To Convert or Not To Convert?
No priestly act is of more far-reaching consequence than a conversion to Orthodoxy. It crucially determines for all time the convert’s personal status, his marital rights and restrictions as well as his religious allegiance. If a pledge of unqualified loyalty to the Orthodox Church is subsequently betrayed, the result is disastrous, not least for the priest involved, should he have been guilty of an error of judgment in authorising the conversion on insufficient evidence of sincerity. In that event, he is bound to feel some personal responsibility and liability for every violation of Canon Law the convert may commit. For only through his act in accepting a non-Orthodox into the Orthodox Church do actions like not attending the Sacraments or not keeping the fast days become grave breaches of Canon Law. Little wonder that many conscientious priests, under the weight of this crushing responsibility, contemplate conversions with extreme, sometimes perhaps excessive, hesitation. The conditions for becoming an Orthodox Christian are simple enough in definition.
A conversion is the
most delicate heart operation to which a person could ever submit, and the onus
rests on the candidate to prove that he is adequately prepared to undergo such
an operation. Some may complete the requisite preparation in intensive study
and environmental experience in a matter of months; others lacking in
determination or opportunity, may never be ready even after years of fruitless
effort. How long this process takes is determined by the candidate not the
priest. The ultimate test is certainly not the candidate’s love for an Orthodox
party he or she seeks to marry. On the contrary, such an ulterior motive will
militate against accepting the application. The criterion is the love of
Orthodoxy, generated by such thorough familiarity and fascination with the
Orthodox way of life as to render all sacrifices and obstacles. Only if this
love and belief in Orthodoxy, in theory and practice, transcends any other love
and loyalty, are the conditions for admission truly fulfilled.
Yet when would-be
converts are told that it may take two years or more to gain the required
knowledge and religious atmosphere (which even those Orthodox who were baptized
at birth must cultivate through years of religious education, plus living in an
Orthodox Christian environment from birth), that they are expected to have some
familiarity with the Greek language, and that they must undertake to observe
the Canon Law of the Orthodox Church, they argue, often amid a chorus of
popular Greek applause, why should we have to meet requirements which so many
Greeks fall short of? It would be of little avail to an applicant for
Australian citizenship to resort to a similar argument.
One priest may be
more credulous, another more suspicious in accepting a declaration of
submission to Orthodoxy. Diverse local conditions, too, may have an important
bearing on the decision to admit proselytes. In Greece, for instance, where all
converts will certainly live in an Orthodox environment, learn Greek, send
their children to Greek schools where religion is taught, and observe the
Orthodox calendar – at least in great measure – and where there is hardly any
opportunity of becoming integrated into non-Orthodox society, it is obviously
far easier to accept converts than in the Diaspora where these conditions do
not exist. Naturally, the circumstances prompting an application will
invariably be taken into account. A woman who wants to become an Orthodox
Christian because she has fallen in love with a Greek, seeking to change her
religion almost like one changes a passport on being married, will find far
less sympathy than parents who wish to convert an adopted non-Orthodox child
because they could find no Orthodox child. Extreme compassion will also be
shown in cases of non-Orthodox children from mixed marriages. But these are
clearly exceptions. As a rule, it will be found that anyone prepared to change
his religion neither had a deep religious allegiance before the change nor will
have one after the change. Those who can be, and are, admitted to the Orthodox
Church indeed turn out to be rather exceptional people.
True proselytes
live up to the qualifications so concisely expressed by the most famous of them
all, when Ruth the Moabite pledged: “Where you go, I will go; and where you
lodge for the night, I will lodge” – sharing the life of the people she
converted to; “your people will be my people” – joining the togetherness of the
people she converted to; “and your God will be my God” – serving as a witness
to religious commitments “where you die, I will die, and there shall I be
buried” (Ruth 1:16-17) – defending the beliefs and practices even to the grave.
Anyone prepared to follow Ruth’s example of total loyalty will be accepted into
the Orthodox faith with open arms. But in the absence of such candidates, we
should occupy ourselves with the challenge to convert should-be Orthodox,
rather than would-be-Orthodox, to Orthodoxy.
