Friday, April 6, 2018

Contra Descartes: The Vicious Circle of "I Think, Therefore I Am"


The 17th Century philosopher and “father” of modern philosophy in the West, René Descartes’ argument, “I think, therefore I am,” is familiar to many. It is bound up with the historic beginnings of a major turn in philosophy, a destructive but influential and pervasive departure from the more Christian and Classical philosophy which persisted for millenia. Intended as a counter to radical skepticism, it seeks to discover an incontrovertible foundation for epistemic certainty. Rather than providing an antidote to radical doubt and skepticism, however, Descartes’ argument, “I think, therefore I am” (in Latin: cogito ergo sum; in the original French: je pense, donc je suis), is instead a logical fallacy. It is circular reasoning, a petitio principii, a begging of the question, an assuming of the desired conclusion in the premise. A vicious circle, at best it is a tautology.

The initial premise, “I think,” is enthymematic (an enthymeme is “an argument in which one premise is not explicitly stated”); it tacitly asserts the desired “am.” When it states, “I think,” it is implicitly saying, “I [am] think[ing],” thus inserting being prior to proving being. To make such an argument is thus to self-destructively assert an epistemological certainty for the very being he is trying to prove, the very conclusion the argument is attempting to accomplish. In short, viciously circular, it is saying “I, therefore I.”

The statement itself can be read in more than one way. Two primary ways would be either as an ontological statement or as an epistemological one. Neither way avoids the difficulty it is entangled in. For example, reading it in an ontological key, since Descartes axiomatically presupposes being as a certainty, vis a vis “I [who am] think,” then certainty of being cannot be reached as the conclusion of the argument such that he can say, “therefore I am.” That is simply restating, or making explicit, the implicit premise as the conclusion. If, however, it is read in an epistemological key, then the circularity yet remains, for to claim “I think” is enthymematically to assert “I [am epistemologically certain I] think.” In essence still restating the implicit premise in an explicit form as the conclusion, he is stating, “I know, therefore I know,” which is facile and self-defeating since the purported enterprise of the cogito ergo sum is to discover an indubitable foundation for certain knowledge. If certain knowledge is assumed within the initial premise, then it cannot become the certain conclusion without also becoming viciously circular.

To say “I am not” is absurd. Quite simply, there is no additional act which gets added to the “I” which “proves” said “I.” The “I” is presupposed in all acts, for “I” means ‘being in the act of personal existence,’ or ‘being existing,’ and, as such, “I” is the necessary foundation of all action. As such, no additional or subsequent act “proves” the “I,” only reveals it relative to and through some particular act. To reveal, however, is not the same as to prove. Only an “I” can even attempt to prove, and so the attempt alone has already presupposed the I’s existence, thus rendering proof unpersuasive and without warrant.

The “I” reveals itself in and through its acts, rendering the acts signs of the "I." In this sense, thinking is no different from breathing or knowing or even doubting, for in each of these acts an “I” is necessarily presupposed. In this light, Descartes’ statement could equally be, “I breathe, or know, or even doubt, therefore I am,” which ends up tautologically breaking down to, “I am, therefore I am.” Instead of referring for proof to something the "I" does per accidens, which is to say one of its innumerable potential acts, the "I" instead reveals itself principally via the fundamental act of existing, and consequently by various and sundry doings. It is perhaps worth mentioning that existence does not cease with the cessation of thought, as in dream or deep sleep. In this sense, it could perhaps be said, "I am, therefore I think." In short, one does not prove an I, one is an I.

Recasting the cogito in a more explicitly epistemological light will not help, for to say the certain fact of his thinking enables him to have certain knowledge that he exists is really unremarkable since the ability to think, know, and be aware is precisely what makes self-knowledge realizable. It is epistemic certainty he is after, and as such the question can be posed: How does Descartes really know he is thinking? Is there no possible reason for skepticism? For example, philosophers such as Siddhartha Gautama and David Hume arguably find nothing persuasive in the assertion that there really is a self at all, that, “acts without an agent,” what is commonly called “I” is “nothing but a bundle of different perceptions.” In other words, thoughts do not necessarily prove a thinker, for Gautama and Hume seem to say, "There is thinking, but I am not," and so it is dubious for Descartes to certainly assert “I think” simply because thinking is present, especially when it is theoretically possible to deny substantial reality to the supposed self. Moreover, since selves can be argued on rational grounds not to exist, it may be possible to render thoughts as impersonal reactions within a fundamentally impersonal environment, therefore not proving the existence of personal being at all. Thus, Descartes has not found epistemic certainty in his assertion, “I think,” for it is entirely possible to rationally doubt that there is a thinking “I.” In assuming the "I" in the "I think" premise, it seems suspicious to find a certain "I am" in the conclusion, as if he seeded the sought outcome in his initial sowing.

Moreover, another elephant in Descartes’ room is that thinking is not exactly the same as knowing. Thus, if one were to hypothetically exclude knowledge of thinking from the cogito’s premise, to say in effect, “(While not knowing that) I think, therefore (I know) I am,” it is noteworthy that the "therefore" does not necessarily follow, for not all acts of thinking imply acts of true knowledge. People can think untrue thoughts. If excluding knowledge from the premise, it presumes that certain knowledge can be a consequence, product, or result of uncertain thinking, or that thought necessarily converts to certain knowledge, which has yet to be demonstrated. If he says, "I think," then thinking of what? Swans? Daffodils? Thinking itself? By thinking of thinking he is certain of being? It seems inescapable that by stating "I think," he actually means "I know I think," which again inserts epistemic certainty into the premise.

Knowledge, of course, could also be cast, more Platonically, as anamnesis, a concept which is akin to recollection, recognition, and remembering, and not so much to thinking per se. And so how thinking converts into certain knowledge again remains untouched. To say thinking proves a thinker is facile, at best, or flat out wrong if one were to agree with Gautama or Hume, as mentioned above. To say knowing proves a knower is equally facile, again if not dubious. Perhaps it would be accurate to state that “he thinks, therefore he thinks he is,” but how he actually gets to certain knowing from thinking remains undisclosed and unproven.

What is worse, he has to somehow be epistemically certain that he is thinking, which as noted above inserts the desired epistemic certainty in the premise. If the truth or falsity of any particular thought is treated as irrelevant, merely the existential fact of thinking, then it again becomes tautological. In other words, if he knows he is thinking, then he already has the certainty he seeks and thus cannot arrive at this certainty as a conclusion without falling again into viciously circular reasoning. Whether interpreting the stress as being on the ontological or the epistemological view of the cogito, both emphases necessitate an epistemic certainty in the premise in order to assert either the certain being who is thinking, or the certain knowledge that said being has. In other words, he must know that they are, in truth, thinking, and not, say, sitting, wondering, or whistling.

Existence, which is to say being, is presupposed in all acts, including acts of thinking and reasoning about existence, and thus existence (implicit in acts) cannot become a premise of its own proof. Likewise, knowledge is presupposed in all assertions, including assertions about knowledge, and so knowledge (implicit in assertions) also cannot become a premise of its own proof. On the one hand, if seeking to find certainty for existence via thinking, then one has to assume the certain existence of the thinking agent, and so one can never arrive at certain existence as a conclusion because it was already enfolded in the premise. On the other hand, if seeking to find certainty for knowledge via thinking, then one has to assume that one is certainly knowing that thinking is happening, and that a being is doing it, and so one can again never arrive at certain knowledge as a conclusion because it was already implicit in the premise. Descartes’ argument therefore fails both as ontology and epistemology due to its intrinsic, self-defeating circularity.

To conclude, the phenomenon of self-awareness of personal being is an overwhelming fact for a person, which as a fact is not proven so much as submitted to and subsequently employed in all acts, including acts of knowledge and proof. Just as one does not look into a mirror to prove one sees or has eyes, much less that one exists, likewise one does not resort to an extrinsic logical proof in order to establish certain knowledge that one exists or that one can know things with certainty. The use of knowledge in generating assertions inescapably presupposes the reality of knowledge prerequisite to asserting. Assertions thus are a consequence of knowing, and are not knowing’s ground, as a wave does not wet an ocean, nor a leaf give birth to a tree.


One must presuppose epistemic certainty as a criteria and guide in order to prove that knowledge of x or y is certain, for the persistent multiplication of ignorance does not of itself produce certain knowledge as if sui generis, for even denying certainty is a type of certainty - a certainty of uncertainty. Likewise, one must presuppose epistemic certainty if one is reasoning on its behalf, for without it there would be no reasoning; there would be no rational criteria by which Descartes could know that his epistemic certainty was in fact certain if there was no rational substructure to which he implicitly and at all points was relying upon and being guided by in his acts of reasoning. And so, in sum, Descartes failed at the start; he has not proven anything, merely fallen victim to vicious circularity.

Monday, March 26, 2018

Conversion and the Desire for Christ


With my soul have I desired thee in the night; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee early. (Isaiah 26:9)

A perhaps unusual question to ask a Christian is: Do you desire Jesus? Do you actively want Him? Let us consider this. So many of us live with unclarified commitments, unclear wants, ambiguous inclinations, divided desires, and vague aspirations. As if only passively inclined, we may daily pray, “Lord, have mercy,” but do we actually want either Him or His mercy?

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1)

Desire organizes the soul, puts in a shape, and gives it a direction, so to speak, relative to the desire. Yet, the question of what we desire as it relates to Christ is often unexamined and undeveloped. We are Christian, but do we hunger and thirst for Christ? It could even surprise some people to consider whether or not they want Jesus, His mercy, His peace, His Wisdom, His Truth, His Light, or His Life. Perhaps the question has never occurred to many of us.  A person may live with the persistent assumption that they are Christian and yet, when it comes down to it, there may be no persistent desire for Christ.

I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a thirsty land. (Psalm 143:6)

As Christ teaches, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Mat 6:21). Referring to desire, this presents a point of self-examination. Not blandly true, the necessary and dynamic interrelation between heart and desire is existentially inexorable. It is a present and active principle of human nature, and by it we discover where our heart is, that is, when we identify what we are treasuring. In other words, what we linger on in thought and emotion is the barometer for where our heart is and has been placed, and what our soul is aiming towards.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. (Matthew 5:6)

Christ Himself teaches us to desire God’s Kingdom and righteousness: “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness” (Mat 6:33). He is saying to seek this first, and principally, but so many of us do not find within ourselves this desire. The question then becomes, if you do not desire Christ, are you yet a Christian? This question points to the relationship between conversion and desire, because conversion necessarily includes a conversion of desire, a conversion of wants, aims, and intentions. As St. Innocent of Alaska teaches: “Only those who desire to do so enter the kingdom of heaven” (Indication of the Way into the Kingdom of Heaven, (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity, 2013), 19). Do you, then, desire the things of God? For, “whoever does not wish to approach, but neglects to do so, does not love Jesus Christ and will not receive the Holy Spirit, and, consequently, he will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Indication of the Way, 67). In a sense, conversion is at its root the conversion of desire, and so desire becomes a paramount issue when discussing salvation.

My soul breaketh for the longing that it hath unto thy judgments at all times. (Psalm 119:20)

Again, it must be stressed that this is not a generic, insipid, milquetoast, wishy-washy desire. It is vital and energetic; it is a matter of life and death, of being and of self-knowledge. Christ calls, even commands, us to repent, to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, which implies a renewing of one’s desires: “Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3) In other words, as St. Innocent states of Christ, that “He does not want to have as His disciples those who are unwilling or those who have no special desire to follow Him,” (Indication of the Way, 19). Speaking as to Christians, then, can you honestly say that you are wanting and willing to follow Jesus? Do you want and desire to be cleansed of sin? Do you feel the need for His mercy? An honest look at one’s emotions is like looking into a mirror: one may not like what they see, and it may not feel very pleasant, but in looking one may see and feel the actual, and not merely abstract, need to repent.

My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the LORD: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. (Psalm 84:2)

This conversion of desire is the objective, factual activity of the Holy Spirit when He is present. The Holy Spirit, when He comes, convicts of sin (John 16:8). The fruit of the Holy Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). The very next verse, however, is key to the current discussion, for it states: “And they that are of Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with the passions and the lusts thereof.” In other words, the desires of the old life have been crucified, rendered inoperable, even dead, which is the essence of baptism, but “how many Christians or, rather, how many people baptized in the name of Jesus Christ have perished and are perishing only because they have and had no desire to turn their attention to the foundations of our Orthodox faith” (Indication of the Way, 21). Although it is a longer quote, it is worthwhile to read slowly and carefully what St. Paul teaches:
“Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death? Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection, knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; for he who has died is freed from sin. Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him, knowing that Christ, having been raised from the dead, is never to die again; death no longer is master over Him. For the death that He died, He died to sin once for all; but the life that He lives, He lives to God. Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 6:3-11).
Death to the old self, together with its desires, is therefore a necessary part of life in Jesus: “You are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him” (Romans 8:9), therefore, “as far as you can, struggle and ask for God’s help. And the Holy Spirit, seeing your sincere desire, will dwell in you and help you” (Indication of the Way, 64).

We wish to see Jesus. (John 12:21)

A cross is an instrument of execution, and so to crucify the old passions and lusts is to put them to death. Therefore, the lack of conviction for sin, presence of the fruit of the Spirit, or of crucified passions and lusts, points to an absence of the Holy Spirit, and “a man who has not got the Holy Spirit… is always more or less a slave and worshiper of the world” (Indication of the Way, 48). One cannot both have the Holy Spirit and be absent of the effects of His presence and activity, and as St. Innocent states, “without the help and assistance of the Holy Spirit, it is impossible not only to enter the kingdom of heaven but even to take a single step toward it” (Indication of the Way, 51). Another longish quote, it is yet vital to understanding the vital relationship between conversion and desire, and the great need for it:
“For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace, because the mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God. However, you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him. If Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, yet the spirit is alive because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you. So then, brethren, we are under obligation, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh-- for if you are living according to the flesh, you must die; but if by the Spirit you are putting to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God” (Romans 8:6-14).

You are unwilling to come to Me so that you may have life. (John 5:40)

One cannot entrust oneself to Christ, which is to say have faith and believe in Him, to lovingly conform oneself to, carefully imitate, and follow Him, if one has no desire for Him, and so, “first of all you need to have a special desire and resolve to do so” (Indication of the Way, 20). St. Innocent declares, “Woe to the man who is listless and who has no desire to awake from such a sleep” (Indication of the Way, 49). Salvation involves far more than the mere speculative assent to the truth about God, for “without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6). Faith is an actual entrusting of oneself to Him, which implies a turn of heart and mind, desire and thought, life and worldview, but without a desire for Christ it is all for naught, and so “if you have not this desire, fall at the feet of our Savior Jesus Christ and with fervent prayer implore Him to give it to you” (Indication of the Way, 22).

Then will I go unto the altar of God, unto God my exceeding joy: yea, upon the harp will I praise thee, O God my God. (Psalm 43:4)


Sunday, March 25, 2018

The Jesus Prayer and Conversion


Outside of Christ, our minds are founded on the ceaseless subtle invocation: “I am Lord, I am Lord, I am Lord.” Scripturally, this is rooted in the moment of temptation at the Fall, when the subtle serpent offered the fruit of knowledge as a means of becoming like God. Eating the fruit, man has ever since transferred his center from God to self. As such, man’s center is now self.

Converting to Christ, therefore, refers not to making Christ an ornament to a self-as-center mode of existence, which is to say adding another layer to fallen egocentrism, but refers instead to the process of exchanging self-as-center for Christ-as-center. Conversion is not perfecting self-life, but ending self-life and being reborn into new life, the life of Christ.

In this light, the Jesus Prayer serves not merely as an expression of piety, but as a divinely prescribed means for uprooting the self from its position as the practical center of one’s being. It is the practical means, so to speak, of training the mind, heart, and will to find its center not in self, but in Christ.

The essence of humility, the Jesus Prayer thus expresses the highest form of repentance, conversion, and cross-bearing, and likewise the highest means outside of the Eucharist for realizing Christ as the central point and ground of our being, as in truth He is.


Saturday, March 24, 2018

The Anatomy of Schism: How Advocating a Female Diaconate Divides the Church


David sings in Psalm 101: “Every morning I will destroy all the wicked of the land, so as to cut off from the city of the LORD all those who do iniquity.” Spiritually, this can be understood in the Church as rooting out schism and heresy early, not waiting until it has gathered its full strength. As such, it will be important to know the tactics of the enemy, the methodology of those who would seek to set the Church against herself.

The Orthodox Church currently finds gestating among certain of her members a Modern, progressive feminist movement, really an unclean spirit, that is manifesting itself as advocacy for a female diaconate. It is especially pernicious because it can only result in division. If not merely naive or unaware, the advocates of a female diaconate are either willfully ignoring the division they are insinuating, or are very aware of it and as such are intentionally maneuvering as if to imperceptibly entrench themselves in a position of political advantage so as to thus champion their cause. This is done while those who, focusing on the faith as received, would rather not speak of or research such things, and so typically remain uninformed and unaware that people are actively and intentionally coordinating efforts to change the practice of the Church.

Given that others have well highlighted important issues related to the problems of a female diaconate (also here and here), it is yet vital to understand and expose the anatomy of how this liturgical progressivism creates enemies out of the Orthodox faithful. To begin, notice that the advocacy group is a para-Church organization. In short, it is outside the Church. And yet, other than being mostly comprised of female academics, by including among its advisory board at least one metropolitan together with two archpriests, it seeks to lend ecclesiastical authority to itself. This is one of the ways that progressivism acts, like a cancerous cell which attaches itself to a body and seeks to insinuate itself into said body's functioning.

By being a para-Church organization, progressivist advocacy can eschew all actual ecclesial oversight. Posing as Orthodox, it is yet outside of the Church's authority structure, therefore maximizing its freedom to advocate while minimizing its accountability. With this methodology it can unilaterally extend its reach into the Church without actually being of the Church. By wrapping itself in a cloak of legitimacy it thus seeks to transform the Church by inserting its ideas into the members of Christ’s Body, all the while acting as a foreign body. Note carefully, however, that it will not present itself this way, but will instead present itself as a friendly and responsible group of like-minded Orthodox Christians compassionately concerned about their concern, which will of course be made to sound neutral and non-threatening.

A major element of this diaconal progressivism is feminism, and so a brief digression concerning how feminism functions as a social reality seems appropriate. Quite simply, feminism is a pseudo-virtue, and essentially a Rorschach, meaning anything from the simple affirmation that women compliment and share equal dignity and opportunity with men, on the one hand, a meaning that is moral but hardly justified by such a binary term as feminism, to the vociferous hating and displacing of men and masculinity, on the other. Such a plastic term is hardly grounds for a moral rallying cry, and its ambiguous import certainly has no place advising the Church or revising her liturgical practice. One characteristic mark of this feminism is that there is no objective “need” beyond the “felt needs” of certain men and women for such a radical change. Emotionally charged, feminism poses as a great virtue, sometimes even as the great virtue, when really it is an empty term which is filled in by the passionate imagination of its adherents. Thus it is a pseudo-virtue, and since it is not a true virtue, it will tend towards vice, a fact amply demonstrated by the successive mutations or “waves” of feminism.

Returning to the manner in which progressivism functions to divide, a key set-up to keep in mind is that progressivism functions to move, always, in the name of some “ideal,” which on the surface appears innocent enough. Ideals, like ideas, have consequences, and so does their promotion. Progressive movement being by nature relative, “progress” always implies a moving beyond others, the non-progressors, so as to achieve said progress, therefore creating at least two groups in the process. Predictably, the group which embraces progress implicitly places themselves in the “moral” group, separating themselves from the non-progressors, which renders those outside the progressive movement backwards, recalcitrant, and submoral, if not evil.

In their minds, at least, the progressives are not progressing for no reason, but for some strongly held reason, typically an ideal. Thus the very energy which motivates their desire for progress creates as an automatic consequence a proportionate “othering,” if not an “enemization,” of those who do not join them in their efforts. The problem of note here, however, is not only the bare fact of creating two necessarily opposed groups, but the insidious way in which the progressives, by intentionally moving out of sync with others, transform them into their opposing “other.” By refusing to cooperate with progressivism, one has quite simply done nothing and yet, remarkably, in doing nothing one has become the enemy of an entire group of people, all through a type of passive-aggressive enemization or “othering.”

As a psychological phenomenon, the schism that is necessarily generated by the progressives is therefore not seen by the progressives as their own fault. In their mind they are innocently and virtuously - even heroically (considering what they are up against!) - seeking their ideal. In the process of creating an “other” where there was none, the progressives end up paradoxically accusing said other of immorality, those whom they acted against, even turning themselves into the victims of those whose only sin was not to agree with their innovation, those who would consciously choose to remain without the supposed “progress.” As a consequence, in the progressive mind, to refuse to “progress” is not simply to be a stick-in-the-mud or old-fashioned, but to commit a manifest wrong.

Of course, outwardly, the progressive may be found to object to the accusation of creating schism. How they are described and how they describe themselves are not the same. They will naively claim that there “need” not be any division… if only the others would agree with them.

To apply the above to the feminist deaconess movement, the function of advocacy of the deaconess will necessarily create schism. With sophistical eloquence, an increasing number will advocate for it, and yet an increasing number will oppose. The progressive will say something to the effect of “but it does not need to be this way, you do not need to resist us, it is ‘traditional,’ you have no need to worry, do you not want women to feel included,” etc. People will fall for this nonsense. The spirit of the age, the unclean spirit of progressivism, will thus wreak havoc in our parishes.

Schism is the inevitable result of the current deaconess movement, and merely seeking to maintain what has been rightly received from our holy fathers and mothers will be treated as if it were the problem. The fault line will run deep, and those who stand outside the Church will relentlessly attempt to appear as though they are inside, and attempt to deceive Orthodox Christians to move away from sacred Tradition. By refusing to truly heed the inevitably divisive consequence of implementing their ideal, their advocacy is actually rendered a sin, even if on the surface the "ideal" appears neutral or even praiseworthy. There is no "progress" in the Church, for the faith was once for all delivered to the saints, and its life is hid with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).

To conclude, if it has not been made clear, despite its sophistry to the contrary, the female diaconate is not only wrong theoretically. Its great sin is schism. To try to make this clearer, even if, for the mere sake of argument, one were to consider the tenuous web of arguments woven by the progressives, this would not change the schismatic nature of their proposal. In short, even if the progressives were correct in their interpretation of the roles of the historical deaconess, they are still in the wrong in seeking to "restore" it. They are wrong because they knowingly move in a way which will create division and factions. They place their idealizations above the unity of the Church. By seeking to innovate actual received practice on the basis of their historical research and progressive theorizing, they needlessly divide the Church according to the contours of their research and their subsequent theoretical proposals.

The progressives would sacrifice the unity of the Church for the sake of “exploring” their idea, split the Church in persuading to their cause, divide the Church in trying to implement it, and set brother against brother, sister against sister, all for the sake of advancing a “felt need.” Their exegetical arguments are thus not merely for the sake of clarifying history, but of lending weight to their carnal, schismatic progressivism. Capitulating in the least to the unclean spirit of progressivism only emboldens it in further endeavors, until it progressively possesses the whole Church and so destroys it from within by factions and internal divisions.
Since there is no "need" for a deaconess, then there is no "need" for the change. To insist that there "needs" to be a change when there is no "need" is inevitably divisive, especially on such a socially charged issue. The Church does not adopt sweeping changes without an actual, objective need.

Monday, February 19, 2018

Some Anticlimactic Consequences of Atheism

One aspect of the atheist argument against religion does not hold for the very simple reason that according to the atheist's worldview, religion is the legitimate result of natural selection. Adaptation being a law of nature would make adaptiveness essentially self-justifying. According to the atheist's worldview, religion can and does exist merely because it is an adaptive trait, rendering religion justified on adaptive grounds alone.

There is therefore no truly reasonable ground for the atheist on his own terms to debate the religionist, because the religionist is simply operating according to historically adaptive traits,  i.e. consistently reproducing religionists. Neither from logic nor illogic, religion according to the atheist is the result of natural selection, of genetic and social Darwinism. There can be no blaming of religion in this case, for it is simply a competing complex of traits that proved adaptive. Thus whether religion is true or false can be of only secondary importance to the atheist, for the fact that religion exists and reproduces means it obeys Darwinian natural law and so does not need to answer to any additional bar of truth in order to justify its existence.

The atheist, on the other hand, is simply some other complex of naturalistic traits, traits he would like to believe are more adaptive simply due to the complex of factors to which he is enthralled. But whether or not atheism is adaptive is not determined through argument or rational discourse, but through reproduction. In reality, atheism may be utterly unadaptive and unsustainable, a fact which history would seem to corroborate. Even so, atheism according to its own consequences is not a matter of rational discourse, nor are any beliefs. Reproductive realism, which is to say the actuality of instances of reproduction, is the only relevant law. The atheist's argument is thus anticlimactically emptied of its force because ultimately even his beliefs are only passively retained due to social and genetic Darwinian determinism, and only the presence or absence of reproduction can in principle decide the case.

If freedom of belief, however, is granted over and against reproductive determinism (i.e. those who reproduce determine the case), then again the atheist fails because the religionist according to atheist belief must then also be equally free, belief no longer being about truth but about free competition for existence, truth again being relegated to secondary importance.

But if the argument is about truth, where atheism considers itself more adaptive because it is true, then the atheist would again have to betray his own worldview because truth would have to be shown to be an adaptive trait he uniquely possesses over against non-atheism. This would beg the question since it assumes the possession of the very thing in question, becoming "true" merely because he asserts it.

Moreover, if an atheist has truth as an adaptive trait, it would be in principle impossible to show non-atheists since they lack this trait, destroying rational discourse since only the atheist could rightly be said to reason. The ability to know truth is here reduced to a product of social and genetic Darwinism, and so if this is the case it again destroys the atheist's argument because his truth becomes merely the resulting consequence of his accidental traits, and thus not a function of truth. The knowledge of truth is just an accident of nature.

Worse, if knowledge of truth is merely the benefit of Darwinian adaptation, then it would never in principle be able to be known as truth because Darwinian adaptation equally produced falsehood  (i.e. religion). Thus, absurdly,  only the presence of atheism could demonstrate possession of truth, reducing atheist truth claims to rank tautology.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

Conversion to Christ in the Orthodox Church


Are you a convert to the Orthodox Church?


There is a common way of discussing members of the Orthodox Church, a way which places them in two categories: cradle and convert.


The first group are said to be Orthodox “from the cradle,” which is to say from their earliest years, from the time they were still in diapers, still in a baby’s cradle.


The second group includes those who come to Orthodoxy later in life. They weren’t necessarily raised Orthodox, but come to the Church through what is called a process of conversion.


Are these categories helpful? Are they legitimate? In order to understand, it will be helpful to have a look at what Scripture says about conversion.


There is at least one instance where the term convert appears in English translations of the Bible: “Greet Epaenetus, my beloved, who is the first convert (ἀπαρχή) to Christ from Asia” (Romans 16:5).


This particular translation comes from the NASB, famous for being a literal translation. This choice of translation can also be found in the ESV, NET, RSV, NIV, and CSB, which is to say a lot of scholarship has gone into the choosing of this term as an appropriate interpretation of the Greek ἀπαρχή, which more literally translates as firstfruits.


Biblically, firstfruits means: “to take away the firstfruits of the productions of the earth which was offered to God. The first portion of the dough, from which sacred loaves were to be prepared. Hence the term is used of persons consecrated to God for all time.”


From the Latin convertere, meaning turn around or transform, the dictionary definition of convert includes: 1. To change the character, appearance, or operation of something. 2. Someone who is converted to something; is persuaded to accept new preferences or beliefs; someone who accepts a new religion or belief.


Taking all of this together, to convert refers especially to turning to Christ. It means turning from evil to Good, from self to God, from death to Life, from error to Truth, and not in a general or superficial way, but in a fundamental way. It is a firstfruits, not a refinement, a repair, or a retrofitting. Nor is it a transition. It is an offering, a consecration of self to God.


There is another relevant Biblical term, one which gets translated as conversion: “Therefore, being sent on their way by the church, they were passing through both Phoenicia and Samaria, describing in detail the conversion (ἐπιστροφή) of the Gentiles, and were bringing great joy to all the brethren” (Acts 15:3).


This translation choice is shared by all the major English translations of the Bible. The Greek ἐπιστροφή refers to the conversion of the Gentiles, and comes from the root word ἐπιστρέφω, which means to turn, in this case, to the worship of the true God, or to cause to return or bring back, say, to the love and obedience of God, and shares an interconceptual corralary with Biblical repentance, which is to say metanoia or the changing and transformation of one’s mind, as when Peter declares in Acts: “Therefore repent (μετανοέω) and return (ἐπιστρέφω), so that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord” (Acts 3:19). Both concepts go naturally together.


A dictionary definition of conversion includes: 1. change from one religion, political belief, viewpoint, etc., to another. 2. a change of attitude, emotion, or viewpoint from one of indifference, disbelief, or antagonism to one of acceptance, faith, or enthusiastic support, especially such a change in a person's religion.


Taking these together, conversion, like convert, refers to a fundamental shift, a turning away from evil to Good, from self to God, from death to Life, and from error to Truth.


Now, Good, Life, and Truth are a Person, not a thing, and so conversion refers essentially to the root movement towards God. The notion of conversion is essentially and substantially to Christ, as it says in Romans 16:5 quoted above. Other Biblical examples include:

“Therefore it is my judgment that we do not trouble those who are turning (ἐπιστρέφω) to God from among the Gentiles” (Acts 15:19).
“Whenever a person turns (ἐπιστρέφω) to the Lord, the veil is taken away” (2 Corinthians 3:16).
“Let him know that he who turns (ἐπιστρέφω) a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins” (James 5:20).
“For you were continually straying like sheep, but now you have returned (ἐπιστρέφω) to the Shepherd and Guardian of your souls” (1 Peter 2:25).


Nowhere is there a Scriptural notion of conversion “to” the Church per se. Conversion is always to Christ. Although that may seem like a pedantic distinction, it is, however, a truism that no one is born Christian, because Christianity is not a hereditary trait. People convert to Christ. A Christian is not Christian through birth, but rebirth (John 3:3). It is therefore possible to be cradle Orthodox, to be born into the community of the faithful, receive baptism as an infant, identify with the Church, and yet not be converted to Christ, to have spent all of one's life in an Orthodox parish and yet never to have lived according to Christ, nor to have offered oneself as a firstfruits to God or transformed one’s thought or action so as to conform oneself to one’s baptism.


Problems arise, for the dual categories of cradle and convert are misleading and unhelpful. There can even be witnessed a disdain towards converts, the idea that one is never quite as Orthodox as the cradle Orthodox are. What is more, the category of cradle, which in no wise indicates whether or not one is actually converted, can give the impression that Orthodoxy is not essentially about conversion to Christ and His Gospel, but that conversion “to the Church” is instead conversion to a set of beliefs related to but distinct from Christ and the Gospel.


For example, many “converts” to Orthodoxy have been converted to Christ for decades, and then found the fullness of faith in the Orthodox Church. They came to the Church therefore not as a conversion to Christ, but as an entering into the fullness of the faith. To then equate their joining of the Church with conversion can trivialize sometimes decades of true conversion to Christ.

It is also entirely possible for a cradle Orthodox to be knowledgeable of Orthodoxy, well-versed in the Church's practices and customs, and yet still be unconverted to Christ.


What is worse, the cradle/convert dichotomy can promote a sense of having a two-tiered congregation comprised of, on the one hand, the cradle Orthodox, who may in fact be totally unconverted, and “converts,” on the other hand, whose late-coming to Orthodoxy may be predicated upon decades of conversion to Christ. Converts can sometimes even be treated by cradle Orthodox as if decades of conversion to, and training and education in, Christ are somehow neither legitimate nor significant, even suspect.


In light of the foregoing, “conversion” to the Orthodox Church is a dubious category. The dual categories of cradle and convert can thus be abandoned as neither helpful nor legitimate categories of Orthodox Christians. There are not different "types" of Orthodox Christian. One enters and joins the Orthodox Church, is grafted into the Body of Christ, but one converts to Christ. In reality, everyone who is truly a Christian is so by conversion.

That being said, within the Orthodox Church are both wheat and tares, and without conversion to Christ one can be in the building but not truly in the Church, which is to say one can be Orthodox in name only. One can be called, but not chosen.


To close with a warning from St. Gregory Palamas’ homily on Matthew 22:1-15, “On the Gospel of the Fourteenth Sunday of Matthew, On the Parable That Invites Us to the Son’s Wedding”:


“Why, therefore, did the Lord say, that many were called, but not all? [Matthew 22:14] Because at this point He was speaking about those who had come to Christ, which is why He put this statement later, after the parable. If, when someone was invited, he were to obey the summons, and, having been baptized, were to be called by Christ’s name, but were not to behave in a way worthy of his calling, nor fulfill the promises made at his baptism to live according to Christ, then, although he was called, he was not chosen” (St. Gregory Palamas, Homily Forty-One, pg 326).


Those of us who are baptized and yet do not “live according to Christ” he states are “evil people” that “are like who, having been called, drawn near and been baptized, have not undergone any change for the better, nor laid aside through repentance the filth that comes from wicked pleasures and passions” (ibid, 332).