Living in the Divine Presence

In today’s world, many people have given up on religion.  A lot of times, this isn’t such a bad thing.  When people give up the cultural conditioning of their childhood, it is often because they are seeking authenticity, and they are not finding it in religion.  As an Orthodox – even though I belong to what a lot people would call a “religion” – my life is one lived in Christ.  (Or, at least, it’s an attempt to do such a thing – I fail miserably a good bit of the time.)  This Orthodox life is not a religion, then, since it’s not a belief system.

Despite the fact that it appears as if “religion” is dying, many of these people who have given up the religion of their childhood are nonetheless searching for something more.  This something more is often what is referred to as “spirituality.”

And, yet, the “spiritual” life can be just as dangerous as the “religious” life.  And by “dangerous” I mean that it can very easily lead one off track, so to speak.  It can lead away from a life lived in Christ, a life lived in – and through – the Presence of the Divine.

Many religious people practice their belief system because they want to give their lives meaning – nothing wrong with that in and of itself.  But what too often happens is a religion that is all exterior – it is about insulating oneself with a myriad of beliefs, and then finding other likeminded people to gather with, thus ensuring that your beliefs will rarely be questioned.  And when your beliefs are questioned, well, you have plenty of support to assure you that you were right all along.

This is what often happens with Protestants in our country.  (Although not always.  There are some exemplary contemplatives – and others – that have come from the Protestant traditions.)  But it can also happen to Orthodox, as well, especially when Orthodoxy, too, becomes nothing more than a belief system, nothing more than one of the many religions of the world.

I know more than a few people who were actively involved in their churches, and even tried their best to cultivate a “spiritual” life, as well, but became burned out.  Why?  Because too often what is taken to be a “prayer” life, or a “biblical” life is one that is simply lived around the edges of true prayer.  It skirts the outsides of it, or it hovers about it, but it doesn’t become a life lived within it.  Or, even more likely, it never becomes a prayer life that understands to be truly contemplative, then the life must embrace – and live out – the beneathness of things.

The spiritual life – for it to be true – must not be all edges.  And it cannot be a life that occasionally goes within the spiritual, only to retreat to the edges for the remainder of its being.  (Here I am thinking of the person that attends Divine Liturgy on a regular basis, receives the Sacraments and thus enters within for a brief period during the course of the week.  And this person tries his/her best to say their daily prayers, to read the Gospel and Epistle of the day, yet never enters into the withinness of the truly spiritual – never understands the true gnosis that the early Fathers spoke of – because their life is still edges.)

What, then, is one to do?  First, you must participate in all of the Sacraments, and it is good to read the Gospel and Epistle of the Day, and to pray the Divine Hours.  But this is not all.  You must pray unceasingly.  (The best way to pray unceasingly would be with the Jesus Prayer).  You must be vigilant in your practice of watchfulness.  (Along with prayer, watchfulness should be the other pillar of the life lived in Christ.)  But reading Holy Scripture, practicing watchfulness, and constant prayer are also not all that must be done.  For these things are still only tools that lead you directly into a life lived in the Divine Presence of the One who loves you and desires for intimacy with you.

And this quest for intimacy with the Divine is what people are often seeking when they talk of being spiritual, or when they say they are “spiritual but not religious.”  But too often, this “spirituality” is worse than the “religion” it replaces.  It becomes nothing more than a narcissism that replaces God with man.  (We were created in the Image of God, but He was not created in ours.)

Often, “spiritual” people will even talk of intimacy with God, or practicing the presence of God, but too often, all they are talking about is a feeling, nothing more.  (In Christian circles, too, this has become common.)

But living in the Divine Presence – and thus partaking of a life lived in Christ – is not a feeling, it is a reality.  And it is a reality lived out in the Reality.

Not just in, either, but through and beneath.  By a true spiritual life that embraces the beneathness of Christ, I mean living the kind of faith that moves mountains.  When Christ spoke of having the faith of the mustard seed, enough to tell the mountain to move, and it will, is, of course, not to be taken literal.  But it doesn’t mean, either, what a lot of Christians think it means.  It doesn’t mean that if you have a lot of faith you will be able to pass the exam, win the marathon, or become Mayor of your town (or President of the country) – even though this is typically how it is interpreted.  Rather, it means having the kind of faith that is even more shocking than making a mountain move through the sheer force of your prayer.  It means loving others who don’t love you, even those who hate you.  It means forgiving seventy times seven.  It means clothing the naked and feeding the hungry.  It means ministering to prisoners, even murderers, rapists, and child molesters.  In short, it means doing all of the things that world says are crazy, a world that too often claims to Christian but is never lived in Christ.

The Divine Other as Person

a.k.a.: Why I’m not a Buddhist

The other day I received an email from someone asking – after reading my previous post on the Noble Eightfold Path – why I didn’t just stick with Buddhism.  I thought I made myself clear in my post that I am in no way, shape, form, or fashion a syncretist, but apparently that’s not the case.  The danger, I suppose, in writing something such as a post on the Eightfold Path is that readers, unfamiliar with either Buddhism or Orthodoxy, will come to the conclusion that either one of them is good, that either one of them is okay – why not just use them interchangeably.  (And there are plenty of writers – Buddhist and Christian – who say just that kind of thing.)

But I’m not one of them.

Buddhism and Orthodoxy are different – as Bikkhu Bodhi so succinctly puts it in the previous post.  So why am I Orthodox?  And why not Buddhism?

First off, and let me be as clear as possible, I learned a lot from Buddhism (and from Taoism, too, for that matter).  But in the end, it just didn’t work for me.  And, truth be told, I don’t think it will work for anyone else, either.  Not because it’s necessarily wrong, but because it’s incomplete.  Why?  For me to explain that, then the rest of this post is going to have to be personal.

I’m not going to lay out the details on any Orthodox catechism or apologetics.  Those too often come from the head, and – quite frankly – stay in the head.  What I have to say comes from the heart.  If what I say appeals to you, leads you into an intimate relationship with Christ, leads you into the depths of the Orthodox faith, then good.  If, however, it doesn’t, that’s okay, too – there are other ways to make your journey into Orthodoxy, and therefore into the heart of the true Christian faith.  As Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnika puts it, there are many ways to scale the mountain, but there’s only one mountaintop.  There is the way of the priests, the martyrs, the ascetics, the apostles, etc.  What I offer here is my way. (Maybe we’ll call it the way of the bedraggled, the broken, and the burned-out.) It works for me.  It may not work for you.

It Started With a Meditation

For a few months, I had been reading all I could get my hands on with regards the mystics of Christianity.  It didn’t take me long to realize that Protestantism held no sway over me – I had given up on that when I had given up on Christianity almost 20 years ago; which left me with Catholicism and Orthodoxy.  It wasn’t easy to get my hands on much Orthodox stuff, so I mainly read Catholic writers (I really enjoyed Saint John of the Cross and Saint Teresa of Avila) and the occasional Eastern Christian stuff that would come my way.

Despite all of this, I was still essentially Buddhist.  I sat in meditation every morning and each night.  I still read a lot of Buddhist literature, and held a very Buddhist worldview.  (The Buddhist view of the world and reality, I must admit, is at least better than a lot of what passes for a Christian worldview in this country.)  As much as I enjoyed reading the mystics of Christianity, there was one thing that I really had a problem with: the idea that God is a Person.  It was easy to take from some of the medieval mystics (Meister Eckhart, for example) and even easier from a lot of modern-day Catholic contemplatives that God was an Impersonal Absolute.  You could get intimate with this Absolute, sure, and you could feel a very personal relationship (in some ways, at least) with this Absolute, but it was still a stretch for me to believe that God was a Person who loved me and cared for me.

But, one night, everything changed.

I sat down on my zafu and zabuton for meditation.  After about 15 to 20 minutes of following my breath, and once I had sufficiently calmed my mind, I stopped following my breath to allow my consciousness to rest in open, vast awareness (that’s neo-Buddhist jargon).  As I did, something happened, something I was in no way prepared for.  In my room was a Presence.  This Presence wasn’t just in the room.  It was in me.  It was in me, and yet It was beyond me.  It was beyond even the Transpersonal That which I had taken to be the end of the road –as far as contemplative practice goes.  This Divine Other wasn’t just beyond everything, and It wasn’t just in everything, including me.  This Divine Other loved me – in fact, the Divine seemed to love me with a reckless, raw intensity.  It didn’t love me for what I wasn’t, and It didn’t love me for the great contemplative that I was trying so hard to be (as if that was going to happen).  The Divine Other was a Person who loved me just as I was.

At first, I didn’t want to think about it, but I knew the truth: this Person was Christ.  I knew it in a way beyond what any words can possibly describe – try as I might in these pages.  Christ loved me, prodigal son that I was (and still am).  For the first time, I knew what Saint John the Theologian meant when he wrote, “God is love.”

My eyes watered.  Tears found my face.  God, I don’t deserve to be loved like this, I thought.

Here’s another truth that I didn’t want to admit to myself at the time: Despite all my hours of meditation, despite the fact that I could enter deep meditative states where it seemed as if time and space fell away for an hour or more at a stretch, I was not a very changed person.  I was still capable of being the same irascible jerk as before my Buddhist practice.  I was still capable of being completely selfish and unkind to others.  I was still capable of being rude to co-workers, friends and family.  I was still broken.  I was still one screwed-up individual.

But Christ loved me.  He loved me in all of my screwed-up brokenness.

Only the religion of Christ offers a God that loves unconditionally, and wants you to join in intimate union with Abba – a word best translated as “papa” or “da-da.”  This is the God of Christ; the God who craves intimate union with me, with you, with all of His creation.

The Buddha was a great teacher.  But he was before Christ, before the Logos (the Dao, the One Who Was, Is, and Forever Shall Be) became flesh and walked among us.  He, as with other great teachers from Asia, knew Christ only indirectly, whereas we can know him directly, intimately, and can attain theosis with the One who made us in His Image and Likeness.

Journey to Orthodoxy

For those of you interested in others who have made the journey from the Far East to the Truth of Orthodoxy, here's a link that may be of interest:

http://journeytoorthodoxy.com/category/convert-stories/non-theists/buddhists/

It is on the website "Journey to Orthodoxy"—which has some other great pages, as well.

Orthodoxy and the Noble Eightfold Path, Part One

     What follows in this article is not a syncretic blend of Buddhism and Orthodox Christian spirituality.  However, it does use the Noble Eightfold Path as a guide for living the Orthodox way of life.  And—it must be noted—that the Noble Eightfold Path offers a very good vehicle for transmitting the wisdom of a particular religious tradition, whatever that tradition may be.

     Before we get much further, a little backtracking needs to take place on my part.  So here goes…

     Before I started this blog, I had ideas for several blogs—primarily because I thought I had the ideas for several really cool blog titles.  One of them that I thought had a particularly good ring to it was going to be “From East to East.”  (The other one that I really liked was “Hardcore Christianity: Kick-Ass Asceticism for Orthodox Christians Living in the 21^st Century”—but I digress.)  The blog idea “From East to East” had a particular resonance with me for a couple of reasons.  One, I always enjoyed Eastern philosophy—and still do; I think it has quite a lot to offer modern man.  Two, coming to Orthodoxy from Eastern philosophy, I realize how well the religions of the East (primarily Buddhism and Taoism) actually prepared me for Orthodoxy.  For those who come to Orthodoxy from one of the Western forms of Christianity—whether its Protestantism or Catholicism—there are several stumbling blocks that are difficult for many to get around: the nature of Original Sin, and therefore the meaning of Christ’s atonement, and just what the Paschal mystery actually means; the notion of salvation as an ever-ongoing conversion which will lead us to theosis, to name just a couple.  However, if you had already decided that the Western theological concepts have no (or very little) meaning for you—which you surely must do if you are going to take an interest in the philosophy cum religions of the East—then there aren’t very many stumbling blocks (or at least there are different stumbling blocks) that will prevent you from adopting Orthodoxy’s theological underpinnings.  In fact, you will find a concept such as theosis particularly gratifying and satisfying to your intellectual palate—it seems so close to the Buddhist and Taoist understanding of enlightenment; in fact, theosis is often described as enlightenment.  And third, I knew that my understanding of both Eastern philosophy and Orthodoxy (both which are, I must admit, not that in-depth) could help as a sort of catechesis for those readers who, although they are currently practicing Eastern philosophy, still have a yearning for Christ—whether that yearning may be small or large.

     However, I decided against doing several blogs because I thought that I might not have enough material to regularly update each one.  With that being said, I still want to write the occasional article dealing with the intersection of Far Eastern religions and Eastern Christianity.

     Hence, the article you are staring at on your computer screen.

     Before we get to the meat of this article, and what an Orthodox Eightfold Path would look like, I think it’s important to discuss some of the similarities and the differences between Eastern Christianity and the Buddhist religion.  Here are a few (and perhaps we will discuss these and others in more depth in a future article):

• They are both “practitioner’s religions.”  And I think this may be what can best attract followers of Eastern religions to Orthodoxy compared to other forms of Christianity.  What I mean by a “practitioner’s religion” is that—although both of these religions have beliefs, very different and important beliefs—they are rooted in practice.  Buddhists are expected to meditate regularly, practice mindfulness, and train in compassion (to name a few).  The Orthodox are expected to pray daily (in both a contemplative and discursive manner), fast regularly, practice watchfulness (almost the exact same thing as mindfulness), and engage in other ascetic disciplines.
• Neither of these religions have the goal of “getting saved” as the penultimate achievement.  What turns off many Westerners from the Christianity that they were raised in (or exposed to) is the idea that the goal of being a Christian is to just “accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior” and then you’re done.  (And then, of course, you can listen to the ongoing debate over “once saved, always saved” and other such nonsense.)  For the Buddhist, “salvation” is achieved by attaining enlightenment.  For the Orthodox Christian, to achieve salvation is to attain theosis, or union with God—nothing else will cut it.  Theosis is similar to enlightenment, except that union is achieved with a Personal God: our Savior, Jesus Christ.
• Both of these religions have a healthy distrust of the self.  In fact, I can think of no other religions—outside of Orthodoxy and Buddhism—that view the notion of the self in such similar ways.  In Western Christianity, for instance, there is often a lot of talk on how you need to get in touch with your inmost self, or discussion that the ultimate good comes from your inner self.  Only Buddhism and Orthodoxy claim that this is a bunch of hogwash.  Buddhism says that you lack an intrinsic, inherently independent self, while Orthodoxy claims that the self is simply not to be trusted, because the Truth is that you are not what you take “your self” to be.  You are not your body.  You are not your mind.  You are your soul.  As Saint Macarius the Great (c. 300- c.390) said, “The heart is such a small vessel; and yet dragons and lions are there, and there poisonous creatures and all the treasures of wickedness; rough, and uneven paths are there, and gaping chasms.”

     Now, before we get into the Eightfold Path, I want to discourage anyone from trying to practice more than one religion at the same time.  It won’t work, and, to be honest, it does a disservice to both religions.  And to back up my point, I offer the following quote, not from an Orthodox theologian, but from the esteemed Buddhist scholar Bikkhu Bodhi:

     “One approach to resolving this problem that is popular today is the eclectic one: to pick and choose from the various traditions whatever seems amenable to our needs, welding together different practices and techniques into a synthetic whole that is personally satisfying. Thus one may combine Buddhist mindfulness meditation with sessions of Hindu mantra recitation, Christian prayer with Sufi dancing, Jewish Kabbala with Tibetan visualization exercises. Eclecticism, however, though sometimes helpful in making a transition from a predominantly worldly and materialistic way of life to one that takes on a spiritual hue, eventually wears thin. While it makes a comfortable halfway house, it is not comfortable as a final vehicle.

     “There are two interrelated flaws in eclecticism that account for its ultimate inadequacy. One is that eclecticism compromises the very traditions it draws upon. The great spiritual traditions themselves do not propose their disciplines as independent techniques that may be excised from their setting and freely recombined to enhance the felt quality of our lives. They present them, rather, as parts of an integral whole, of a coherent vision regarding the fundamental nature of reality and the final goal of the spiritual quest. A spiritual tradition is not a shallow stream in which one can wet one's feet and then beat a quick retreat to the shore. It is a mighty, tumultuous river which would rush through the entire landscape of one's life, and if one truly wishes to travel on it, one must be courageous enough to launch one's boat and head out for the depths.

     “The second defect in eclecticism follows from the first. As spiritual practices are built upon visions regarding the nature of reality and the final good, these visions are not mutually compatible. When we honestly examine the teachings of these traditions, we will find that major differences in perspective reveal themselves to our sight, differences which cannot be easily dismissed as alternative ways of saying the same thing. Rather, they point to very different experiences constituting the supreme goal and the path that must be trodden to reach that goal.”[i]

     I hope that settles that.  Now, on to the Path:

The Orthodox Eightfold Path

     The Eightfold Path has—as the name implies—eight “limbs” to it.  They are: right view, right thoughts, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration.  They are not meant to follow one after another, as steps that you are to climb.  Rather, they are meant more as spokes on a wheel.  Each spoke relies on the other, and the wheel can really only have its full strength when none of the spokes are missing.

Right View

     This is always the first limb on the path.  In fact, without this limb, the other steps on the path will eventually fall apart.

     For the Buddhist, right view would mean the “Four Noble Truths”.  Or, at least, it would mean the Four Noble Truths as a starting point, though it might also contain the “Three Treasures” of the Dharma: non-self, impermanence, and suffering.  If you don’t believe in the Four Noble Truths, along with the “truths” of non-self, impermanence, and suffering, you can’t rightly call yourself a Buddhist.

     For the Orthodox, right view must mean several different things.  First, it means that we have faith in the Creed, which all Orthodox Christians recite at every Divine Liturgy.  In fact, the minimum that is required of anyone wanting to convert to the Orthodox faith is belief in the Creed.

     But the Creed should also be a starting point.  Another thing we need to have for right view is a “Patristic mind.”  For the Orthodox Christian, to put on the “mind of Christ” is also to put on the “mind” of the Holy Fathers of the Church.  And to put on the “mind” of the Fathers of the Church we need to read and study what they had to say—for what they said in the past is not relegated to some bygone era.  Rather, it is actually applicable to our lives in the 21^st century.  The Patristic teachings need to be looked at seriously, then applied to our current lives.

     In addition to the Fathers of the Church, we need a firm foundation in Holy Scripture.  We need to read scripture, realizing that it too speaks to our lives in these modern times.  Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk says, “Whenever you read the Gospel, Christ Himself is speaking to you.  And while you read, you are speaking and talking to Him.”

     In addition to Scripture, Church Fathers, and the beliefs that we hold to be Truth, we also need to study and read as much as possible from many different traditionally Orthodox sources.  In this way, our mind is slowly transformed into a Patristic, Orthodox mind.

Right Thoughts

     “It’s no mystery that thinking can make us happy or miserable.  Let’s say you’re sitting under a tree one fine spring day.  Nothing particular is happening to you, except perhaps the breeze is ruffling your hair, yet in your mind you’re far away.  Maybe you’re remembering another spring day several years back when you were feeling terrible.  You had just lost a job, or failed an exam, or your cat had wandered off.  That memory turns into a worry.  ‘What if I lose my job again?  Why did I ever say such-and-such to so-and-so?  No doubt this or that will happen and I’ll be out on my ear.  Now I’m really in for it!  How will I pay my bills?’  One worry brings up another, which brings up another.  Soon you feel your life is in shambles, but all this while you’ve been sitting under a tree.”[ii]

     When you have the correct view to begin with, your mind will naturally flow into thoughts that are correct.  And when you practice the other steps on the Path, your mind will naturally flow into what is Good and True.  This is another aspect in which Orthodoxy has the “advantage” over other forms of Christianity.  I know many Protestants who believe they have the correct view, but their internal lives do not show the fruit of such beliefs.  They are no more at peace internally than anyone else.  (In fact, I know atheists who are more at peace than many theists.)

     When Orthodoxy is practiced sincerely and fervently—a life rooted in taking part in all of the Sacraments, in other words, a life rooted in the Church,  along with daily prayer—your mind begins to truly change because you change your thoughts.  Change your thoughts and you change your mind.

     But our thoughts also aid in the rest of our lives.  Our thoughts change how we approach Divine Liturgy, for instance.  When we want to participate in the life of the Church, when we believe that the Body and Blood of our Savior are truly found within the Sacrament of communion, then the liturgy becomes divine.

     And the same goes for the rest of our Orthodox lives.  Here are the words of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnika:

     “Our life depends on the kind of thoughts we nurture. If our thoughts are peaceful, calm, meek, and kind, then that is what our life is like.  If our attention is turned to the circumstances in which we live, we are drawn into a whirlpool of thoughts, and can have neither peace nor tranquility.

      “Everything, both good and evil, comes from our thoughts.  Our thoughts become reality.  Even today we can see that all of creation, everything that exists on earth and in the cosmos, is nothing but Divine thought made material in time and space.  We humans were created in the image of God.  Mankind was given a great gift, but we hardly understand that.  God’s energy and life are in us, but we do not realize it.  Neither do we understand that we greatly influence others with our thoughts.  We can be very good or very evil, depending on the kind of thoughts and desires we breed.

     “If our thoughts are kind, peaceful, and quiet, turned only toward good, then we also influence ourselves and radiate peace all around us—in the family, in our whole country, everywhere.”[iii]

Right Speech

     “Think how often you say to yourself, ‘If only I hadn’t said that,’ or something like, ‘When I saw the look on her face, I knew that what I said had hurt her feelings.’  Wrong speech causes us many problems.  We lie and then get caught in it; we say something nasty about a co-worker and get him into trouble; we speak inconsiderately and offend a client or friend; we spend a whole day in meaningless chatter and get nothing done.”[iv]

     You should notice at this point how right view flows into right thoughts, and right thoughts naturally flow into right speech.  In fact, right speech is nothing more than a natural outflow of the other two.  It’s also why it’s impossible to practice right speech if you’re not first practicing the other two steps.

     Many who were raised in a Protestant upbringing (as I was) may notice that Protestants often behave as if doing something or not doing something (we’ll get around to right action momentarily) or saying something or not saying something somehow makes him or her holy.  However, right speech and right action have nothing holy about them if they are not predicated upon right thoughts.  What does it matter if you say or do something “holy” if your thoughts are not peaceful and kind?

     When outlining the Noble Eightfold Path, the Buddha said that right speech has four qualities: It is always truthful.  It is never malicious or unkind.  It is gentle, not crude or harsh.  It is moderate, not useless or meaningless.[v]

     In Part Two, we will conclude with the remaining five steps on the Path.

---

[i] “The Noble Eightfold Path: The Way to End Suffering” by Bikkhu Bodhi.  The Buddhist Publication Society

[ii] “Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness: Walking the Buddha’s Path,” by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana.  Gunaratana translates the second step on the Path as “skillful thinking.”

[iii] “Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnika.” 

[iv] “Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness: Walking the Buddha’s Path,” by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana.

[v] ibid

Intimacy with God

"I have run to the fragrance of your myrrh, O Christ God,
for I have been wounded by your love;

do not part from me, O heavenly Bridegroom"

     ~Elder Porphyrios

     Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God is within us.  For most of us who spent our lives in church, there’s nothing amazing about this statement.  It’s been bantered about so much that it’s become cliché.  And, well, even though most people have heard it, very few have actually listened.  But the fact is this: these might be the most important words in all the Bible.

     The Kingdom of God is within us.

     In other words, our soul is made for intimacy with God.  We were created for union with the Divine.

     Within us all is a Living Center.  It calls out for God.  And He calls out for us.

     Our Father doesn’t just call out to us, but he yearns for us.  And the truth is that we yearn for him, whether we know it or not.

     If we don’t answer this yearning, then our lives are incomplete.  Without God, there is a disconnect with this Living Center that dwells within.  And we will try to fill it with all sorts of stuff.

     But stuff will never satisfy.  Only the Living God who desires us because he has made us for Him will suffice.

     Nothing else will do.

     And that’s what this blog is really all about.  It’s about the longing in our hearts, the yearning of our souls, the intimacy that we crave, and the things we need to do in order to embrace it.  And, yes, it’s also about all of the other things that we fill our lives with; things that we fill our lives with in order to avoid He Who loves us, or run from Him, or just because we try to admit that we are ignorant of His longing and ours.

     At the beginning of the world, when man was created, God breathed Life into our souls.  Our souls are the part of us that are immortal.  Our souls were made for God.

Theosis: Let’s Start at the End to Understand the Beginning

     In the Orthodox Christian tradition, salvation is seen a bit different than it is in the West.  In the Christian traditions of the West (whether Protestant or Catholic), salvation is too often based on either believing the right thing (Protestant) or doing the right thing(s) (Catholic).  If you either believe the right things or do the right things, then you will “get saved”—salvation, in this case, meaning that you get to go to heaven when you die.  (Okay, I realize that I’m engaging in a bit of oversimplification.  Many Protestants and Catholics that don’t think in such a manner—but still, there are many that do.)

     Salvation, for the Orthodox, is much more organic than that.  It’s not a black and white thing.  Rather, it’s a process.  And true salvation is called theosis, often translated as “union with God.” (See my post below.)

     (In this case, salvation is actually the end of the journey.  It’s not the beginning, leaving you to then say, “now what?”)

     I love the idea of theosis.  It just makes sense.

     God is Infinite Love Who loves us infinitely.  And because He loves us, He desires to know us intimately.

     And because He desires to know us, because He dwells in us, He wants us to dwell in Him.  So He came in flesh and blood.  He incarnated to allow us to dwell in His Triune Nature.

     He didn’t send a prophet.  He didn’t send a messenger.  He sent Himself.

     That’s a God I can love.  That’s a God that I want to join in union with, to embrace, to know.

     I understand (I’m not that foolish, after all) that many in our world don’t feel as I do.  Many people have been exposed to bad religion, to a poor understanding of God, to other people who are supposed to represent God, but instead make little more than a mockery of Him.

     If you think God is vengeful, spiteful, full of wrath and fury, full of hate, then obviously that’s not a God that you want to love, much less join in intimate union.

     But God is not those things.  God is one thing, and one thing only: He is love.  Love is His Nature.  And It is a love that is without beginning and without end.  (And if He is furious, then it is a fury that He has for me and for you.  It is—as Brennan Manning would have put it—a furious longing for us.)

     The Beatles said it best: All you need is love.  It is love that will lead you to Him, it is His love that will draw you.  It is love that allows for theosis to begin to work its wondrous grace.

     And you can’t fill it with any other substitute.  Only the pure thing will do.

Theosis

"God became man so that man might become god." -Saint Athanasius of Alexandria

If there is one thing that distinguishes Orthodoxy from the Christianity of the West (whether Protestant or Catholic) it is the idea of theosis.  Theosis—also referred to as "deification" or "divinization"—is nothing other than salvation for the Orthodox Christian.

And for a lot of Westerners who begin to investigate Orthodoxy, it can also become a real stumbling block.

I've been wanting to write about theosis for the last several days (but was having trouble putting my thoughts on paper) when I came across the following from Frederica Matthewes-Green.  Her explanation is as good as anything that I've read, while remaining relatively "untechnical" and jargon-free:

"In Western theology, the word salvation immediately raises an image of the crucified Christ.  His death on the cross reunited us with God the Father, paying Him the debt for our sins.  Christians of St. Andrew's world would have seen things from a slightly different angle.  For them, salvation is being restored to the image and likeness of God.  It means God dwelling within us and filling us with His presence.


"Now, sometimes we say this in Western Christianity, but I think we don't mean it as literally as they did.  For them, God's presence in us is like the fire in the Burning Bush.  It gradually takes us over, so that although we remain fully ourselves, we are being made over into our true selves, the way God originally intended us to be.  He is Light, and we are filled with His light—maybe even literally, as some saints were said to visibly glow.  The term for this transformation is fairly scandalizing: theosis, which means being transformed into God, divinized or deified.  Of course, we do not become little mini-gods with our own universes.  We never lose our identity, but we are filled with God like a sponge is filled with water.


"This is the reason Christ came.  Theosis is the goal of life for every human being... It is a biblical idea, too.  When Saint Paul talked about being "in Christ," or Christ being "in me," he meant it literally.  That's how his words were understood by people who lived in his world and spoke his language, the ones who were his original audience."




This quote is taken from Matthewes-Green's book "First Fruits of Prayer: A Forty-Day Journey Through the Canon of St. Andrew."

Through the Eastern Gate - From Tibetan Buddhism to Orthodox Christianity

For those of you interested in (or even practicing) Asian religions, the following article may be of interest to you.  It's the story of a serious practitioner of Tibetan Buddhism who made the journey to the Orthodox Church:

http://www.pravmir.com/article_216.html