There are
events seemingly out of season, but holy. Thus, St. Seraphim of Sarov foretold
that Pascha would be celebrated in the summer at the transfer of his relics.
And truly, bringing the saint’s relics to Diveyevo, the thousands of pilgrims
in the crowd could not help giving voice to the Paschal hymns filling their
hearts. Similarly, now, in the midst of March, we must move in thought to
August 19.
And while the crowd was proceeding,
All of a sudden, someone stirred:
It was the sixth of August, meaning,
—the Transfiguration of Our Lord.
We are
compelled by the memory of St. Gregory Palamas, celebrated on the second Sunday
of Lent, to reflect upon the Transfiguration. The life of St. Gregory can
attract interest by its various details and events. For example, he was elected
to the See of Thessaloniki by the direct intercession of the city patron—the
Great Martyr Demetrios. “I take him as archbishop of my city,” St. Demetrios
said to Great Martyr George, and the future archbishop was honored to hear the
conversation of the glorious great martyrs in a nighttime vision. St. Gregory
represented the part of the hierarchy that had more desire for a cell and books
than for glory and vanity. It is only out of obedience and for the good of the
people of God that such people take upon themselves with sorrow the yoke of
administering their flock and the responsibility for many. Archpastorship was a
cross all the heavier in that bishops, just as kings, were often deposed,
banished, and confined in prisons. St. Gregory had to spend a year in captivity
to Turkish pirates, where he preached to them the Gospel and came to the
conclusion that the Greeks must immediately (!) begin to convert the Turks to
Christianity. But all of this and many other sacred facts of his sacred
biography fade into the background when we become acquainted with the main work
of St. Gregory’s life—the dogma of the deification of man and the Taboric
light.
Nobody
specially prepared this question; it arose as if on its own, gradually
signifying the genuine chasm between the distinct goals of life within
Christianity and the various types of piety. It was precisely the feast of the
Transfiguration that became the point of focus and the shield upon which their
spears broke. What happened on Tabor? What did the Apostles see, and why did they
see what they saw? Gregory’s opponents said that the light seen by the apostles
is a special, enlightening light, but it is created light, like the sunlight
that gives life to all nature.
St.
Gregory, expressing the from thenceforth Orthodox dogma, and clothing in words
the previously accrued but unformalized experience, spoke of the Uncreated
Divine light. The Taboric light is not created, he said, but it is the light
and grace of God Himself, manifested so that those communing of this light
would not die, but be sanctified. Christ was not so much transfigured, says the
Church, as Christ transfigured the vision and senses of the disciples, that
they would be able to see Christ, as He is. This contemplation is a foretaste
of the future Kingdom, of which is said, The glory of God did lighten it [the
Heavenly Jerusalem], and the Lamb is the light thereof (Rev. 21:23). Therefore,
it was said before the Transfiguration that there be some standing here, which
shall not taste of death, till they see the kingdom of God (Lk. 9:27). There is
nothing in all of created nature like the vision of the Kingdom of God that the
apostles saw on Tabor. And therefore Moses, from Sheol, and Elijah, from
Heaven, appeared to Christ, that the Law and Prophets would bow down to the
Word become flesh, and this flesh deified at that.
Thus, we
will see Him and will be like unto Him, changing because of this very vision
and feeding upon grace, just as the angels feed upon it even now. To bring this
feast to naught, to give it a private, local character instead of its semantic
value, is, it would seem, impossible. However, Western religious thought does
precisely that, not giving due deference to the Transfiguration and to the very
idea of theosis. The Transfiguration is barely noticeable in the Catholic
liturgical year, the teaching of St. Gregory is considered heretical, and the
abyss in worldviews, which we spoke of in the beginning, has become practically
impassable over time. The West tread the path of intellectualism. St. Gregory’s
opponent—Barlaam—said that the vision of God is a mental perception of the
Godhead, but in no way partakes of the eternal light or Uncreated energies. The
East and West took different paths from this point.
The West,
trusting the mind and for reasoning forsaking the main value, philosophized,
speculated, and pondered questions until it lost faith itself and replaced
grace with syllogisms. And we, being in a long Western captivity, absorbed and
embodied all its mistakes. We can criticize the West only as we rid ourselves
of the disease of the West. Otherwise, such criticism will be suicidal. For
centuries our seminarians and academics, priests and bishops neither heard nor
spoke about what St. Gregory taught. That his memory was regularly celebrated
on the second Sunday of Great Lent only emphasizes the bitterness of this.
Hesychasm and the prayer of the heart, not finding a place in academies and
seminaries, nestled into humble monasteries, where they continued to live the
apostolic experience of the Taboric contemplation. This often happened without
books, as the oral transfer of personal experience—that is, as genuine
Tradition. St. Job of Pochaev spent many days in prayer in the stone caves, and
the monks saw the tongues of flame, which did not burn, bursting forth from the
entrance to this natural cell. St. Seraphim, beloved of all, the transfer of
whose relics once brought Pascha in the middle of the summer, also partook of
the Taboric light. He revealed this grace, as the fruit of long prayers and
wise silence in God, to the eyes of Motovilov, and few are those Orthodox
Christians who have not heard about it. St. Sergius would stand at Liturgy as
if in fire, and fire would enter the chalice as he served, and of this fire he
would partake. The best sons of our Church were practical exponents and
fulfillers of Orthodox dogma, although few of them could theoretically
interpret this dogma.
In
conclusion, we can say that the divide between the East and West on the
question of salvation is the difference between intellectualism and human
righteousness on one side, and genuine holiness and a basic change in fallen
nature on the other. But let’s note a few dangerous traps.
First,
not all Orthodox participate in God’s grace in due measure. Confession of true
doctrine is only an indication of the true path. But we must walk this path,
not just point to it. Therefore, we do not need to boast. Second, the Western
path of mental speculation is not that of an absolute impasse. They have
discoveries and useful knowledge there. It is another matter that this path has
an end and boundaries, beyond which it is not within their powers to go, and
there begins the time for other labors and other podvigs. Just to disregard
their knowledge, books, and reflections is a sin. St. Gregory, expressing the
most exalted dogmas of the Church, was a very educated person. Those sciences,
which he did not take as salvific, were respected by him and he was familiar
with them to a due degree. In his youth he studied Aristotle, and at one of his
lectures, read at the court, shouts rang out, “Aristotle himself, were he here,
would not fail to praise it!” That is, it’s not rejecting external knowledge,
but pointing to its limits that is characteristic of Orthodoxy.
Therefore,
being at such a great distance from personal theosis, and in need firstly of
cleansing, correction, and learning, we still know that the final purpose of
human life is the transfiguration of our nature by grace and communion with the
Divine life. On earth it is partial, in seed form, but in eternity it is
different. Thus, to speak about it now is impossible.
An article by Archpriest Andrei Tkachev
Translated
by Jesse Dominick (Pravoslavie.ru)
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