Patience with God

     I read this sometime ago, and I don’t remember who wrote it, or where it’s from, or if the writer was even Orthodox (probably not), but I thought it was fairly insightful:

Patience with others is love.

Patience with one’s self is hope.

Patience with God is faith.

     If I was going to add anything, or change anything, then perhaps I would also say that faith is actually a combination of patience with God and patience with one’s self.  We are, after all, made in the Image and Likeness of God.  And God, as much as we may come to know Him, will always remain a mystery in His Essence.  Likewise, we will all remain somewhat of a mystery, even to our own selves.  At the innermost part of our own being, there is always something unfathomable and beyond the ability to know.

     But what I would really like to explore here is how we know God – as much as it is possible to know God in this life; and we most certainly can know him – through patience, and therefore through faith.  And I would like to explore how this patience we must have with God sometimes appears as doubt – or at least goes hand in hand with doubt.  And since it has a lot to do with doubt, it also has a lot to do with many of the current ailments that plague our society: secularism, atheism, and non-theism.  (I think that most people who claim to be atheists aren’t really atheistic – at least not of the Richard Dawkins type.  Most are simply non-theistic – God just isn’t part of the equation.  And if He is part of the equation, He’s not a very big part, or maybe you could say that He is beside the point.)

     First, we need to realize that doubt is not in opposition to Christianity.  I realize that it’s all too often presented as such, but it shouldn’t be.  For instance, growing up attending a Southern Baptist church, I heard plenty of sermons that emphasized why the Bible is the literal word of God – as if it was written as some kind of history text – and why we can be certain that the tomb really was empty, and this can be proven by stringing point A with point B with point C, and so on and so forth.[1]

     The truth is that the opposite of Christianity is not atheism.  The opposite of Christianity is anything that makes God – and by extension the Church – something that He is not.  This means that many forms of “Christianity” – prosperity gospels, views of God as vengeful and wrathful, “churchless” Christianity – are actually the true opposites of true Christianity.

     The problem with atheism – or at least one of the problems – is that it lacks patience.[2]  Many atheists grew up in rather “fundamentalist” Christian households – or they grew up in secular households, in which the only forms of “Christianity” that they came into contact with were those of a fundamentalist bent.  They become impatient, and ultimately have disdain, for this form of Christianity.  They then either reject God (and therefore Christianity) altogether, or they find what for them seems to be a suitable replacement.[3]

     When a Christian – or someone who is exploring theism of God as Person – begins to doubt, or begins to feel as if God is no longer present, this is where patience comes into the picture.  The patience must be with God, and the patience must be with one’s self.  If there is no patience, then two things could happen.  The first thing, atheism, is obviously not the correct outcome.  The second thing, to not question, is less obvious as the inappropriate choice.

     Not questioning leads to a faith that is no longer faith, for it becomes belief.  Belief and faith are not the same thing, otherwise our definition of patience with God as faith would not be true.  If anything, belief is what you have when you lack faith[4].  Faith as belief is not possible, whereas faith as trust, faith as surrender, faith as a way of being is not only possible, it is how faith must be lived in the daily life of the Christian.

     To choose atheism is to choose not to endure.  To choose belief over faith is to take the wide road.  And to choose faith is to take the narrow path.  It is hard and it is difficult, but it is infinitely more rewarding.  It is the choice to not settle for shortcuts – to not settle for anything other than the God of Christ, not the mythic sky god of so many “believers.”

     So what does the narrow path look like when it’s put into practice?  What does it mean to live by faith as a way of being, and as a way of being patient with God, patient with one’s self?  Some of it can be explained, and some of it cannot, because some of it is mystery that can only be lived as mystery.

     This is where we encounter faith as praxis.

     For the Orthodox, faith as praxis is faith as asceticism.  Asceticism should not be confused with the “moralism” of Protestantism.  Here is what the late Orthodox priest and writer John Romanides has to say on the matter:

     “The biblical tradition as preserved by the Fathers cannot be identified with or reduced to a system of moral precepts or Christian ethics. It is rather a therapeutical asceticism which is not daunted by any degree of malady of the heart or noetic faculty short of its complete hardening. To take the shape of this asceticism without its heart and core and to apply it to a system of moral precepts for personal and social ethics is to produce a society of puritanical hypocrites who believe they have a special claim on God's love because of their morality, or predestination, or both. The commandments of Christ cannot be fulfilled by any simple decision to do so or by any confidence in having been elected. A person with broken legs cannot run in the race no matter how much he wants to. One can do so only when one's legs have healed and have been restored to a competitive degree of power. In the same way, one cannot fulfill the commandments unless he undergoes the cleansing and illumination of his noetic faculty and reaches the threshold of glorification.”[5]

     The most important aspect of an ascetic life is repentance.  In fact, repentance is the beginning and the end.  It is the one aspect of “spirituality” that must utterly infuse all other aspects: prayer (for prayer to ever be noetic, it must be repentant), reading of Holy Scripture, liturgy, and work.  A Christianity that doesn’t have repentance is, to be blunt, not Christianity at all.  It may be a Christianity with plenty of belief, and it may be a Christianity with plenty of “good” people, but it is not a Christianity infused with faith.

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[1] As an Orthodox, I certainly believe in the whole of the Paschal Mystery: the crucifixion, the death, the descent into hell, the resurrection on the third day, the ascension into heaven, and Christ’s Second and Glorious Coming as an event that forever changed the world, altering the very fabric of reality, and allowing me to attain union with the Uncreated Energies of the Incarnate Logos.  However, this doesn’t mean that Holy Scripture is meant to be read as history lesson.  Holy Scripture, rather, is meant to be read as a letter, written to me from the Eternal Logos.  Holy Scripture is the Word of God, but not in the way that most Protestants understand it to be.  Protestantism, unfortunately, is severely tainted by the stain of scholasticism – as is the Roman Catholic Church.  But, to be fair, not all the Western Christian writers were/are guilty of this.  Personally, I have been sustained by writers such as Soren Kierkegaard, Dietrech Bonhoeffer, the Czech Catholic Tomas Halik, and the esteemed 20^th century theologian Hans Urs Von Balthasar.

[2] I am not the first writer to suggest such a thing.  Thomas Halik wrote an entire book about it, and the Orthodox writer – and convert from evangelical Christianity – Frank Schaeffer has written about it, as well.

[3] For me, this was “Eastern” religion – Buddhism and Taoism, specifically.  When religion is thought of as a way to make life more tolerable, or to bring about happiness (and this is the way Christianity is often presented in the majority of books that are popular today; self-help masquerading as Christianity) there are certainly better religions than Christianity.  Taoism, Buddhism, or the philosophy of ancient Greece (such as Stoicism) are more viable than the current trend of self-help Christianity because they tend to bring about a longer-lasting happiness – although it is a happiness that, in the end, cannot be sustained, for it lacks union with the Logos made flesh.

[4] Several Orthodox writers of the last few decades, such as Alexander Schmemann and Stephen Freeman, have made the point that Orthodoxy is not a “religion” because it’s not a belief system.  To paraphrase Father Freeman: Orthodoxy is not a religion, because religion is a belief system.  Orthodoxy is not a faith, either.  You have faith, faith sustains you, but that is different.  Orthodoxy is a life lived in Christ.  And that is altogether not the same.  I have discussed the issue of what exactly is meant by faith in more detail in previous posts.

[5] From “Jesus Christ: The Life of the World.”

Orthodoxy and Other Traditions

The Difference Between Orthodox Spirituality and Other Traditions

by Metropolitan Hierotheos Vlachos

Orthodox spirituality differs distinctly from any other "spirituality" of an eastern or western type. There can be no confusion among the various spiritualities, because Orthodox spirituality is God-centered, whereas all others are man-centered.


The difference appears primarily in the doctrinal teaching. For this reason we put "Orthodox" before the word "Church" so as to distinguish it from any other religion. Certainly "Orthodox" must be linked with the term "Ecclesiastic," since Orthodoxy cannot exist outside of the Church; neither, of course, can the Church exist outside Orthodoxy.


The dogmas are the results of decisions made at the Ecumenical Councils on various matters of faith. Dogmas are referred to as such, because they draw the boundaries between truth and error, between sickness and health. Dogmas express the revealed truth. They formulate the life of the Church. Thus they are, on the one hand, the expression of Revelation and on the other act as "remedies" in order to lead us to communion with God; to our reason for being.


Dogmatic differences reflect corresponding differences in therapy. If a person does not follow the "right way" he cannot ever reach his destination. If he does not take the proper "remedies," he cannot ever acquire health; in other words, he will experience no therapeutic benefits. Again, if we compare Orthodox spirituality with other Christian traditions, the difference in approach and method of therapy is more evident.


A fundamental teaching of the Holy Fathers is that the Church is a "Hospital" which cures the wounded man. In many passages of Holy Scripture such language is used. One such passage is that of the parable of the Good Samaritan: "But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion . So he went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; and he set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the innkeeper, and said to him, 'Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you" (Luke 10:33-35).


In this parable, the Samaritan represents Christ who cured the wounded man and led him to the Inn, that is to the "Hospital" which is the Church. It is evident here that Christ is presented as the Healer, the physician who cures man's maladies; and the Church as the true Hospital. It is very characteristic that Saint John Chrysostom, analyzing this parable, presents these truths emphasized above.


Man's life "in Paradise" was reduced to a life governed by the devil and his wiles. "And fell among thieves," that is in the hands of the devil and of all the hostile powers. The wounds man suffered are the various sins, as the prophet David says: "my wounds grow foul and fester because of my foolishness" (Psalm 37). For "every sin causes a bruise and a wound." The Samaritan is Christ Himself who descended to earth from Heaven in order to cure the wounded man. He used oil and wine to "treat" the wounds; in other words, by "mingling His blood with the Holy Spirit, he brought man to life." According to another interpretation, oil corresponds to the comforting word and wine to the harsh word. Mingled together they have the power to unify the scattered mind. "He set him in His own beast," that is He assumed human flesh on "the shoulders" of His divinity and ascended incarnate to His Father in Heaven.


Then the Good Samaritan, i.e. Christ, took man to the grand, wondrous and spacious inn - to the Church. And He handed man over to the innkeeper, who is the Apostle Paul, and through the Apostle Paul to all bishops and priests, saying: "Take care of the Gentile people, whom I have handed over to you in the Church. They suffer illness wounded by sin, so cure them, using as remedies the words of the Prophets and the teaching of the Gospel; make them healthy through the admonitions and comforting word of the Old and New Testaments." Thus, according to Saint Chrysostom, Paul is he who maintains the Churches of God, "curing all people by his spiritual admonitions and offering to each one of them what they really need."


In the interpretation of this parable by Saint John Chrysostom, it is clearly shown that the Church is a Hospital which cures people wounded by sin; and the bishops and priests are the therapists of the people of God.


And this precisely is the work of Orthodox theology. When referring to Orthodox theology, we do not simply mean a history of theology. The latter is, of course, a part of this but not absolutely or exclusively. In Patristic tradition, theologians are the God-seers. Saint Gregory Palamas calls Barlaam [who attempted to bring Western scholastic theology into the Orthodox Church] a "theologian," but he clearly emphasizes that intellectual theology differs greatly from the experience of the vision of God. According to Saint Gregory Palamas theologians are the God-seers; those who have followed the "method" of the Church and have attained to perfect faith, to the illumination of the nous and to divinization (theosis). Theology is the fruit of man's cure and the path which leads to cure and the acquisition of the knowledge of God.


Western theology, however, has differentiated itself from Eastern Orthodox theology. Instead of being therapeutic, it is more intellectual and emotional in character. In the West [after the Carolingian "Renaissance"], scholastic theology evolved, which is antithetical to the Orthodox Tradition. Western theology is based on rational thought whereas Orthodoxy is hesychastic. Scholastic theology tried to understand logically the Revelation of God and conform to philosophical methodology. Characteristic of such an approach is the saying of Anselm [Archbishop of Canterbury from 1093-1109, one of the first after the Norman Conquest and destruction of the Old English Orthodox Church]: "I believe so as to understand." The Scholastics acknowledged God at the outset and then endeavored to prove His existence by logical arguments and rational categories. In the Orthodox Church, as expressed by the Holy Fathers, faith is God revealing Himself to man. We accept faith by hearing it not so that we can understand it rationally, but so that we can cleanse our hearts, attain to faith by theoria* and experience the Revelation of God.


Scholastic theology reached its culminating point in the person of Thomas Aquinas, a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. He claimed that Christian truths are divided into natural and supernatural. Natural truths can be proven philosophically, like the truth of the Existence of God. Supernatural truths - such as the Triune God, the incarnation of the Logos, the resurrection of the bodies - cannot be proven philosophically, yet they cannot be disproven. Scholasticism linked theology very closely with philosophy, even more so with metaphysics. As a result, faith was altered and scholastic theology itself fell into complete disrepute when the "idol" of the West - metaphysics - collapsed. Scholasticism is held accountable for much of the tragic situation created in the West with respect to faith and faith issues.


The Holy Fathers teach that natural and metaphysical categories do not exist but speak rather of the created and uncreated. Never did the Holy Fathers accept Aristotle's metaphysics. However, it is not my intent to expound further on this. Theologians of the West during the Middle Ages considered scholastic theology to be a further development of the teaching of the Holy Fathers, and from this point on, there begins the teaching of the Franks that scholastic theology is superior to that of the Holy Fathers. Consequently, Scholastics, who are occupied with reason, consider themselves superior to the Holy Fathers of the Church. They also believe that human knowledge, an offspring of reason, is loftier than Revelation and experience.


It is within this context that the conflict between Saint Gregory Palamas and Barlaam should be viewed. Barlaam was essentially a scholastic theologian who attempted to pass on scholastic theology to the Orthodox East.


Barlaam's views - that we cannot really know Who the Holy Spirit is exactly (an outgrowth of which is agnosticism), that the ancient Greek philosophers are superior to the Prophets and the Apostles (since reason is above the vision of the Apostles), that the light of the Transfiguration is something which is created and can be undone, that the hesychastic way of life (i.e. the purification of the heart and the unceasing noetic prayer) is not essential - are views which express a scholastic and, subsequently, a secularized point of view of theology. Saint Gregory Palamas foresaw the danger that these views held for Orthodoxy and through the power and energy of the Most Holy Spirit and the experience which he himself had acquired as a successor to the Holy Fathers, he confronted this great danger and preserved unadulterated the Orthodox Faith and Tradition.


Having given a framework to the topic at hand, if Orthodox spirituality is examined in relationship to Roman Catholicism and Protestantism, the differences are immediately discovered.


Protestants do not have a "therapeutic treatment" tradition. They suppose that believing in God, intellectually, constitutes salvation. Yet salvation is not a matter of intellectual acceptance of truth; rather it is a person's transformation and divinization by grace. This transformation is effected by the analogous "treatment" of one's personality, as shall be seen in the following chapters. In the Holy Scripture it appears that faith comes by hearing the Word and by experiencing "theoria" (the vision of God). We accept faith at first by hearing in order to be healed, and then we attain to faith by theoria, which saves man. Protestants, because they believe that the acceptance of the truths of faith, the theoretical acceptance of God's Revelation, i.e. faith by hearing saves man, do not have a "therapeutic tradition." It could be said that such a conception of salvation is very naive.


The Roman Catholics as well do not have the perfection of the therapeutic tradition which the Orthodox Church has. Their doctrine of the Filioque is a manifestation of the weakness in their theology to grasp the relationship existing between the person and society. They confuse the personal properties: the "unbegotten" of the Father, the "begotten" of the Son, and the procession of the Holy Spirit. The Father is the cause of the "generation" of the Son and the procession of the Holy Spirit.


The Latins' weakness to comprehend and failure to express the dogma of the Trinity shows the non-existence of empirical theology. The three disciples of Christ (Peter, James and John) beheld the glory of Christ on Mount Tabor; they heard at once the voice of the Father, "This is My beloved Son," and saw the coming of the Holy Spirit in a cloud, for, the cloud is the presence of the Holy Spirit, as Saint Gregory Palamas says. Thus the disciples of Christ acquired the knowledge of the Triune God in theoria (vision of God) and by revelation. It was revealed to them that God is one essence in three hypostases.


This is what Saint Symeon the New Theologian teaches. In his poems he proclaims over and over that, while beholding the uncreated Light, the deified man acquires the Revelation of God the Trinity. Being in "theoria" (vision of God), the saints do not confuse the hypostatic attributes. The fact that the Latin tradition came to the point of confusing these hypostatic attributes and teaching that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Son also, shows the non-existence of empirical theology for them. Latin tradition speaks also of created grace, a fact which suggests that there is no experience of the grace of God. For, when man obtains the experience of God, then he comes to understand well that this grace is uncreated. Without this experience there can be no genuine "therapeutic tradition."


And indeed we cannot find in all of Latin tradition, the equivalent to Orthodoxy's therapeutic method. The nous is not spoken of; neither is it distinguished from reason. The darkened nous is not treated as a malady, nor the illumination of the nous as therapy. Many greatly publicized Latin texts are sentimental and exhaust themselves in a barren ethicology. In the Orthodox Church, on the contrary, there is a great tradition concerning these issues, which shows that within it there exists the true therapeutic method.


A faith is a true faith inasmuch as it has therapeutic benefits. If it is able to cure, then it is a true faith. If it does not cure, it is not a true faith. The same thing can be said about medicine: a true scientist is the doctor who knows how to cure and his method has therapeutic benefits, whereas a charlatan is unable to cure. The same holds true where matters of the soul are concerned. The difference between Orthodoxy and the Latin tradition, as well as the Protestant confessions, is apparent primarily in the method of therapy. This difference is made manifest in the doctrines of each denomination. Dogmas are not philosophy, neither is theology the same as philosophy.


Since Orthodox spirituality differs distinctly from the "spiritualities" of other confessions, so much the more does it differ from the "spirituality" of eastern religions, which do not believe in the Theanthropic nature of Christ and the Holy Spirit. They are influenced by the philosophical dialectic, which has been surpassed by the Revelation of God. These traditions are unaware of the notion of personhood and thus the hypostatic principle. And love, as a fundamental teaching, is totally absent. One may find, of course, in these eastern religions an effort on the part of their followers to divest themselves of images and rational thoughts, but this is in fact a movement towards nothingness, to non-existence. There is no path leading their "disciples" to theosis-divinisation (see the note below) of the whole man.


This is why a vast and chaotic gap exists between Orthodox spirituality and the eastern religions, in spite of certain external similarities in terminology. For example, eastern religions may employ terms like ecstasy, dispassion, illumination, noetic energy, etc. but they are impregnated with a content different from corresponding terms in Orthodox spirituality.


Endnotes


* Theoria is the vision of the glory of God. Theoria is identified with the vision of the uncreated Light, the uncreated energy of God, with the union of man with God, with man's theosis (see note below). Thus, theoria, vision and theosis are closely connected. Theoria has various degrees. There is illumination, vision of God, and constant vision (for hours, days, weeks, even months). Noetic prayer is the first stage of theoria. Theoretical man is one who is at this stage. In Patristic theology, the theoretical man is characterized as the shepherd of the sheep.


Theosis-Divinisation is the participation in the Uncreated grace of God. Theosis is identified and connected with the theoria (vision) of the Uncreated Light (see note above). It is called theosis in grace because it is attained through the energy, of the divine grace. It is a co-operation of God with man, since God is He Who operates and man is he who co-operates.


From Chapter 2 of Orthodox Spirituality: A brief introduction, published in 1994 by Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, Levadia, Greece. See also "Way Apart: What is the Difference Between Orthodoxy and Western Confessions?", by Metropolitan Anthony (Khrapovitsky) of Kiev and Galic.

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.

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[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