Are Dogmas Necessary? #
Why are “dogmas” necessary? Is the moral teaching of the Gospel not sufficient? We believe in God, but why this heap of incomprehensible and unnecessary dogmas, which the mind can neither accept nor comprehend? “God is one and triune.” Two hypostases, indivisible yet distinct. What is the need for all this? And in general, “what is the benefit of believing one way or another? Is it not enough simply to be a good person?”
“We acknowledge the moral value of the Gospel narratives and the apostolic epistles, but what benefit will my soul receive from belief in the Trinity or from recognizing Jesus Christ as the God-man?”
This question has long been heard in educated circles of Russian society, and in recent years, it has become increasingly tinged with an undertone of vague discontent, which has finally erupted into outright blasphemies—most notably in the widely known foreign Critique of Dogmatic Theology—as well as into barely concealed mockery in religious popular brochures. In such works, the virtue and philanthropy of certain early Christians are contrasted with what is portrayed as the idle theologizing of the Ecumenical Fathers, who are accused of “reconciling the irreconcilable” and, in doing so, neglecting the obligations of a Christian.
Preachers of Stundism mock the Holy Church, claiming that it has forgotten the Gospel commandments for the sake of dogmatic subtleties. They present themselves as restorers of true Christianity after centuries of its eclipse by abstract and false dogmatism. The opposition between virtue and dogma, and the moral indifference to the latter, has become a topic not only for writers but also for ongoing discussions in society—among students, and even among women. And this is no longer voiced as a timid hesitation, as before, but as an audacious and persistent challenge.
The enemies of the holy dogmas particularly love to cite Christ’s words: “If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments” (Matt. 19:17), as well as the words of the Apostle James: “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27). They say: show me how I will be more diligent in keeping the commandments and guarding myself from the defilements of the world by believing in the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father, or in the two wills in Jesus Christ, rather than by rejecting one or another dogma.
Count L.N. Tolstoy recently compared dogmas to a heap of rubbish that has been piled onto the pure core of the Gospel’s teaching.
Dogmas, he claimed, are hammered into the head like a wedge, shattering the mind, destroying faith in reason, and obscuring from the soul the “weightier matters” of the law—love and a life lived according to Christ’s commandments.
But is he, in fact, not right?
About two years ago, a certain scholar expressed himself even more sharply and harshly. Dogmas, he said, have smothered all the lilies of the Gospel with their barren blossoms… They are only good for twisting into a rope and hanging oneself.
Let us, however, reason simply and consistently. Are all these critics not right? If a dogma is unclear to us, obscure, is it necessary? Does it not harm faith rather than help it?
In a certain theological school, students were recently assigned a paper on “Plato’s Teaching on Ideas.” This teaching is very vague and obscure. He speaks of the ideas of things that supposedly exist in some special “intelligible world,” and so on. Not only do high school students fail to grasp it, but even prominent scholars argue over its meaning and do not fully understand it. This raises a question: is it really necessary? Are these “dogmas” of philosophical teaching, which once divided the world into two camps, of any real use?
No one would seriously argue that everything spoken by a great philosophical mind should simply be discarded. If his thoughts are unclear, it means we have not yet matured to understand them, and we must grow—stretch ourselves, even stand on tiptoe—to grasp them.
We must cultivate ourselves to reach them.
Otherwise, what remains? If we reject everything that we do not immediately understand, then we will, in effect, destroy and erase all the thoughts that have ever moved the world—because such thoughts have always, at first, been beyond the comprehension of the masses.
Now, let us return to our question about dogma.
Dogmas are the highest truths of revelation concerning the inner life of God. Naturally, they are unfathomable. However, this does not mean they are unnecessary.
Some claim that the entire content of the Creed consists of mere geometric theorems, “triangles” whose value in the realm of worldview is no greater than that of geometric formulas.
Very well, let us accept the comparison with theorems. But what are theorems in geometry? They are concise expressions of laws, the relationships between lines and planes.
To an ignorant person, a theorem says nothing; it appears as an empty phrase.
To a scholar, however, a theorem speaks volumes; it becomes the cornerstone of all his constructions. Together with the theorems of other sciences, it helps him build bridges, houses, palaces.
Dogmas serve the same function. If a person does not wish to grasp their meaning, to approach them with faith and with the heart, they remain a dead value—useless, but only for that person, because he himself is spiritually dead.
Yet as soon as he enters, even partially, into the meaning of a dogma, dogmas reveal themselves as a center of light, from which rays shine into all corners of life, illuminating all its questions.
It will become clear that they are fundamental truths of life, the cornerstones of understanding existence.
It will become clear that, for the construction of a worldview, these theorems are just as essential as blueprints are for building a bridge.
Dogmas, some say, are nothing more than idle mental play. They are mere checkers on a board, juggled around to evade the duty of living with and according to the Gospel.
But consider: who were the first fathers who formulated the dogmas at the holy Councils?
From the very history of the Church and the golden age of its theological scholarship, it is well known that the greatest dogmatists—the ecumenical teachers—were, first and foremost, zealous defenders of Christian virtue. Only prejudice and ignorance could oppose the zealots of virtue to the zealots of faith, as is done in modern brochures that presumptuously present themselves as “narratives from the Church Prologue.” Who would dare deny the moral purity, detachment from all worldly things, and the broad-hearted philanthropy of the spirit of Basil the Great? And yet, this very spirit was prepared to part with his body—literally—for the sake of a single iota in the definition of Christ’s essence. Clearly, that iota, which determined the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father in opposition to mere likeness in essence (homoousios vs. homoiousios), was not indifferent to the virtuous life of Christians.
Furthermore, it is well known that St. Gregory the Theologian was, above all, a man of the most loving heart, an ascetic, and a religious poet. He directed all the attention of his intellect toward purifying the conscience from even the slightest stain of sin, and every word of Scripture that he explained, he strove to connect with the path of spiritual perfection and the call to ascend it. The soul of a person, which requires the care of a spiritual physician—this was his sole concern as a pastor and theologian. It is precisely in this sense that the Church sets his works in contrast to the scholastic rationalism of heretics when it chants to him in the troparion: “The shepherd’s flute of thy theology hath vanquished the trumpets of rhetoricians.” Meanwhile, who, if not he, was the most precise and unyielding preacher of dogmas?
I do not wish now to defend individual dogmatic truths. Instead, I will speak of a few.
Take, for instance, the dogma of the Resurrection of the Son of God.
Is it truly indifferent to life whether one believes in it or not?
For here, the question is decided: is it possible to conquer death and sin?
If the Lord is not risen, then our faith is in vain. Then even the preaching of the Lord Jesus is nothing but a dream. He was merely a dreamer who sought to elevate love to the law of life in place of the law of struggle for existence—and yet, what was the end of his endeavor? Death.
In this case, the entire work of the Lord ceases to be the triumphant proclamation of new principles of life and instead becomes yet another proof that the law of brutal struggle is the only law that governs existence.
This is why, as is well known, Vladimir Solovyov and Dmitry Merezhkovsky demand the recognition of the dogma of the Resurrection not in the name of reason or its rights.
In their view, this very dogma of the Resurrection is the essence of all Christianity.
“People have so far insisted that Christianity is based on love for one’s neighbor—this is a great misconception, for love existed in the Law of Moses, as well as among all the ancient sages and philosophers, from Socrates to Marcus Aurelius, from Confucius to Bodhidharma.
The foundation of Christianity is the Resurrection of Christ. If Christ had not risen, then he would have deserved crucifixion, for in that case, he would have deceived humanity with the greatest of all deceptions—asserting that God is the Heavenly Father. A God who permits the annihilation of such a personality in death is neither a Father nor a God.
One cannot help but love Christ. But to love means to desire the absolute being of the one you love. What kind of love can there be for Christ if he is dead and has not risen?”
The Resurrection of Christ was real. This assertion does not contradict science or its empirical method. After all, science acknowledges the transition of matter from inorganic to organic. Is that not a “miracle,” a “mystery”? Why, then, should one not acknowledge the risen Christ?
This Resurrection contradicts only the unconscious remnants of dogmatic materialism.
“If such a person as the God-man Christ had truly died, then humanity would have no reason to live…”
You may agree or disagree with these arguments, but the essence of the matter is that these people recognize dogma as the foundation of their worldview, giving dogmatic truth greater significance than even the entire moral teaching of the Gospel.
And there is more. Consider the dogma of the God-manhood of the Lord, over which disputes raged for so long.
This is by no means indifferent to life or to our understanding of life.
Suppose we decide, as the Monophysites taught, that in the Lord Jesus, humanity was absorbed into divinity.
In that case, He is not truly man and cannot serve as a guiding beacon for mankind, nor as a model for imitation—for how could a mere human walk the path of God?
But the teaching of the Church states otherwise: the Lord is both God and man. Thus, His sorrowful journey to Golgotha is the path of a man, and those who are led and upheld by Him can follow it.
Or let us consider the dogma of the three Persons in God.
To someone like Leo Tolstoy, this truth seems particularly harmful and corrupting.
Yet a young man, one of our own believers, once said to us: “Three and one—what a strange mathematics. And what is the point of such metaphysics? What does it do besides leave the mind aching?”
But such words are nothing more than echoes of ignorance. There are those who are not theologians, yet who ascribe immense significance to the truth of the Trinity. “A purely philosophical development of the concept of the Absolute, even apart from any religious definitions, inevitably leads us to the recognition of the three Persons of the Godhead. Hence, it is evident,” they continue, “that in the very doctrine of the Trinity are expressed the highest and most necessary principles of rational knowledge of God—principles that serve as the application and extension of the most fundamental laws of reason.”
In our view, the dogma of the Trinity is a kind of “axis” upon which the moral law is upheld—an ultimate foundation for that supreme commandment of Christianity which even non-Christians so highly value.
Humanity is consubstantial. Each individual is but a single person, a hypostasis of a great unity—the consubstantiality of mankind. All people are scattered sparks of a single Divine breath: “And He breathed into his face the breath of life.” A separate human soul is but one note in a great chord. From this follows the fundamental law of human life—love. The Creator has placed as the guiding principle of human relationships a dogma: “There is no difference among people. All are one, like the living organs of a great body”—the Church.
But this truth of unity has not only been forgotten—it has been utterly lost by mankind, distorted and expelled from the very order of the world. The law of unity was “not long kept by men; sin divided all, so that humanity came to resemble a heap of bones, without living connection or harmony.”
Humanity has been torn apart. The truth of human unity, which ought to bind all people “into one soul and one heart,” has been obscured. The commandment of love has become a burden to the human soul, and the law of the world has become egoism and self-interest.
The unnatural division of people has become their natural state. Deep within the consciousness of each individual lies an artificially implanted idea that my “self” and every other “not-self” are opposing entities, that my neighbor is precisely a “not-self,” and therefore, I can love him as myself only in isolated impulses, but never as a constant disposition of my heart. Christianity had to eradicate this lie of sinful division and oppose it with another law—one that was not merely a commandment or an injunction, but a principle of love and unity founded on unshakable, primordial foundations. It had to justify this principle as the true foundation of world order, as an immovable thesis of existence. According to the holy fathers, it is precisely the dogma of the Holy Trinity that provides this justification for the law of unity—a dogma that, in the words of the Lord Jesus, is closely linked to the truth of the consubstantiality of humanity.
It is here that the dogma of the Holy Trinity enlightens man, assuring him that the true and eternal being of the Creator, His nature, is free from such exclusivity. For though it is one in essence, it is three in Persons. The fragmented consciousness of humanity is a falsehood, a consequence of sinful fallenness, which is overcome by the Son who has come from the Father, yet has not been separated from Him, and who calls us into a gracious unity with Himself—a unity already made real through His Incarnation, and into which each person may consciously enter by gradually transforming his own self-centered and prideful nature into one that is humble and loving.
Thus, the Orthodox doctrine of the Holy Trinity serves as the metaphysical foundation for the moral duty of love, just as the teaching on the afterlife serves as the foundation for the virtue of patience, and so forth.
St. Gregory of Nyssa and St. Basil the Great emphasized the close connection between the dogma of the Trinity and the dogma of the “consubstantiality of humanity.” And in understanding the truth of the Trinity in this way, the holy fathers were simply following the Lord Christ, who, in His high priestly prayer, pointed to the unity of the Persons in the Trinity as the ideal and commandment for His disciples: “Father, that they may all be one, as Thou art in Me and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us;” “that they may be made perfect in one.”
Thus, Christ’s final testament to the Church concerning unity was inseparably linked by Him to the dogma of the Trinity. The dogma of the Trinity is the metaphysical foundation of Christianity as a religion of love. This was precisely how the holy fathers understood it in light of Christ’s words—in the dogma of the Trinity, they saw the confirmation and realization of the truth of uniting all in the unity of love. In other words, in the same dogma of the Trinity, they saw the reinforcement, foundation, and necessary prerequisite of the first and foremost truth of Christian life—the truth of the Church as a miraculous organism, mystically uniting those who are consubstantial by nature through the mystery and illumination of love. The Church, through love, fuses all its individual members into an all-powerful unity—a unity that, though multi-hypostatic, is yet consubstantial. The holy fathers explain that the Church can only be understood as the reflection of the life and law of the Triune God in humanity.
“Drive a wedge between the floorboards of a granary, and no matter how much grain you pour in, it will not hold.”
“Likewise, in a mind where the wedge of the Trinity has been driven, or of a God who became man, redeemed mankind through His suffering, and then ascended back into heaven—no reasonable and firm understanding of life can remain.”
“Whatever is poured into a granary with a gap in the floor will spill out. Whatever is placed into a mind that has accepted nonsense as faith—nothing will hold in it.”
“It is terrifying to consider the perversion of concepts and feelings that such teaching leaves in the soul of a child or an uneducated adult.”
And we would respond: Yes, if the truth of the Trinity were to enter as a wedge into our lives, into our very understanding of life—then the world would change its face, and the kingdom of Christ would come upon the earth.
Love would become the law of life.
No, we say—a person who accepts by faith (and what faith is, see below) the teaching of God in the Trinity will be a servant of light and truth, for it is to this that the Holy Trinity calls him. A servant of the Holy Trinity is a servant of the unity of love, of harmony, an apostle of the true Gospel. Unfortunately, there are few who truly believe in the truth of the Church. And this faith is a duty, a heavy burden for a person who guards his “self” too jealously.
“But in fact,” some may object, “dogmas bring no benefit to life; they exist only in catechisms and are useless for the creativity of life.”
Perhaps. But is the Gospel not also outside of life for us? Does it not have little real influence on our way of living?
Does this mean it is unnecessary and fruitless? What we must acquire is faith, which we do not yet possess.
Faith is often understood as the intellectual acknowledgment of a given truth—“I believe in the Trinity,” meaning, I do not deny it. But such faith is insufficient.
Faith is a deeper and broader feeling than this kind of demonic faith.
True faith is an intimate nearness to the otherworldly, to God, to the realm of heavenly life, achieved through the moral striving of one’s life and the inward gaze of the heart into that realm. Faith, as mere intellectual acknowledgment, is, according to Isaac the Syrian and Symeon the New Theologian, the lowest form of religious knowledge. One must not only know, but also experientially feel in the soul the touch of God, finding in it the undeniable confirmation of faith. Truth must be accepted not on trust, but by virtue of being personally experienced by the soul. “Christians who do not see the Lord with their spiritual sight, who are not clearly and significantly illumined by His Divine light, should not say, like unbelievers, that it is impossible to see Him.”
It is a great thing to believe in Christ, but one must also learn to know Him. Many believe in Christ’s Resurrection, but few see it purely. Those who do not see the Resurrection in this way cannot truly worship Christ as Lord. God must dwell within us and reveal Himself to us; we must consciously and knowingly attain true understanding—“that is, to feel God within us clearly and tangibly” (Reflections of Symeon the New Theologian).
And this true faith is acquired through the practice of life according to God, through prayer—through the exercises of living according to Christ. The holy fathers were able to speak of dogma precisely because they clung to the life of God with all their souls and had, even if only in part, glimpsed that which we shall one day see face to face.
If a person lives with his soul in the atmosphere of the heavenly spheres, then he will truly learn to believe—not merely to acknowledge with his intellect, but to approach the truth of revelation with his will, to enter into it. Then dogmas will be revealed to him in his inner perception, in the depths of his moral consciousness.
Only then will the Holy Trinity no longer seem to him a geometric triangle but will appear in the full light of its spiritual meaning—as a revelation of the inner life of God, as a commandment illuminating the entire path of the Christian. And only such a person, in essence, can truly speak of the truths of faith. If a theologian speaks of the truths of faith—even one who has memorized all of Scripture—but does not know the mysteries of prayer and life in God, then one can say that here is a blind man speaking of colors.
Fruitless and empty words.
(From the journal “Church,” 1908, No. 2, pp. 39–43.)