The Holy Trinity and the House of Perfect Love

Icon of the Holy Trinity painted by St Andrew Rublev 

in memory of the Russian St Sergius

Genesis 18:1-8

The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. He lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, three men were standing in front of him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent door to meet them and bowed himself to the earth and said, “O Lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree, while I bring a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on--since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” 

And Abraham went quickly into the tent to Sarah and said, “Quick! Three seahs of fine flour! Knead it, and make cakes.” 

And Abraham ran to the herd and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to a young man, who prepared it quickly. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them. And he stood by them under the tree while they ate. 

Henri Nouwen comments:

How can we live in the midst of a world marked by fear, hatred and violence, and not be destroyed by it? When Jesus prays to his Father for his disciples he responds to this question by saying, “I am not asking you to remove them form the world but to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” 

To live in the world without belonging to the world summarizes the essence of the spiritual life. The spiritual life keeps us aware that our true house is not the house of fear, in which the powers of hatred and violence rule, but the house of love, where God resides. 

Hardly a day passes in our lives without our experience of inner or outer fears, anxieties, apprehensions and preoccupations. These dark powers have pervaded every part of our world to such a degree that we can never fully escape them. Still it is possible not to belong to these powers, not to build our dwelling place among them, but to choose the house of love as our home. This choice is made not just once and for all but by living a spiritual life, praying at all times and thus breathing God’s breath. Through the spiritual life we gradually move from the house of fear to the house of love. 

I have never seen the house of love more beautifully expressed than in the icon of the Holy Trinity, painted by Andrew Rublev in 1425 in memory of the great Russian saint, Sergius (1313-1392). For me the contemplation of this icon has increasingly become a way to enter more deeply into the mystery of divine life while remaining fully engaged in the struggles of our hate-and-fear filled world. 

. . . During a hard period of my life in which verbal prayer had become nearly impossible and during which mental and emotional fatigue had made me the easy victim of feelings of despair and fear, a long and quiet presence to this icon became the beginning of my healing. As I sat for long hours in front of Rublev’s Trinity, I noticed how gradually my gaze became prayer. This silent prayer slowly made my inner restlessness melt away and lifted me up into the circle of love, a circle that could not be broken by the powers of the world. Even as I moved away from the icon and became involved in the many tasks of everyday life, I felt as if I did not have to leave the holy place I had found and could dwell there whatever I did or wherever I went. I knew that the house of love I had entered has not boundaries and embraces everyone who wants to dwell there. 

Through the contemplation of this icon we come to see with our inner eyes that all engagements in this world can bear fruit only when they take place within this divine circle. The words of the psalm, “The sparrow has found its home at last . . . Happy those who live in your house” are given new depth and new breadth; they become words revealing the possibility of being in the world without being of it. . . . 

Andrei Rublev painted this icon not only to share the fruits of his own meditation on the mystery of the Holy Trinity but also to offer his fellow monks a way to keep their hearts centered on God while living in the midst of political unrest. The more we look at this holy image with the eyes of faith, the more we come to realize that is painted not as a lovely decoration for a convent church, nor as a helpful explanation of a difficult doctrine, but as a holy place to enter and stay within. As we place ourselves in front of the icon in prayer, we come to experience a gentle invitation to participate in an intimate table conversation that is taking place between the three divine angels and to join them at the table. The movement from the Father toward the Son and the movement of both Son and Spirit toward the Father become a movement in which the one who prays is lifted up and held secure. Through the contemplation of this icon we come to see with our own inner eyes that all the engagements in this world can bear fruit only when they take place within the divine circle. We can be involved in struggles for justice and actions for peace. We can be part of the ambiguities of family and community life. We can study, teach, write, and hold a regular job. We can do all of this without ever having to leave the house of love . . . Rublev’s icon gives us a glimpse of the house of perfect love.

From: Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying with Icons

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Further information about the Rublev Icon:

St Andrew Rublev wrote this Icon either in 1411 or the period 1425 to 1427. It is 142 cm × 114 cm (56 in × 45 in), and can be viewed in the Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow 

There was no fixed form for the Trinity at the time of Rublev in the 15th century. This left painters freedom in their interpretation. He was aware of the transition from Christ centered icons of the Trinity toward a more theologically correct trinitarian view.

St Andrew introduced definite changes to the pattern that immediately preceded him. The central angel no longer looks at the beholder but at an angle to the left. The angel on the left and the right cross each other so the center of gravity moves from the central angel to one on the left. The angels are of equal size. He give the central angel clothing characteristic of Christ and makes the clothing of the other two unique. The hand are no longer pointing to objects on the table which is smaller and there is now room only for a chalice in its middle containing the sacrificial lamb. Their gestures do not relate to food as in earlier icons but to one another. They represent three separate distinct persons who in intimate relation with each other.

The angel on the left is clothed in a pale pink cloak with brown and blue-green highlights. The one in the center is clothed in the customary colors of Christ. A dark red robe and blue cloak. The one on the right has a green cloak. The clear and precise colors of the central angel are contrasted with the soft hues of the other two. The colors seem to blend and harmonise unifying the three figures giving them a tranquil joyfulness. Just as in so many other icons, gold indicates the value of the image and draws us into the Kingdom of Heaven. It is as if the entire scene were suffused with light. Fitting because of the subject – no less than God himself – the same God who dwells in light unapproachable, the same God who dwells in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The table no longer looks like a dinning table but is a cube clearly recognizable as an altar with an opening for the relics. The hosts Abraham and Sarah are no longer in the picture.

He uses the biblical background but relates it to the three figures. The angel on the left is coordinated with the house, the one in the middle with a tree and the one on the right with a rock. These relationships become symbolic.

The Father

Over the head of the Father who is on the left is the house of the Father. It is the goal of our journey. It is the beginning and end of our lives. Its roof is golden. Its door is always open for the traveler. It has a tower, and its window is always open so that the Father can incessantly scan the roads for a glimpse of a returning prodigal.

He is vested in a blue undergarment which depicts his divine celestial nature. His fatherly authority is seen in his entire appearance. His head is not bowed and he is looking at the other two angels. His whole demeanor - the expression on his face, the placement of his hands, the way he is sitting - all speaks of his fatherly dignity.

The Son

Behind the center angle who symbolizes Christ is a great tree that spreads its shade in heat of the day. It is no ordinary tree. It stands above the Son in the picture, and stands above the altar-table where the lamb lies within the chalice. Because of the sacrifice this tree grows. The tree of death has been transformed into a tree of life for us.

The Son has the deepest colors; a thick heavy garment of the reddish-brown of blood earth and a cloak of the blue of heaven. In his person he unites heaven and earth, the two natures are present in him, and over his right shoulder (the Government shall be upon his shoulder) there is a band of gold shot through the earthly garment, as his divinity suffuses and transfigures his earthly being. He is inclined towards the first angel, as though deep in conversation.

The Spirit

The angel on the right symbolizes the Holy Spirit. His green mantle of the Spirit, scintillating with light, is another of Rublev’s achievements. Green belongs to the Spirit because the Spirit is the source of life. On the Feast of Pentecost, Eastern Orthodox churches are decorated with greenery, boughs and branches, and worshippers will wear green clothing. The Orthodox prayer to the Holy Spirit begins, “O Heavenly King, Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of Life…”

This sense of the Spirit as the source of life, everywhere present, filling all things, contributes to one of the distinct feaatures of Orthodox theology. That is, it is intimately bound up with daily life. There is no such thing as theology which is purely intellectual. If theology doesn’t change you, if it doesn’t flood you with light, it’s not worth your time

This icon is appreciated for its simplicity. St Andrew was successful at advancing the iconographic tradition of the Church adding depth and bringing greater clarity to a doctrine that is forever mystically clothed.

- From the website of St George’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral, Greenville SC, USA

"Legality" and "sacramental validity" - not the same thing

Many of us now find ourselves in a situation where the state uses the word “marriage” quite differently to its meaning in the Christian tradition. My personal view is that simply to substitute “matrimony” for “marriage” in Christian circles, as many are suggesting, fudges the issue, for it is the reality described as “marriage” in the Scriptures that the innovators think can be enlarged to include same sex couples. We simply have to accept the fact that the word “marriage” has been legally hijacked, and get used to teaching - as we are still allowed to do (apparently) - the Christian understanding of it, based on what we believe to be God’s revelation.

In any case, this will be good practice for members of the Church of England who, it seems, will have to get used to some people being “legally” bishops, who in good conscience many cannot regard as being "real" bishops in the sense that others are - again, based on a view of God’s revelation held in common with the ancient Churches of East and West with whom we have always claimed to share the apostolic ministry. 

Back in December, Dr Mark Thompson, Principal of Moore Theological College in Sydney, explored these issues in an Australian context, from a conservative evangelical angle. I share his article with you, simply because we will have to get used to the idea - in all charity towards those with whom we disagree, as Dr Thompson himself urges - that “validity” and “legality” are not necessarily the same thing. The article comes from Dr Thompson’s website HERE.

LEGALITY AND VALIDITY

Does something become legitimate by virtue of legislative enactment? Does the decision of a parliamentary majority or of a court of law suffice to settle the question of whether a course of action is appropriate, or legitimate or valid? Can Christians recognise the legal or constitutional reality of a situation without for a moment consenting to its reality in a deeper sense — something that legitimately exists in a world constituted by God’s word?

Two recent developments in Australia raise this question in stark terms for us. The first is the conduct of same sex ‘marriage’ services in the Australian Capital Territory last weekend. These services went ahead despite a resolution of the High Court of Australia to reserve its decision on a challenge to the Territory’s legislation until 12 December. How are we to view such marriages? Would we view them any differently if the High Court had already delivered its decision and it was in favour of the ACT’s legislation?

Words from the marriage service in the Book of Common Prayer (1662) come to mind:

For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful.

The more recent Common Prayer: Resources for gospel-shaped gatherings (2012), produced in the Diocese of Sydney, follows the wording of An Australian Prayer Book (1978) in both forms of the marriage service provided:

For be assured that those who marry otherwise than God’s word allows are not joined together by God, neither is their marriage lawful in his sight.

Most obviously the intent of these words was never to deny the authority of parliaments and the judicial system. After all, Cranmer, the original author of the words (the 1549 and 1552 Prayer Books are identical in wording to the BCP, with allowance for variations in spelling) was an Erastian who believed very strongly in the authority of the State in religious matters as well as secular matters. Yet not entirely. The king was ‘singular protector, supreme lord and even, so far as the law of Christ allows, supreme head of the English Church and clergy’ and it is a simple matter of record that the king did not annul his marriage to Catherine of Aragon on his own authority. Cranmer, acting on decisions of a number of convocations of clergy, was the one who declared the marriage invalid on 23 May 1533. The law of the land (in Cranmer’s time virtually equivalent to the will of the king) was one thing, but there was a higher authority to whom appeals such as this needed to be made. At the very least the appearance of deference to that authority needed to be preserved.

In the end, it does not matter what authority is used to declare a marriage valid — one of Henry VIII’s own arguments was that even the Pope (by the special dispensation allowing Henry to marry Catherine in 1509) could not overturn the teaching of Scripture on the matter — marriage gains its definition and dignity, not from the State or the consensus of the people, but from the word of God.  Given the clear teaching of Scripture that homosexual activity (not temptation or orientation but activity) is contrary to the will of God and itself a peculiar expression of that depravity into which the race has fallen by its ‘exchange of the truth for a lie’, the expression ‘same-sex marriages’ is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms.

So the ACT government, or the Federal Government may well redefine marriage in a way that includes the union of same-sex couples, and the High Court of Australia might well declare such legislation constitutionally valid, but it will make no difference to the real status of these unions before the only jurisdiction that ultimately counts. Those who marry otherwise than God’s word allows are not joined together by God, neither is their marriage lawful in his sight.

The second development is the consecration of women as bishops in the Anglican Church of Australia. Following the failure of successive attempts to get legislation permitting the consecration of women bishops through the General Synod, an appeal to the highly-politicised Appellate Tribunal resulted in an opinion from that body in 2007 that no such legislation was necessary but that the implication of women in the episcopate was carried within the legislation which enabled women presbyters (aka priests). Since then four women have been consecrated: Kay Goldsworthy in Perth (2008), Barbara Darling in Melbourne (2008), Genieve Blackwell in Canberra-Goulburn (2012) and Alison Taylor in Brisbane (April 2013). Last month, Sarah Macneil of Canberra-Goulburn was elected to be Bishop of Grafton, so she will be the first female diocesan bishop in Australia.

There can be no suggestion that anything other than proper legal process was followed in the election or appointment of each of these women. Properly constituted groups or persons proposed and considered their names and the decisions made are beyond dispute. According to the legal processes of the Anglican Church of Australia each of these women are bishops.

However, many of us cannot recognise them as bishops in a more important sense. Given the teaching of the New Testament on the headship of men in marriage and in a Christian congregation, — headship, it should be noted, that must always be characterised by self-sacrificial service patterned upon the headship of Christ and the recognition of that headship by the church —and given the explicit instructions about men, women and teaching in the Pastoral Epistles, the ordination of women as presbyters or the consecration of women as bishops is a matter of deep concern. In order to avoid a prima facie reading of these biblical texts all sorts of hermeneutical manoeuvres must be attempted and hypothetical reconstructions proposed that would relativise what is being taught or at least restrict its application to a set of specific conditions that no longer apply today. These manoeuvres and these proposals are very often made in good conscience. But to many of us it seems that whatever the intentions of those involved, the net effect is to overturn or to evade the teaching of Scripture and so is another instance of human disobedience.

A similar argument applies to that used in the previous example. It doesn’t in the end matter how legally proper the process that ended up in these elections or nominations, it doesn’t matter what endorsement is supplied, whether from a diocesan synod, the General Synod, the Appellate Tribunal or even the Lambeth Conference. If this is indeed contrary to the teaching of Scripture then it is impossible to recognise these women or any others as validly consecrated or legitimately bishops.

These are enormous challenges but how to conduct ourselves with grace and courtesy in the face of such very significant differences on these issues is every bit as challenging. I suspect the way ahead, though, can hardly be to pretend those differences do not exist. The stakes are so high — who we were created to be as human beings, the nature of the image of God, God’s gift of marriage, the headship of Christ and the church, the health of the Christian congregation and, indeed of society as a whole — that these issues cannot be relegated to ‘matters of secondary importance’. If they are indeed addressed in the Scriptures then in each case it is a matter of Christian faith and of genuine discipleship with all that this implies. If God has spoken, then the appropriate Christian response is gratitude, faith and joyful obedience.

Those supporting the consecration of these women and many of those who support the solemnising of same-sex unions do so conscientiously believing themselves to be doing the will of God. In the case of women bishops, much use is made of the language of a divine call, their call to be a bishop from God through the agency of the church. We are bound to ask whether the use of such language is itself useful or appropriate given the Bible’s teaching on the call of God and the nature of Christian ministry. Nevertheless, those with whom we disagree on these matters are real people, people created by God and loved by him, men and women for whom Christ died. Many of them are our brothers and sisters with whom we can expect to share eternity. How we treat them, while holding on to truth and not giving the slightest ground to error, is itself part of the challenge of our times. God is love and he is also light. We must be faithful and courageous and at the same time people of grace.

Wisdom from the pre-Constantinian Church

I am not one who complains about the conversion of Constantine or doubts his sincerity. And I have read enough history to be grateful that the Church was there to fill the vacuum of leadership in a declining empire. It is difficult to comprehend what western history and the western cultural tradition would have been like otherwise.

But even as this was evolving, many Christians felt that if the Church’s Gospel and values influenced the empire, so the empire at its most decadent was making inroads into the Church. Hence the development of monasticism and other movements seeking to keep alive the kind of experience of God that was common in the pre-Constantinian Church.

Many observe that in the West the Constantinian Church Age is finally coming to an end. The spiritual poverty and bureaucratisation of State Churches, the rapid secularisation of societies whose foundations had been built on Gospel values, and a widespread cynicism regarding all Christian traditions, catholic and protestant alike, probably means that we will need to look much more for inspiration at the life and witness of the Church in the period before 315 AD. 

There are lessons to be learned from that period about witnessing as a small minority in cultures that run along different lines to our beliefs, and about nurturing the continuities as well as recognising the discontinuities between the surrounding culture and the Gospel.

I have long thought that one of the documents that would become more significant to us as we live through the 21st century is the Letter to Diognetus, a second century attempt to explain Christianity and the Church to a pagan official.

Philip Rushton says HERE that it “gives us a glimpse into the way Christians were perceived in the ancient world. These Christians were fully immersed in their culture and yet they lived a life that was radically different from others. They gained a reputation for their integrity, generosity, chastity, and love for people of all nations and backgrounds. There is so much in this letter that we need to grasp if we are to truly impact our culture. It reminds us that true outreach and true cultural engagement requires that we practice what we preach.”

A summary of the Letter and quotations from it can be found HERE.

A lively modern translation of the entire Letter (together with some explanation) is HERE.

And a couple of paragraphs from the Letter to inspire you:

“Christians are not distinguished from other men by country, language, nor by the customs which they observe. It is while following the customs of the natives in clothing, food, and the rest of ordinary life that they display to us their wonderful and admittedly striking way of life.

“As citizens they participate in everything with others, yet they endure everything as if they were foreigners. Every foreign land is like their homeland to them, and every land of their birth is like a land of strangers. They marry, like everyone else, and they have children, but they do not destroy their offspring. They share a common table, but not a common bed. They exist in the flesh, but they do not live by the flesh. They pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven. They obey the prescribed laws, all the while surpassing the laws by their lives. They love all men and are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned. They are put to death and restored to life. They are poor, yet make many rich. They lack everything, yet they overflow in everything.

“They are dishonoured, and yet in their very dishonour they are glorified; they are spoken ill of and yet are justified; they are reviled but bless; they are insulted and repay the insult with honour; they do good, yet are punished as evildoers; when punished, they rejoice as if raised from the dead. They are assailed by the Jews as barbarians; they are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them are unable to give any reason for their hatred.

“To sum it all up in one word, what the soul is in the body, that is what Christians are in the world.”

Pentecost changed everything! - Fr Alexander Men

I have already shared the story of that dynamic evangelical Russian Orthodox priest who was martyred in 1990, Fr Alexander Men HERE and HERE. Today, following Pentecost, these words of his about the power of the Holy Spirit should encourage each of us in our witness to Jesus.

“All Our Function Depends Only on the Holy Spirit”

When the Temple guards, the soldiers who kept order in the House of God, were sent by the Temple authorities to seize the Lord, they achieved nothing, having been unable to lay hands on Him. When they were asked sternly why they had not brought Him, they replied: “No one has ever spoken like this Man” [cf. John 7:46]. There was some sort of power in the words of Christ the Savior, but not in those of His disciples – for Divine might spoke in Him, while human weakness spoke in them. Even after the disciples had seen the Risen One with their own eyes, they hid in fear behind locked doors, still disbelieving and doubting. Even when they saw Him on the mount in Galilee, as the Evangelist Matthew relates, some worshipped Him, while others doubted, having assumed that it was an apparition.

But several weeks later, on the Feast of Pentecost, everything changed. Less than a month had passed since the Lord had died on the place of the skull, in full sight of all, and then risen, appearing only to the faithful. Then suddenly there was a great noise and troubled voices – and Christ’s disciples came out of the house and witnessed to the Risen Christ before a whole crowd. Everything in them had changed: their fear – gone without a trace; their timidity – gone without a trace; their inability to express themselves – gone without a trace. They spoke in such a way that everyone understood them, even those who had come from afar and understood their language poorly. Regardless, their words were reaching everyone. But why was that? What was going on? It was because the Lord’s Divine power had come to them. It was not by their humanity, nor by their flesh and blood, but rather by the Spirit of God that they were able to bear witness and state outright: “This Jesus, God has raised from the dead, whereof we are all witnesses” [cf. Acts 2:32].

This is an important word that we should take to heart: witnesses. Every Christian is a witness to God. Think of what a witness is in our ordinary lives. In court, a witness is someone who must truthfully relate that which he saw and heard, honestly and truthfully relating what he knows to be true. Sometimes there are false witnesses and libelers, but a true witness speaks only the truth – and not just the truth, but the truth that he knows well. Thus, the power of Christian witness is that we speak of the Lord, Whom we know; of grace, which we have experienced; of blessing, which we have felt; and of faith, which we have in our hearts. If we do not have the Spirit, if we do not have this power, then we are poor witnesses. The Apostles said: “He was raised by God, of which we are witnesses,” because they knew this, saw this with their own eyes, and experienced this.

By partaking of the Holy Mysteries and turning to the Lord in prayer, do we not touch Him? All true faith means touching the Lord. If we have living contact with God, with the Risen Christ Who saves us, that means we can honestly and boldly witness to the world about our trust, our hope, and our joy. Our joy is the Lord Who has loved the world, saving every person and searching for every lost soul. We do not simply say this from hearsay. We should be witnesses to His Spirit and witnesses to His power.

Let us today pray for that which is most important: that the Lord’s Spirit, promised to each and every one of us, might come to us and touch our hearts; that we might not speak vainly, but from the experience of our own hearts, that we know our Lord and have experienced the touch of the Spirit of Christ, the Spirit of God; and, therefore, that we have the right to say: “Yes, we know Him Whom we have loved; Who has loved, saved, and granted us eternal life.” To Him we all cry out: “O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of good things and Give of Life, come and dwell in us.” Amen.

Translated from the Russian.

Source: 

http://www.pravmir.com/witnesses-to-the-holy-spirit/#ixzz34GiI4sxW

The Alexander Men memorial cross in Semkhoz near Sergiev Posad, 
60 km north-west of Moscow 

Cardinal Kasper's plea to the Church of England: Say "No" to women bishops!

In the context of the unity and healing many Anglicans and Roman Catholics believe the Holy Spirit had been nurturing in the Church throughout the twentieth century, in fulfilment of the prayer of Jesus, the June 2006 address of Cardinal Walter Kasper to the bishops of the Church of England has huge significance.

Then head of the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for the Promotion of Christian Unity, Kasper, whose desire for full ecclesial reunion between Rome and Canterbury is well known, had been invited by Archbishop Rowan Williams to address the annual meeting of all serving Church of England bishops at Market Bosworth, Leicestershire. Senior women clergy and those “involved in the ministry of women” were also present. Kasper was clear, forthright and passionate. 

If ever there has been a word of godly warning to the Church of England in recent times, this is it!

Even at this eleventh hour, are there General Synod members out there who may even believe in the possibility of women bishops, but who also accept godly restraint in this matter because of our self identity as but a tiny part of the Church Catholic?

Cardinal Kasper’s address (below) is on the websites of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Vatican.   

Mission of Bishops in the Mystery of the Church: 

reflections on the question of ordaining women 

to episcopal office in the Church of England

Cardinal Walter Kasper 

An address given to the Church of England Bishops’ Meeting, 5 June 2006

I wish to thank the Archbishop of Canterbury for the invitation to speak to you as the Church of England House of Bishops on a question that concerns you and therefore also concerns the Catholic Church and me personally as President of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity. I have already had occasion to say to Archbishop Rowan Williams: Our friends’ problems are our problems too.  In this spirit of ecumenical solidarity I would like to offer you some reflections on the question of the ordination of women to episcopal office.  Naturally these reflections are made from a Catholic perspective; I am of course convinced that the decision that you are facing involves us together with you, insofar as it will be of fundamental significance for relations between us in the future.

I

Today is not the first time we have discussed the subject of women’s ordination. Therefore I would like to begin with a brief overview of our previous discussions. The introduction of the ordination of women to the priesthood by some provinces of the Anglican Communion, including the Church of England, was preceded by a lively correspondence between Rome and Canterbury. Pope Paul VI addressed a letter on this issue to Archbishop Donald Coggan on 30 November 1975 and again on 23 March 1976, and this was followed by a letter from Pope John Paul II to Archbishop Robert Runcie on 20 December 1984. My predecessor in office, Cardinal Jan Willebrands, responded to Archbishop Runcie’s reply on 18 December 1985.

On the question of the ordination of women to episcopal office, Pope John Paul II wrote a very earnest letter to Archbishop Robert Runcie of 8 December 1988. The Pope spoke openly of ‘new obstacles in the way of reconciliation between Catholics and Anglicans’ and of the danger of ‘block[ing] the path to the mutual recognition of ministries.’ He made reference to the ecumenical and ecclesiological dimensions of the question. In the joint declarations with Archbishop Robert Runcie on 2 October 1989 and with Archbishop George Carey on 5 December 1996 he addressed this question once more.

I should also mention the declarations by ARCIC, and the detailed response to the Rochester Report Women Bishops in the Church of England? by the Department of Dialogue and Unity of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales on 3 October 2005.

The official argumentation of the Catholic Church on the ordination of women is found in the Declaration of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, ‘On the Admission of Women to the Priesthood’, Inter insigniores (1977), and in the Apostolic Letter of Pope John Paul II, ‘On reserving priestly ordination to men alone’, Ordinatio sacerdotalis (1994).  There the Pontiff stated that the Catholic Church was convinced that it had no authority for such ordinations. It therefore considers such ordinations invalid (CJC can 1024).

This position has often been misconstrued as misogyny and denial of the equal dignity of women. But in the Apostolic Letter ‘On the Dignity and Vocation of Women’ Mulieris dignitatem (1988) and in his ‘Letter to Women’ (29 June 1995) Pope John Paul II made it clear that the position of the Catholic Church in no way arose from a denial of the equal dignity of men and women or a lack of esteem for women, but is based solely on fidelity to apostolic testimony as it has been handed down in the Church throughout the centuries. The Catholic Church distinguishes between the equal value and equal dignity of men and women on the one hand and on the other hand the differentiation of the two sexes, which have a complementary relationship with one another.  Similar statements are found in the document of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, ‘On the collaboration of men and women in the church and in the world’ (2004).  Pope Benedict XVI reiterated and made concrete this view in his address to the clergy of Rome on 2 March 2006.

I know that this question involves many complex hermeneutical, anthropological and theological problems that I cannot enter into in this context.  The position of the Catholic Church can only be understood and evaluated if one recognizes that the argumentation has a biblical basis, but that the Church does not read the Bible as an isolated historical document.  Rather it understands the Bible in the light of the whole 2000-year tradition of all the ancient churches, the Catholic Church as well as the ancient Eastern and Orthodox churches.

Doubtless, historically conditioned views at times had some influence on this tradition.  There are some arguments belonging to the past that we do not reiterate today.  We should of course be aware that our contemporary views are also historically contingent in many respects, and that presumably only future centuries will be able to measure just how greatly we have been conditioned by our times;  they will presumably chuckle over many things which we take for granted today, just as we do over many ideas of the ancient or medieval world.

On the other hand, it can be academically demonstrated that the rejection of the ordination of women within the tradition was not predicated on contemporary concepts alone but in essence on theological arguments.  Therefore it should not be assumed that the Catholic Church will one day revise its current position.  The Catholic Church is convinced that she has no right to do so.

II

Following this brief review of the discussion regarding the ordination of women to priesthood I would like to turn now to the current question of the ordination of women to the episcopal office.  At first glance it seems to be a virtually unavoidable consequence of the first step, the ordination of women to the priesthood.  The sacrament of ordination is one single sacrament, and access to one step in principle also opens the way to the next step.  The reverse conclusion then must be that if women cannot be admitted to the priesthood, then they obviously cannot be admitted to episcopal office either.

Nevertheless, in the ecumenical context the ordination of women to episcopal office confronts us with a new situation relative to the ordination to the priesthood, and represents a considerable further escalation of the problem.  Why?  The answer to this question derives from the nature of the episcopal office, which according to the early church as well as to the current understanding of the Catholic Church, is an office of unity.  As such it is particularly relevant to ecumenical concerns and aims.

I can here only touch on the foundations of this thesis.  My starting point is that unity and unanimity are fundamental words in the New Testament: ‘one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all’ (Eph, 4,5).  According to the testimony of the Acts of the Apostles, unanimity was one of the signs of the first church (1,14;  2,46;  4,24 et al).  The significance of unity in the Church and under the apostles emerges from the way the Church dealt with the conflict regarding the continued validity of Jewish law, which touched on the foundations of Christianity.  After extensive discussions the controversy was settled at that time with a handshake as a sign of communion (koinonia) (Acts, 15;  Gal, 2).  So koinonia / communio is a foundational term which gained fundamental significance for the early church, and which in the eyes of many once more occupies a pre-eminent place in defining the essence of the Church today.  The Church is shared participation in the life of God, therefore koinonia with God and with one another (1 Jn, 1,3).

So from the beginning the episcopal office was ‘koinonially’ or collegially embedded in the communion of all bishops;  it was never perceived as an office to be understood or practised individually.  In his history of the Church Eusebius describes in detail the endeavours to maintain peace, unity, love and communion during the violent conflicts of the second century regarding the correct fasting practices and the dating of Easter (Hist. eccl., v,23f;  cf.  vii,5).

The collegial nature of the episcopal office achieves its most impressive expression in the consecration of bishops.  As early as the Council of Nicea (325) it was stipulated that, if possible, a bishop should be consecrated by all the bishops of a province, or at least by a minimum of three bishops with the consent of the others (Can. 4).  A synod at Antiochia (341) demanded the presence of at least the majority of the bishops of the province.  The ‘Apostolic Constitutions’ are even more demanding in their judgements.  Anyone who has been consecrated by only one bishop should be deposed (Can. 27).  In the early church collegial induction into the episcopal office corresponded to the collegial exercise of the office through the exchange of letters, reciprocal visits and above all the joint consultation and formulation of resolutions at the synods or councils.

We are indebted above all to the martyr bishop Cyprian of Carthage for a thorough theology of the episcopal office.  His sentence ‘episcopatus unus et indivisus’ is well known.  This sentence stands in the context of an urgent admonition by Cyprian to his fellow bishops:

Quam unitatem tenere firmiter et vindicare debemus maxime episcopi, qui in ecclesia praesidimus, ut episcopatum quoque ipsum unum atque indivisum probemus.  [And this unity we ought firmly to hold and assert, especially those of us that are bishops who preside in the church, that we may also prove the episcopate one and undivided.]

This urgent exhortation is followed by a precise interpretation of the statement ‘episcopatus unus et indivisus’.  ‘Episcopatus unus est cuius a singulis in solidum pars tenetur’ [The episcopate is one, each part of which is held by each one for the whole.] (De ecclesiae catholicae unitate, 1,5).

Such statements and admonitions recur again and again in Cyprian’s letters (Ep., 55,21;  59,14 et al.).  Most familiar is the statement that the Church is the people united with the bishop and the flock devoted to its shepherd.  ‘The bishop is in the church and the church is in the bishop, and if anyone is not with the bishop he is not with the church.’ But Cyprian goes even one step further: he not only emphasises the unity of the people of God with its own individual bishop, but also adds that no one should imagine that he can be in communion with just a few, for ‘the Catholic Church is not split or divided’ but ‘united and held together by the glue of the mutual cohesion of the bishops’ (Ep., 66,8).

Cyprian’s concept has become the norm.  The first Vatican Council took up Cyprian’s formula of ‘episcopatus unus et indivisus’ and gave it a prominent position (DS, 3951);  this was later reiterated by the Second Vatican Council (LG, 18), which added depth to the theology of the episcopal office in the early church tradition with the concept of episcopal collegiality (particularly LG, 22f).  Collegiality was not understood simply in terms of an ultimately non-binding collegial frame of mind;  collegiality is rather a reality ontologically grounded in the sacrament of episcopal consecration, the shared participation in the one episcopal office, which finds concrete expression in the collegialitas affectiva and in the collegialitas effectiva.  This collegiality is of course not limited to the horizontal and synchronic relationship with contemporary episcopal colleagues;  since the Church is one and the same in all centuries, the present-day church must also maintain diachronic consensus with the episcopate of the centuries before us, and above all with the testimony of the apostles.  This is the more profound significance of the apostolic succession in episcopal office.

The episcopal office is thus an office of unity in a two-fold sense.  Bishops are the sign and the instrument of unity within the individual local church, just as they are between both the contemporary local churches and those of all times within the universal Church.

It is one of the heartening experiences of ecumenical dialogue that we have been able to establish that this understanding of the Church as koinonia, and with it the ‘koinonial’ understanding of the episcopal office, is not just a particular Catholic tradition, but an understanding we share with the Anglican Communion.  It can be found in the ARCIC conversations from the very beginning.  It can also be found in the Paper of the House of Bishops Bishops in Communion: Collegiality in the Service of the Koinonia of the Church (2000), and it has entered into and become fundamental in the Windsor Report (2004).  We can thus recognise with gratitude that we share a broad common theological and ecclesiological basis on this issue.

Should we not therefore also be in a position to say together: the decision for the ordination of women to the episcopal office can only be made with an overwhelming consensus, and must not in any way involve a conflict between the majority and the minority.  It would be desirable that this decision would be made with the consensus of the ancient churches of the East and West.  If on the contrary the consecration of a bishop becomes the cause of a schism or blocks the way to full unity, then what occurs is something intrinsically contradictory.  It should then not take place, or should be postponed until a broader consensus can be reached.

III

In formulating this last conclusion I have already moved from a presentation of the theological foundations toward the practical questions and conclusions that I would like to address in the following discussion.  I do so with inner hesitation and at the same time with pain and sadness.  But I believe I can best serve the cause of ecumenism with open and honest statements.

If I see it correctly, the principles I have set out lead to two practical consequences, one for the sphere of the Anglican Communion and the Church of England itself, and one for the inter-ecclesial, ecumenical sphere, and in concrete terms, for the future relationship of the Church of England to the Catholic Church.

If what I have said about the unity of the episcopate and the shared collegial participation in the one episcopate is true, then the mutual recognition of bishops, and in particular the recognition of the validity and legality of their ordination, is constitutive for the unity of the Church.  At issue here is not a purely canonical or disciplinary question which could be solved or bridged by more or less organisational arrangements such as flying bishops, or the creation of a third ecclesial province or such like.  Where mutual recognition and communion between bishops does not exist or no longer exists, where one can therefore no longer concelebrate the eucharist, then no church communion, at least no full church communion and thus no eucharistic communion can exist.

Arrangements like those I have referred to can only cover over the breach superficially;  they can paper over the cracks, but they cannot heal the division;  one can even go one step further and say that from the Catholic perspective they are the unspoken institutionalisation, manifestation and virtual legitimation of an existing schism.

When such a situation becomes a reality, it is not a purely inner-Anglican matter, but also has consequences for the ecumenical relationship between the Anglican Communion and the Catholic Church.  We had invested great hopes and expectations in the Catholic-Anglican dialogue.  Following the historic encounter of Pope Paul VI and Archbishop Michael Ramsey on 24 March 1966 – 40 years ago now – ARCIC was, together with the Lutheran–Catholic and the Methodist–Catholic dialogues, among the first dialogues we initiated after the Second Vatican Council.  Since that time it has in many respects brought great progress, for which we thank God and all those who have taken part.  Thus the meeting of Catholic and Anglican bishops in Toronto-Mississauga (2000) was filled with great hopes.

The progress made relates not least to the question of a shared understanding of ministries.  Even in the first phase of dialogue positive results were achieved in this fundamental question, and later we were able to expand upon these gains.  Besides the official dialogue there was a thorough historical and theological discussion of the Bull of Pope Leo XIII, Apostolicae curae (1896) (DS 3315-3319).  All of these discussions have not led to a conclusive resolution or to a full consensus, but they achieved a pleasing rapprochement that justifiably aroused promising expectations.

But then the growing practice of the ordination of women to priesthood led to an appreciable cooling-off.  A resolution in favour of the ordination of women to the episcopate within the Church of England would most certainly lower the temperature once more;  in terms of the possible recognition of Anglican Orders, it would lead not only to a short-lived cold, but to a serious and long-lasting chill.  

Three provinces within the Anglican Communion have already ordained women to the episcopate;  several other provinces have authorized such ordinations, though none have taken place in the latter to this point.  These developments already stand as a major obstacle in Anglican–Catholic relations.  But the Catholic Church has always perceived the Church of England as playing a unique role in the Anglican Communion:  it is the church from which Anglicanism derives its historical continuity, and with whom the divisions of the 16th century are most specifically addressed;  it is the church led by the Archbishop of Canterbury who, in the words of the Windsor Report, is ‘the pivotal instrument and focus of unity’ within the Anglican Communion;  other provinces have understood being in communion with him as a ‘touchstone of what it was to be Anglican’ (§99);  finally, it is the church which we in continental Europe directly associate with Anglicanism, in part because of your many Church of England chaplaincies spread throughout the continent.  For us, the Church of England is not simply one province among others;  its decisions have a particular importance for our dialogue, and give a strong indication of the direction in which the Communion as a whole is heading. 

Because the episcopal office is a ministry of unity, the decision you face would immediately impact on the question of the unity of the Church and with it the goal of ecumenical dialogue.  It would be a decision against the common goal we have until now pursued in our dialogue: full ecclesial communion, which cannot exist without full communion in the episcopal office.

Such a decision broadly taken within the Anglican Communion would mean turning away from the common position of all churches of the first millennium, that is, not only the Catholic Church but also the ancient Eastern and the Orthodox churches.  It would, in our view, further call into question what was recognised by the Second Vatican Council (UR, 13), that the Anglican Communion occupied ‘a special place’ among churches and ecclesial communities of the West.  We would see the Anglican Communion as moving a considerable distance closer to the side of the Protestant churches of the 16th century.  It would indeed continue to have bishops, according to the Lambeth Quadrilateral (1888);  but as with bishops within some Protestant churches, the older churches of East and West would recognise therein much less of what they understand to be the character and ministry of the bishop in the sense understood by the early church and continuing through the ages. 

Amidst all of this, the question arises which also occupied John Henry Newman: is the so-called via media a viable path?  Where and on what side does the Anglican Communion stand, where will it stand in the future? Which orientation does it claim as its own: the Latin, Greek, Protestant, Liberal or Evangelical? It may retreat to the Anglican principle of comprehensiveness and answer: We are a little of everything.  Such comprehensiveness is doubtless a good principle to a certain degree, but it should not be overdone, as my predecessor Cardinal Edward Cassidy once told you: one arrives at limits where one must decide one way or the other.  For without identity no society, least of all a church, can continue to survive.  The decision you are facing is therefore an historic decision.

What follows from these conclusions and questions? What follows for the future of our ecumenical dialogue? One thing is certain: the Catholic Church will not break off the dialogue even in the case of such a decision.  It will above all not break off the personal relationships and friendships which have developed over the past years and decades.  But there is a difference between types of dialogue.  The quality of the dialogue would be altered by such a decision.  Ecumenical dialogue in the true sense of the word has as its goal the restoration of full church communion.  That has been the presupposition of our dialogue until now.  That presupposition would realistically no longer exist following the introduction of the ordination of women to episcopal office.

Following that action we could still come together for the sake of information and consultation;  we could continue to discuss and attempt to clarify theological issues, to cooperate in many practical spheres and to give shared witness.  Above all we could unite in joint prayer and pray for one another.  All of that is, God knows, not negligible.  But the loss of the common goal would necessarily have an effect on such encounters and rob them of most of their élan and their internal dynamic.  Above all – and this is the most painful aspect – the shared partaking of the one Lord’s table, which we long for so earnestly, would disappear into the far and ultimately unreachable distance.  Instead of moving towards one another we would co-exist alongside one another.

For many that may seem a more realistic path than what we have attempted previously, but whether it is in accordance with the binding last will and testament of Jesus, ‘that all may be one’ (Jn, 17,21) is of course another question.  The answer would have to be in the negative.  I ask you: Is that what we want? Are we permitted to do that? Should we not ponder what Cyprian tells us, namely that the seamless robe of Jesus Christ cannot be possessed by those who tear apart and divide the church of Christ (De catholicae ecclesiae unitate, 1,6)?

IV

That brings me back once more in conclusion to a consideration of the fundamental principles.  I have quoted our common Church Father, Cyprian.  In conclusion I would like to refer to another shared Church Father, Augustine, and to one who must be particularly close to you, the Venerable Bede.  Both of them took up Cyprian’s ideas.

Cyprian had illustrated his thesis of the ‘episcopatus unus et indivisus’ through a series of metaphors: the metaphor of the sun which has many rays but only one light;  of the tree which has many branches but only one trunk grounded in one sturdy root, and of many streams which spring from one single source.  Then he states: ‘Cut off one of the sun’s rays – the unity of the light permits no division;  break off a branch of the tree and it can bud no more;  dam off a spring from its source, it dries up below the cut.’ (De catholicae ecclesiae unitate, 1,5). 

Augustine took up these metaphors more than once in his text Contra Cresconium.  I will quote just one instance: ‘Avelle radium solis a corpore, divisionem lucis unitas non capit: ab arbore frange ramum, fructus germinare non poterit: a fonte praecide rivum, praecisus arescit’ (lib II 33.42).  [Separate a ray of the sun from its body of light, its unity does not allow a division of light;  break a branch from a the tree, - when broken, it will not be able to bud;  cut off the stream from its fountain, and that which is cut off dries up.]  Similarly, the Venerable Bede says in a homily: ‘Pastores sunt omnes, sed grex unus ostenditur qui ab apostolis omnibnus tunc unianima consensione pascebatur.’   [All are shepherds but one flock is revealed.  Then it was fed by all the apostles with harmonious agreement.]

‘Grex unus, qui unianima consensione pascitur’, that is the aim of ecumenical dialogue;  it can only succeed if the unianima consensio of every single one of the separated churches is preserved and is then constituted step by step between those separated ecclesial bodies.  May this, in spite of all the difficulties and resistance, be granted to us one day by the grace of God.

Appendix:

Address of Pope Benedict XVI 

to the clergy of Rome on 2 March 2006

‘Thus, the Church has a great debt of gratitude to women.  And you have correctly emphasized that at a charismatic level, women do so much, I would dare to say, for the government of the Church, starting with women Religious, with the Sisters of the great Fathers of the Church such as St Ambrose, to the great women of the Middle Ages – St Hildegard, St Catherine of Siena, then St Teresa of Avila – and lastly, Mother Teresa.  I would say that this charismatic sector is undoubtedly distinguished by the ministerial sector in the strict sense of the term, but it is a true and deep participation in the government of the Church. 

‘How could we imagine the government of the Church without this contribution, which sometimes becomes very visible, such as when St Hildegard criticized the Bishops or when St Bridget offered recommendations and St Catherine of Siena obtained the return of the Popes to Rome? It has always been a crucial factor without which the Church cannot survive. 

‘However, you rightly say:  we also want to see women more visibly in the government of the Church.  We can say that the issue is this:  the priestly ministry of the Lord, as we know, is reserved to men, since the priestly ministry is government in the deep sense, which, in short, means it is the Sacrament [of Orders] that governs the Church. 

‘This is the crucial point.  It is not the man who does something, but the priest governs, faithful to his mission, in the sense that it is the Sacrament, that is, through the Sacrament it is Christ himself who governs, both through the Eucharist and in the other Sacraments, and thus Christ always presides. 

‘However, it is right to ask whether in ministerial service – despite the fact that here Sacrament and charism are the two ways in which the Church fulfils herself – it might be possible to make more room, to give more offices of responsibility to women.’

Pentecost and Sobornost - thoughts of Catherine Doherty

The following is by the late Catherine de Hueck Doherty (1896-1985), foundress of Madonna House in Combermere, Canada, whose cause for “official” sainthood is being considered at the moment in Rome

She survived — and her love of God was tested and grew — through two World Wars, the Russian Revolution, and the Great Depression. She knew the pain of a broken marriage and the struggles of single parenthood. She knew the privileged life of aristocratic wealth, as well as the grinding poverty and uncertainty of a refugee.

Through it all, her faith in God and her love for him remained intact and led her to work with the poor in small, humble ways, forsaking material comforts in order to do so. Her work in social justice in both Canada and the United States eventually led to the establishment of Friendship House, and later the community called Madonna House.

You can read about Catherine Doherty, and the present ministry of Madonna House HERE.

Sobornost is really not a word but a concept. It is a dimension of God’s grace that is given to men, and for which they have hungered a long, long time.

There was a moment in the history of mankind when a certain group of people experienced that gift. That day was Pentecost, the day when God’s mercy and love came in the shape of tongues of fire, hovering over men’s heads, bringing them the gifts of the Holy Spirit, filling them with a deep understanding and a profound spiritual joy. The Holy Spirit came to unite them; for Jesus Christ, only a little while before, had been praying for this unity that he had with his Father.

The Holy Spirit came on Pentecost to begin this new dimension of unity, which alone would enable men to follow the narrow path laid out by Jesus Christ and to understand what sobornost really is. The Holy Spirit was consolidating — if that word is applicable to the Holy Trinity — the teachings of the Lord.

Here, on this great and holy day of the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles, their hearts were opened to the parables, to the words of Jesus: “Whatsoever you do to the least of my brethren you do for me. “

The Beatitudes must have been illuminated by the tongues of fire. The apostles must have seen how the love that was filling them was meant to flower into loving God, loving oneself, loving one’s neighbor, loving one’s enemies, even to laying down one’s life for everyone.

Truly the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost brought light into the darkest corners of the apostles’ hearts, and showed them that it could be spread from one heart to another as they preached the Gospel and lived it.

Yes, it was a day in the history of mankind when this sobrania — the whole ‘gathering’ — was truly a unity between God and men. But in order to send the Holy Spirit, the Lord Jesus had to go through his incarnation, his death, and his resurrection.

We come, as I always think, from the head of God and we move to the heart of God. That should be our life, a life that understands eternity because it looks at itself — physical, emotional and spiritual — in faith and realizes (in faith, I repeat) that God has created us.

It realizes, too, that we have sinned against him in one way or another. As Jung, the great psychiatrist, concluded after examining a large number of patients, Genesis is right: there was some kind of grievous fault that man committed against a power greater than himself, a fault that has been named ‘original sin.’

By his incarnation, death, and resurrection, Jesus Christ has taken upon himself our sins. By the institution of his sacraments — particularly Baptism — he has healed us of original sin. And he brought us into a beautiful union with God as it used to be before the fall.

Once again, a sobornost was established between God and man. But this time it was on a grand scale; for Jesus not only instituted the sacrament of Baptism, he made us understand that we are part of his Mystical Body. He explained that he is our head. And our sobornost lies in that realm, for if I am the hand of the Mystical Body, then I must be united to the Body.  Am I?

In recent years, this concept of the Mystical Body of Christ has begun to penetrate into people’s minds. Today we often use the term ‘people of God.’   To a Russian like myself, however, the word ‘body’ is more meaningful and understandable.  ‘Body’ and sobornost’ go together better.

Sobornost calls for a oneness in the Body of Christ.

It is a unity totally at one with him, and hence with the Father and Holy Spirit, as Christ must have been during his life on earth.

We must remember that — because we are Christians — we are never alone before God. We are always united with other human beings. We are an integral part of one another. What binds us together is love, and only love. For love is a Person. Love is God.

Sobornost is a strange manner of living. Sobornost is love in action.  If you really love, you serve each other. It means that you never think of yourself. You put yourself in the third place. God comes first; your neighbor is second; then yourself.

Yes, unity in action is love. In daily living, sobornost is a service towards everybody. In moments of need, it becomes a special type of service. The group — whether a community, a family, or a religious institution — gathers together, in unity and love, and decisions are made according to Christ’s teaching.

Let us contemplate this incredible mystery of the love of God, which brings us all together from where we started with Adam and Eve.

If we are not one with God, then we are nothing. Our life is sterile, and we wander in a desert of our own making. Unless we are connected with God, we are nothing! And we create our own hell right here on earth.

If we are one with God, then we are one with all human beings. Why aren’t we one with the whole of humanity? We are always going to psychiatrists to make ourselves ‘whole’ as we say. Whole for what?

It’s true that we are not whole. But why aren’t we? Because our relationship with one another is tragic. It is filled with fear. We say, “I’m afraid! “ But why do we say that? “Perfect love casts out all fear.” (1 John 4: 18)

So why are we fearful? Why do any of us have fear? Because we are not united with God. Therefore, we cannot be united with our fellowman. Does that make sense?

St. Paul, in his beautiful hymn of love, brings us to a new concept of sobornost. He talks of people having all the gifts possible and imaginable.

“If I speak with the tongues of men and angels… if I have the gift of prophecy … if I have faith… if I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames…”   (I Cor. 13: 1–4)

But he ends very simply by saying that, if we have all these gifts but don’t have love or charity, all these gifts are useless.

Because of Christ’s incarnation, we have been re-admitted into the community of the Trinity, the Community of Love. But if we think we don’t need the Trinity or Jesus Christ, or think that we can make our own ‘god’, then chaos will reign in our hearts instead of love and community.

The secret of becoming a community is total involvement in the other. It is a total emptying of oneself so that each of us can say, “I live; now, not 1, but Christ lives in me.” (Gal. 2: 20)

Then the Christian community will come into existence. Then, like the Holy Spirit who formed it, it will be a fire burning in our midst. And from this fire, sparks will kindle the whole earth!

So we come back to Pentecost. The Russians often refer to the Holy Spirit as ‘the Crimson Dove, the God of Love.’ He is the Advocate, the one who advocates a totality of love. He wants us to have a total love for God, and for man. Thus, in truth, we can create a sobornost.

Yes, sobornost calls for life on much higher planes and levels . . .