St. John of Damascus: On Sovereignty and Predestination

In discussing issues related to the Orthodox doctrine of Predestination, St. John of Damascus is careful to maintain a right tension between God’s sovereignty and man’s freedom. To examine this, the present discussion will explore the relevant treatments of Providence and Predestination in chapters 29 and 30 of Book 2 and also chapter 19 of Book Four from his magnum opus, On the Orthodox Faith (abbr. OF), (Saint John of Damascus: Writings, trans. Frederic Chase, from The Fathers of the Church: A New Translation, Vol. 37). At present the discussion will restrict itself to the English text as it stands in Chase’s fine translation; perhaps at another time and as opportunity allows the Greek will be consulted.

Beginning with chapter 29 of Book Two, on Providence, according to St. John of Damascus, God is absolutely sovereign. By sovereign is meant God’s supreme, lawful, and infallible rulership of all creation both visible and invisible; by absolute is meant that nothing is excepted from God’s supreme will. Now, he discusses the concept under the term Providence. The English term providence has its root in provide, such that provide-ence means how something is provided for. Also a technical theological term, by providence the Damascene means “the solicitude which God has for existing things” (OF 2:29; pg 260). Honing this beyond mere caretaking: “and again, providence is that will of God by which all things receive suitable guidance through to their end” (ibid). From these two definitions the reader is given to see that Providence is the term indicating the means by which God, who is also “the Maker of existing thing” (ibid), comprehensively wills, creates, maintains, and accomplishes His purpose for His creation.

In short, providence is God’s will, and so, as Damascene continues, “if providence is God’s will, then, according to right reason, everything that has come about through providence has quite necessarily come about in the best manner and that most befitting God, so that it could not have happened in a better way” (OF 2:29; pg 260). Thus there is an absolute necessity that attends to God’s sovereign willing, to His providence, and so of providence it is shown that the entirety of creation is included, which is to say heaven, earth, time, and all creatures, for all of reality is infallibly and perfectly guided from its beginning through to its end, and necessarily such that by no other or better way could it have been accomplished (cf 2:28; 259).

“Hence,” the Damascene continues, “God is both Creator and Provider and His power of creating, sustaining, and providing is His good will. For ‘whatsoever the Lord pleased he hath done, in heaven, and in the earth’ (Psalm 134:6 LXX), and none resisted his will” (Cf. Rom. 9:19, OF 2:29; pg 260). As such, he unquestionably asserts God’s absolute sovereignty in all of its comprehensiveness, summing up by stating: “He willed all things to be made and they were made; He will the world to endure and it does endure; and all things whatsoever He will are done” (ibid). That being said, this position will not be reducible to determinism, so a next major task will be how he squares this with man’s free will. Before discussing this, however, Damascene reminds the reader that the epistemological gap between God’s perfect and infinite knowledge and what man does or even can conceivably know is key to keep in mind.

Now, “God’s providence is beyond knowledge and beyond comprehension” (OF 2:29; pg 261), and although this absolute sovereignty exceeds the grasp of human vision and understanding, “bearing these things in mind, we should admire, praise, and unconditionally accept all the works of providence” (ibid). The works of providence are the works of God’s will, and God is “simple, and uncompounded” (OF 1:4; 170), for “true reason teaches us that the Divinity is simple and has one simple operation which is good and which effects all things” (OF 1:10; pg 191). Therefore, God being simple, His will is commensurate with His knowledge such that the incomprehensibility of God’s knowledge bears intrinsic proportion to the incomprehensibility of His will. His knowledge and will are one with His being, and these being one are altogether beyond man’s ken.

This epistemological gap thus plays a pivotal role in discoursing about providence, for God has revealed that He not only sovereignly wills all things and is yet good, but also that man has free will. God’s absolute sovereignty therefore will harmonize both with His goodness and His ability to sovereignly make man free, and, although not within range of the natural human mind, God’s will need not be perceived as always expedient in temporal terms in order to be faithfully understood as good. In short, it may look like everything is chaotic and falling apart when in reality it is working perfectly and infallibly according to God’s providence.

Not content with merely asserting that all three are true, in order to get a clearer picture of how God’s providence can be understood, the Damascene provides a way of understanding God’s infallible providence such that it coordinates with His goodness and man’s free will. In his discussion of Providence, he distinguishes God’s will broadly into two assymetrical categories, that of approval and that of permission: “Some of the things that are due to providence are by approval, whereas others are by permission.” He distinguishes these by indicating that what is “undeniably good” (OF 2:29; pg 261) happens by approval, such as the creation of light, heaven and earth, and life, whereas that which happens by permission are those things which are bound up with the consequences of free will and which are themselves caught up in processes leading to or facilitating the flowering of some good.

The notion of permission indicates God’s sovereign will mediated through acts of a created free will, and said act’s consequences, and to some good end. An example of permissive will he gives is that of a virtuous man who is sovereignly permitted to fall into misfortune in order that his hidden virtue can be made manifest. Another example he gives is that of the iniquity permitted against Christ in order that mankind’s salvation be brought about. Another is when God permits an evil to befall a devout man in order that he “may not depart from his right conscience or so that he may not fall into presumption” (OF 2:29; 261). He provides other examples, even that of being permitted to fall into an immoral act so as to correct some still worse affliction. It seems that the notion of God’s permitted will is an indirect motion, an act mediated through time, and allowed for the sake of manifesting goodness as part of a greater process. It is not a direct willing of evil, but the allowing of a situational evil to produce God’s good purpose. Another way of saying this could perhaps be that providence operates according to God’s sovereign will either immediately or mediately.

According to God’s sovereignty He places some things under the jurisdiction of human free will such that God in His sovereignty “permits them to the free will” (OF 2:29; pg 263). Even in cases of free will, however, the Damascene includes the notion of what might be called necessary grace, such that “while the choice of things that may be done rests with us, the accomplishment of the good ones is due to the cooperation of God” (OF 2:29; 262). As he says elsewhere, without God’s “co-operation and assistance we are powerless either to will good or to do” (OF 2:30; 264). In other words, free will is not carte blanche, but requires in its good acts coordination with God for their ground and their accomplishment. In short, God’s action is a necessary condition for all good human acts. Contrariwise, “the accomplishment of the bad things, however, is due to abandonment by God” (OF 2:29; 262).

St. John Damascene further distinguishes between two types of abandonment, one dispensational and for instruction, and the other for absolute rejection, “when God has done everything for a man’s salvation, yet the man of his own accord remains obdurate and uncured, or rather, incorrigible” (ibid). Even in the cases of instructive abandonment, one can yet see that the good which comes from this is still dependent on coordination with God, a turning towards Him the good consequence of which is accomplished through coordination, whereas absolute abandonment is God’s withdrawing of Himself as a permitted consequence of man’s total refusal to cooperate with the good. In other words, the choice is given to the person, the chosen good being accomplished through coordination with God, the chosen bad being accomplished and permitted through God’s withdrawing of Himself.

The foregoing raises the thorny issue of how God’s sovereign will and man’s will can be authentically coordinated in such a way as to violate neither. Stating it is important to bear in mind again that “the ways of God’s providence are many, and that they can neither be explained in words nor grasped by the mind,” the Damascene then states that “God antecedently wills all to be saved and to attain His kingdom” (OF 2:29; 262) and yet, “because He is just, He does wish to punish sinners” (Ibid; 263). Thus he makes the turn to state that God sovereignly appoints man to be a free cause of the consequences of his own actions such that God’s permissive will can be understood as the divine sovereignty mediated through man’s choice. God is absolutely sovereign in all things that are not made by Him to be dependent on us, and man as God’s image is, in a manner of speaking, mediately sovereign in that he has responsibility for the consequences of his free choice: “Indeed, nothing remains but the fact that man himself as acting and doing is the principle of his own works and free” (OF 2:25; pg 256, cf. 2:30; pg 264). As such, man is free, and although he is the principle of his own works, for our mind choosing being the “beginning of action” (OF 2:26; 257), the accomplishment of good yet requires God’s cooperation. Man may be given to be the principle of his own choice, and the receiver of his choice’s consequences, but he is not the principle of his own being, nor the deliverer of his consequences, for “the choice of things to be done always rests with us, but their doing is oftentimes prevented by some disposition of Divine Providence” (2:26; 257).

Closing up the 29th chapter of Book Two, the Damascene clarifies the distinction between the two modes of God’s willing, “the first is called antecedent will and approval, and it has Him as its cause; the second is called consequent will and permission, and it has ourselves as its cause” (OF 2:29; 263). The consequent will, as he stated, is either for instruction and salvation or for abandonment and absolute chastisement, these last “belong to those which do not depend upon us” (ibid). In short, the principle of choice lies with man, but the consequent action which man receives does not depend on him, as “some of those things which do not depend upon us have their origin, or cause, in things which do depend upon us” (OF 2:28; 259), for God being just initiates the punishment consequent to our choices. Thus consequent will is God’s sovereign will mediated through human choice, permitted by Him. Since God is only good, antecedently willing and approving all the good which befalls man and according to man’s cooperation, He therefore is not the author of any evil when allowing man to reap the consequences of his free evil choices, “the recompense for our deeds” (Ibid).

Moving into chapter 30, the mechanism of the human will is key in understanding predestination. The Damascene stresses again a distinction between that which depends upon us and that which does not depend on us. Only voluntary choice is dependent on us, and everything other than our voluntary choice is dependent not on us but the divine will: “all those things depend upon us which pertain to the soul and about which we deliberate. And it is about contigents that deliberation is exercised” (2:26; pg 257), a contingent being something which following deliberation can either be done or not, depending on the choice. Thus God foreknows all that is dependent on free man’s choice, but in His sovereign preservation of free will He does not cancel man’s free choice in or through said foreknowledge, for “neither does He will evil to be done nor does He force virtue” (OF 2:30; 263).

A note ought to be made in the use of the term “foreknowledge,” for God’s foreknowledge does not permit of temporality. It is not an issue of seeing through time to some future choice, but an absolute and simultaneous knowledge of all things, including all choices. Since God is outside of time and omniscient, nothing of God’s action or knowledge is dependent on or informed by time, and so “foreknowledge” cannot not be understood as temporal foreknowledge, but knowledge from a position both beyond and more fundamental than time, i.e. from eternity. God immediately and fully knows from eternity all the choices that a person makes, and so, in His creation of that which is termed in humans “free will,” there is the coterminous creation of what is called choice and moral responsibility which are made to filter through and emerge from the deliberation of the human soul. The relevant motions of deliberation are free and unencumbered, if yet with consequence, but the motions considered as motions of deliberation are in themselves operating according to their own dynamic of free choosing. For example, one may hike through a forest and encounter many trees, but to walk in any one way is not forced; one could walk, run, or sit, go this way or that, etc. The walking is free and uncompelled, even if there are local conditions which inform the act. Likewise, the act of deliberation itself may encounter many conditions, but in itself the soul is free to deliberate to go on or not, think yes or no.

Choice is not “forced” or coerced by God as if He were some extrinsic force, as if He were superadded to the real conditions or brooding over man’s possible movements like a chess player. Even if the options of deliberation be stark and unpleasant, choice is still present. God’s transcendental presence is thus not one of pushing the motions of deliberation around, and His foreknowledge does not act like a power or an energy which compels choice. The deliberation of choice is not violated, a deliberation which is part and parcel of the free will act of a rational created being. One may ask whether one ever “really” had a choice, but this is to go outside of the bounds of the question at hand, for the question of determinism is one of mechanistic operations enforced transcendentally and invisibly, but this is about as relevant a question as whether people are all living in a simulated hologram, whether we immediately were caused to exist and supplied with false memories, or whether we are brains in vats just imagining the world around us but are really alone, etc. The presuppositions of Christianity do not really support such an inquiry.

Returning to the Damascene’s idea of Predestination, it is “the result of the divine command made with foreknowledge” (OF 2:30; 263). Again, this is not temporal foreknowledge, but an eternal and simultaneous knowledge of all temporal things. God makes a unified command relative to all of creation past, present, and future, and this command predestines “those things which do not depend upon us” (ibid). Those things which do depend upon us, however, he does not predestine: “Thus, He foreknows the things that depend upon us, but He does not predestine them” (ibid). He does not predestine them “because neither does He will evil to be done nor does He force virtue” (ibid). In this light, God’s immediate and infinite knowledge of our future free choices does not force our free will, but through the medium of our free will the consequences of those choices have already been accounted for, and not as though it were an adjustment to some other plan, for God’s plan is from eternity.

From God’s perspective reality is a complete whole, for He eternally is both the Alpha and the Omega; He does not become the Omega: “For the object of knowledge is existing things; and that of foreknowledge, absolute futures” (OF 4:21; 387). Thus He looks backwards to our future choices just as much as He looks forward, for the flow of time has no bearing on His knowledge whatsoever. Knowing all things, He therefore does not “react” to our “future” choices, but according to our eternally known natures He weaves free will into the dynamic of time’s unfolding. Our choice presents no surprise to God, and it is couched perfectly in God’s foreknowledge, but it is free and not compelled.

To conclude this brief investigation with the Damascene’s treatment of a famous Scriptural text relevant to Predestination, Romans 9:21, he states, “it is customary for sacred Scripture to call God’s permission His action… [as when Paul writes] ‘hath not the potter power of the clay, of the same lump, to make one vessel unto honour and another unto dishonour?” (OF 4:19; 383) The question then becomes, in light of this verse, how can God be both the author of only good and yet make a vessel unto dishonour? Is God predestining man to evil and damnation? How is that fair? How can man be held responsible for some evil purpose he was designed or necessitated by God to do? Since we have already seen that God’s sovereignty preserves free will, and that He is only good, the Damascene states that “it is the own deliberate choice of each and not He that makes them honourable or dishonourable” (OF 4:19; 384).

To demonstrate this, and using Scripture to shed light on Scripture, he next cites 2nd Timothy 2:20-21: “In a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some indeed unto honour, but some unto dishonour. If any man therefore shall cleanse himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified and profitable to the Lord, prepared unto every work.” Therefore, “it is clear that this cleansing is done freely, for he says ‘if a man shall cleanse himself,’ the converse of which rejoins that, if he does not cleanse himself, he will be a vessel unto dishonour, of no use to the Lord, and only fit to be broken” (OF 4:19; 384). According to this reading “are none of them to be taken in the sense of God acting, but in that of God permitting because of free will and because virtue is not forced” (ibid). Sacred Scripture may speak in such a way as to give the appearance of God creating evil, but in these cases it is to be understood as God’s permissive will consequent to man’s free choice. Moreover, the Damascene points out in this section that the term evil is itself ambiguous and can be understood in two senses, one being where evil refers to that which is by nature evil, and the other being that evil which is simply that which causes us tribulation and distress, an evil which is not inherently evil but in some cases is even used instructively by God for one’s sanctification; these last are those caused by God.

Finally, it is God’s permissive will which shapes according to the evil choice of the person choosing. God thus does not invent or author any evil, nor predestine people to damnation, but while maintaining authentic human choice He also provides the just consequence for that choice, thus producing vessels of dishonour and wrath by means of His permissive will, “because it is not unjust of Him to inflict His wrath, when we sin” (OF 4:19; 385).

-Fr. Joshua Schooping

Communicating Uphill

What is communicating uphill?

It is a truism that meaningful communication is difficult. Not only are intentions often difficult to convey through words, but there is also tone of voice, facial expression, and body language to consider. What is more, personal and interpersonal situation, context, and environment are complicating factors. For example, it is very difficult to communicate meaningfully when one is in emotional distress, or when one is in physical danger, or when one’s loved one is in danger. Moreover, high speed and high pressure environments like, say, an Emergency Department or a Law Office, naturally make communication difficult.

Still more, communication does not only mean speaking well, but also listening well and being heard. Good communication requires at least two good communicators. Adding to that the difficulties of situation, context, and environment, let us add one more, the one that I would like to dwell on for a moment, that of communicating “uphill.”

Communicating uphill is communicating in an environment where there are acknowledged power differences. Power differentials play an extremely large role in communication. For example, when an employee speaks to a manager, the manager’s very position of power naturally inspires fear in the speaker. To be in the presence of someone in power means that one is in a situation where the other person has some direct influence, if not control, over your life, whether that be something like physical safety or job and economic security. Therefore, even if the person in power, say a manager, is intending to be friendly and receptive, that manager’s very position is naturally going to mitigate or mute any conveyed sense of friendliness and openness.

Therefore, an enormous difficulty for a manager’s ability to facilitate good communication is to be able to manage this power differential, which is to say being able to create a safe environment where not only the intention to be receptive is there, but manifest outward conveyance of this receptivity and safety is being communicated and received by the one with less power. This includes a clear conveyance of this not only in words, but also in tone of voice, facial expression, and body language.

One of a manager’s primary responsibilities is to establish a safe environment for good, meaningful communication, for without good, meaningful communication there is no trust, no relationship, and therefore no productivity. Therefore, to realize the impact of one’s words, tone of voice, facial expression, and body language, is critical. In short, effective self-management is critical to effective other-management. Since the manager’s job is via their personhood to manage other persons, the manager has thus to be constantly alert to themselves and to the fear which the power differential naturally creates so as to adapt oneself as needed. For it is not acceptable to be impersonal when one’s very job is interpersonal in nature. Impersonal relationships create fear and mistrust. That said, merely asserting that one has “an open door policy” does not suffice to create an actual safe environment for meaningful communication, nor assuage the natural fear that is a given in manager-employee relationships and encounters.

For an employee to speak to a manager always involves risk-taking, and this is vital for a manager to ever keep in mind. Any time an employee approaches a manager, they are engaging in a risk, a risk that is not shared by the manager. The employee is communicating “uphill,” which is to say the manager by default has the position of advantage, power, even inequality. Thus the creation of a safe environment, one characterized by good communication, is made immediately more difficult, but must of necessity be dealt with in order to create the most productive and effective workplace. A manager’s effectiveness is therefore directly tied to their ability to effectively create this environment of support and trust.

Not merely a set of tasks to be accomplished, work is fundamentally a product of relationship, and relationship is communication. Therefore, for us to be able to create the most effective workplace, we must become masters of effective, good communication, which is to say the creation of safe environments where deep listening takes place, fears are acknowledged and assuaged, hopes are kindled, kind, true, and humane words are spoken, and grace is extended.

Examples of Relationships with Assumed Power Differentials

Manager to Employee; Upper Management to Lower Management; Doctor to Nurse; Doctor to Patient; Nurse to Patient; Nurse to Home Health Aid; Pastor to Parishioner; Principal to Teacher; Police Officer to Citizen; Parent to Child.

Can you think of any other examples?

Questions for Reflection, Discussion, and Skill Building

-If you find yourself in a position where there is a power differential, are you “making room” for the fact that the person speaking with you has fear and is taking a risk just in speaking with you?

-How are you conveying this? What potentially identifiable adjustments are you making to your choice of words, tone of speech, and body language that could convey this?

-Would those who have less power than you typically agree that you make them feel safe? How would you know if they felt safe?

-If growth requires feedback, how do you elicit feedback for growth from those at a lower power differential? Do you? Do you invite or avoid critique from those over whom you are above?

-Knowing that there is always room for improvement, are you doing anything that might make those with less power feel unsafe? How could you change that? What could you do to truly convey a sense of having created a safe environment for meaningful, effective communication?

-If managing others implies managing one’s ability to relate effectively, does your demeanor invite or intimidate? More practically, how would someone at a lower power differential experience or describe your tone of voice? Does your tone of voice convey warmth? Does your voice perhaps have a hard or uncaring edge? Does your facial expression or body language invite or intimidate? Is it cold or indifferent? Warm and interested? How would you know?

Why? A Pastoral Prolegomena to Theodicy

When tragedy strikes and suffering raises its ugly head, a common response that a person may have is the question: “Why?” This question often ranges along such lines as: Why did this happen to me? Why did this happen to my loved one(s)? Why did this happen to my community, my home, my health, my life? Why does this keep happening to me? And so on.

In seeking to answer such questions, people will often attempt all manner of responses, from the physical to the metaphysical. People will invoke causes of all sorts, or ends of all sorts, whether it be God or man or nature. One thing worth lingering on, however, and prior to any physical or metaphysical explanation, is this phenomenon of asking Why.

What does the question of Why tell us about ourselves, and what does this impulse to ask the question tell us about our suffering? It would seem that within the human psyche is this instinct to ask Why. The question Why, however, is peculiar, for its nature is to cause a person to look beyond the immediate, sensory situation. This is significant because it means that within the human make-up there is a natural instinct to look beyond the immediate environment and to inquire into causes and ends, and it seems that suffering’s peculiarity is especially found in that it drives us to ask Why with existential urgency.

Suffering, of course, is not the only thing to cause us to ask Why, but suffering charges the Why with an energy which mere curiosity or fascination do not typically cause. For example, curiosity and fascination often do not cause a person to ask Why because the enjoyment of some curious or fascinating object is often sufficient to cause the mind to become entrained and so remain with the object rather than seek to inquire into its Why. Suffering, however, apparently because of its unpleasantness, drives the mind to look away from the immediate situation and so look to some other thing, typically a search for a causal explanation or solution. In this way suffering itself is what gives to the Why a decisive and compelling force.

In light of the foregoing, suffering is that which naturally impels a person to meditate and to reflect upon that which transcends one’s immediate environment. Thus suffering uniquely provides to the psyche an opportunity to exercise its innate ability to look into the nature of events and circumstances, whether this be at the level of physical causation or metaphysical causation. The mind intuitively senses that there are deeper causes and meanings to the events of our lives, and so, prior to any answer, the question Why tells us something very meaningful about ourselves.

In conclusion, suffering plays a positive role in the development of wisdom and, it could be said that, without suffering the search for wisdom becomes highly unlikely. Although suffering is unpleasant, its very unpleasantness plays a vital and decisive role in human development, both personally and communally. By providing a compelling energy to the question of Why, the sense of suffering naturally drives our mind to look beyond our immediate, tragic environment so as to look into a larger and more meaningful existence.

The Mind is Fractured: Reflections on Suffering and the Jesus Prayer

Stillness and watchfulness, which is to say hesychia and nepsis, are together a profound science of healing given by the Church to all of her children, “a way that is wonderful and most scientific” (St. Nicodemos the Hagiorite, Proem to the Philokalia). What, then, does it heal, and how does it do so? The present discussion will attempt to answer these two questions.

The mind is fractured by egotism, desire, and anger along a million subtle faultlines, and it is this inward fracturing that is bound up with all of our suffering. In this context, suffering refers specifically to the mental and emotional anguish caused by the passions, the darkening energies or inner movements which swirl about within us, clouding our vision and stirring up our will to depart from Goodness and from Life. The mind (nous) is darkened, and because the soul is not compartmentalized, this wounding darkness insinuates itself into all that we think, feel, say, and do. Rather than being filled with joy and love, contentment and calm, thanking God for His mercy and providence, we become rather proud and ungrateful, confused and dull, and so our darkened mind looks upon and interprets all that befalls according to the contours of our vanity and egotism, the million subtle faultlines of our passions.

With this darkened mind, then, the faultlines of pride produce faulty vision, a false interpretation, if you will, of oneself, others, and the world, a mode of seeing which comes to control or poison our life, a mode which then becomes the delivery system of our suffering; for all suffering requires interpretation in order to exist as suffering, which is to say mental and emotional anguish. In this sense, suffering is an interpretive act. Even natural physical pain, for example, is not automatically or unconditionally experienced as mental and emotional anguish, as many exercise enthusiasts will affirm, for when the exercise is such that it produces soreness, the exerciser interprets the soreness to “mean” that he or she is getting stronger, thus causing happiness instead of anguish. Pain is inevitable, but suffering is a post-pain, post-sensation interpretation born of a mindset that preceded any given experience of suffering.

Suffering is equivocal, for it can either refer to pain considered in and of itself, or to the anguish produced by the passions in reaction to sensory events, and it is in this second sense that the assigned meaning of sensation becomes determinative of whether or not the experience is one of “suffering.” For example, St. Paul teaches that “Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy (χαρά, chara) set before Him endured (ὑπομένω, hypomenō) the cross, despising (καταφρονέω, kataphroneō) the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2). Since the Cross involved not only physical pain but also anguish, St. Paul teaches that there was a superior meaning or purpose given to the Cross which enabled Christ to not only endure it but even to understand the cursed shame of it to be as it were nothing (καταφρονέω, kataphroneō) in comparison. In this sense, the passion or suffering of Christ was not the defining characteristic of His Cross, but the joy which was set before Him. In other words, the joyful reality which transcends the Cross completely redefined the experience of His crucifixion such that we can even glory (καυχάομαι, kauchaomai) in the Cross (Galatians 6:14).

And not only in Christ’s suffering can we glory, St. Paul teaches likewise of ourselves in Romans: “And not only this, but we also exult (glory, boast, from καυχάομαι, kauchaomai) in our tribulations (pressure, pressing together, from θλῖψις, thlipsis), knowing that tribulation brings about (accomplishes, achieves, from κατεργάζομαι, katergazomai) perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us” (Romans 5:3-5). In other words, suffering is eclipsed and brought into subservience to a greater reality.

Likewise, St. James: “Consider it all joy (χαρά, chara), my brethren, when you encounter various trials (afflictions, adversities, from πειρασμός, peirasmos), knowing that the testing (proving, from δοκίμιον, dokimion) of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:2-4).

In short, suffering is not a brute fact of sensation like, say, the color red or the hardness of stone. Suffering, from πάσχω (paschō), means to be acted upon, affected, to have a sensible experience, as by an extra-subjective source acting upon the senses, and thus all suffering requires interpretation, for suffering is an interpretation. But as seeing red or feeling a stone is to interpret color and hardness at the level of the five physical senses, in the case of mental and emotional suffering there is an additional dimension, that of the meaning assigned to the sensation. The eye senses or sees the color red, but the mind interprets this, say, as red blood. Seeing the movement of red blood, then, the mind can interpret this as bleeding, and whether this is an injury, a surgery, an accident, a crime, or an emergency or not would have to be built from other interpreted percepts.

This, then, brings up the all-important issue of the mind (nous), for if the mind, the principle interpretive instrument of the soul, is that which in a manner of speaking creates suffering through its being fractured, then the mind is also that which can transcend suffering through its coming into wholeness. This is why the fractured mind is such a real problem, for everyone wants to relieve their suffering, but merely wanting to relieve it cannot accomplish anything because the mind will continue to remain fractured for as long as the necessary steps are not taken in order to unify it. Suffering, however, is not merely an issue of misinterpretation or misperception, but since instances of suffering are built of an interpretation borne of the mind’s fractured vision, without addressing this root fracture there is no possibility of addressing suffering at the depth level. Since the mind (nous), as noted above, touches if not comprises the whole being, and not only the intellect (dianoia), its fracture necessarily includes also that of the will and the emotions.

Therefore, the unification of the mind is the most important possible subject and work for a human being to engage in. This, moreover, being an outgrowth and consequence of faith, is an essential component of the Orthodox spiritual path, because the spiritual path is one of unification, union, and communion. Unless one actively, intentionally, decisively, and persistently engages with this path of making whole the fractured mind, then quite simply it will never happen. Therefore, upon the foundation of faith it is of utmost importance that one begin, and begin with knowledge, for without know-how nothing can be accomplished, not even accidentally. It is the path we must follow if we are to be free of the endless, repetitive cycles of pain we experience as a result of our impassioned, fractured minds.

The essential practice is simply to focus the mind ceaselessly on the highest possible unifying object, which ultimately is the Name of Truth, which is to say the Lord Jesus Christ. It is the “one essential work, to pray unceasingly in the heart” (St. Nicodemos, Proem). Now, the substance of the Name is the Named, which is to say the Person Himself, and so by focusing increasingly and ceaselessly on the Name of Truth, the Lord Jesus Christ, He Himself comes to be “formed” within the soul (Galatians 4:19), and “Christ be formed in your hearts by faith” (Ephesians 3:17). Over time, one’s mind and body, as a psychosomatic unity otherwise confused and enmeshed with sensory life, “our excessive attachment to visible things” (St. Nicodemos, Proem), converts more and more of its resources to this intentional act of focusing on the transcendental Christ, until deeper and deeper layers of the enmeshed psyche are slowly but surely liberated and motivated to join in the act of communing with Him: “Christ [who] is all and in all” (Colossians 3:11).

His presence in the soul will itself effect the healing, for “through the warmth and energy that arise in the heart by means of the invocation of the All-holy name of Christ, the passions are consumed” (St. Nicodemos, Proem). This then heals the fractures of the psyche such that “the mind and the heart are gradually purified and are united with one another,” becoming whole and unified in Him, “God, the Blessed Nature, the Transcendent Perfection, the Creative Principle of all good and beautiful things, Transcendently Good and Beautiful” (St. Nicodemos, Proem). And more than ourselves, “This union is the final goal towards which are directed the creation of the world and the Dispensation of the Logos of God for our well-being, both temporal and eternal” (St. Nicodemos, Proem).

The state of the unified mind is indescribable, but it is characterized by calm joy, serene inner freedom, boundless compassion, and humble sobriety, and in the words of St. Paul, “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-3). In order to attain this, one must work and work until the energy of the ego is completely converted to the task of intentionally, decisively, and persistently focusing itself on the Lord, with the guarding of the mind from alien thoughts and passions, on the one hand, and pure, undistracted, and concentrated prayer, on the other: “For without the unceasing remembrance of the Lord, and purity of the heart and mind from everything evil - a purity generated by this practice - it is impossible to bear fruit” (St. Nicodemos, Proem).

This complete conversion of the energy of the ego to the ceaseless flow of attention to the Lord is the crucification of the ego, the death by means of which the soul enters into Life, and Life into the soul, for the Lord is the Life of the soul. This is the Way of healing the fractured mind, which is also the Lord, for the Lord is Life and also Way. No other solution will work. If one is not connected to faith, which is the energy of the Lord working within the soul, the energy which connects the soul to, and also sustains it on, this path, then run, do not walk, to the exit. Enter immediately onto the Way. There is no point spending another minute of your life on something that will ultimately not solve your basic existential problem. The way to begin is to ceaselessly focus the mind on the All-holy Name: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” and so "let the Jesus Prayer be your breath" (St. Nicodemos).

In conclusion, practice, practice, practice, for this is "the science of sciences and the art of arts," and let the thirst for remembrance of the Lord grow such that it conquers all of your other thirsts, and slowly your mind will unify in the experience of complete inner harmony through the presence of the Indwelling Christ. By absorbing oneself in the Lord, one will together with Him transcend all suffering for the greater joy that has been laid before you, "For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3).

The Epistemology of Faith: Evidence and Atheism

In a previous article was stated:

“We can measure gravity, share love, live in peace, receive justice, know truth, give mercy, and celebrate beauty, when none of these things are in themselves strictly reducible to the empirical; and the means by which we engage with these invisible realities is embedded in the epistemological process termed faith. Despite being manifest through evidence, they transcend the evidence, and so it is said that we have faith in something, say love, and then point to the visible evidences of it.”

In particular I would like to draw attention to the last sentence, because it provides a point which connects with a peculiarity present in the notion of proof, for despite being manifest through evidence, the objects of faith cannot be reduced to the empirical evidence. The objects of faith express themselves through the evidence, but the evidences considered in themselves are not an identity with the object of faith, therefore the evidence does not and cannot prove the object of faith, merely express it to those who “have eyes to see.”

The question many atheists ask is: “Can you prove that God exists?” And many well-meaning theists will attempt to oblige, but no matter what is said nothing can come of it. The atheist seems impervious to any sort of explanation, whether it be a point related to the meaning of a term, or to larger issues such as the complex and interrelated nature of the universe, and any number of things between. The frustrated theist reflects, reviews, and ruminates over what other approaches could have been taken, but none of them could have worked, and here’s why.

Epistemologically, no matter how obvious and true it is, nothing about empirical evidence proves an object of faith. Thus, the proofs of God cannot force a person to believe in God, and the reason has to do with the peculiar and non-empirical nature of the objects of faith, whether it be love, truth, justice, or whatever. Faith is not designed to force one’s hand. Faith implies trust, and so if there is force, even force of logic, then there is no trust, no faith.

Hearkening to the quote above, the empirical aspect of something is not the foundation or ground of the object of faith, say love, for the empirical is the vehicle of transmission or communication of the non-empirical. While the non-empirical exists independently from the empirical, it is transmitted empirically in a way which is necessarily unproveable on the basis of the empirical act considered in itself. Faith is the means by which the non-empirical object, say love, is communicated and connected with, but the object of faith, love, is not thereby proved.

For example, taking again the example of a mother giving her child a hot chocolate, the empirical act is not an identity with the love, for a hateful barista could give the same drink. The love is given through the drink, but it is not found in the drink or in the physical act of giving. By examining the mere empirical act of handing over a hot chocolate, there is nothing intrinsic to the empirical act that “proves” there is love. The love can only be perceived by faith, either in giving or in receiving, and thus the hot chocolate becomes evidence, but it is not proof.

It would be absurd for the mom to state that she just proved she loved the child by giving them a hot chocolate, for obviously one can give a drink without love. Likewise, one cannot prove the existence of gravity by examining the particular object that falls. One could take the object and put it under a microscope, but gravity will never be discovered that way. Gravity, like love, must be perceived through an act of mind which is distinct from the merely empirical percept.

In short, by looking merely at the empirical, there is nothing necessitating that one believe that there is also love, or hate, or gravity, or peace, or justice, etc. Therefore, the atheist is not compelled through the giving of evidence to believe in that which by nature transcends the evidence. No matter how many hot chocolates he is given by his loving mother, he is not compelled to believe his mother actually loves him. Technically, he can always doubt. Of course, his pleas of doubt are as completely unconvincing as a color blind man’s disputing of color, although to his own ears the atheist is bound to sound clever and technical.

He can doubt that a peaceful person has any peace, that a loving person has any love, that a beautiful sky has any beauty, that a court of law has any justice, etc., because doubt is a process, not a content. He can go on and on and on. Thus, when a theist tries to convince an atheist of the existence of God, even by giving mountains of evidence of exceeding perspicuity and logic, God is just one more item that can technically be subjected to doubt. Evidence does not bind him to believe, and since objects of faith cannot be reduced to their means of expression, their evidence, no amount of said evidence will prove the case. The hundredth cup of hot chocolate will not prove there is love, the gentle smile and warm handshake will not prove there is kindness, and in principle nothing can prove God to them. God can only be touched through faith.