temptations on them anymore, since he already has them anyway. But when a monk falls, he immediately confesses his sin and gets up. Now he is standing up again, so he can also fall again. Sometimes the monk wins in his battle with Satan, and sometimes he loses, but he keeps on trying until finally he comes to peace with God. [11] Similarly, when one of the brothers fell, he asked Abba Sisoes what to do. “Get up again,” he answered. “I did, but I fell again,” the monk said. “Get up again and again.” “How many times?” the monk asked. “Until you are taken up either in virtue or in sin,” the abba told him. [12] So we see that we should confess every time we sin. And then, after confessing, we must fill our minds with thoughts of God so that the temptations and sins do not return and fill us again with their filth.

One way everyone can use to get rid of sin as soon as possible is to confess daily. Saint Isaiah the Solitary taught: “Examine yourself daily in the sight of God, and discover which of the passions is in your heart. Cast it out, and so escape His judgment.” [13] Now, obviously, you cannot go to a priest daily and tell him your temptations and sins, but you can go before God every night in your prayers and examine your life during the day which has just passed. Saint Maximos the Confessor teaches us that our daily confession should have two parts: first, we should thank God for all the blessings we have received from Him, especially the ones of that day; then we should bring to light and examine our sins, again especially the ones of that day. These two acts produce humility, says the Saint, since in our thanksgiving we see how unworthy we are of God’s goodness and blessings to us, while in our confession of sins we see how badly we have repaid Him for His love toward us and we ask for His forgiveness. [14] If we follow this rule, we never let the sun go down on our sins and do not give them a chance to put out deep roots in our souls.

How To Confess

You do not, perhaps, need any special instructions to make your daily confession as part of your prayers; but special preparation is needed for the Mystery of Confession. Saint Cosmas of Aitolia lived in a time of great spiritual decline, when the Moslem Ottoman Empire was oppressing Christians and when most priests were so poorly trained that they were not allowed to hear confessions. Wherever Saint Cosmas went, he preached to the people about the Faith and about repentance, and then he heard as many confessions as he could. But since there were always too many people, he told them he would take all their sins on his own shoulders if they would agree to take four hairs from his beard. These four hairs are the four steps to a good confession: (1) forgive your enemies; (2) find a good confessor and tell him all your sins; (3) accuse only yourself, no one else; and (4) leave confession firmly resolved that it is better to die than to sin again. [15] Let us look at each of these steps in detail.

Forgive Your Enemies

Our Lord Jesus Christ taught: “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins” (Matt. 11:15). He also said, “If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother: then come and offer your gift” (Matt. 5:23-24). Before you can do anything acceptable to God, you must forgive your neighbors, and above all, your enemies. The Apostle John says that, “anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him” (I John 2:9; 3:15).

Saint Cosmas told a story about two men who came to confession. One of them, Peter, had many good deeds and few sins, but he would not forgive men for their offenses against himself. The other, Paul, had many sins but he always forgave others. Because of this, Peter was sent to Hell, while Paul, because he forgave others, was granted Holy Communion. Saint Cosmas says that Peter was like 100 pounds of flour, and his hatred and refusal to forgive others was the yeast which changed it all into the devil’s poison. Paul, on the other hand, was like a pile of kindling, and his forgiving of others was the spark which ignited the whole pile and made it burn brightly for God. [15] So before you do anything else, think about those who have offended you, and then forgive them from the bottom of your heart. In the words of Abba Zeno, “If a man wants God to hear his prayer quickly, then before he prays for anything else, even his own soul, when he stands and stretches out his hands towards God, he must pray with all his heart for his enemies. Through this action, God will hear everything that he asks.” [17]

Actually, this is something you should do every day as part of your daily confession. Saint Epiphanius once met with Abba Hilarion and served him a fowl to eat. Abba Hilarion said, “Forgive me, but since I received the [monastic] habit, I have not eaten meat which has been killed.” Saint Epiphanius answered, “Since I took the [monastic] habit, I have not allowed anyone to go to sleep with a complaint against me, and I have not gone to rest with a complaint against anyone.” Abba Hilarion admitted that Saint Epiphanius’s way of life was better than his. [18] Let us follow Saint Epiphanius’s good example, and never go to bed in a state of enmity with anyone; rather, let us forgive everyone every night in our evening prayers.

Find a Good Confessor and Tell Him All Your Sins

Saint Symeon of Thessalonica says that you must confess all your sins with simplicity and sorrow, and you must promise to correct any injustices and from now on to behave in a godly way. [19] In order to confess all your sins you must review your life since your last confession and see what sorts of falls you have had. Daily confession will make this much easier, since you will remember far more and be aware of more of your sins if you consider them each day.

Your spiritual father may also help you to review your thoughts and actions and to examine yourself by asking you some questions. There are also various other aids that you can use in considering your sins. One approach is to go over the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes to see how your life compares to their demands; you can also find lists of questions based on them to help in this examination. Another method is to consider the three parts of the soul and see what sorts of sins are characteristic of each: the intelligent part is prone to errors in faith, such as heresy or blasphemy; the incensive part often leads to anger and cursing of others; and the appetitive part produces greed, love of money, envy, jealousy, impurity. [20] There is, however, one special caution which must be observed when you examine yourself to see what your sins are. Saint Mark the Ascetic warns that you should be careful not to go over your sins in too much detail, either in preparing for confession or when confessing them, since dwelling on them too much may rekindle some of the old passions and cause you to fall again. [21] In any case, pray to God to enlighten you and show you your sins as far as you are able to bear this knowledge.

People sometimes get nervous when they hear they must confess all their sins. They think, “What if I forget something? Will God condemn me even more?” Once in a while, you really do forget a sin, and quite often you are ignorant of your real sins because of your spiritual immaturity, but do not let this frighten you. When the priest prays for your forgiveness in the prayer of absolution, he prays that you will also be forgiven for any sins you have not confessed, either because of ignorance or forgetfulness. Of course, if you later remember a sin you forgot to confess, or if you become aware that some past act was sinful, you should tell this to your spiritual father at your next confession.

After reviewing your life and determining your sins, you and your spiritual father should sit down together in a quiet place and talk over your sins. During this conversation, you should not just tell him about the actual sins you have committed, but also about ideas and temptations which have troubled you or about which you are in doubt. Unfortunately, it is not always possible to do this, especially if you come to confession only before Liturgy on Sunday morning. If this is your normal practice, you might try to find a time occasionally when you can have a longer conversation with your spiritual father.

Mention of your spiritual father brings us to the other part of this step. You should try to find an experienced spiritual father, and one for whom you feel trust. Abba Poemen warns us, “Do not lay open your conscience to anyone whom you do not trust in your heart.” [22] There was once a monk who was very tempted. He went to an elder and confessed his sinful thoughts. Before the elder had even heard of the monk’s sinful deeds, he said, “You have lost your soul.” So the monk decided that in that case, there was no point in his staying in the monastery and living such a difficult life. As he was leaving to go back to the world, however, he met Abba Silouan, who was spiritually very experienced and perceptive. He asked the monk what was wrong, so the monk confessed his sinful thoughts again. But Abba Silouan told him the Scriptures do not condemn a person only for thoughts. That encouraged the monk enough that he then told the abba about his sinful deeds. Abba Silouan taught the monk about repentance, and the monk went back to the monastery and became a lamp of virtue. [23] As you can see, that inexperienced elder nearly cost the monk his soul. By the way, being spiritually experienced is not the same thing as being well educated or old. It is possible for a young person to be more spiritually experienced than an old one, and it is actually somewhat more likely that a less highly educated confessor will be humbler and more experienced spiritually. Further, there are laymen who are far more experienced in things of the Spirit than are many priests. At times you will find that people confess their sins to a layman for advice and guidance, and then go to a priest for absolution.

Some cautious priests, knowing their own lack of spiritual experience, will hear confessions and read the prayer of absolution, but will not give any beyond the most general advice, lest they cause harm to the person confessing. If a spiritual father has some experience, however, he should try to help those who confess to him by advising them on how best to deal with their temptations and conquer their passions. In fact, receiving such advice is one of the advantages of confessing to a spiritual father.

You must be careful of a particular temptation which the evil one will often use against you. As Saint Theodorus puts it, “Do not judge the actions of your spiritual father, but obey his commands. For the demons are in the habit of showing you his defects, so that your ears may be deaf to what he tells you.” [24] Your spiritual father is also a human being, with his own sins and weaknesses. Even so, he may be able to see things—or God may show them to him—which will help you if you listen to him. Do not be critical of him or be put off by something he says or does, so that you refuse to listen to his good advice to you.

A spiritual father does not normally give actual “commands” or “obediences” to his spiritual children, but he can help them with advice if they ask for it. Saint Peter of Damascus teaches that “we can trust only him who has received from God the grace of discrimination and who, as Saint Maximos says, has acquired through great humility and long practice of the virtues an intellect blessed with spiritual insight. Such a man is in a position to advise, not everyone, but at least those who seek him out voluntarily and who question him by their own choice… It is because of his humility, and because his questioners seek him out voluntarily, that what he says is stamped on the soul of his listeners.” [25] Sadly enough, Saint Peter remarks that even in his day there was no one who had this discrimination, since no one had the humility that leads to it. [26] How much less likely that you will find such humility and true discrimination today! But do not despair. Rather, discuss your spiritual state with your spiritual father. He cannot and must not dictate to you, but it is very important to be open to his advice. The combination of his advice and your humility in receiving it is often the key to victory over your sins. Once two brothers went to confess to Abba Zeno. One of them had many tears and a great desire for instruction, while the other was indifferent and had no interest in anything the abba had to teach him. Later, when the two monks compared notes, the one who wanted guidance was healed of his sins, but the other was not. [27]

When you come to confession, be careful to avoid another temptation. It is easy to start talking about all sorts of exalted spiritual questions, the meaning of the Scriptures, and so forth, while you somehow neglect to mention your own sins. Once an elder who had heard about Abba Poemen made a long trip to see him. When he was admitted to the abba’s cell, the visitor began talking about all sorts of exalted spiritual matters; but Abba Poemen did not say a word to him. Finally, the visiting elder left and, in great disappointment, told Abba Poemen’s disciple that the abba had not spoken to him at all. When the disciple asked Abba Poemen why he had not talked with the visitor, the abba answered that the visitor knew about sublime spiritual topics, of which he was ignorant, so he had nothing to say. He only knew about the passions and how to struggle with them. The disciple advised the visitor to go again to see Abba Poemen and to ask him about the passions of the soul. When he did so, Abba Poemen replied that now this was something he knew about, and they then had a long talk which was very profitable for the visitor. [28] So when you come to confession, leave theology behind and stick to your passions.

Remember that when you come to confession, you are actually confessing to God; you should approach Him with reverence and godly fear, knowing how holy He is. So often today people are casual and unconcerned in their approach to anyone in authority, and this attitude sometimes carries over into their approach to God. But, when you come to Confession or Holy Communion, think how you would feel if you could actually see the Lord Jesus Christ standing there before you. Then remind yourself that He is in truth there, and approach Him with awe. In the Order of Confession, the priest is told to remind the person confessing, “Brother, inasmuch as thou hast come to me and to God, be not ashamed; for thou speakest not unto me, but unto God, before Whom thou standest.” [29] Now, some people may ask, “Why, then, do I need to have the priest there at all? Can’t I just confess to God?” But the Apostle James instructs us: “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed” (James 5:16). Your spiritual father is present in Confession as a witness so that you really will examine yourself, to give you advice, and also because your sins are also offenses against mankind, of which he is a representative. One of the important products of a full confession to another person is that it leads to humility, which is absolutely essential for any progress at all in the spiritual life. Always remember that your spiritual father has his own sins and trials. He will not judge and condemn you if you open your heart to him. You must not, then, be ashamed to open your life up to him and confess all your sins. The time to be ashamed is when you commit the sin, not when you come to confess it. Often it is the very act of humbling yourself and acknowledging your sin that leads to your triumph over it. There was once a father who had a terrible warfare with temptation for three years, but he was unable to confess it. In his pride and shame he said to himself, “Why reveal my secrets, when I already know what to do?” So, although he often visited his elder and talked to him about other things, he never mentioned this warfare. But since the warfare kept getting worse, he finally decided he had to go and confess it. On the way, he wavered, and he decided, “If no one is there, I will confess, but not otherwise.” When he arrived, the elder was alone, but still he did not confess. Finally, as he was about to leave again without confessing, the elder stopped him and encouraged him to confess. The elder could see he was in difficulty, so he told him, “I am a man of like passions to you. Tell me what is wrong.” At last, the monk confessed his sin, and immediately his heart was lightened and he was freed from that passion. [30]

Saint John Cassian likewise tells of a monk who was a great ascetic, but would not reveal his thoughts to anyone. He was troubled for a long time by dreams which showed him that Judaism was better than Christianity, but he told no one about the dreams, nor did he ask for advice. In the end, he abandoned Christ and became a Jew himself, having been led astray by his pride. True discernment comes only from true humility, which you show by being willing to reveal your thoughts and actions to your spiritual father, rather than trusting in your own wisdom. The very act of revealing them weakens and withers evil thoughts. [31]

Accuse Only Yourself, No One Else

Actually, there are two reasons why you should accuse only yourself at confession. In the first place, when you come to confession, you must not follow the bad example of Adam and Eve and try to blame someone else for your sins; rather, you must take responsibility yourself for your own weakness. Abba Or taught his disciples: “In all temptations, do not complain about anyone else, but say about yourself, ‘These things happen to me because of my sins.’” [32] Abba Moses likewise taught that if a person does not think in his own heart that he is a sinner, then God will not hear him. He said, “When someone is occupied with his own faults, he does not see those of his neighbor.” [33] As long as you are trying to blame someone else for your sins, you are not truly sorry for them—you have not yet acknowledged that you are responsible for them—so God cannot give you the strength to overcome them. It is only when you turn to God, admit your own weakness and sinfulness, and ask for His help, that you will begin to make progress against your sins.

The second reason for accusing only yourself during confession is that you must never reveal another person’s sins. Abba Poemen warns that if you reveal another person’s sins, God will reveal yours. [34] Many people know that a priest is not allowed to tell anyone what he has heard in confession, even at the threat of death. But many do not know that this same rule applies to everyone. If you happen to overhear what someone says in confession, you must never reveal that to anyone. You are bound just as much as the priest is to keep it secret. When Christians learn of someone else’s sins, they should pray for that person; but to reveal the sins and talk about them destroys your own soul. To keep silent about someone else’s sins is all part of not judging others. Saint Isaac the Theban once saw a brother sinning and condemned him in his heart. When the Saint got home, he found an angel blocking the door to his cell. The angel said, “God sent me to ask you where you want to throw the guilty brother you have condemned.” Saint Isaac repented, and the angel told him that he should not judge before God has done so. [35] Another time a group of monks was discussing the sins of one of the brothers. Abba Pior came with a big bag of sand on his back and a small bag of sand hanging down in front. The fathers asked the meaning of this, and he told them that we put our sins—the big bag—behind us so that we will not be troubled by them, and we put the little bag of our brother’s sins in front of us so we will be able to see and judge his sins. This is backwards. [36] Always remember that you are coming to confess your own sins, not to judge your brother. If you do reveal someone else’s sins during confession, you are actually committing another sin in the midst of confession, so how can you hope to be forgiven?

Leave Confession with a Firm Resolution that it is Better to Die than to Sin Again

It is easy to fall into the habit of going to confession without really thinking about what repentance means, but this makes confession worse than meaningless. Repentance is a firm desire and intention not to commit that sin again. Saint Symeon of Thessalonica even declares that if a priest is aware that someone is not really repentant when he comes to confession, he must send that person away without absolution. Otherwise, the priest himself shares in that person’s sin. [37]

“He who conceals his sins does not prosper,” say the Holy Scriptures, “but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy” (Prov. 28:13). Abba Poemen says that God will forgive one who converts from sin. [38] If you have really decided to turn away from your sins and commit them no more, then when the priest reads the prayer of absolution over you, God forgives all your sins and wipes out the very memory of them.

What we find so often is that, while we don’t really like our sins, we do love the things which lead to sin. We want to stop judging other people, but we still enjoy talking about them and hearing about things they do. As Saint Isaac the Syrian teaches, we become enslaved to our passions because we are attached to the causes of our sins. You cannot stop sinning, the Saint explains, unless you hate your sins, and you cannot be forgiven unless you confess them. [39] So you go to confession with a real desire to stop sinning, but you don’t want to give up the things which lead to the sins. A monk once came to his elder and asked for help against lustful thoughts. The monk was sincere in wanting the thoughts to stop, but they did not. When the elder then prayed for enlightenment, he was shown that an angel was waiting to help the monk, but the monk did not ask for help. On the contrary, when the thoughts came he welcomed them and enjoyed them. [40] This monk wanted his sin to go away, but he did not hate it. In fact, he enjoyed the sinful thoughts when they came, even though they were drawing him away from God. In such a case, confession is worthless, since there is no desire to stop sinning. In another case, a monk confessed his helplessness against impure thoughts and asked his elder to pray for his victory over them. After the elder had prayed for him for seven days, the monk said the thoughts were worse than ever. The elder was puzzled, so he prayed to God for an explanation. Satan appeared to him and said that from the first day of the elder’s prayers he had stopped tempting the monk, but the monk had then created his own temptation by eating and drinking too much. [41] If you come to confession and do not really intend to stop sinning, then you would do better to stay away. You are not receiving the forgiveness of your sins at all, but are just mocking God and making your state worse than before.

Now, do not misunderstand this. Sometimes people say, “But, I always have the same sins. Does that mean I should not come to confession?” It can be discouraging to find that you have the same sins each time you come to confession, but, as one priest says, “What do you want—new sins?” No matter how weak you are and no matter how many times you fall into the same sins, if you want help in overcoming your sins, then come and confess them, asking for this help. But be ready to work to overcome them. Do not just think that they will go away on their own while you continue to feed them and to enjoy the things that cause them. If, on the other hand, you have no desire to struggle and to avoid the situations, people, and things that have led you to sin in the past, then you might better stay away from confession, because in this case confession only adds more sins to your burden. For confession to produce forgiveness, you must hate your sin and want to conquer it by all the means at your disposal.

What To Do When You Have No Spiritual Father

For many Orthodox Christians, what they have read so far may be more frustrating than helpful. In our current circumstances many Orthodox Christians live far away from a church and may not see a priest more than once or twice a year. In other cases, while they may have a priest at hand, they may not feel able to approach him as a spiritual guide, or he himself may not be willing to provide such advice and direction. In the modern world there is a fearful shortage of priests with the experience and the discrimination to be spiritual fathers. Sometimes this problem can be solved by occasionally telephoning a spiritual father or writing to him, but that is frequently unsatisfactory too. This same situation has often arisen in the past, since there have never been enough discriminating spiritual fathers. Many centuries ago there was an ascetic who served as spiritual father to some monks; as a result of hearing one monk’s confession, he fell into sin himself. Where he was living, there was no one to whom he could open his thoughts, so he decided to go where he could find someone to whom he could confess, although that would leave no one to hear the thoughts of the monks where he was then living. As he was starting to leave, God sent him a vision in the form of a young virgin who advised him to stay where he was, to live with God’s grace, and to learn the truth from it. This is what he did, and he was healed from his sin. [42]

From this example, we learn that when you have no one to advise you, you can call on God to send you His grace to help you. Of course, you must be careful not to fall into the error of ignoring a guide when you have one available and saying that you will have only God for your director. God will not help in this special way when there is a guide at hand whom you choose to disregard. There is a story of a man who was trapped on the roof of his house in a flood. A boat came to rescue him, but he refused, saying that he was waiting for God to save him from the flood. Later a helicopter came, but he turned it down also, waiting for God to save him. Then the flood waters came up higher, and the man drowned. When he came to judgment, he asked the Lord why He had not saved him from the flood. The Lord replied, “Who do you think sent the boat and the helicopter?” If He gives you a guide, He expects you to listen to him. But if He does not give you one, then He will graciously be your guide if you approach Him in sincerity and humility.

Similarly, Saint Peter of Damascus says that if you have no advisor, you should take Christ as your counsellor. Ask Him with humility and heartfelt prayer about your every thought and action. If you are sincere and have as your only purpose the doing of God’s will, then God Himself will teach you what to do. He may do this in different ways: directly, through inspiration; by means of some person (sometimes this may be the priest to whom you go to confession); by circumstances; or by the Holy Scriptures. [43] As an example of how God can send you guidance, remember the Ethiopian eunuch who was riding in his chariot and reading the Prophet Isaiah. The Holy Spirit sent Saint Philip the Apostle to him to ask if he understood what he was reading. The eunuch said he did not, so Saint Philip explained to him how the Prophet was speaking about our Lord Jesus Christ. After this explanation, the eunuch asked to be baptized (Acts 8:26-39). In another instance, from the nineteenth century, a young man came to confess to the Russian Elder Amvrosy of Optina. While he was waiting, he was very upset and confused about how to confess his sin. Fr. Joseph, the elder’s cell attendant, gave him a book of essays, saying, “Here, this is a good book to read before confession.” The young man opened the book to a passage which was exactly what he needed, and he finished it just as he was called for confession. [44] When you ask the Lord Jesus Christ in this way for guidance, you must give up your own will and live in God. You must hope in faith for an answer from Him, and you must be patient for that answer to come. Do not assume that you are immediately going to receive a revelation in answer to your request. Saint Peter of Damascus says that it may take years for the answer to come, but it will come. In the meantime, be humble enough to admit that you do not know about the matter, so that you do not fall into either of the possible temptations: disbelieving an angel who is bringing you the answer, or trusting a devil who is trying to mislead you. [45] In words of great comfort, Saint Peter says that if you have no guide, but do try to act with dispassion, even things you may do that are not so good will be counted to your credit for two reasons: because you are perplexed about how best to follow God, and because you have God in mind and have the intention to follow Him to the best of your ability. [46]

If you have the sincere desire to conquer your sins, God is always ready and waiting to help you. If possible, take all four hairs from Saint Cosmas’s beard: forgive your enemies, confess all your sins to an experienced spiritual father, accuse no one but yourself for your falls, and have the firm intention to die rather than to sin again. But if you cannot grasp the second hair in full because you have no spiritual father, at least take the other three hairs and make a full confession of your sins to God Himself, asking Him to provide you with the guidance you need in the absence of a human spiritual father. In either case, God will see your humility and your sorrow for your sins and will grant you forgiveness and guidance in living with, in, and for Him in the future.

 

FOOTNOTES

1. Blessed Theophylact, Blagovestnik [in Russian], S. Pctersburg, p. 679.

2. Vaporis, N. M., Father Kosmas, The Apostle of the Poor, Brookline, Massachusctts, 1977, p. 111.

3. Menounou, I. V., Kosma tou Aitolou Didakhes [in Greek], Athens, 1979, p. 163.

4. Tal'berg, N., Istoriya Khristianskoy Tserkvi [in Russian], Jordanville, New York, 1964, pp. 98-99 gives a brief history of this period.

5. Saint Symeon of Thessalonica, Ta Apanta [in Greek], Thessalonica, 1882, pp. 205-206.

6. Ward, B., The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, London, 1975, p. 46.

7. Ibid., p. 152.

8. Symeon the New Theologian, The Discourses, New York, 1980, pp. 95-97.

9. Vaporis, op. cit., p. 66.

10. Ward, op. cit., p. 152.

11. Euergetinos [in Greek], Athens, 1983, Vol. I, pp. 428-429.

12. Ward, op. cit., p. 184.

13. Philokalia, London, 1979, 1981, 1984, Vol. I, p. 26.

14. Philokalia, Vol. 11, p. 226.

15. Menounou, op. cit., p. 229; Vaporis, op. cit., pp. 64-66.

16. Vaporis, op. cit., pp. 66-67.

17 Ward, op. cit., p. 57.

18. Ibid., p. 49.

19. Op. cit., p. 210.

20. Saint Symeon of Thessalonica, op. cit., p. 211.

21. Philokalia, Vol. I, p. 138.

22. Ward, op. cit., p. 163.

23. Euergetinos, Vol. 1, pp. 286-287.

24. Philokalia, Vol TI, p. 21.

25. Philokalia, Vol. III, p. 183.

26. Philokalia, Vol. III, p. 185.

27. Euergetinos, Vol. I, pp. 285-286.

28. Ward, op. cit., pp. 140-141.

29. Manual of Eastern Orthodox Prayers, London, 1945, p. 55.

30. Khampake, Th., Gerontikon [in Greek], Athens, 1962, pp. 343-344.

31. Philokalia, Vol. I, pp. 102-104.

32. Ward, op. cit., p. 207.

33. Ibid., p. 120.

34. Ibid., p. 147.

35. Ibid., p. 93.

36. Ibid., p. 168.

37. Op. cit., p. 209.

38. Ward, op. cit., p. 150.

39. The Ascetical Homilies of Saint Isaac the Syrian, Boston, 1984, p. 152.

40. Euergetinos, Vol. I, p. 309.

41. Ibid., pp. 309-310.

42. Euergetinos, Vol. 1, p. 310.

43. Philokalia, Vol. III, p. 149.

44. The Elder Joseph of Optina, Boston, 1984, p. 65.

45. Philokalia, Vol. III, pp. 269-270.

46. Ibid., p. 243.

 

Source: The True Vine, Number 1, Spring 1989, pp. 30-50. Footnote numbering combined.

The Way Out of the Modern Spiritual Crisis

Monk Moses the Athonite (+2014)

 

 

In our days, the question of the chief aim in life sounds like nonsense in a world where no one is any longer interested in the essence, truth, and value of everything. Unfortunately, many do not understand at all why they live.

We see the destruction of life’s values. This is a very serious crisis, not so much economic, social, and cultural as spiritual. What was acquired over the centuries is despised, ridiculed, and trampled upon. There is no reverence, no respect for what is holy any longer. A rapid and crude desacralization of everything and everyone. But I have come to you this evening not in order to pose as a teacher, catechist, preacher, or accuser, but to present to you my pain, love, and sincere reflections.

Thus, modern man has forgotten the meaning of his existence, having thought that he is immortal on earth, having bound himself to matter, money, property, and things. He has considered permissiveness to be freedom, disrespect to be progress, falsehood to be a true gift, sin to be liberation, and decency to be madness. Doubt, disputes, suspiciousness, and rejection have entered the life of modern people. The thirst for money, worship of the flesh, and boastful vainglory have become gods. Hypocrisy has become a virtue.

In such an atmosphere, the Church is considered an obstacle. Thus, the existing scandals involving her sinning members are exaggerated, carefully remembered, and constantly broadcast, so that people recoil at the mere sight of a cassock in their path. The Church is not a little shop. She existed before us and will certainly live after us. The soul also seeks another light besides the solar and the electric. Conscience also acts. The essence of every serious person strives toward pure springs of water, in order truly to quench its thirst. The various recipes for temporary enjoyment in reality offer unquenchable pain.

Many impressionable people today shut themselves up within themselves, are uncommunicative, and think only of themselves. A certain hopelessness reigns in discussions. The city greets one dimly and inhospitably. Villages are considered small and boring, the surrounding environment polluted, noisy, and abnormal, and people nervous individualists, always hurrying somewhere and quite superficial. There is degradation of politics and corruption among politicians. Some Church authorities shout and threaten, while others keep silent and hide. Artists are carried away by fashion, and scholars by self-satisfaction. The final and painful statement of fact is universal decay, which causes bitterness, sorrow, and intense pain.

Modern man has gone mad from the achievements of technology. As one wise journalist, Kostas Hatziantoniou, says, “modern man has thrown away the ideas and faith once necessary to him for certain self-interested needs and has shown his true face, that face there is no need to hide this which was created by this culture and which today is killing culture.” Both capitalism and socialism expressed many false opinions and promised much, that all would be equal, happy, and rich. But the world had to be quickly and cruelly disappointed. And it felt very vividly that it had been deceived. Political leaders are insincere.

Decay has become a universal phenomenon. No one expected such a rapid change in everything. The central place in the home has been taken by the spectacle—the television. It has taken the former place of the table and the icon corner. It is inextinguishable, like a lampada, in order to shine and to darken, to disfigure, to hypnotize, to suggest new ideas, a new morality, a new position in life. In order to rule, one need only be young, successful, and rich. We hear nothing more about morality, dignity, character, and the like. Announcers have become prosecutors and executioners. Television programs constantly say that freedom is homosexuality, fornicatory cohabitation, abortions, and so-called soft drugs. And unhappy man dreams that he is being completely liberated by means of this anarchy and permissiveness. He gags his conscience, darkens his reason, suffocates his feelings, and without brakes hurls himself into material pleasures, into some strange feast of debauchery.

This corruption came with man’s alienation from God and from his neighbor. The deep meaning of life was lost. Rivalry, immoral competition, boastful leadership have created a terrifying inner emptiness and fissures in man. Now is the judgment (John 12:31). Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation (2 Cor. 6:2). But sincerity, seriousness, courage, and immediate help are necessary. There is no time for justifications and delays. Accusations, shouting, reproaches will help nothing. The searchlights must be directed within oneself, in order to look oneself in the eyes, without averting one’s gaze and without making long introductions. The mass media always brightly illuminate others; they love easy criticism, not hard self-examination. And we too usually compare ourselves only with those still worse. Immorality broadcasts about morality, and the demon-possessed about the purification of the Church. Instructive orators tiresomely shout from television screens about corruption, in order to receive applause for their art of eloquence.

Dissoluteness nests in the depth of man’s soul. That is where the problem must be sought. There is no need to rummage somewhere far away when everything is within us. Christ insisted on inner sobriety, self-criticism, self-examination, self-knowledge, reproaching and accusing oneself. Freedom is when you do what you yourself want, and not what your flesh wants. Courage consists in conquering one’s passions. Man today, if you will allow me, is free only illusorily. He thinks that everything is wonderful for him, although this is absolutely not the case. And this is a terrible mistake. Such an all-knowing, free, and important man often tramples himself down and mocks himself. He is carried away by omens; he believes in fate, destiny, magic, horoscopes, and the predictions of astrologers.

Materialists long ago rejected every form of religiosity, but, as we have already said, they made gods of the flesh and money. Today man does not wish to have any obligations; he seeks only rights. And for these rights he suffers so terribly. And the sole and exclusive love of matter can never form a man who is not dissolute. Morality can be acquired only by loving the spirit. If Christ is not present in human relations, then these relations can collapse at any second. If man does not pass from his harsh “I” to the friendly “you,” then there will be no personal encounter with the living God and with another person, and he will suffer from loneliness. And life, despite all efforts, will not change. In the end, man will simply howl from anguish. And in this spiritual emptiness hypocrisy grows.

Such self-absorption in a kind of diabolical egocentrism, with the sole aim of pleasure and wealth, creates a contradictory atmosphere, which only deepens the crisis. Television also contributes to this. Happy, as we have already said, is only the young, beautiful, strong, and rich person. Not a single word about upbringing, faith, ideals, morality, and character. In homes now the number of televisions has increased, and the number of living conversations has decreased. The conscience must be awakened; childhood simplicity must be remembered; faith must be warmed again; the good struggle of repentance, conversion, and spiritual exertion must be begun. One must again find within oneself the fear of God, the profound meaning of man’s existence, the sacredness of the uniqueness of the human person. It is worthwhile to rediscover pure religiosity, mutual respect, mutual understanding, mutual help. The conscience cannot endure the praise of vice. It is called to rise up, to resist, and to speak its word of truth.

But we must not again stop only at a simple statement of facts, which leads only to despair. It is necessary to struggle with hope for the better. Let each person in this pitch darkness light his own candle, and the darkness will gradually disperse. The instruments for the transfiguration of the world are in the hands of each one of us. And this crisis must not make us monotonous and grumbling critics. Let us begin with self-criticism. From this begins the building of the house. Let tears wash away our lawless deeds.

The teaching of the Church of Christ has not ended and has not been destroyed. Listen to it attentively again, even if from our lips. And may the words of the Lord, of His saints, and the wisdom of the elders of the desert be heard again in a world of dissoluteness, suspiciousness, falsehood, flattery, and inhumanity. May no craftiness, laziness, desire to avoid difficulties, or putting things off indefinitely hinder us in this. Elder Paisios calls us to the courageous struggle of personal resistance, a mystical rebellion through the constant destruction of the passions and the gathering of virtues. The free man is called to choose what is good, worthy, sacred, and eternal, struggling bravely and humbly, and not blaming everything on fate and avoiding suffering and difficulties.

The power of wealth and theomachy shackle the man whom they possess. Such a life without freedom and moral principles brings only anguish, fear, boredom, and suffering of soul. The end never justifies the means. Good can come only by a righteous path. For the sake of some common good, one must not break the personal. F. M. Dostoevsky very wisely observed: “There can be no world founded on the shed blood of an innocent child!” Man can only be an end, and must never be a means.

Another cause of the serious crisis of our time is the endless pursuit of pleasure. And indeed, of a kind of mad pleasure which, according to Saint Maximus the Confessor, in the end becomes pain. Pleasure is found not only in the worship of the flesh, but also in vulgarity, disrespect, unbridled hedonism, and dissoluteness. And the very pain that appears after mad pleasure can become an alarm clock, a springboard for deliverance from this base life. Pain leads to self-healing. “That is it, we have arrived. There is nowhere further to go,” a man will say to himself at such a moment. Despair at the sight of one’s utterly destroyed self will give us hope, resolve, and strength. And the feeling of loneliness bestowed by the ceaseless hunt for pleasures will lead to rational courage for liberation from a vicious habit.

The monster of pleasure tears off its mask. The passions rejoice and celebrate their victory. On television shows a man disgraces himself, he is paid for it, and he rejoices in his nakedness before everyone. Hypocrites present themselves as the most sincere people. On the other hand, as Elder Aimilianos of Simonopetra said: “Usually the immoral speak much about morality and are very strict about it!” Indeed, moralizing is a kind of illness of the dissolute. The writer Angelos Terzakis said that modern people have achieved outstanding success in two areas: in technological progress and in the perfection of hypocrisy! But the purity of truly honest and sincere people still preserves this world. For this honesty, of course, one has to pay a certain price, but the benefit is also enormous: peace in the heart. A noble life very often makes victors out of the defeated. Perhaps it does not bring high positions, but it grants a calm conscience, and this, without any doubt, is a serious advantage.

Saint Maximus the Confessor, in his well-known Chapters on Love, says that according to how we use circumstances and things, we become either corrupt or righteous. There is incorrect use, excessive use; there is excess, satiety, and waste. Saint John Chrysostom notes that the sin is not in wine, but in drunkenness. The violation of every boundary is not yet true freedom. The man of the world, troubled by the presence of God, withdraws from Him, hoping that in this way he will enjoy complete freedom without any obstacles. Today, what interests man most of all is to obtain as much money as possible, in order to amuse himself, and so that no one will bother him. Thus it even reaches the point that man deadens his conscience. We have reached the height of technical development and the spiritual baseness of man.

And in the end, everything that “made our life easier” began to make it difficult. As we have already said, from all-embracing comfort we received extraordinary boredom. Much is said about “quality of life,” “raising the standard of living,” “increasing per capita income,” but nothing is heard about the lowering of the significance of spiritual values, the destruction of sacred institutions, the denial of life-giving truths. There is no longer a place for modest, honest, and noble people in an egocentric, cruel, shameless, competitive, and domineering world. But the lack of true joy in the life of so many gives an opportunity for the question to arise: where are we going? Earthly life is a place of trials for birth into eternal life. This must not be forgotten. We are not immortal in this world; we are guests on this earth, temporary settlers. On the wall of one monk’s cell, it was written: “Today it is mine, tomorrow another’s, and it will always be someone’s!” We are here only in order to come to know God. And the absence of true acquaintance with God is the greatest tragedy for man. But the encounter with Him gives full and absolute joy.

As you have already understood, we are speaking not so much about a crisis of the time and of society with its institutions, as about a crisis of man. Confusion, disorder, chaos, unrest, anxiety, and the absence of the fear of God greatly exhaust man. He moves swiftly across the field, seeing nothing. Clouds and fog do not allow him to distinguish the road; man cannot understand where the descent is. The world is rushing in order to reach its end. But life deprived of meaning may also end there. It is very hard to realize that mankind is moving toward self-destruction. Jealousy, envy, remembrance of wrongs, the desire to conquer, the absence of any compassion for another person reign undivided today. Populism works against mankind. The equality proclaimed by socialism created concentration camps for dissenters. The barbarity of capitalism tramples down the weak. And all this is because man without God is dangerous.

Decline comes with various counterfeits. Thoughts become crafty, and not good; morality becomes immoral; faith becomes a weapon; and piety becomes a mask. The consequences of all this are manifested in the absence of balance, in deficiencies, fears, and anxieties. Religiosity today is made an object of mockery and derision. But perhaps we ourselves give occasion for this? Perhaps we simply are not in reality true Christians ourselves, and falseness has filled our life? As Gandhi says, we do not resemble Christ, and therefore he loves Christ, but not Christians. It is true that we live in a difficult and crisis-ridden epoch. Decency is most often ridiculed; the most important values of honor, self-sacrifice, and patriotism become objects of mockery. Courage, heroism, frankness, and traditionalism are considered excessive conservatism. Of course, no one is speaking about fanaticism, nationalism, and racism. But modernism and secularization are already knocking even at the Church doors through translations of sacred texts, neo-Origenist opinions about universal salvation, denial of the true ascetic worldview, the gathering of all heresies into one—Ecumenism—and through a syncretism that is simply incomprehensible to the mind.

And in this disheartening situation, is it still possible to hope for anything? But everything is permitted to us except despondency. Despair is the state of demons and is suggested by demons themselves. We cannot fail to endure, fail to be persistent, fail to hope, and fail to look to the future with optimism. There are always sparks in the ashes. Even today virtue is still encountered, even if rarely. Holiness has always been the portion of the few. And decency has not yet died completely. True people of God live among us. One grandmother in Crete said: “In 86 years of life I have not met a bad person!” Since she herself was good, she also saw only those like herself. There have always been hidden lamps in the darkness. In the humus, flowers of paradise always bloom; therefore, one must meet the signs of the times calmly. One must not easily fall into panic and immediately collapse. For then this would be the victory of evil over us. Even the most insignificant resistance brings benefit. No “Lord, have mercy” passes without a trace. There is no sin that could not be forgiven by the mercy of God. Repentance has been given to all of us, to all without exception. On earth there are no sinless people. But since we ourselves are sinners, let us be compassionate, kind, and patient also toward our neighbors.

For it is true idle talk when one speaks beautifully and correctly, but in life acts in a completely opposite way. I do not want to say that there have never been crises in history. The distinctive feature of the present time is wearisome indifference, some coating of disrespect over everything, and simply a horrifying absence of repentance. We have reached the point where we play with decency, humility, and restraint. We have come to some terrible nihilism that rejects any value whatsoever. Our youth have simply fallen into and become stuck in the internet, fast food, evening serials, Coca-Cola, rock music, cheap little magazines, casual relationships, drugs, and cafés.

What example are we giving our children today? For even Christians fray one another’s nerves, bustle about, fear, become despondent, and pretend. Yet one does not need to go far for good examples: we have the living, powerful, centuries-old Orthodox Tradition, the holy faith, the great virtues—freedom and love.

Modernism, renovation, wants to free the contemporary Orthodox person from the bonds of what is holy. Many people are working toward this very patiently and deliberately, engaging in it with a kind of vengeful mania and pride, in order to divide the people, to make citizens lonely, isolated, and disappointed. The theology of the freedom, sacredness, and individuality of the human person is very timely now. Our world is interpersonal relations, society, communion, and not relations between things. The passage from “I” to “you,” the real approach to the one who is near, without any conditions or pretenses, will give joy and true lightness. The foundation of our existence has always been morality. Only the one who truly, disinterestedly, and sacrificially loves can be called truly free.

In order for a substantial change and the elimination of the crisis to take place, the Church must cast aside everything superfluous, in order to occupy herself with what is urgent: the re-creation of the family, of patriotism, and the establishment of society on firm foundations. The spat-upon triad of faith, fatherland, and family must again find its place, value, and honor, without extremes and fanaticism. We are called to struggle, vigilance, and watchfulness. We cannot lightly renounce our life-bearing Tradition, which speaks of communal life, mutual help, mutual support, and mutual understanding. Comradeship, brotherhood, and closeness to one another adorn our life, give strength and hope, and do not allow cold loneliness to triumph. Loneliness, however, gives rise to the soot of thoughts, sorrow, depression, melancholy, self-condemnation, and harsh isolation. One must leave room for the other, help him become joyful, so that he too may taste of your joy—this is a remarkable adventure, giving great joy to the soul. Such daily little things can change our life beyond recognition, dear friends.

Globalization leads to everything being dumped into one pot. The imperialists’ disregard for the particularities of peoples and their persistent denial of the inalienable right to difference is, as it seems to me, the basis of many conflicts. Peace can be attained only as a result of peaceful coexistence and cooperation. Loud words about love for the whole human race in general, and not for the concrete person, are falsehood and vanity. In the serious work The Brothers Karamazov, F. M. Dostoevsky describes how a certain lady came to Elder Zosima, in whose image Saint Ambrose of Optina is depicted, and says to him: “I love everyone, but I simply cannot love my maid!” The Elder answers her: “Then you do not love anyone!” Christian love cannot be vague. Contemporary cosmopolitans have such painless love for everyone, but only not for their neighbor. They are individualists, immoral cynics, and not people full of love. By loving our Fatherland, we also love the whole world. Our ancestors, parents, family, fatherland, faith, Tradition, and our culture are elements of our individuality. But today, unfortunately, universal significance is not attached to this, and this individuality is being erased.

Although everything we have spoken about is very simple and understandable, some may take offense at me and then speak badly of me. This, of course, does not frighten me. If someone does not consider this right, then let him not follow it. We all know the law of freedom and justice, and yet we continue to sin, following everything bad and not the good. This is a catastrophic rupture. Thus, today the number of skillful swindlers is constantly increasing; the unworthy rule everywhere; the covetous grow rich; tolerance is shown toward lawbreakers; the satiated arrange orgies; everyone admires those promoted by publicity, while the humble are in contempt again and again, and always.

Grayness supports itself. Pettiness, baseness, servility, and flattery flourish. Such a state is not easy to explain. What, then, is happening; what is the cause? And it is still harder to find an answer amid all the contradictions among which we live. Some lovers of antiquity want to bring back ancient Greek paganism, while on the other hand, one cannot find a shop with a sign in the native Greek language! It is urgently necessary to dig into this unknown space within us. We consider ourselves know-it-alls, and in the end, we do not understand what is happening inside us. It seems to us that we are absolutely free, and yet we can do nothing with ourselves. Without moral foundations and nobility, we are dragged toward self-advertisement, self-justification, self-assertion, and... self-isolation. We fear pollution of the environment and of food products, but not the filth in our heart, untruth, and hypocrisy. Our bodily health is an order of magnitude more important than that of the soul.

Much has already been said about the contemporary crisis. Without values, ideals, faith, virtue, and decency, there can be no whole, secure, dignified, and responsible life. This crisis points to illness; illness brings unbelief in its train, and unbelief draws despair after it. But we, who hunger and thirst for holiness and beauty, must persistently resist these common currents and the disappointment that comes from where it was least expected. The time has come to unite ourselves with God in the closest possible way. We must not entrust ourselves to people who cannot save us. Let us not even touch with our hands the abundance of lawlessness and sin. We are called to experience another, holy solitude.

One ancient venerable Abba said that if a man does not say that he is alone, then even God cannot save him.

And who is to blame for the entire crisis we have described above? I think that each of us bears a share of responsibility. Naturally, the share of some is very great. But it is not our aim to distribute responsibility. The saints say that we are all guilty for the fact that evil exists. We have already spoken about the ways out of this crisis. But what must be acknowledged is that the spirit of ascetic struggle has grown weak in us. We are carried away by convenience, by the news stream of the evil box—the television, by fashion, modernity, nature, and public opinion. At the same time, we consider the dictatorship of television to be very dangerous. The civil wars pouring from the screens are needed by us in order to kill time and enjoy the spectacle, to console the passions and flatter the instincts. Of course, everyone can express his opinion, but all of them at the same time cannot possibly become correct, especially when they are set forth with abuse and falsehood.

There can be no subjective values. There has been a severe degradation of the concept of the common good and of anything holy. Eternal truths have become relative; amusements are defended everywhere; a mine has been laid under the family; and the Church has been torpedoed—thus a spiritual emptiness has been created, which they try to cover over with temporary entertainment, and not with true rest. Excesses become a way out for many. But modern man is mistaken when he thinks that by changing his apartment, car, job, spouse, and city, he will truly change his life. Advertising mocks the consumer, promising a better life with some device.

Today, high positions are not always occupied by the most worthy and educated, experienced and virtuous, but often simply by the lucky, flattering, cunning, and clever. The poet Andreas Kalvos says: “Freedom desires virtue and daring”; it is preserved by courage and sacrifices. Freedom must be accompanied by brotherhood, and then unity of spirit is also given. Freedom is a generous gift of God. Our relations with God are built on freedom, and when they are destroyed, sin comes. The result of sin is enslavement to the passions, and the passionate man is no longer free, although he himself may think the opposite. But holiness does not reign in his heart. Modern man, as it seems to him, has no need of redemption and salvation, and in this lies his tragedy, which, together with inner emptiness, leads, more quickly or more slowly, into a dead end and nihilism. One cannot have before one’s eyes only personal pleasure and continuous entertainment.

Unfortunately, Europe is united precisely for this. And the life of one person for the sake of another is perceived as a hopelessly outdated principle. Therefore, Europe does not wish to remember its Christian roots, nor Greece Orthodoxy. The worldliness of the papal Church led Nietzsche to the words “God is dead,” which many later repeated. Today it is wrongly considered that religiosity is everyone’s personal matter, and not a problem of the whole society that constitutes the basis of civilization. Naturally, no one forces anyone to believe in God, but society cannot fail to be built on religious principles. It would be a mistake right now to begin dividing everyone into sheep and goats. The Church has no enemies. But many consider the Church their enemy. Christ Himself taught patience, and this must be read again in the Gospel.

Without Christ life is completely joyless, colorless, and full of fear. I cannot say that in the Christian life there is no anxiety and no labors. We became Christians not in order simply to live peacefully. But to be a true Christian today means to be constantly exposed to danger. If we go to church only in order to thank God for our cloudless life, then we make our Orthodox faith simply a religion. But the aim of our life is not material progress and worldly success. Holiness very often blossoms in poverty, in sickness, under accusations and slander, even in exile. The saints were not especially progressive and successful people. And let us not forget this. We constantly speak about economic strategy and income. But when will we begin to speak about spiritual strategy? Or about the spiritual contribution to public life? For man lives to the extent that he loves.

Another question also arises: is it necessary to speak at all, or is it better to keep silent? What can you say if you are not heard? And what can you say if you think that you exist only when you speak? You speak in order to be acknowledged, respected, admired. In that case, it is better to keep silent. But why are you silent? Because you cannot say anything useful, or because you are afraid? There is a time for speech and a time for silence; both require wisdom, knowledge, attention, and preparation. Everything that has been said above is the fruit of long silence. A silence interrupted for conversation with the visitors of our kalyva of Saint John Chrysostom, the one who always knew what to speak about. Pilgrims on Athos often ask monks questions. They lack the ancient and significant word of the divine services. I fear that sometimes they try to find someone who will support their ideas, preferences, or some choice. They are not open to dialogue, not disposed to hear something different from their own desire. But we know many very moving stories of young people for whom pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain became an important turning point in life.

We absolutely must learn to listen to the silence of God. When He delays in answering us, something important is happening; the Lord is waiting for something from us, and there is certainly some reason for this. Saint Nikolai of Ohrid writes: “Begin your path with the fear of God and with complete trust in Him. Know that without God you will not be able to travel even the easiest path.”

All the components of the crisis of our time described above have been set forth not in order to disappoint us and cast us into despondency. I do not think that I have exaggerated anything in this description. Perhaps now you will feel more clearly these cracks of the crisis in the world. Do not be afraid that we are few; there is no need to feel like a shameful minority. On the contrary, this war must make us still more courageous. Let the pain and bitterness from what we see and hear around us warm our prayer. And those who mock what is holy punish themselves, having an utterly joyless life. Even if we do not always answer the challenges, there is no need to enter into sharp confrontation with temptation. Elder Paisios used to say that temptations help him, since they make him struggle more. We must not fear these storms of the age; we must not be carried away by thoughts of unbelief. Let us thank God that we are together with Him, that He strengthens, comforts, and blesses us. Let us finally love even our enemies as our benefactors; then we shall acquire wondrous peace in our hearts. Let us remember more often both the Cross of Christ and eternal life—then we shall find balance and peace that cannot even be imagined. Down with despondency! There have been times worse than ours, but the Lord does not sleep, and the Church does not sink. The crisis makes us more mature and wise. The great flower of virtue has not withered even today, hidden from sight in monasteries and in the world.

We sincerely regret the unbelief of many; we grieve because of our love and compassion; we pray for enlightenment and the swift return to evangelical truth. Perhaps we have become the cause of their apostasy? Our destinies are in the hands of God; let us entrust ourselves to Him. But let us also work selflessly together with Him. The crisis makes one wise: we must remember what we have managed to forget, pass again from matter to spirit, and understand that man shall not live by bread alone. The crisis awakens: it has been given for our repentance, weeping, and prayer. The crisis has been given for healthy and sincere humility. The crisis has been given so that we may reject the spirit that opposes ascesis and receive the true ascetic disposition of Mother Church, through the intercessions of all the saints and of the Most Pure Theotokos, Protectress of the Holy Mountain and of all Greece.

The crisis has been given for the humbling of us Athonites. The crisis judges us. The crisis condemns us. It is precisely this that compels us to accept what is necessary and to reject what is superfluous. The crisis has been given so that we may worship the one, true, Triune God, to Whom honor and worship are due from all of us, now and ever, and unto the endless ages. Amen.

 

Translated from the Russian edition of How to Kill the Passions, Sretensky Monastery Publishing House, Moscow, 2016.

Online: https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Moisej-Agiorit/kak-ubit-strasti/#0_6

 

Orthodox and Catholics in the Seventeenth Century: Schism or Intercommunion?

by K. T. Ware

[A classic text by Kallistos Ware reminding us why canonical penalties for praying and communing with heretics are not automatically incurred. In the words of the official Brief History of the G.O.C. published by the Holy Synod in 2015, “If, within the life of the Church, the grace of the priesthood were automatically cut off due to violations of the Holy Canons or even lapses in the Faith, then, as St. Theodore the Studite confirms, it would have been lost ‘retroactively’ long ago.” – Administrator note.]

Source: Studies in Church History, Volume 9: Schism, Heresy and Religious Protest, Cambridge University Press, London, 1972, pp. 259 – 276.

 

 

EVENT OR PROCESS?

For use on the first Sunday in Lent, the service books of the Greek Orthodox Church include a special office known as 'The Synodikon of Orthodoxy', which contains no less than sixty anathemas against different heresies and heresiarchs. [1] Yet in this comprehensive denunciation there is one unexpected omission: no reference is made to the errors of the Latins, no allusion to the Filioque or the papal claims, even though more than a third of the anathemas date from the eleventh to the fourteenth centuries, a time when doctrinal disagreements between East and West had emerged clearly into the open. This omission of the Latins is an indication of the curious imprecision which prevails in the relations between Orthodoxy and Rome. It is altogether obvious that an estrangement has long existed between the Greek East and the Latin West. What is much less obvious is the precise point at which this estrangement evolved into a definitive schism, into a clear and final breach in sacramental communion. The division between the two halves of Christendom did not occur as a single event, accomplished once and for all at a specific moment in history: it was, on the contrary, a gradual, fluctuating, and disjointed process, [2] stretching over a remarkably extended period.

Despite the reappraisal of the history of the schism, following on the researches of Dvornik, Runciman, and others, it is still not generally realised how complicated this gradual and disjointed process was, and how slow in coming to its final conclusion: perhaps, indeed, the process never has been finally concluded. Long after the anathemas of 1054, long after the sack of Constantinople in 1204, long after the formal repudiation of the Union of Florence in 1484, Greeks and Latins continued in practice quietly to ignore the separation and to behave as if no breach in communion had occurred. Instances of communicatio in sacris are especially abundant in the seventeenth century, and if we are to speak of a 'final consummation' of the schism, perhaps this should not be placed earlier than the years 1725-50.

In the relations between Old and New Rome a recurrent pattern may be distinguished. A sharp dispute occurs between the two, leading to acute tension and even to mutual excommunications; yet on neither side are these excommunications treated as conclusive, and within a few decades the dispute is ignored or forgotten. In 863-7, for example, we see pope Nicolas I seeking to assert supreme jurisdiction over the East; his claim was rejected at Constantinople by patriarch Photius; communion was broken off, and in his encyclical letter of 867 to the other eastern patriarchs, [3] Photius accused the West of heresy concerning the procession of the Holy Spirit. In this way the traditional causes of disagreement between East and West - the Filioque and the papal claims-had already emerged plainly and unambiguously as early as the middle of the ninth century, and had led to an open breach in ecclesiastical relations. Yet the schism was very far from complete. Ten years later, when Photius returned to the patriarchal throne for a second period of office (877), he was in communion once more with the Roman see. Neither he nor the popes who succeeded Nicolas I withdrew explicitly from the positions adopted by the two sides in 863-7, but both parties abstained prudently from pushing the argument to its logical conclusion. Rome did not press her claim to jurisdiction in the East, while Constantinople suffered the charge of heresy to lie dormant. Although the basic grounds of disagreement remained unresolved, each side was content to pass them over in silence for the time being.

The conflict in the middle of the eleventh century was equally indecisive. In the summer of 1054, when cardinal Humbert and patriarch Michael Cerularius anathematised one another, each was at pains to restrict the scope of his excommunication: Humbert directed his anathema against Cerularius and his followers personally, not against the Greek Church as such, while Cerularius and the synod at Constantinople were equally careful to excommunicate Humbert but not the pope or the Roman Church. [4] Admittedly, since the papacy took no steps whatever to disown Humbert's action, his excommunication and the reply of Cerularius came to acquire a wider application, involving not only the two protagonists as individuals but also their Churches. Yet in 1089, when the emperor asked the synod at Constantinople why the pope's name was not commemorated in the diptychs, the bishops in their answer made no reference to the anathemas of 1054, but chose to regard the estrangement as something existing de facto but not de jure. 'Not by a synodical judgement and examination', they stated, 'was the Church of Rome removed from communion with us, but as it seems from our want of watchful care (ἀσυντηρήτως) the pope's name was not commemorated in the holy diptychs.' [5]

Recognising the inconclusive nature of the 1054 quarrel, several recent writers have drawn attention to the effect of the Crusades, and more especially the sack of Constantinople in 1204, in widening the division within Christendom. Sir Steven Runciman, for example, treats the events of 1204 as marking the 'final consummation' of the schism, if not juridically, then at any rate psychologically. 'The Fourth Crusade', he observes, 'could never be forgiven nor forgotten by the Christians of the East. Thenceforward there was definite schism between the Greek and the Latin Churches.' [6] But the rift was not as absolute as might at first appear. When Greeks and Latins met at the council of Ferrara-Florence in 1438-9, from the outset they treated one another as members of the same Christian Church, albeit mutually alienated. Neither side required the other to do penance as schismatics or heretics, and then to undergo a formal ceremony of reconciliation to the Church. Each acted towards the other as if there were a schism within the Church, not a schism by one or other party from the Church. 'Let the heavens rejoice and let the earth be glad', stated the preamble to the decree of union promulgated on 6 July 1439. 'For the wall, which divided the Western and the Eastern Church, has been removed from our midst (sublatus est enim de medio paries, qui occidentalem orientalemque dividebat ecclesiam).' [7] The 'wall', be it noted, is inside the Church. The decree does not say that the East has hitherto been separated from the communion of the Catholic Church and is now being received back: neither side is 'received back', for both are already within. The reunion council, on this interpretation, did no more than render explicit an underlying unity which had never been wholly destroyed.

But what of the events which followed the fall of the Byzantine empire? In 1484 a synod was held in Constantinople, attended by the four eastern patriarchs, at which a special service was drawn up 'for those who return from the Latin heresies to the Orthodox and Catholic Church'. The convert was required to renounce the 'shameful and alien dogmas of the Latins', to pronounce anathema on all who add Filioque to the Creed, and to repudiate the Union of Florence; he also promised to 'abstain completely from Latin services'. After this he was anointed with the holy chrism (μύρον). [8] Here, it may well be thought, was an official and definitive severance of communion. The Greeks treated the Latins as heretics, who could be admitted to the sacraments only after a formal abjuration of errors and chrismation. From the Latin viewpoint the Greeks were now schismatics, perhaps also heretics, for they had expressly rejected the dogmatic decisions of the ecumenical council of Florence. It was, surely, no longer a question of mere estrangement but of open division.

Yet the historical reality turns out to be more complicated. Despite the Greek synod of 1484, despite a constant flow of polemical literature from either side - but more especially from the Greeks - in actual practice relations between Catholics and Orthodox often continued to be extraordinarily amicable, above all during the years 1600-1700. In the many regions of the Levant where members of the two Churches dwelt side by side, if there was sometimes tension on the local level, more frequently there was friendly cooperation, and not only cooperation but intercommunion. Within the Venetian dominions it was the normal policy of the Latin authorities to do everything possible to encourage harmony between their Catholic and Orthodox subjects; within the Ottoman empire, servitude to the infidel made Greeks and Latins alike more conscious of the common heritage which they shared as Christians.

Writing at Rome in the 1640s, the Greek Catholic Leo Allatius remarked of the contemporary situation:

The Greeks show no abhorrence for intermarriage with the Latins; they frequent the Latin churches, they attend the divine offices, the church sermons, and all the other functions of the Latins, and they entrust their sons for education at Latin hands... Greeks with Latins, and Latins with Greeks, attend worship and celebrate services indiscriminately (promiscue) in the churches of either rite. [9]

Allatius is not always a reliable witness, but in this instance there is plentiful evidence to show that he was not exaggerating. [10] There were not only mixed marriages between Greeks and Latins: in many Greek islands there were also mixed churches, with parallel naves and two adjacent sanctuaries, one for the Greek and the other for the Latin rite. [11] Roman Catholics were accepted as godparents at Orthodox baptisms, and vice-versa. Latin missionaries from the west, in the absence of a bishop of their own Church, behaved towards the local Orthodox hierarch as if they recognised him for their ordinary, seeking faculties from him, asking formally for permission to work in his diocese. The Orthodox authorities on their side welcomed the Jesuits and other religious orders as friends and allies, and even took the initiative in summoning them to undertake pastoral duties among their flocks. With the blessing of the Greek bishops, Catholic priests preached in Orthodox churches, heard the confessions of Orthodox faithful, and gave them holy communion. When Greeks wished to embrace Roman Catholicism, the Latin missionaries usually rested content with a secret act of submission, and instructed their converts to receive the sacraments as before at Orthodox altars. In the light of all this, the question can scarcely be avoided: How far is it legitimate to speak of a definitive schism or irrevocable breach between Orthodoxy and Rome in the seventeenth century?

Needless to say, local conditions varied considerably, and relations were not uniformly cordial. Contacts were closest in the Ionian and Aegean islands. Outside the Turkish empire, on the other hand, in Russia there was no cordiality at all: so consuming was the hatred felt by Orthodox Russians for Catholic Poles, particularly after the Polish incursions in the 'Time of Troubles' (1601-13), that during the first half of the seventeenth century Catholic converts to Orthodoxy were not only chrismated by the Russians but rebaptised. In the eastern Mediterranean during the seventeenth century there were few if any instances of such intense hostility, but widespread anti- Latin feeling was displayed on occasion in Constantinople, in Jerusalem, and on the Holy Mountain of Athos. Yet when full allowance is made for all the exceptions, the fact remains that in the years 1600-1700 vast numbers of Catholics and Orthodox, educated clergy as well as simple believers, acted as though no schism existed between East and West.

THE JESUITS AND THEIR 'TROJAN HORSE ' POLICY

Some of the most striking examples of Catholic-Orthodox cooperation are to be found in the story of the Jesuit missions in the Levant during the seventeenth century. [12] The Jesuits could have chosen to treat the Orthodox strictly as schismatics or even heretics, refusing all collaboration and common worship with them, aiming simply to win over individual Greek converts whom they would then place in self-contained communities, under their own immediate care and wholly independent of the Orthodox congregations. This, with certain qualifications, was normally the course recommended by the Holy Office and the Congregation of the Propaganda [of the Faith] at Rome. [13] The practice of the Jesuits, however, was very different. Arriving in the Levant, they found the directives from the authorities in Rome strangely irrelevant and inapplicable to the local situation. Deeply impressed by the extent to which the Christian East agreed with Catholicism, impressed also by the warm friendship which many Greeks showed towards them, they found it difficult to treat the Orthodox simply as aliens, as schismatics or heretics whom they must shun. In all essentials, so the Jesuits felt, the Greeks were brother Catholics – albeit Catholics who had drifted into certain errors and corruptions from which they required to be purged gently. Most of the Jesuits were devoted priests, with a strong pastoral conscience. Seeing the neglect and spiritual poverty from which the simple Greek believers suffered, and finding that their own ministrations were eagerly welcomed, they strove at once to render what help they could, without waiting for a formal 'reconciliation' of the Greek East to Rome. As in China, they displayed a remarkable flexibility and readiness for adaptation; but in the Levant this policy of accommodation could of course be carried much further, since those among whom they worked were fellow Christians.

It goes without saying that the ultimate aim of the Jesuits was to secure the full submission of Greek Orthodoxy to the Holy See – to reestablish the Union of Florence which, in their view, remained still theoretically in force, although unjustifiably repudiated in practice by the Greeks. But they were shrewd enough to realise that they could achieve more by pastoral collaboration than by polemics, more by courtesy and conciliation than by an aggressive proselytism. Instead of engaging in the kind of negative apologetics which underlined the points of divergence between East and West, they strove to win the confidence and affection of the Greeks, to infiltrate among them, and so to work upon them from within. Deliberately they adopted a 'Trojan horse' policy, not creating a Greek Catholic community distinct from and in rivalry to the Greek Orthodox, but fostering a Catholic nucleus inside the canonical boundaries of the Orthodox communion. This nucleus, so they hoped, would slowly grow until it was in a position to take over the leadership of the eastern patriarchates and to proclaim organic unity as a fait accompli.

It was a policy which came very near to success. In the initial stages most Orthodox overlooked the long-term aims which inspired Jesuit friendship, and they gladly accepted western help without inquiring into its ulterior motives. Jesuit sermons were received with enthusiasm. On his first arrival at Smyrna in 1624, Fr Jerome Queyrot, SJ, was at once invited to preach in the Greek church of St George, and this he continued to do regularly on festivals and during Lent. He was also allowed to teach the catechism to Greek children: at the end of each class he took care to insert a prayer for the pope, which he made all the children recite together. [14] Probably this particular detail escaped the notice of the Orthodox authorities. Ironically, when the Jesuits in Smyrna encountered opposition and hostility, it came not from the 'schismatic' Greeks but from their own Catholic colleagues, the Capuchins. In the ensuing quarrel between the two groups of Latin religious, the Greek metropolitan Iakovos intervened vigorously on the Jesuit side, and even wrote an appeal to Louis XIII of France. In his letter to the French king, he terms the Jesuits 'able teachers, zealous for the salvation of souls'. 'Since their establishment in our most holy archdiocese,' he continues, ' they have not ceased to help all kinds of Christians, alike by the good example of their life, by their preaching in our church, and by the instruction which they give to the children of our rite... These reverend fathers work much for the good and the salvation of Greeks, Latins, and Armenians.' [15] Clearly the Greek metropolitan looked on the Jesuits, not as enemies who had come to steal his sheep, but as trusted helpers in his pastoral tasks.

The same attitude was displayed by the Orthodox authorities elsewhere. In 1630 the Greek metropolitan Ieremias of Naxos gave formal permission in writing, authorising the Jesuits to deliver sermons and hold catechism classes throughout his diocese. His successor Makarios renewed the authorisation but thought it wiser not to put it in writing. The Jesuits were clearly regarded as the best preachers in the island: it was members of the Society of Jesus, rather than the Greek clergy, who were asked to deliver the address at great feasts when the churches were packed with worshippers, and the Jesuits were regularly invited to preach in the Greek cathedral at liturgies celebrated by the metropolitan himself. [16]

The western missionaries were in demand not only as preachers but as confessors. A Jesuit priest on Santorini claimed to have heard the confessions of some 400 Greeks in the space of four years; [17] another in Naxos spoke of confessing 600 Greeks in a much shorter period. [18] One reason for their popularity - or so the Jesuits themselves claimed – was that, unlike the Greek clergy, they did not demand money from their penitents! [19] Now the hearing of confessions is manifestly a more delicate matter than the preaching of sermons: it is one thing to deliver a sermon to schismatics, but quite another to pronounce absolution on someone who chooses to remain formally in schism. Yet the Jesuits adopted an exceedingly lenient view. As a general rule they put no questions to their Greek penitents concerning the Church of Rome; still less did they demand of them any explicit abjuration of schism or act of submission to the Holy See. So long as they detected no evidence of active personal hostility against the papacy, they prudently refrained from inquiring into the dogmatic convictions of the Greeks who came to them for absolution.

Being human, the Greek clergy must sometimes have resented the popularity of the Jesuits, yet in many cases they displayed no signs of jealousy. One Jesuit recounts how, while he was talking to a village priest on the island of Naxos, a woman came up and asked the Greek papas for confession. 'Here is the confessor,' the Greek at once replied, pointing to the Jesuit, 'here is the father, make your confession to him': and he promptly withdrew, leaving her in the care of the Latin missionary. [20] This ministry of confession was normally performed with the knowledge and tacit consent of the local Orthodox bishop, and sometimes, as at Smyrna, Aegina, and Naxos, with his explicit authorisation. [21] The Jesuits acted as regular confessors at the Orthodox convent of St Nicolas in Santorini. [22] Sometimes Greek clergy and even bishops went to Latin priests for confession. [23]

Cases where western missionaries administered holy communion to Greek faithful are understandably less frequent. Because of their superior education and pastoral training, the Jesuits were in demand as preachers and spiritual fathers, but for holy communion the Greeks naturally tended to go to their own parish priests, who would administer the sacrament to them in the familiar way under both kinds. On occasion, however, acts of intercommunion certainly occurred. The Dominican liturgist Jacques Goar, resident in Chios from 1631 to 1637, relates one such instance:

If the [Greek Orthodox] bishops and parish clergy learn that some of the sheep in their flocks have turned aside to the pastures of the Latin Church and are receiving communion there, they are not in the least annoyed. On the contrary, they issue no public condemnation of such a course, thus by their silence implicitly commending it. I add, not something which I witnessed, but something which I myself did: with my own hands, publicly in the presence of all and in the sight of the church, I gave holy communion - under one kind - to some Greek deacons; and when their bishop learnt about it, he made no protest whatever. [24]

At Corpus Christi processions, the Orthodox behaved with marked reverence towards the Latin sacrament. The Chian Jesuit Andrea Rendi recounts how in 1630 the Greek metropolitan with another Orthodox bishop went specially to a house from which they could conveniently observe the procession, while in front of the building they posted three priests in vestments, to cense the blessed sacrament as it passed. [25] On the predominantly Orthodox island of Andros, the Greek bishop himself took part in the Latin Corpus Christi procession, accompanied by his clergy in full vestments, with candles and torches. [26]

So delighted were the Orthodox authorities with Latin ministrations that they did not merely wait passively for the missionaries' arrival but actively encouraged them to come. In 1615 patriarch Theophanes of Jerusalem, after meeting the Jesuits during a visit to Constantinople, begged some of them to accompany him on his return to the Holy City: he promised them quarters in one of the Greek monasteries, which they could use as a centre for pastoral work among the Orthodox. The plan came to nothing, not because of Orthodox hostility, but because of opposition from the Franciscans in Jerusalem, who had no wish to see the Jesuits established there. [27] In 1628 a former abbot from that stronghold of traditional Orthodoxy, the Holy Mountain, called on the officials of the Propaganda in Rome and requested a priest, to open a school on Athos for the monks. [28] In 1644 the Greek patriarch of Antioch Euthymios asked the Jesuits to found a house in Damascus, [29] while in 1690 metropolitan Damaskinos of Aegina wrote directly to pope Innocent XI, with a request for two Jesuits to undertake pastoral work within his diocese. [30]

Pere Besson spoke no more than the truth when he observed in his book La Syrie sainte: 'The Greeks and the Syrians open their houses to the apostolic men; they open even the doors of their churches and their pulpits. The parish priests welcome our assistance and the bishops beg us to cultivate their vineyards.' [31]

LATIN INTERPRETATIONS OF THE 'GREEK SCHISM'

Such are not the relationships which we should expect between two Christian communities divided by schism, and it may well be asked how the canonists and theologians on either side defended these acts of communicatio in sacris.

On the Greek side there seems to have been little or no attempt at theoretical justification. The official theology of the Greek Church throughout the seventeenth century remained fiercely polemical: though influenced by the thought forms and terminology of Latin scholasticism, it never ceased to chastise the Latins for their doctrinal deviations, treating them not just as schismatics but as heretics. If the Greek bishops acted differently in practice, this was not because of any special theory concerning the incomplete nature of the schism, but simply because of urgent pastoral necessity. They and their flocks were fighting for survival under the rule of a non-Christian government; their own clergy were almost entirely simple and ill-educated; in desperate need of qualified preachers, catechists, and confessors, they turned naturally to the Latin missionaries.

The Latin missionaries, for their part, were likewise influenced by pragmatic considerations. The attitude of the Turkish authorities made it difficult for them to do otherwise than adopt the method of secret conversions. Religious minorities in the Ottoman empire were organized in a series of self-contained millets or 'nations'. There was a 'Roman' – that is, Greek Orthodox – millet under the patriarch of Constantinople; there were Armenian and Jewish millets; there were Catholic communities of the Latin rite, which enjoyed the protection of the western Catholic powers, especially France. But there was no Greek Catholic or 'Uniate' millet. What, then, were the Jesuits to do with their Greek converts? They could admit them to the Latin rite, but this had two grave disadvantages: it made the act of conversion more difficult, since it required the Greek convert to adopt unfamiliar forms of worship; and it provoked Turkish suspicions, since a growth in the Latin rite implied an extension of the influence of the western powers within the Ottoman dominions. If they were to avoid trouble with the authorities and possible expulsion, the Jesuits had really no alternative to the 'Trojan horse' policy: they had to tell their Greek proselytes to remain outwardly where they were. The directives concerning communicatio in sacris from the authorities in Rome failed to take account of the concrete practicalities of the local situation.

But the Latin missionaries were not merely opportunists, for they were prepared to offer a reasoned defence of their conduct. The form which this theoretical justification took can best be illustrated from two books: Quaestiones morales...de Apostolicis Missionibus by the Theatine missionary Angelo Maria Verricelli, published at Venice in 1656; and De Ecclesiae Occidentalis atque Orientalis Perpetua Consensione by Leo Allatius, published at Cologne in 1648. The first provides a rationale of the missionaries' policy from the standpoint of canon law, the second from that of church history and theology.

Verricelli takes as his basis the decree Ad evitanda scandala of pope Martin V (1418), [32] which he considers applicable to the situation of the Greeks. [33] On this basis he argues that communicatio in sacris with heretics and schismatics is permissible, provided that the persons in question have not been excommunicated publice et nominatim. [34] Heretical hierarchs, even those who are 'notorious', retain power of jurisdiction, so long as they have not been condemned by name; a fortiori the same is true of mere schismatics. [35] Since the four eastern patriarchs and  the Greek hierarchy in general have not been condemned publice et nominatim, they are to be treated as true bishops of the Church, endowed with genuine spiritual authority, and common worship with them is not excluded.

Verricelli proceeds to give specific examples of what he has in mind. A Catholic priest may attend a schismatic Greek liturgy, vested in a cope. [36] A Catholic may request the sacraments of confession or communion from a schismatic Greek priest, even extra mortis articulum. [37] A Greek, converted to Catholicism, may continue to receive the sacraments from schismatic and heretical Greek clergy. [38] A Catholic may receive ordination from a Greek bishop, even from one who is a 'notorious heretic or schismatic', provided that the hierarch in question has not been excommunicated nominatim. [39] A Greek priest, converted to Catholicism, need not mention the name of the pope when celebrating mass, but may continue to commemorate a bishop or patriarch who is a 'notorious heretic'. [40]

Here, then, is a church lawyer fully prepared to justify, on canonical grounds, all that the Latin missionaries were doing in the Near East. Admittedly, Verricelli speaks of the Greek Orthodox as schismatics and heretics, [41] but the cumulative effect of his recommendations is that in practice they are to be treated as nothing of the sort. It is significant that Verricelli's book appeared at Venice, where the writ of the Inquisition did not run. It is doubtful whether such a work could have been published at Rome, with the blessing of the Holy Office and the Propaganda.

Allatius goes much more deeply into the whole question than Verricelli. Passing beyond the level of canon law, he raises the basic issue of principle: Has there ever been, and does there exist today, a complete schism between the Christian East and Rome? During the middle years of the seventeenth century, precisely at the time when Allatius was writing, western scholars were beginning to formulate what may conveniently be styled the 'standard view' of the eastern schism. This 'standard view' is set forth succinctly by a personal friend of Allatius, the French Oratorian Jean Morin, in the opening pages of his monumental Commentarius de Sacris Ecclesiae Ordinationibus.' [42] In this work Morin was concerned to prove that, ever since the start of the schism, Rome had never called in question the validity of schismatic Greek ordinations; and it was therefore important for him to establish precisely when the schism had in fact begun. He had little doubt about the exact date, 1053, and about the identity of the two chief culprits: Photius and Cerularius. 'The first seeds of the secession of the Greek Church from the Latin', he writes, 'were sown around the year 866... Photius was the first Greek who dared to accuse the Latin Church of errors in the faith, thus advancing the banner of schism and pointing the way for others to follow.' Pope John VIII, 'acting somewhat remissly', in 879 consented to the restoration of Photius to the patriarchal throne; and so, for the time being, the further evolution of the schism was halted. Disagreeing with Baronius, Morin evidently thinks that there was no 'second Photian schism', but that East and West remained in communion until Cerularius closed the Latin churches in Constantinople in the middle of the eleventh century. 'One hundred and eighty-seven years after the seeds were first sown by Photius, open schism broke out in the year of salvation 1053… Such is the date which we must assign to the schism.' [43]

Apart from the question of the 'second Photian schism', where Morin anticipates the conclusions of Dvornik, this is very much the view of the schism which prevailed generally until the second world war, and which still persists in the popular textbooks: a preliminary conflict under Photius in the 860s; a final breach under Cerularius in 1053-4. Allatius, by contrast, presents an account of East-West relations that is incomparably more subtle and more carefully qualified. The incidents of Photius and Cerularius he sees as important, but in themselves totally inconclusive. His main thesis, clearly indicated in his title De F.cclesiae Occidentalis atque Orientalis Perpetua Consensione, is that there never has been a 'final breach': the Western and Eastern Churches remain essentially united in a single faith. 'Greeks and Latins', so he argues, 'approve and reject the same things, and with united mind they pronounce the same concerning the dogmas of the faith. Their religious experience springs from one source, and both alike interpret it identically'. [44]

According to Allatius, there have been quarrels and misunderstandings between individuals on either side, but no act of complete schism formally and irrevocably committing the two Churches as such. Particular Greeks have been hostile to the Holy See, as were Michael Cerularius or Mark of Ephesus; particular Greeks have misinterpreted the Filioque, as did Photius, or they have propounded heretical theories about the divine light, as did Symeon the New Theologian or Gregory Palamas. [45] But these hostile attitudes and doctrinal misconceptions are not to be attributed to the Greek Church and nation at large. Adducing a wealth of evidence from the period after 1054, Allatius maintains that there have never been lacking Greeks who remained well-disposed towards Rome; and he points to the friendly contacts which exist in his own day. Neither in 1054 nor at any other time has there ever been a 'complete consummation' of the schism.

As Allatius puts it in one of his other works:

Individual persons, although holding office in the Greek Church, do not constitute the Greek Church. Nor, because various heresies have arisen and spread within that Church, is she herself to be considered heretical… The Greek Church as a whole, whether in her professions of faith or in the service books read continually in her public worship, has never professed any heresy condemned by the councils and the Church of Rome… Because certain individual Greeks have endeavoured to spread some ancient or freshly invented heresy, and have inveighed against the papacy in their published writings, it does not therefore follow that the Greek Church is separated from the Church of Rome: this would only be the case if the heresy in question were universally adopted and outwardly professed by all alike; and this, you will find, has never happened on the occasions when certain individuals have launched attacks against the Roman Church. [46]

The standpoint of Allatius is concisely summarised by his younger contemporary, Nicolo Papadopoli: 'There are many schismatics in Greece, but Greece itself has never been schismatic.' [47] With this may be compared the statement of Carlo Francesco da Breno, in his manual for Latin missionaries in the Near East, published in 1726. 'Is the Eastern Church schismatic?' he inquires, and replies: 'Considered in itself it is not really schismatic, although there are many schismatics within it' (non esse secundum se spectatam reipsa Schismaticam, etsi in ea multi Schismatici sint). [48]

THE SEQUEL: INCREASING HOSTILITY AND RENEWED FRIENDSHIP

Such, then, were the friendly contacts existing between Orthodox and Catholics during the seventeenth century; and such was the theoretical justification provided by contemporary Catholic scholars for the acts of communicatio in sacris which took place daily throughout the Levant. In the first part of the eighteenth century, however, relations deteriorated markedly. Instances of joint worship and sharing in the sacraments, which around 1650 were a commonplace, had virtually ceased a hundred years later. By 1750 the separation between East and West had come to possess a sharpness and a finality which in 1700 it still lacked.

On the Orthodox side, the man most responsible for the growth in hostility was Dositheos, patriarch of Jerusalem for nearly forty years (1669-1707), an able and tireless foe of Rome, inspired by a passionate aversion for the Jesuits and all their works. [49] On the Catholic side, a rigorist approach to communicatio in sacris came to prevail more and more. The authorities at Rome, who had always looked with reserve on Jesuit leniency, grew increasingly severe in their directives as the eighteenth century proceeded. On 5 July 1729 Propaganda issued a general prohibition, excluding all common worship in terms of the utmost strictness. On 10 May 1753 the Holy Office published another general prohibition, insisting that the decree of Martin V, Ad evitanda scandala, applied only to civic cooperation and not to communicatio in sacris. [50]

But the most decisive single factor in the deterioration of relations was probably the schism in the patriarchate of Antioch from 1724 onwards. [51] The western missionaries had found Syria and the Lebanon a particularly fruitful field, and nowhere else in the Levant did they succeed in making so many secret converts, including several patriarchs of Antioch. But the eventual outcome belied the Jesuit hopes. Instead of securing the reconciliation of the entire patriarchate en bloc to the papal obedience, they succeeded only in producing a schism: in 1724 rival patriarchs were elected, the one looking to Rome and the other to Constantinople, and thenceforward the faithful were divided into two opposed flocks. This incident not only caused great local bitterness but led to widespread alarm throughout the Orthodox world. Many Greeks realised for the first time the way in which friendship with the Latins was leading to secret conversions; they were terrified that what had happened in Antioch would occur elsewhere, and so they broke off friendly contacts with the Latin clergy. The schism of 1724 made them view the Latins, no longer as fellow-workers whose collaboration they could sincerely welcome, but as enemies dedicated to the subversion of their Church. Anti-Latin feeling came to full development in 1755, when the patriarch of Constantinople, together with his colleagues of Alexandria and Jerusalem, laid down that Latin converts were to be received henceforward by rebaptism, and no longer by chrismation, as in the regulations of 1484. [52]

By the nineteenth century acts of shared worship had become little more than a dim and distant memory for both Catholics and Orthodox. In 1862 Dom Jean-Baptiste Pitra, the future cardinal, prepared a perceptive memorandum on communicatio in sacris with the Orientals. [53]   He was well aware of the intercommunion which had existed between Greeks and Latins some two centuries previously, and he cited the De… Perpetua Consensione of Leo Allatius and the reports of the Jesuit missionaries, as well as interesting evidence from Kerkyra (Corfu) in 1724. But he went on to insist that the situation had altered. The precedents adduced from the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, so he argued, now possessed no more than a 'speculative value'; such practices he considered out of the question in the mid-nineteenth century.

Yet even in Pitra's day the sacramental severance was not total, for Latin canon law has never ceased to permit a Catholic, if in danger of death and cut off from his own Church, to receive Orthodox sacraments. [54] And had Pitra been writing, not in 1862 but in the years following the second Vatican council, his conclusions would necessarily have been different. The decrees of Vatican II 'On Ecumenism' and 'On Eastern Catholic Churches', both dated 21 November 1964, together with the supplementary 'Ecumenical Directory' issued in May 1967, have greatly enlarged the possibilities of communicatio in sacris with the Orthodox. The reaction of many Orthodox to these decisions has been guarded, but on 16 December 1969 the synod of the Russian Church declared that 'if… Catholics ask the Orthodox Church to administer the holy sacraments to them, this is not forbidden'. The Russian resolution has been vigorously attacked by the synod of the Church of Greece, but the ecumenical patriarchate has maintained a discreet silence and issued no condemnation. It appears that Catholic-Orthodox relations are entering upon another period of flexibility, reminiscent of the seventeenth century. Let us hope that the establishment of closer contacts will not lead to a fresh schism among the Orthodox, such as occurred at Antioch in 1724.

 

FOOTNOTES [numbering combined]

1. For the text of the Synodikon, see Τριῴδιον κατανυκτικόν (Apostoliki Diakonia, Athens 1960) pp 44–51. Compare also J. Gouillard, ‘Le Synodikon de l’Orthodoxie: édition et commentaire’, Travaux et Mémoires, II (Centre de recherche d’histoire et civilisation byzantines, Paris 1967) pp 1–316.

2. I take this phrase from Fr Gervase Mathew, OP: see The Eastern Churches Quarterly, VI, 5 (Ramsgate 1946) p 227, and compare [G.] Every, [SSM,] Misunderstandings [between East and West], Ecumenical Studies in History, No 4 (London 1965) p 9.

3. For the text, see PG 102 (1860) cols 721-41.

4. See PL 143 (1853) cols 1004B; PG 120 (1864) col 748B.

5. Greek text in W. Holtzmann, 'Die Unionsverhandlungen zwischen Kaiser Alexios I. und Papst Urban II. im Jahre 1089', Byzantinische Zeitschrift, xxvm (Leipzig 1928) p 60: cited by G. Every, The Byzantine Patriarchate 451-1204 (2 ed, London 1962) p 180.

6. The Eastern Schism (Oxford 1955) p 151.

7. Text in J. Gill, The Council of Florence (Cambridge 1959) p 412.

8. The text of this service is given in I. N. Karmiris, Τὰ Δογματικὰ καὶ Συμβολικὰ Μνημεῖα τῆς Ὀρθοδόξου Καθολικῆς Ἐκκλησίας, II (Athens 1953) pp 987–9. Orthodox writers occasionally describe the synod of 1484 as ‘ecumenical’, see, for example, G. A. Rallis and M. Potlis, Σύνταγμα τῶν θείων καὶ ἱερῶν κανόνων, V (Athens 1855) p 143, but it should more correctly be styled ‘local’, compare P. N. Trembelas, Δογματικὴ τῆς Ὀρθοδόξου Καθολικῆς Ἐκκλησίας, I (Athens 1959) p 136, n 53.

9. De Ecclesiae Occidentalis atque Orientalis Perpetua Consensione (Cologne 1648; photographic reprint with new introduction by K. T. Ware, Gregg International Press, Westmead 1970) cols 970–80, 1059.

10. A vast inventory of acts of communicatio in sacris during the seventeenth century is supplied by [P.] Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις [καθολικῶν καὶ ὀρθοδόξων] (Athens 1958). The main evidence is briefly summarised by [Timothy (K. T.)] Ware, Eustratios Argentis: [A Study of the Greek Church under Turkish Rule] (Oxford 1964) pp 17–23, 36–7.

11. See A. K. Sarou, Περὶ μεικτῶν ναῶν ὀρθοδόξων καὶ καθολικῶν ἐν Χίῳ, in Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν, XIX (Athens 1949) pp 194–208; Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, pp 25–6, 34–41, 57.

12. For contemporary accounts of these missions, see [François] Richard, [SJ,] Relation [de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable à Sant-Erini isle de l’Archipel, depuis l’établissement des Pères de la Compagnie de Jésus en icelle] (Paris 1657); the anonymous report dating from 1643 and perhaps by Fr Mathieu Hardy, SJ, entitled ‘Relation [de ce qui s’est passé en la résidence des Pères de la Compagnie de Jésus establie à Naxie le 26 Septembre de l’année 1627]’, ed [V.] Laurent, [Echos d’Orient,] XXXIII (Paris 1934) pp 218–26, 354–75, and XXXIV (1935) pp 97–105, 179–204, 350–67, 473–81; [A.] Carayon, [SJ,] Relations inédites [des Missions de la Compagnie de Jésus à Constantinople et dans le Levant au XVIIe siècle] (Paris 1864). Compare [H.] Fouqueray, [SJ,] Histoire [de la Compagnie de Jésus en France des origines à la suppression (1528–1762),] 5 vols (Paris 1910–25) especially III, pp 200–15, 606–35; IV, pp 315–62; V, pp 341–89. There is much valuable material in the series of articles by V. Laurent, ‘L’âge d’or des Missions latines dans le Levant (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècle)’, L’Unité de l’Eglise (Paris) issues for 1934–5. For the work of the Capuchins in the Near East (who were usually more cautious and reserved than the Jesuits in the matter of communicatio in sacris), see Fr Hilaire de Barenton, FMC, La France catholique en Orient durant les trois derniers siècles (Paris 1902).

13. See the articles by [W.] de Vries, SJ, 'Das Problem der "communicatio in sacris cum dissidentibus" im Nahen Osten zur Zeit der Union (17. und 18. Jahrhundert)', Ostkirchliche Studien, vi (Wiirtzburg 1957) pp 81-106; 'Eine Denkschrift zur Frage der "communicatio in sacris cum dissidentibus" aus demjahre 1721', Ostkirchliche Studien, vii (1958) pp 253-66; '"Communicatio in sacris": An Historical Study [of the Problem of Liturgical Services in Common with Eastern Christians Separated from Rome'], Concilium iv, 1 (London 1965) pp 11-22.

14. Fouqueray, Histoire, iv, pp 344.-5.

15. 'Brieve relation [de l'etablissement des Peres de la Compagnie de J£sus en la ville de Smyrne...'], in Carayon, Relations inUites, pp 174-5: compare Fouqueray, Histoire, v, p 367.

16. 'Relation', ed Laurent, xxxiv, pp 350-1, 353-4: compare the letter of Fr Mathieu Hardy in Carayon, Relations inidites, p 116.

17. Richard, Relation, p 127.

18. Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, p 83.

19. ‘Relation’, ed Laurent, XXXIV, pp 359–60.

20. ‘Relation’, ed Laurent, XXXIV, p 357.

21.‘Drève relation’, pp 172–3; Fr F. Richard, SJ, in Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, p 83; Laurent, ‘L’âge d’or’, L’Unité de l’Eglise, No 72 (1935), p 477.

22. Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, p 34.

23. For examples, see Richard, Relation, p 135; Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, p 97.

24. Allatius, De . . . Perpetua Consensione, cols 169–60; compare S. Salaville, Studia Orientalia Liturgico-Theologica (Rome 1940) pp 54–61.

25. Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, p 107.

26. Hilaire de Barenton, La France catholique, p 175. For other examples, see Richard, Relation, pp 309–12; ‘Relation’, ed Laurent, XXXIV, pp 198–9; Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, pp 83, 112, 116.

27. Fouqueray, Histoire, III, p 618.

28. G. Hofmann, ‘Athos e Roma’, Orientalia Christiana, XIX (Rome 1925) pp 5–6, 29–31; Grigoriou-Garo, Σχέσεις, pp 163–74.

29. Fouqueray, Histoire, v, pp 382-3.

30. G. Hofmann, ' Byzantinische Bischofe und Rom', Orientatia Christiana, LXX (Rome 1931) pp 19-20.

31. J. Besson, SJ, La Syrie sainte (Paris 1660), p 11.

32. Mansi, XXVII, cols 1192D–93A. For the importance of this decree for the question of communicatio in sacris, see de Vries, ‘“Communicatio in sacris”: An Historical Study’, p 13.

33. Quaestiones, p 207.

34. Quaestiones, p 138.

35. Quaestiones, pp 139, 465.

36. Quaestiones, p 145.

37. Quaestiones, p 152. But Verricelli admits that others hold an opposite view on this point, and he only defends his opinion as probabilis.

38. Quaestiones, p 753.

39. Quaestiones, pp 492–3. Compare the truly Machiavellian schemes of Thomas à Jesu, De Procuranda Salute Omnium Gentium (Antwerp 1613) pp 293–7.

40. Quaestiones, p 148.

41. Verricelli in fact inclines to the view that the Greeks in general are to be considered schismatics rather than heretics; individual Greeks may be tainted with heresy, but this cannot be affirmed of the Greek nation as a whole (Quaestiones, pp 634–5).

42. First edition: Paris 1655.

43. Commentarius, p 3. On the views of seventeenth-century historians concerning the date of the schism, see the valuable discussion in Every, Misunderstandings, pp 15–24.

44. This particular statement comes, not from De . . . Perpetua Consensione, but from another book on the same subject, in which Allatius collaborated with Bartold Nihusius and Abraham Ecchelensis: Concordia Nationum Christianarum… in Fidei Catholicae Dogmatibus (Mainz 1655) p 121.

45. For the views of Allatius on Hesychasm, see his De Symeoniorum Scriptis Diatriba (Paris 1664), pp 151–79; De… Perpetua Consensione, cols 802–40.

46. Ioannes Henricus Hottingerus Fraudis, & Imposturae Manifestae Convictus (Rome 1661) pp 6–7. Compare De… Perpetua Consensione, col 711.

47. Praenotiones Mystagogicae ex Jure Canonico (Padua 1697) p iv.

48. Manuale Missionariorum Orientalium, 2 vols (Venice 1726) I, p 83: compare G. Borgomanero, ‘Gli apologisti della dottrina cattolica contro i Greci nel secolo XVII. Il P. Carlo Francesco da Breno’, Bessarione, 3rd series, VIII (Rome 1910–11) p 292.

49. See Ware, Eustratios Argenti, pp 31-2.

50. See de Vries, '"Communicatio in sacris": An Historical Study', pp 18-19.

51. See Ware, Eustratios Argenti, pp 28-30, for further details and bibliography.

52. See Ware, Eustratios Argenti, pp 65–78. The 1755 measure did not apply to Russia, which ceased to rebaptise Latin converts from 1666–7 onwards. Since the end of the last century, the 1755 decision has fallen largely into disuse, but it has never been formally revoked and is still occasionally applied.

53. Memorandum to cardinal von Reisach, in A. Battandier, Le Cardinal Jean-Baptiste Pitra (Paris 1893) pp 435–9. This reference was kindly supplied to me by Br George Every.

54. See Codex Juris Canonici Pii X Pontificis Maximi iussu digestus (Rome 1949) §882; C. Journet, The Church of the Word Incarnate, I (London 1955) p 508.