The Dire State of the Church #
New Ritualist: You keep insisting that bishops can fall into error and that they supposedly did so during Nikon’s time. But that still does not justify your community’s claim to be the Church. Can anything similar to what has happened to your community happen to the Church? Can the Church be brought so low as to be without bishops? That is the essence of the question, and you will never resolve it.
Old Ritualist: If you conducted this discussion impartially and listened carefully to my objections and responses, you would not say this, for your question has already been addressed, based on scriptural evidence. Let me remind you of some points. It was shown that the Church can be in a state of widowhood, that is, without a bishop, and that without a bishop, while holding fast to the Orthodox faith, it is like a sturdy ship, though lacking some crew members; shortly after its founding, it found itself without a bishop when the apostles fell into disbelief regarding Christ’s resurrection. Of course, for the Church to be without a bishop is a harsh event, a severe trial, a sorrowful disaster. But this should not disturb, nor does it disturb, a true-believing Orthodox Christian.
The writings of the holy fathers testify that such sorrowful events can occur in the Church. I will present a few examples among many. Peter Chrysologus, a fifth-century teacher of the Church, speaks of the Church as follows: “The small ship of Christ (the Church) is sometimes lifted up to heaven, sometimes descends into the depths, sometimes guided by Christ’s power, sometimes shaken by fear, sometimes covered by waves of passions, and sometimes rises through the oars of confession” (Book 1, Sermon 19, On Calming the Storm). Saint Ambrose of Milan compares the Church to the moon, which sometimes disappears but remains undiminished; it may be eclipsed, but it does not disappear completely (Commentary by Theodore Yakovlev on the Apocalypse, Chapter 20, verse 4). Elsewhere it is written: “Since the Lord governs His Church in various ways in this world, sometimes He seems to close it up in a grave, sometimes He seems to raise it from the dead, sometimes He seems to cut it down to the root (regarding its external appearance), and sometimes He seems to restore it: so we must be careful not to judge by our feelings and fleshly reasoning about what the Lord is doing in governing His Church, for its salvation is often hidden from human minds and eyes. The Lord does not bind Himself to human means or the usual order of nature, but desires by His power to surpass everything that human minds imagine” (Commentary by Irenaeus of Pskov on Hosea 1:10).
This is the dire state in which the Church may sometimes find itself: as if descending into the abyss, as if disappearing, eclipsed like the moon; at times, God seems to close it in a grave, or to cut it down to the root, only to restore, resurrect, and guide it by His power, raising it up to heaven. This truly happened to Christ’s Church: when the bishops in the seventeenth century fell into error, leaving the Church without them, it appeared as though it were shut up in a grave, as though cut down to the root, as though eclipsed like the moon, or as if it had sunk into the depths like a ship. But when Metropolitan Ambrose joined it, and it once again had bishops, it appeared restored, resurrected, and lifted up to heaven, always being governed by Christ’s power, especially in times of trial and when teachers were lacking.
Priestless: Now you have entirely justified us. You have proven that the Church, like a ship, descends into the depths, like the moon, it disappears, and even seems shut up in a grave or cut down to the root. And that is exactly what has happened to us: our Church now exists as though it were shut up in a grave, without priesthood, without sacraments, and without any hope of having them.
Old Ritualist: The testimonies we have provided concerning the Church do not apply to you and in no way justify you. They speak of how Christ’s Church sometimes descends into the depths, only to later ascend to heaven. But your church (if your priestless community can even be called a church), once it has descended into the depths, never rises from it, never ascends to heaven, and remains in the abyss without any hope of escape. Furthermore, the Church is compared to the moon, which may occasionally disappear but then returns in fullness and perfection after a time. But your priestless church, having disappeared once and for all, remains perpetually absent, not temporarily. It is also said that God governs His Church in such a way that He sometimes closes it in a grave and sometimes raises it from death. But your community, once shut up in a grave, remains there forever, without the slightest hope of rising from this spiritual death. Lastly, it is said that God sometimes cuts His Church down to the root like a tree and then restores it; your priestless community, however, has been cut down to the root and remains in that state permanently, without any hope or possibility of returning to its former condition.
Thus, while very sorrowful events may indeed occur with Christ’s Church, they are only temporary and do not leave the Church in such a miserable condition forever. Your priestless community, however, having shut itself up in a grave, cut down to the root, or disappeared, remains in this condition permanently and does not even desire or attempt to escape from it. The blame for this lies with you priestless Old Believers, who refuse to receive repentant clergy in their rank, thereby violating the sacred canons (8th of the First Ecumenical Council; 69th of the Council of Carthage) and opposing the entire practice of the Church, which received bishops from heresy in their rank.
To further convince you that indeed, great and terrible afflictions may sometimes befall the Church, but they are always temporary and not eternal, so that once they pass, the Church returns to its former state, its normal condition—I present yet another testimony from the teachings of the holy fathers. Saint John Chrysostom, in his letters to the deaconess Olympias, speaks of the Church in this way:
True, the Church is torn; her leaders are exiled; ravenous wolves have invaded the sheepfold and scattered the flock; the powerful of the world have risen up against the sanctuary and introduced abuses and division into it. So what? Has anything like this never happened in the world before? Has Christ’s Church not grown in the midst of turmoil, and was not Christ Himself, from cradle to grave, surrounded by mockery? And if this is the case, why should we complain, and what are we with all our pitiful sufferings, when the Son of God and His apostles brought us the truth amidst persecutions and tribulations?
Oh, I do not want to conceal the evil that horrifies you; I do not wish to deny or diminish it; on the contrary, I want you to see it as it is, in its full horror, more deeply than it may now appear to you. Yes, we sail amidst a boundless storm. The ship that carries us is tossed about without control on the furious ocean. Half of the crew is in the sea; their bodies float before our eyes, swaying on the surface of the waves; the other half faces imminent death. There are no sails, no masts; the oars have been cast aside, the rudder broken, and the helmsmen, seated on the bench, clutch their knees with their hands, knowing not what to do, finding strength only for laments. The dark night hides everything until the underwater reef onto which they are driven, and only the deafening roar of the waves reaches their ears. Even the sea itself, from its depths, raises up hideous monsters, casting them onto the ship to the great terror of those aboard. In vain do I attempt, with these images, to express the abundance of calamities overwhelming us, for what human tongue could describe them? And yet, I, who ought to be more disturbed by them than anyone, do not abandon hope: I lift my gaze to the supreme Helmsman of the universe, who needs no skill to steer amidst the storm.
Therefore, one must not despair; on the contrary, one must constantly remember this truth: there is only one misfortune to fear in this world—sin and the weakness of spirit that leads to sin; all else is a dream. Snares and enmity, deceptions and slanders, insults and accusations, imprisonment, sharp swords, turbulent seas, war throughout the world—all these are nothing and cannot disturb a vigilant soul. The Apostle Paul teaches us this, saying: ‘The things which are seen are temporal.’ Why then fear occurrences that, like water flowing down a river, are swept away by time?
But, one might say, such affliction is a cruel and heavy burden! Certainly, but let us look at it from another side and learn to scorn it. Insults, disdain, and mockery directed at us by enemies—what are they in reality? Mere remnants of a moth-eaten garment, gnawed by worms and destroyed by time. ‘Yet,’ they add, ‘in the midst of these trials afflicting the world, many perish and are led astray.’ True, and this has happened many times: but after ruin, death, and deception, order is restored, peace reigns, and truth resumes its former course.
Do you wish to be wiser than God? Do you question the decrees of Providence? Rather, bow before the law prescribed by Him; do not judge, do not murmur, but repeat only with the Apostle: ‘O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!’
Imagine a person who has never seen either sunrise or sunset—would he not be troubled by the sight of the sun disappearing from the sky and night enveloping the earth? He would think that God was abandoning him. And someone who has only seen spring—would he not be troubled by the coming of winter, this death of nature? He would think that God, forsaking His creation, was leaving the world He had made. And someone who sees seeds being sown into the earth, and then watches those seeds rot beneath the soil and frost—would he not be troubled, wondering why these seeds have perished? But later he would see them reborn in the golden fields; another would see the sun rise again, and spring returning after winter. These people would later repent of their blindness and bow reverently before the order established by Providence. So it is in the moral world, in the events of life; it is enough to observe them to soon realize sorrowfully that such doubt is simply blasphemy.
Even the history of our salvation—is it not surrounded by temptations? What a source of temptation must that divine Child have been, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, forced to leave the cradle that served as His crib to flee to a foreign land. Could many not have said, seeing the poor family of Joseph in exile, ‘What? And this is the Savior of humanity, the King of heaven and earth, the Son of God’? And they would have stumbled at it. Later, when this Child returned from exile and grew up, an unrelenting war was waged against Him on all sides. At first, John’s disciples harassed Him with their envious hostility. ‘Rabbi,’ they said to the Forerunner, ‘He who was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom thou bearest witness, the same baptizeth, and all men come to him!’—words of envy inspired by a spirit of malice. And when Jesus began performing miracles, how many accusations were leveled against Him, and how many stumbled! ‘Thou art a Samaritan,’ they shouted at Him from all sides, ‘and hast a devil.’ He was accused of loving good food and wine, of associating with sinners and the corrupt. Seeing Him speak with a woman, they called Him a false prophet; ‘If he were a prophet,’ they whispered, ‘he would know what manner of woman this is that toucheth him.’ At His mere appearance, they gnashed their teeth, and it was not only the Jews who harbored enmity against Him. Even His own brothers, as the Evangelist notes, did not believe in Him."
Through these teachings, we are reminded that even Christ and His Church have endured much scorn, persecution, and tribulation. We should therefore find courage in these truths, understanding that any suffering is but temporary and ultimately, guided by divine wisdom, leads to the restoration and strengthening of the true Church.
Olympias responded, justifying her sorrow by noting that many had, under pressure from persecution, fallen into error and schism. “Do you think,” replied Chrysostom with force, “that there were no disciples who stumbled at the sight of the cross? When Christ’s enemies finally seized Him and slowly satisfied their beastly vengeance upon Him, surely the disciple who betrayed Him was triumphant at the sight of His humiliation, while others were shaken by it. And the trial, the scourging, the mockery of His royal dignity, the crucifixion—what a temptation all this must have caused! Christ was abandoned by His disciples; around Him there was nothing but insults from soldiers and the rabble, mockery, slander, and blows. ‘If Thou be the Son of God,’ they cried at the foot of His cross, ‘come down from the cross, and we will believe in Thee.’
But the ultimate insult, surpassing all the wicked schemes of unholiness, was the preference shown for a thief, a murderer stained with blood. ‘Whom do you want: Christ or Barabbas?’—‘Barabbas!’ shouted the entire Jewish people. ‘We want Barabbas, but as for this man, crucify Him, crucify Him!’ Has there ever been a death more disgraceful? And He died alone, without friends, without disciples; only one thief, a fellow in punishment, confessed Him from his own cross. No, never have all the temptations combined equaled such a stumbling block. Even His burial was an act of charity.
Such was the beginning of Truth, sent down from heaven to earth: Her path was surrounded by circumstances that tested the strong and became a downfall for the weak. She fulfilled the divine word that She Herself had spoken: ‘Woe to him who is offended!’" (From Chrysostom’s letters to Olympias; in the book St. John Chrysostom and Empress Eudoxia by Thierry).