THE RESTORATION
Reflections on the feast
of St. Dunstan
by Fr. Chrysostom
MacDonnell

Essentially, engagement in
Orthodox Christianity involves a process of change. Anyone who believes that
they have encountered Christ and has not been changed has not encountered
Christ. This change, however, is not just a moral reformation where one
might claim: "I was a sinner but now I’m a saint". It certainly
involves moral change but this cannot be a singular occurrence, for change -
through continuous repentance - is the very stuff of Orthodox spirituality.
Nor is it just an alteration of lifestyle, as if we said: "I’m
committed to going to church on Sunday mornings now." The change
implicit in the Christian faith and in particular, the Orthodox
understanding of it, is something far more pressing than a mere alteration
in the way one lives - it has to do with what it actually means to be human.
Unlike any other religion, the
Christian faith seeks to transfigure human nature itself in order that we
might be reconciled and enabled to commune with God. It is in our very
realisation that, being made in the image (icon) of God, [Gen.1:26ff] we
discover that we have lost the ‘likeness’ of God. Even after our fall
in Adam our humanity still retains the image of God. It is,
though, the recovery of that very ‘likeness’ which forms the content of our
spiritual endeavour; our aim is to become like the One who for our sakes
became like us for our salvation. There is a wonderful mystery here that
lies at the heart of our faith, that we, who were created in the image of
the Second Person of the Trinity are restored to communion with God by him
who became one of us, taking on our fallen humanity. Christ joined in his
person the whole of our humanity to the whole of his divinity which is his
from eternity. For as the Fathers often pointed out: what is not assumed is
not saved. [See: Ephesians 1:9-10; 2:14-16] Or, more astoundingly; ‘God
became Man that Man might become god (divine).’
Christianity is not turning our
humanity into something different in nature nor does it seek to make us
‘gods’ alongside the Trinity. It is, rather, a restoration of what God
intended us to be in the beginning. In the Genesis story, Man is put out of
paradise because, choosing his own will, he looses his innocence and now
knows good and evil yet still has access to eternal life (Gen.3:22) As a
result, he is cast into this world, one of change, flux, evolution and
ultimate separation from God, the source of life. Thus, we lost the likeness
of God, his power, his holiness, his knowledge, his beauty, his immortality.
This is the origin of all suffering in creation as we now know it, all of
which is finally related to the passing of Time and so to Death, our last
enemy. But in Christ we are invited to become partakers of the divine nature
(II Pet.1:4) - theosis - which is precisely what we mean by
salvation.
No other religion can deal with
this for though they might express that human longing and realisation that
something is wrong in the heart of man, yet they, not knowing Christ,
(the only way back – see Jn.14:6) cannot offer the solution of this ultimate
problem. Hinduism, for example, in its higher form, aims at the final
release (Moksa) of the soul (Atman) from continual change (Samsara) and
rebirth (reincarnation) and its eventual return and absorption into God
(Brahman). Christianity of course, rejects the idea of reincarnation and the
transmigration of souls. Such ideas did seep across into the ancient western
and middle-eastern world but we hold to the once and final resurrection of
the dead when time itself is consummated upon Christ’s return. The problems
of our existence are not rooted in the effects of actions (karma) inherited
from our past lives but in the ancestral sin that leads us to death and is
now part of our human nature. Only Christ has overcome this (I Pet.1:3).
Islam, on the other hand, can
only impose the submission of the human will to a totalitarian monotheism
with no change at all in the human essence. There is no participation in the
saving divine energies (the ‘likeness of God’) which alone is found in
Christianity. God (Allah) in Islam remains utterly ‘other’. Islam has never
been able to define what it means by the person of God and the
nature of God. In itself it contains no new or final revelation, as it
claims, and in fact is a reversal to the Old Testament in its theological
endeavour.
Judaism, of course, as it
survives today, is the pharisaic form but devoid of the temple cultus since
70AD. It still follows the Torah (The Law) which can only serve to highlight
the fact of our un-likeness to God and cannot, of itself, perfect our
nature. [Rom.8:1-11]. The Jews are still God’s old people though the new
Israel (the children of Abraham) now embraces the whole gentile world. So
they have yet to be brought in to accept that Christ has come and that the
Law has now fulfilled its purpose (Eph.2:15).
In other words, Christ is the
only source of our true salvation if the word is to mean anything at all.
For us, it means the restoration of our primal humanity, one that is created
for eternal communion with God the Trinity, the source of Life. Change,
therefore, from our perspective, is not an alteration so that human beings
becoming a different species by some spiritual evolution. It is, rather, a
true restoration, a transfiguration where the energies of God (his
‘likeness’) shine out of our humanity. We call this Theosis. This very
restoration as a process, must embrace not just us as individuals but even
our communities and every aspect of our common life. This is so because our
religion cannot be a private leisure activity. We take, rather, an holistic
view of our spiritual endeavour: that everything we do affects everything
else; that all things are connected.
This is in harmony with what I
believe is the authentic Orthodox Christian world-view: it is, essentially,
a symbolic view of reality, that the physically and time-contained objects
of this world are symbols, manifesting the underlying spiritual realities
that give the physical things their meaning. The Church herself, for
example, is not the Kingdom of Heaven but, as a visible institution, it is a
mysterion, the sacrament or sign on earth of that kingdom.
This being so, every aspect of
what we are: heart, mind, soul, body, relationships, work, politics,
leisure, possessions, must be redeemed. ‘As above, so below’, the
watchword of the alchemists of old, seems in harmony with this Christian
world-view. This is not surprising as it has the same provenance in the
ancient world. Alchemy, at its best (if we leave the charlatans and
‘puffers’ to one side), in its pursuit of transforming base substance into
pure gold, acknowledged a spiritual goal: the need for the refining of human
nature and its perfecting. As such, like all worthy religion or philosophy,
it realises the dis-ease within the heart of man Moreover, like other
ancient ways of thinking, alchemy held to the interconnectedness of things.
This same world-view is an integral approach, inherent in Orthodox
Christianity, the reason being, we have not altered our theology nor our
theologising. The adventurous speculations of western Christianity have at
times threatened the Eastern Orthodox Church, whether through philosophical
systems, political influence or culturally through artistic and musical
forms, for example, the innovations introduced into the Russia by Tsar Peter
The Great. But, in general, we have stood firm.
Here then, is the essential
irony. For though our seemingly rigid conservatism and traditionalism might
be disparaged or thought obscurantist by post-modern western thought, we are
unchanging precisely because we believe in change! Being married to the
spirit of the age does not lead to the restoration of our humanity. Though
our concern not to alter the liturgy, not to depart from the
teachings of the Fathers, not to question the dogmatising of the
seven great councils, must make us appear an anachronism, even so, we have
maintained the integrity of the faith and, generally, avoided the
fragmentation inherent in western Christianity.
If we bear in mind what has been
said above, what should be our relationship with the culture that surrounds
us? How do we engage with the contemporary western world and, even more
daringly, call it back and restore its faith? Firstly, to this end, we can
have no part with those, particularly in politics, who seek to minimise the
role of Christianity in the West - promoting the multi-cultural illusion
that all religions are really the same (i.e. untrue) and of equal use
and value – because they are not.
The religious history of Britain
can, of course, be viewed from various perspectives: the old liberal (Whig)
historians saw it as one of progress from superstitious Popery to
enlightened and reasonable Protestantism. However, their ‘project’ (if we
may call it that) has proceeded to advance through empire,
industrialisation, decline, secularism and materialistic hedonism. An
Orthodox understanding of this history can see and accept the fact of these
gradual movements yet will hesitate to see it as necessarily ‘progress’.
Indeed, most historians recognise that the very idea of liberal progress in
human affairs began to dissolve on the battlefields of 1914-18. From our
perspective, change in British religious history has been in the form of a
steady decline in the spiritual lives of the peoples of these islands. For
us, this began with the Norman conquest of 1066 and the gradual isolation of
the Orthodox spiritual patrimony which once flourished here among the Celtic
and Anglo-Saxon churches. Of course, evidence of that tradition still
linger, even to this day, often hidden like pearls in the old country and
folk customs of this land; still clinging on like lichens to the old rocks,
whether the memory of a distant hermit, commemorated in a place name or the
reverence for a holy well, once a site of pilgrimage.
Yet our contention is that this
is not the end of the story; a change, something new yet in fact, old, has
started to blossom once again in this land. It is significant, perhaps even
a sign that in my own Antiochian congregation, we worship in a building once
dedicated to the western (post-schism) saint Osmund, a man specifically
employed by the Conqueror to assist in the process of removing all traces of
the old Anglo-Saxon (i.e. Orthodox) church and spiritual tradition,
substituting the new Papalism. Now however, a new patron is invoked, one
who, though reigning in heaven, once toiled by the grace of God to establish
that older understanding of the faith. St. Dunstan (f.d. 19th
May) once again toils with us, praying for us in our spiritual struggle. And
once again, the essence of this struggle is change; not the old
liberal idea of political advance through factual knowledge but through a
supreme paradox: change for us is found in a revolution through
tradition. Change for us is a return to our real origins. If this is
true for us as individuals and in our own spiritual experience, then it is
also true of our place in history. Orthodox Christianity re-emerged
in Britain from the 17th Century onwards. Slowly and in fits and
starts, it has been replanted here. To be honest, it is still at a very
delicate stage of growth. If we may continue the analogy, we are still in
the green house and not yet in the garden. Most Christians in this country
and certainly, most people in general, know nothing about us and certainly
do not realise that we hold the ancient treasure that once belonged to their
forefathers.
Our spiritual lives are all
about change. We struggle by repentance to regain our primal purity and
communion with God. From what our human nature (essence) has become we are
journeying back to that humanity created in the image and likeness of God.
Change for us is returning to what we were intended to be by our Creator.
The same must be true of our very mission in this land: the re-hallowing of
Britain, of which I have often spoken, is our agenda. The Gospel itself,
remember, is news – something new and yet, it is old. There is a delicious
irony in that we, the most ancient, the most traditional, the most
old-fashioned of all bodies called churches, we the Orthodox, are the true
promoters of change. There is nothing new under the sun, says the book of
Ecclesiastes [Eccl.1:9] and that is true of this world. But the provenance
Gospel is not of this world, it is not a philosophy, a system, an analysis
or a form of self-help psycho-babble. As the famous Anglican, Dean Inge,
once remarked: ‘The Gospel is good news, not good advice!’ The good
news, as expressed in the parable of the Prodigal Son we heard before Great
Lent is ‘Come home, all can be forgiven’.
As well as endeavouring to save
our own souls, we are here also, in the first place, to call the English
people back to the roots of their own national identity. The origins of the
English as a nation is a complex business; as a bloodline (genetics) it is
quite ambiguous but nationality is more than just tracing a line of decent
[Mat.3:9!] The fact remains, the Church here is an older institution than
the Monarchy itself; it was a Christian identity that established the
nation, not the other way round. Is it no wonder that there is so much
political and social ambiguity and even anxiety around the concept of
English nationhood (as others, like the Scots, assert a measure of
independence). Having gradually lost their religion, the English have now
begun to lose their very soul. Having been through all the pages of their
history: reformation, enlightenment, empire, decline and secularism, the
idea of absorption into a European superstate and globalisation do not
appear too attractive, perhaps.
Yet it is in this very
Areopagus of ideas (see: Acts 17:19) that we preach change in Christ,
the Good News of the kingdom of God according to the original Orthodox faith
of their fathers. This change, however, is different. Who knows, perhaps in
times yet to come, later historians will talk of another great movement
alongside the Reformation, the Enlightenment and The Globalisation - The
Restoration of Christian England and the rediscovering of what was once
hallowed in this land.