Isaac the Syrian

Today is the feast day of Isaac the Syrian (or Isaac of Nineveh). He is remembered chiefly for his spiritual homilies, but he should also be remembered for his striking views on how we should approach the natural world, e.g.,

And what is a merciful heart? . . . The heart’s burning for all creation, for human beings, for birds and animals, and for demons, and everything there is. At the recollection of them and at the sight of them his eyes gush forth with tears owing to the force of the compassion which constrains his heart, so that, as a result of its abundant sense of mercy, the heart shrinks and cannot bear to hear or examine any harm or small suffering of anything in creation. For this reason he offers up prayer with tears at all times, even for irrational animals, and for the enemies of truth, and for those who harm him, for their preservation and being forgiven.

As a result of the immense compassion infused in his heart without measure—like God’s—he even does this for reptiles.

Troparion

In truth you were revealed to your flock as a rule of faith,
an image of humility and a teacher of abstinence;
your humility exalted you;
your poverty enriched you.
Hierarch Father Isaac,
entreat Christ our God
that our souls may be saved.

Kontakion

O Hierarch Isaac, divine thunder, spiritual trumpet,
planter of faith and pruner of heresies, great favourite of the Trinity,
while standing with the Angels before God,
pray unceasingly for us all.

Isaac the Syrian on mercy

 Do you wish to commune with God in your mind? Strive to be merciful . . . A man should first of all begin to be merciful in the measure that our heavenly Father is merciful. (Directions on Spiritual Training, Text 14)

I think it was Myrrha Lot-Borodine who drew a sharp distinction between eastern and western approaches to spirituality by suggesting that Roman Catholicism focused on imitation of Christ while Orthodoxy sought union with God (deification). This short quotation from St Isaac the Syrian suggests that the two ways are not mutually exclusive. On the contrary, for Orthodoxy imitation of Christ is the first step on the path to deification.

Deification and Modern Orthodox Theology

A brief review of Deification and Modern Orthodox Theology by Petre Maican (Brill, 2023)

Anyone glancing at the contents page of this little volume would be forgiven for thinking that it is essentially a literature survey (and the volume’s subtitle, ‘Introduction to Contemporary Debates’ might tend to confirm that). And the book does indeed serve as a useful survey of the place of deification in contemporary Orthodox theology. The author traces how the concept has been used across four major loci of twentieth-century Orthodox theology: anthropology, tradition and experience, the doctrine of the Trinity, and ecclesiology. As part of this, he traces how deification has been deployed in debates about gender and sexuality, the ordination of women, the place of hierarchy in the Church, and the idea of sophiology.

Treated simply as a survey, this volume is a remarkably clear and concise treatment of the subjects it deals with. The author’s treatment of sophiology is worth a special mention: it is easily the best introduction to the topic that I have come across.

However, the book is much more than a simple literature survey. What the author has set out to do is to test the thesis stated in chapter 2 that deification is, in fact, the pillar of modern Orthodox theology (or, to put it another way, the metanarrative which gives Orthodox theology its coherence). He points out that this was first proposed by the Russian theologian Ivan Popov at the beginning of the twentieth century. It was later picked up by Myrrha Lot-Borodine and particularly Vladimir Lossky who restructured the whole of Orthodox theology around the notion. Maican demonstrates that deification does indeed seem fundamental to Orthodox trinitarian theology and anthropology. However, modern Orthodox ecclesiology seems to be much less reliant on the concept of deification (the author speculates that this may be because, while Orthodoxy has a more or less clear idea of a deified person, it has no such idea of what a deified community might look like). As for the role of deification in our understanding of tradition, Maican suggests that it ‘appears to be used implicitly in order to legitimate certain hermeneutical options’ (p.108). But, perhaps the most important thing to take away from this volume is the suggestion that modern Orthodoxy has built its sense of identity, not around the concept of deification, but rather around the idea that the Orthodox experience of God is qualitatively different from that of other Christian traditions.

In conclusion, this is a well-written and thought-provoking little volume. It deserves a place on the bookshelves of anyone who has a serious interest in Orthodox theology.

Icons and eye contact

 In my previous blog post, I wrote about how Gregor Samsa responded to hearing his sister playing the violin. The music reminded him that, in spite of appearing to be a monstrous insect, he was still human. And, as he recalls his humanity, he tries to make eye contact with his sister.

Eye contact is a recognition and affirmation of our shared humanity. So, perhaps we should try to make more eye contact with those around us. To say without words to them that we are both members of the human race – whatever our differences of class, race, gender, or age.

That makes me think of icons and the way in which, in so many of them, Christ and his mother and the saints make direct eye contact with us. Their eye contact is both a welcome and a challenge. Become what you were meant to be, they seem to say – fully human.

Here is a typical example. It is an ancient style of icon known as a mandylion, referring to the cloth-like background on which the face of Christ appears. This style is also sometimes called ‘not made with hands’. Both names refer to a legend in which Christ himself provides someone with an image of his face miraculously imprinted on a cloth.

This icon actually forms the centrepiece of our own icon corner. We commissioned it from the Scottish iconographer, Katherine Sanders in mid-2021. Acquiring it radically altered my appreciation of icons in general.

After placing the order, there was the inevitable wait. These things take time – if, like Katherine, the iconographer is in demand, there can be a ‘gestation period’ of several months. But, at last, the icon arrived and was unveiled in early 2022.

My first impression on taking the icon out of its packaging was that someone had joined us in the room. That impression has not gone away, and it has affected my perception of our other icons, even the ones that were mass produced! On reflection, it is that sense that the icon is challenging us with its gaze that gives it its presence.

So, I now find that icons have a presence that I would not associate with mere objects. In their proper (religious) context, icons are not commodities. We do not (cannot) possess them. They are not at our disposal. Rather, they are guests we have welcomed into our home.

Music and humanity

I was struck by this passage from Kafka’s Metamorphosis the other day:

And yet his sister played so beautifully. Her face was turned to the side, intently and sadly following the notes on the page. Gregor crept forward a little further, keeping his head near to the ground so that his eyes could meet hers. How could he be a brute beast, if music could make him feel like this?

To outward appearance, Gregor Samsa has become a monstrous insect (Ger. ungeheueres Ungeziefer, lit. ‘monstrous vermin’). His family has responded with hostility or indifference. He has come to be regarded as vermin and as a result is feeling increasingly isolated from the human race. Then he hears his sister playing the violin.

The music gives him the courage to dare to make eye contact. In response to what he hears, he risks breaking out of the isolation that has enveloped him. Music still has the power to move him. And in this capacity to be moved, he finds evidence of his continuing humanity.

The point is not really about the transformative power of music. Rather it is about Samsa’s capacity to be moved. To be human is to be capable of responding in this way to our fellow human beings and to God.