There is a
tendency amongst some within the Orthodox tradition of Christianity to idealize
the Eastern form of Christianity and denigrate Western forms of Christianity—this
can be found in many recent North American converts to Orthodoxy—such leanings
have a way of appearing often in the writings of Frederica Mathewes-Green and
tribe. The Orthodox tradition holds John Chrysostom
(347-407) high on its list of the Fathers of the Patristic era—in fact, St.
John is one of the Three Holy Hierarchs within the Orthodox heritage. There is,
though, an oft untold tale that is missed or not told about John Chrysostom of
Antioch-Constantinople and Western Christianity. When this tale is faithfully
recounted, a more nuanced and honest engagement between East and West will come
to the fore. Indeed, when this drama is rightly told, the naïve idealization of
Orthodoxy will give way to a subtler understanding of the relationship between
Western and Eastern Christianity.
John became Archbishop of Constantinople in 397 CE. It was just a matter of time before he would be in the thick of the fray. My initial encounter with John Chrysostom was when I was doing a graduate degree at Regent College (Vancouver BC) from 1979-81 on John Cassian. My interest in Chrysostom waxed yet further as I corresponded with Father John Meyendorff about Chrysostom. Cassian, as a young man, was keen and committed to learn about the Desert spirituality of Egypt that had emerged with Paul of Thebes and Anthony the Great in the late 3rd and 4th centuries. The simple wisdom and ascetic life style of those who went to the desert drew so many that, in time, as Derwas Chitty observed, the desert became a city. There were many different types of men and women that ventured into the desert in search of a deeper and more contemplative way of knowing and being. The city, for some, had become a sterile battleground in which many were victims of their drivenness. Were there places to explore in the inner life that led to a still quiet place in the soul in the fast paced ethos of the city? If so, how could such sacred sites be found and what was the discipline and training needed to live from such a silent and discerning centre? There were a variety of schools of the spirit in the desert and Spiritual Fathers (Abbas) and Mothers (Ammas) were in abundance. There were also different theological traditions that would, in time, collide. John Cassian (with his friend Germanus) studied with many of the wisdom teachers in the latter half of the 4th century, and he summed up their congealed and perennial insights in his classic text, the Conferences—a must read for anyone interested in the mature best of the Desert tradition—much better than Merton’s Wisdom of the Desert or Benedicta Ward’s The Desert Christian: The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.
Cassian’s spiritual father, in many ways, was Evagrius Pontikos, and Pontikos was a thoughtful contemplative theologian who took the ideas of Origen and unpacked them in a theological, pastoral and practical way. Evagrius Pontikos was a good friend of Gregory of Nyssa and Basil, but Evagrius was committed much more to the ascetic, meditative and contemplative life than Gregory and Basil. The writings by Evagrius still have surgical like insights, and his reflections on the tendencies of the soul (in more nuanced and subtle ways) are still relevant. The fact that Evagrius brought together much of the best of Origen’s speculative theology made him suspect to many. Cassian, Germanus, Tall Brothers and many others were faithful followers of the gnostic wisdom of Evagrius. I think it can be argued that Evagrius attempted to synthesize the richness of Gregory of Nyssa’s contemplative theology with the applied spiritual direction vocation of Anthony—Anthony, Gregory and Evagrius were all, in their different ways, trying to make Origen truly orthodox in the wisest, most balanced and catholic sense of the word—this was an era in which the meaning of Christian humanism was being thought through and lived forth. The Desert, though, was a place where both theological controversy and spiritual direction was about to erupt.
Alexandrian Christianity was a divided family. There was the line and lineage of Clement and Origen that was grounded in a thoughtful form of allegorical exegesis and contemplative-speculative theology (some felt too speculative). There was also the more dogmatic tradition of Athanasius who did battle against Arius regarding the nature of Christ and God. There were many that thought Athanasius distorted the more Origenist Anthony in his biography of Anthony to serve his agenda against the Arians. When I did a 2nd MA at University of British Columbia (UBC) from 1981-1983, I examined the more complex nature of Anthony’s Origenistic leanings by drawing from the 7 Letters by Anthony, Anthony’s insights in the Philokalia and the Apophthegmata Patrum. Anthony was, in many ways, closer to Origen than Athanasius, but Athanasius in his biography of Anthony, censored out these leanings in Anthony for ideological purposes. There were those in Alexandria and the Desert who were even more dogmatic and almost confessional than Athanasius. I was delighted to read a more developed notion of my Origenist-Anthony MA-thesis in Samuel Rubenson’s more recent tome, The Letters of St. Anthony: Origenist Theology, Monastic Tradition and the Making of a Saint.
There were many simple Copts in the Desert who thought that excessive theological speculation was a diversion and Biblical images of God should be held to tightly. There were many others in the Desert much more drawn to the emerging Gnostic tradition (in its sophisticated, moderate and crude varieties). There were also many Christian monks, ascetics, contemplatives that were trying to find a middle way between the varieties of Gnosticism (as found, for example in the Nag Hammadi texts) and a simplistic form of theology that bordered on absolutizing images and concepts of God. The bishop of Alexandria (Theophilus), after being mildly sympathetic to Origen and Origenist theologians/spiritual guides, decided to commit himself to opposing varieties of gnostic spirituality and the different types of Origenism (which was often linked with Gnosticism). Theophilus, in many ways, was even more extreme and reactionary than Athanasius. An Origenist purge by Theophilus took place in the desert in 399 CE--Evagrius died in the culling and Cassian and friends (some suggest 10, 000) fled to other sites in the Mediterranean to continue their spiritual journey. Most, of course, avoided Theophilus and Alexandria.
The fact that Cassian went to Constantinople in 399 CE, and the equally problematic fact that Archbishop John Chrysostom graciously received him (and ordained Cassian a deacon) meant that John had made a bitter enemy of Theophilus. There were many anti-Chrysostom priests and monks in Constantinople (including the emperor and empress). John never flinched from challenging the wealthy and affluent on their indulgent life styles and the impact of such ways of living on the poor and marginalized. The decision by John to welcome and support Cassian and other Desert orphans meant that he was often accused of being an Origenist. Opposition continued to mount against Chrysostom, but he held his position firm and steady--he still had much faithful support in Constantinople and beyond. Cassian did, though, head west to Rome, found much support there, and, in time, went to Gaul and formed a thriving monastic community that was a blend of the eremitical tradition of Anthony and the coenobitic tradition of Pachomius.
The anti-Chrysostom faction in Constantinople continued to grow: cleric and empress—church and state—united to oppose the prophet of the city. It was just a matter of time before Theophilus of Alexandria and the church-state establishment of Constantinople would be one in their opposition to John—the Vesuvius-like eruption occurred in 403 CE in what is called the Synod of the Oak. A variety of charges were levelled against John Chrysostom (most unfounded). A list of some of the charges can be found in J.N.D. Kelly’s Golden Mouth: The Story of John Chrysostom: Ascetic, Preacher, Bishop (Appendix C). Theophilus (and his nephew and future archbishop of Alexandria, Cyril) were part of the delegation in Constantinople that condemned John.
The final few years of John’s life (403-407 CE) were a mix of exile and return, return and exile. The point to note here, though, is that it was the leaders and Sanhedrin of the Eastern Church that turned on John Chrysostom and it was the Sanhedrin and leaders of the Western Church that supported John. Innocent I of Rome and the Bishop of Milan (Venesius—standing on the shoulders of Ambrose) took John’s side in the dispute, wrote letters to Constantinople, sent a delegation in support of John to Constantinople, but the West was rebuffed. The irony is this—the Eastern Church rejected their prophet (predictably placed flowers round his tomb when dead) and it was the Western Church that was John’s faithful support and friend in his most trying and turbulent years.
There are those who idealize the Eastern Church and denigrate, caricature or demean the Western Church. The fact that St. John Chrysostom is heralded as one of the foremost saints of the Orthodox tradition yet was rejected in his life by such a tradition (and embraced by the Western Church) should alert even the most ideological that simplistic notions of East-West (one good the other bad, or one better or truer than the other) are more about a dated form of ecclesial tribalism than a true and faithful notion of the body of Christ (Corpus Christi) at her unified best.
There can be no doubt that if the church is ever to be fully renewed, her greater unity must be held high and lived towards. We can see this greater vision at work in the way Vladimir Lossky interacted with Meister Eckhart in his PhD thesis (no silly notions such as western rationalism versus eastern mysticism indulged in). We can, yet again, see this grander vision emerging in the fact that Rowan Williams did his PhD thesis on Vladimir Lossky—Williams also did a small book on Thomas Merton, and Jim Forest and Kallistos Ware (both Orthodox) contributed to the book. Thomas Merton, in his last full retreat in Alaska, gave an informed lecture on Vladimir Lossky. C.S. Lewis was involved in the Society of St. Alban and St. Sergius and wrote for Sobornost. The timely missive by A.M. Allchin, The Kingdom of Love and Knowledge: The Encounter between Orthodoxy and the West is yet another primer on the topic.
We desperately need to transcend the simplistic East-West tribalism and categories that do more to distort both traditions. Chrysostom is one of the primary saints of the East, but it was the west that defended him in his hour of need. Lossky, Eckhart, Williams, Ware, Merton, Lewis and Allchin are but a few whose vision of faith, the church and the world is large enough to unite that which has been divided rather than perpetuate the tragic divisions of both west and east. May spiritual and theological men and women emerge and live into challenge of the greater good of the unified body of Christ.
Fiat Lux
Ron Dart
Good article Ron, I've been following Aristotle Papanikolaou 's thought ( orthodox ), and he's convinced this dichotomy is historicist and ideological ..., particular when self narration is defined negatively , vis a vis the west ...(
Posted by: Jeff | February 18, 2014 at 06:00 PM