Maxime Egger continues this biographical introduction to Father Boris Bobrinskoy’s The Compassion of the Father
Central to Father Boris’ theology is the theme of the vision of God which is summed up in the words: “To see heaven open.”
The opening of the heavens by Christ is fundamental and irrevocable because it is of an ontological order; through it we are already in the mystery of the Trinity and in the Church. However, who of us can boast about the vision of God. As for the apostles, it can only be provisional because our eyes are still covered with scales, darkened by our passions. ‘The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overtake it,’ St John said” (Jn 1:5). (32)
However, darkness has not only a negative, but also a positive connotation.
When I speak of darkness, I often think of Christ carried in the tomb and descending to Hades, and of these Gospel words: ‘Except a grain of wheat fall in the ground and die, it abides alone, but if it die, it brings forth much fruit’ (Jn 12:24). This is a deep spiritual reality that appears very well in icons, particularly those of the Nativity and of the Resurrection: before being illumined, the darkness must become the place of germination of the Light, in silence, in expectation, like some type of secret becoming. Our entire being, all our intelligence, must penetrate into the inner darkness to meet Christ and be changed there; must carry out the turning of conversion, the baptismal rebirth, and reemerge thus into the Light. The entire old man must die, must surrender to the Lord, in order to be reborn and live again. No being can reach the Light without passing through such darkness. (32-33)
We see a similar movement in the Cross and the Ascension.
The Crucifixion occurred at a precise moment of history; even so, we have the feeling that it lasts forever in the Church, on account of our sins which continue to make the Lord suffer. But Christ was lifted up from earth in His glory on the day of His Ascension, and since then He draws us toward Him in an unceasing, irrepressible movement. We are carried along by a new force of attraction, which does not act towards below but toward the heights. And thus our entire life is defined, constructed, constituted by the life in Christ, through the power of attraction, of transformation, of benediction of the Holy Spirit who uplifts us and makes us ‘one’ with Christ. (33)
The locus of this double movement of descent and ascent is the human heart. This prayer of the heart has an ecclesial, Trinitarian and biblical character, and, far from being something new that was introduced at Sinai or on Mount Athos, belongs to the earliest tradition of Christian prayer of which the Kyrie eleisonof the liturgical offices is a continuation.
The bulk of Father Boris’ strictly theological work has focussed on an elucidation of the mystery of the Trinity, but his perspective is existential rather than speculative. To speak of the Trinity is to speak of the work of God in our life, of the work of the Spirit, who makes us more like Christ.
The heart of the Christian life consists of “the concrete living discovery, at the same time personal and ecclesial, of the mystery of the Trinity; we should enter into it with the Holy Spirit Himself who turns us away from our earthly gravity and introduces us into the heart of Christ, and through Him into the heart of the Father. All this requires of us an effort, necessitates a long apprenticeship with a spiritual father, just as the acquisition of the art of the icon implies a long apprenticeship with a master. In this manner, we ourselves become images of Christ; we become a temple and a dwelling place of the Holy Trinity. The light of Christ shines in us.” (36)
A central theme in Father Boris’ work on the Trinity has been that of the repose of the Holy Spirit on the Son, which he has explored in the context of discussions on the filioque.
If there certainly is a relationship of Christ imparting the Spirit, it does not exhaust the richness of the relationship between Christ and the Spirit. To limit oneself to this unilateral relationship, to this simple formulation of Christ as the source of the Spirit is to impoverish the mystery. For we must not forget that Christ Himself is formed by the Spirit, is the bearer of the Spirit, is sent by the Spirit into the desert, and is acting in the Spirit. (37)
However, this does not mean that the filioque controversy should be underestimated, but rather that it should be made relativistic and overcome. It would not be enough for the Catholic Church to simply omit the filioque from the Creed, for “The regulation of what is contentious in the filioque cannot be separated from what is contentious in ecclesiology, that is, the question of the Roman primacy facing Orthodox conciliarity.” (38)
In reflecting on the Holy Trinity, Father Boris finds himself more and more drawn to the mystery of the Father, which he senses inscribed and buried in the mystery of Christ.
It is the mystery of silence of the one who utters the Word and who transcends all words; the mystery of tenderness of the one who is infinite mercy and compassion, who never tires of receiving his prodigal son. “This mystery remains the greatest of all. Indeed it is easier to speak of the mystery of Christ or even of the mystery of the Holy Spirit than that of the Father, so high does the Father dwell beyond all words. (38)
Following the tradition of the Church Fathers, Father Boris roots his theological reflection in Scripture, in the Old Testament as well as the New. While typology and ecclesial interpretation are important, they need to start from a living context. He sees the Old Testament in particular as the paradoxical place of the presence of God and the expectation of the Spirit.
Having surveyed some of his theological preoccupations, Egger turns to the subtle dialectic between unity and diversity, entrenchment and openness, that runs through Father Boris’ work.
Notably rooted in the Orthodox tradition – particularly the Russian tradition – yet possessing an openness to “the other,” he transcends the tradition from within, assimilating the riches of others and returning to what is essential. Olivier Clément correctly noted this latter movement as “a preoccupation with a renewed language inseparable from an ecclesial way of life and open simultaneously – well beyond the fears and polemics – to the anxieties and intuitions of modernity.” (40-41)
Aware of the danger of the very richness of the tradition masking the pearl of great price, Father Boris warns that
We should be careful not to confound the mystery with this external vestment linked to various times and places. For the presence of Jesus is a reality that is simple, pure, and unique, which is not in need of many words. We should move beyond words, figures, and symbols to contemplate the face of Jesus and, in Him, that of the Father. If we are not able to do this, our very richness condemns us. (41-42)
For me, the Church must be at the same time totally transparent to the grace of God – of which it is the channel and the reflection – and totally transparent to the world – of which it is the spokesperson and the prayer-bearer before the face of God – while not being of the world. (42)
This transparency to that which is essential – a living relationship of love with Christ fed by the Gospel – means keeping two poles of the mystery together.
On the one hand, the mystery of Jesus which is sufficient unto itself and speaks for itself. On the other, the mystery of the profusion of riches accumulated by the Church in the Holy Spirit. For it is in it that we will live the gospel more fully and will have access, beyond words, to the full riches of the Father.
This ability to be able to speak of what is most essential is important for engagement in ecumenical dialogue and in engaging a de-christianised world.
When we speak to others, we do not have to thrust at them the truths of Orthodoxy. We should speak to them of the simplest things, which are true, immediate, and fundamental: the mystery of Christ who has come to help us, love and save us. For this, there is no need to burden our language, our words, with an entire theological jargon, with all the formulations of the ecumenical councils. A long apprenticeship is necessary before our language reaches the transparency of the icon and of the gaze of the saints. But this transparency of language to the gospel message, to the presence and the words of the Lord, is evidently only possible through the holiness and purity of our own lives, a passionate love of the truth, and the humble love for our brothers. (45-46)
A vow of conversation 
June 19, 2010 at 4:36 pm
Absolutely lovely, thank you!
I was especially moved by Fr Boris’ comments about the dangerous posed by the richness of the Church’s tradition, since “the presence of Jesus is a reality that is simple, pure, and unique, which is not in need of many words.” For this reason not simply the Church but I personally “must be … totally transparent to the grace of God – of which it is the channel and the reflection – and totally transparent to the world – of which it is the spokesperson and the prayer-bearer before the face of God – while not being of the world.”
While this is always a struggle in every age and for every Christian, I think living as we do in “a de-christianized” culture this is even more pressing. Where in a previous time the Church encountered those who had not yet heard of Christ, today we face people who have heard of Him and rejected Him. But in the passages you cite, Fr Boris present the very real possibility that those who have rejected Christ, have rejected not Him but the poor witness of Christians who approach the world with fear and not in “holiness and purity” and with “a passionate love of the truth” and a “humble love” of neighbor.
In all of this I am reminded of the words of the Second Vatican Council: “Undeniably, those who willfully shut out God from their hearts and try to dodge religious questions are not following the dictates of their consciences, and hence are not free of blame; yet believers themselves frequently bear some responsibility for this situation. For, taken as a whole, atheism is not a spontaneous development but stems from a variety of causes, including a critical reaction against religious beliefs, and in some places against the Christian religion in particular. Hence believers can have more than a little to do with the birth of atheism. To the extent that they neglect their own training in the faith, or teach erroneous doctrine, or are deficient in their religious, moral or social life, they must be said to conceal rather than reveal the authentic face of God and religion” (Gaudium et Spes 19).
At least in the States, we seem to want to limit “transparency” to the Church’s administrative and financial dealings. But there is only a limited value to this kind of transparency–after all mobsters can be transparent, at least in their dealings with each other. But Fr Boris challenges us, challenges me, to a deeper mode of transparency–one in which the Gospel and “the presence and the words of the Lord” are clearly visible in and through me.
Transparency in this sense is not alien to the human person. Nor does it require the dissolution of the personality. We are rather called to be like the window that is both transparent to, and illumined by, the sun.
Wonderful words from Fr Boris. Thank you for offering them to us.
In Christ,
+FrG
June 21, 2010 at 11:14 am
Father Gregory,
Thanks for your comment – I thought that you’d like this!
I agree with you and Gaudium et Spes. But it strikes me that, at least in some parts of the West, the danger for Orthodox in this regard might be rather more subtle. Certainly in parts of Europe there is a lot of anger at, and rejection of, its Christian background. But this is often a rejection of a particular type of Christianity such as Calvinist doctrine that has left people traumatised. Or, a reaction to a particular stage in the breakdown of the Roman Catholic ascetical tradition. (And of course the media and all sorts of forces play a role as well, so none of it is straightforward).
Now, for Orthodox it is easy to point out that the things people are reacting to are a distortion of Christianity, as indeed the are. But this also presents a more subtle danger, of seeing oneself as a light set on a hill, so that truth just ends up being a way of propping up one’s identity. And in this way Orthodoxy is in danger of just becoming another “ism”!
Somewhere in this text Father Boris quotes Father Congar on a Church that is “poor and is a servant” and it strikes me transparency humility somehow go together!
June 21, 2010 at 2:27 pm
Macrina,
I agree that the Orthodox Church in the West faces the subtle, but real danger you outline. In fact I would argue that in the States at least a significant percentage of Orthodox Christians have not simply succumb to the danger but actively embraced it.
Not without cause, Catholic (and even some Protestant) apologists have pointed out that Orthodoxy in America–whatever might be its historical pedigree–has adopted crass anti-Catholic and sectarian rhetoric. That we see this as well in traditional Orthodox countries (for example, in Greece Pope John Paul II was greeted with signs that he was the anti-Christ) merely adds fuel to the fire.
All of this is to say that, yes, for some at least Orthodoxy–or rather, the Gospel–has become simply one more ideology. I think it is important to remind ourselves again and again, what we proclaim is NOT Orthodoxy as such but Christ the Gospel. When we forget this, when we imagine that what is most important is that proclaim say St Gregory Palamas’ essence/energy distinction we do so at the risk of betraying Christ, the Gospel and ourselves with the consequence of failing in our evangelical obligation to those outside the Church. Very bad.
In Christ,
+FrG
June 19, 2010 at 4:49 pm
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