by Hieromonk Patapios Agiogregorites, Holy Monastery of St. Gregory Palamas, Etna, CA
Editor's Note: Hieromonk Patapios holds an honors B.A. degree from Cambridge University, an M.A. from Pennsylvania State University, an M.A. and an M.L.S. degree from the University of Pittsburgh, the Lic. Theol. from the Center for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies, and a doctoral degree from in Patristics from the Graduate Theological Union at Berkeley, where he was a Newhall Teaching Fellow. He is a spiritual son of Archbishop Chrysostomos of Etna, having joined the Synod of Metropolitan Cyprian in 1991.
The following article was sent to us by a Reader in one of our parishes. I think it prudent to make a few remarks, in response, to our faithful, since some of the issues are important and deserve our consideration. I have placed my remarks between dashes within the text. I am hopeful that my comments will help to place much of this material in broader perspective, thus perhaps affording a more precise and perspicacious view of matters that are not quite as clear-cut as Dr. Karras suggests, and especially with regard to various Church traditions. We have no desire to spark debate or spawn contentiousness, but simply to affirm that the scholarly witness is not as definitive as she would like us to believe. While this is not written as a formal rebuttal of Dr. Karras, you are free to pass it along to anyone who may be interested in our reactions.
Graduate Theological Union,
LIGONIER: TEN YEARS LATER
by Dr. Valerie A. Karras
Presented at the 17th Annual Meeting of Orthodox Christian Laity
Oak Brook, Illinois on October 30, 2004
Dr. Valerie A. Karras, Scholar, Teacher, Theologian, has addressed OCL meetings in the past. Her insights and research on Orthodoxy in America are well respected by many faithful Orthodox Christians of all jurisdictions. The members of OCL are always challenged by her thoughtful essays and comments. OCL is committed to encouraging lay theologians to meet and encourages them to speak out on the issues facing Orthodox Christianity in a pluralistic society. Dr. Karras presented her thoughts on where Orthodoxy is 10 years after Ligonier at the 17th Annual Meeting of Orthodox Christian Laity which took place in Oak Brook, Illinois on October 30, 2004. We look forward to reading her book, "Women in the Byzantine Liturgy," published by Oxford University Press. She is also a member of the editorial board of the St. Nina Quarterly, P.O. Box 397252, Cambridge, MA - web page http://www-Ins.mit.edu-teva/St.Nina.html.
I just noticed a couple of days ago that my talk has been advertised as being on "The Nature of the Church." I had actually communicated with Archbishop Nathaniel about doing something more specific to Ligonier. (So, I hope that those of you who were dying to hear something vague and insubstantial on the nature of the Church won't be disappointed.) Given that we are celebrating the tenth anniversary of the SCOBA conference in Ligonier, I thought it might be interesting to reflect on progress and impediments to Orthodox unity since 1994, and particularly to place Ligonier within the broader historical context of attempts at Orthodox unity in North America.
Since we find ourselves among those whom Dr. Karras would probably call "sectarian traditionalists" (vide infra), we have little to say about the non-inclusive unity that seems to be such a desired goal in Orthodox America. We can, however, make a few comments about the assumptions which underlie the issues that she raises, as they impinge on the status of us so-called sectarian traditionalists. If we are to be approached by epithets that seem designed to thwart any face-to-face dialogue and engagement with those who would dismiss us as virtual cretins, this does not impede us from making comments for anyone fair enough to listen to what we have to say. This freedom is as old as that enjoyed by the ancient philosophers. It is also equally efficacious.
Personally, when I look at what has happened over the past ten years, I find myself filled with both hope and frustration. Since the Orthodox Church in this country is a patchwork of jurisdictions, movement toward unity has been neither consistent nor collective. What we have seen in addition to collective action by SCOBA and other bodies are the individual movements of each jurisdiction, and even these have not always been wholly consistent within a given jurisdiction. These fitful starts, stops, and even reverses have been motivated not only by the commitment and vision - or lack thereof - of the bishops, clergy, and laity of an individual jurisdiction, but also by the vision, confidence, and/or fears of the bishops of that jurisdiction's mother church, and even by the worldwide Orthodox Church. In other words, Orthodox unity in North America is inextricably linked to the relationships between mother and daughter churches among the various jurisdictions. These relationships reflect not only certain historical realities but also the commitment - or, again, the lack thereof - of the mother churches to Orthodox unity in North America.
It behooves us to express our concern about spiritual integrity and the inner struggle for union with God, which, from our putatively sectarian position, is a far more important concern for Orthodoxy in America. Unity is the product of authenticity in Faith, in the first place. In the second place, administrative order and preoccupations with merely structural canonicity should, in our minds, always remain subordinate to the "kanona tes pisteos," or the rule of Faith. While the former is desirable, it is rooted in the latter. And if one single aspect of "canonicity" (adherence to the rule) is necessary and sufficient, it is that aspect which pertains to matters of Faith and practice, not administrative order. Hence, the oft-cited and wise caveat that, if one must choose between prophecy and order, peril will befall those who favor order over prophecy.
Before discussing the past ten years, however, I believe it is important to place the aftermath of Ligonier in the broader historical perspective of Orthodoxy in North America and particularly movements toward Orthodox unity. As most of you know, the first Orthodox Church to establish a true local church here, with a normal diocesan structure, was the Church of Russia, whose monks had begun evangelizing the native Alaskans in the eighteenth century. The sale of Alaska to the United States in the mid-nineteenth century suddenly moved part of the Church of Russia to the United States in terms of its political identity. The Russian Orthodox Church here, which eventually became known as the "Metropolia," relocated its administrative center twice, moving from Alaska first to set up its diocese in San Francisco and then, as it expanded across the continent, later moving to New York. As other non-Russian Orthodox immigrant groups began establishing themselves and forming parishes in this country, some retained loose affiliations with the churches of their motherland, but most recognized the legitimacy of the Russian Orthodox Archdiocese as the one Orthodox Church in this country, and so came under its jurisdiction. Thus it is that the first Arab-American Orthodox saint, St. Raphael (Hawaweeny), was a bishop of the Russian Orthodox Archdiocese here in the U.S.
So, it is ironic to realize that Orthodoxy, splintered in such an uncanonical manner today, actually established itself in North America in a canonical manner as a single jurisdiction. The uncanonical establishment of multiple, ethnically-based jurisdictions began only after the Bolshevik revolution, when the mother Church of Russia came under extreme persecution and was forced to abandon its daughter church here to her own devices. Notwithstanding this capitulation to the political exigencies of the rise of Bolshevism in Russia and the rise of nationalism in Europe after World War I, most Orthodox hierarchs recognized the uncanonical nature of the situation, especially as time passed and successive generations of Orthodox born and raised here no longer considered themselves to be a diaspora, although they usually retained strong ethnic identities.
Some bishops from the 1920's on were keenly aware that we were becoming an American Orthodox Church and so urged the use of English in catechetical instruction and liturgy, such as Bishop Joachim (Alexopoulos) of the Greek Archdiocese and Metropolitan Anthony (Bashir) of the Antiochian Archdiocese. John Erickson, dean of St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary, in his excellent textbook, Orthodox Christians in America, noted that the far-sighted Bishop Aftimios Ofiesh in 1927 railed against the ethnic jurisdictional divisions which were impeding Orthodox development in this country. Bishop Aftimios decried the multiplication of ethnic jurisdictions in that decade and argued that "[t]he true ideal of one Orthodox Catholic Church in America for the growing thousands of Americans born and reared in Orthodoxy was lost in the over-zealous patriotic desire of the immigrant generation to parallel in America the national resurrections taking place in Europe." Unfortunately, Bishop Aftimios was well ahead of his time, and his attempt to create an American Orthodox Catholic Church was a short-lived failure.
With all due respect to Bishop Aftimios's vision of an American Orthodoxy, there were also deficits in his witness as vivid as the "lacunae" in this historical sketch of the history of Orthodoxy in America. We might, for example, cite the role of the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad, which is neglected here, as well as the Cleveland Sobor in the mid-1940s, which led to a significant schism between the "Metropolia" and the ROCA and which is symptomatic of an American Orthodox experience which is not quite as inspiring or as edifying as contemporary histories, often whitewashed and serving jurisdictional ends, would suggest. We are not suggesting that the whole and accurate story of American Orthodoxy is one of "good" against "evil"; rather, it is a story of ecclesiastical politics and jurisdictional rivalry, with errors on all sides, that still colors and taints the fabric of Orthodoxy in this country.
However, his vision had not died. Orthodox remained uncomfortably aware of the uncanonical nature of their divided ecclesiastical structure in North America. Another attempt at some type of Orthodox unity was the Federated Orthodox Greek Catholic Primary Jurisdictions established in 1943 by Archbishop Athenagoras of the Greek Archdiocese and Metropolitan Anthony Bashir. Yet, despite its much more modest aim of simply coordinating Orthodox activity, this too was short-lived. Nevertheless, while both of these attempts were ultimately unsuccessful, the underlying desire for unity propelling them persisted.
Once more, there are those of us, whether dismissed as sectarians or cretins, who would emphasize that the primary goal of the Church is the transformation of the human being through immersion into its Eucharistic and Hesychastic traditions, and not merely external unity. Our yearning for the Church should center on these traditions; for, indeed, the Church is first a charismatic body of those transformed by Grace and made one in love, and only after that a body of dioceses, national Churches, and so on.
In 1960, this quest for unity manifested itself again, and this time it would not simply die on the vine. Archbishop Iakovos (Coucouzes), as the new head of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, organized a conference of Orthodox bishops from various jurisdictions to discuss coordinated activity. This new creation, the Standing Conference of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the Americas (SCOBA), established joint commissions for such areas as ecumenism, religious education (OCEC), military chaplaincies, scouting, and, in more recent decades, for college campus fellowships (OCF) and international charitable work (IOCC).
SCOBA also strove in its early years to initiate a process of Orthodox unification in North America, what a 1965 report of its Ad Hoc Commission on Unity titled "unity by degrees". Because SCOBA recognized that "it would be absolutely impossible to simply 'jump' into that ideal future" of "one Orthodox Church unified in its canonical structure", it proposed transforming itself first into a provisional Holy Synod of the Orthodox Church in America, allowing each jurisdiction to continue to administer its own internal affairs, but coordinating at the synod level such activities as the ordination of bishops, religious education programs, and global inter-Orthodox relations. This provisional synod was to provide an intermediate step toward attaining full Orthodox unity.
Unfortunately, these plans were vetoed by most of the mother churches, who were having problems among themselves in determining the agenda of a proposed Great and Holy Council of the Orthodox Church (in fact, in their still ongoing preparatory discussions they have now removed the situation of the Orthodox churches in North America from the agenda entirely). As John Erickson discusses, their solution to these inter-Orthodox tensions was to concentrate on "safe" topics. The uncanonical situation of the multiple Orthodox jurisdictions in North America was not safe, particularly since it included another uncanonical situation nested within the larger one, namely, the frosty and almost non-existent relationship between the Metropolia and the Patriarchate of Moscow, which had existed since the Bolshevik Revolution.
One area that we might suggest for consideration is that of the development of the personal virtues (spiritual and otherwise) that would allow Orthodox to sit down with one another in a forum free from self-assigned status as "official" or "True" Orthodox (impediments and faults surely existing on both sides of the traditional divide, as any objective student of the matter can readily ascertain) and dedicated to the revitalization of the Orthodox Faith as a prerequisite for any sort of administrative unity. The Patristic focus of our Faith is preeminently and ineluctably on our union with God and our personal communion with the spiritual ethos of Orthodoxy, not on purely organizational matters.
This situation was resolved when discussions between the two, begun in 1968, resulted in a reconciliation and, in 1970, in Moscow's granting autocephaly to the Metropolia. The Metropolia was renamed the Orthodox Church in America and began yet another effort at Orthodox unity as the Albanian Orthodox Archdiocese and the Bulgarian Orthodox Diocese joined it, although these created mini-schisms as well, as some parishes remained under their mother churches; the Romanian episcopate, under Bishop Valerian, had already joined the Metropolia in 1960. As I discussed with OCL in a previous address here in Chicago several years ago, Orthodoxy's history includes three different modes of granting autocephaly: 1) the decision of an ecumenical council, 2) a decree of the emperor, and 3) an act of the mother church. Therefore, the purported ecclesiological rationale for the refusal of many Orthodox churches (mainly the Greek-speaking ones) to recognize formally the OCA's autocephaly - namely, their argument thatautocephaly can only be granted by a pan-Orthodox council - is on shaky grounds given the historical record, and most especially since the Patriarchate of Constantinople itself granted autocephaly to the Czech Church just a few years ago. While most agree that there was probably some Soviet pressure on the Patriarchate of Moscow to cut the American Church loose, the Patriarchate of Moscow engaged in full, sometimes difficult discussions with the representatives of the Metropolia before agreeing to autocephaly; furthermore, it has not attempted to revoke that autocephaly since the fall of communism a decade ago.
Autonomy and autocephaly, in fact, may be the most pragmatic intermediate step toward Orthodox unity in this country. The greater the daughter churches' independence from their mother churches, the more freedom they have to act in concert with other Orthodox churches toward creating a unified Orthodox jurisdiction in this country. Several jurisdictions in this country either were established as autonomous churches or have developed into autonomous churches. The Romanian Orthodox Archdiocese enjoys the same high level of autonomy as other dioceses in Romania itself. For example, two years ago the Romanian Archdiocese elected a new archbishop through a nominating and election process here, with the Romanian patriarchal synod in Bucharest simply ratifying the election. This is the normal procedure for autonomous churches (Finland is another example), although theoretically the mother church could choose the presiding hierarch of the autonomous church on her own. We will see a similar process with the newly-autonomous Antiochian Archdiocese, which was formally granted its autonomy just days ago.
Unfortunately, at the same time that most Orthodox jurisdictions in North America have moved to autonomy and autocephaly, some churches have been moving away from self-governance, most notably the Serbian and Greek Archdioceses. In both cases, the autonomy which they formerly enjoyed has been taken by them, in the early 1930's for the Greeks and a couple of decades ago for the Serbians. The Serbian Archdiocese essentially had its autonomy revoked by its patriarchal synod some 25 years ago in a set of actions which broke up the Archdiocese and created a schism that still has not been healed, despite a Supreme Court ruling in the matter (the court ruling has problems of its own, which I will briefly discuss below).
The Greek Archdiocese was established as an autonomous church in 1922, then had its autonomy revoked and diocesan structure abolished in 1931 by the fraudulent backdating of documents (as Paul Manolis has shown in his multi-volume set of Archdiocesan archival documents). It moved back toward a more traditionally diocesan, though not formally autonomous, structure in 1977. As Andrew Walsh described it, "Under Iakovos, who served as archbishop from 1959 to 1996, the American archdiocese had enjoyed substantial, if informal, autonomy." In the late 1980's and early 1990's, a committee began working with the Ecumenical Patriarchate on a revised charter which was informally called the "autonomy charter".
Unfortunately, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, elected and installed in 1991, has consistently shown an antipathy to autonomy for the GOA through a multitude of actions, most notably the breakup of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, the rejection of the work of the joint charter committee, and, of course, his condemnation of the Ligonier conference. "Bartholomew had been caught off-guard and responded by pressuring the sitting Greek Orthodox archbishop in the Americas, Iakovos Coucouzes, into retirement [in 1996]." The patriarchate replaced Turkish-born but long-time American resident Archbishop Iakovos, who had striven for three decades for greater autonomy and Orthodox unity in America, "with an American-born hierarch [who had not lived in the United States since his teens], Spyridon George, a man with a clear record of loyalty to Constantinople and a mandate to reestablish obedience to the Patriarchate." (This just goes to show that one should not assume a hierarch's priorities and vision based on the heaviness of his accent.) Archbishop Spyridon aroused considerable animosity both within and outside the GOA by his attempts to dismantle and reshape both the Archdiocese and SCOBA (he attempted, for example, to wrest control of the Orthodox Christian Mission Center from SCOBA back to the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, which under Archbishop Iakovos had given it over to SCOBA in the first place). In fact, he became so unpopular because of his extreme actions with respect to Holy Cross seminary, St. Basil's Academy, and the Mission Center that an Archdiocesan-wide movement developed to unseat him. In 1999, the Patriarchate of Constantinople replaced Spyridon with Demetrios Trakatellis, a much beloved Greek hierarch and former professor at Holy Cross.
Unfortunately, Archbishop Demetrios, despite strong personal reservations about the actions of the Patriarchate, has been unwilling to voice public opposition to anything Bartholomew has done, from as trivial a matter as revoking an invitation to Archbishop Christodoulos of Athens to serve as grand marshal to the Greek Independence Day parade in New York, to as weighty a matter as the illegitimately-imposed revised charter for the Archdiocese. The philosophy of "divide and conquer" evident in the patriarch's opposition to Ligonier and his earlier breakup of the GOA into four archdioceses and metropolitanates, is continued in this new charter, not by the elevation of diocesan bishops to metropolitan status, but rather by the ecclesiastical structure implied in the order of commemoration, whereby the diocesan metropolitans now commemorate the Patriarch directly as opposed to commemorating the head of their eparchial synod, Archbishop Demetrios. This uncanonical order of commemoration weakens the traditional Orthodox synodal structure, and is evident in the de facto workings of the synod.
With respect to the legal challenge mounted by OCL to the imposition of this revised GOA charter, I would like to raise an issue which is of importance to Orthodoxy at large in the United States, and which I believe should lead the other Orthodox jurisdictions to file amicus briefs, if that is appropriate in this type of legal action. This is one of the issues opposed by Evan Chriss himself in his Affidavit and Memorandum of Law, namely, the court's assumption that the Orthodox Church's being "hierarchical" is to be interpreted in an essentially Roman Catholic sense, i.e., the highest authority (interpreted as the Patriarchate of Constantinople) in the church has the final say in all matters. The American court system's recognition of only two ecclesiological models - hierarchical and congregational - is a natural result of the predominant models in Western Christianity. However, the Orthodox model, while hierarchical, is far more complex in its understanding of the relationships among laity, clergy, hierarchs, and the state. Unfortunately, that complexity does not lend itself readily to concrete American legal structures.
The problem is intensified because, historically, the balance to episcopal authority in the Orthodox Church on the lay level has normally been exercised by the state, whether that was the emperor or tsar in earlier times, or the Ottoman sultan, or the modern Greek and Russian states. This creates a peculiar paradox in the United States because of its constitutional separation of church and state: the state will not and cannot exercise the role historically it has played to prevent the episcopacy from wielding power unchecked and thus has effectively removed the traditional balance of authority which has existed in Orthodoxy.
Even worse, by imposing a Western hierarchical model on the Orthodox Church, i.e., by making the mother church legally exempt from abiding by its own contractual obligations (e.g., charters with daughter churches), the American court system is leaving the daughter Orthodox churches in the U.S. with no legal protection from their respective mother churches. We are subject to the whims of our mother churches because of certain jurists whose convoluted understanding of the free exercise of religion has led them to the remarkable opinion that American daughter churches have no legal right to enforce contracts entered into with their mother churches.
While administration is not our domain, this is a rather curious way to look at the hierarchical administration of the Orthodox Church. If it is true that hierarchy itself, as we affirm, rests on spiritual relations and virtues, and not on administrative or authoritative prerogatives, such things as the "free exercise of religion" and "contractual fidelity" should be reckoned wholly foreign to the ethos of Orthodox. Such concepts as these do not derive from order based on spiritual precepts.
Those American Orthodox bishops who currently look favorably upon the American courts' imposition of a simplistic hierarchical model on Orthodox church matters should think twice. Except for the OCA, this model means that every jurisdiction in this country is subject to whatever changes desired by their mother churches, even if they have autonomy. That autonomy could be revoked and the American courts would uphold it (in fact, they did just that in the Serbian case). Every Orthodox jurisdiction in this country would do well to consider not how the legal hierarchical model enforces unfettered episcopal authority, but rather how that unfettered episcopal authority, at it highest level, has the potential to be used against the Orthodox churches in the U.S.
Moving back to the question of autonomy and Orthodox unity in North America, I do not believe that it is coincidental that the Serbian and Greek Archdioceses, the two which have moved backward in terms of autonomy and openness to Orthodox unity, share two traits in common: they are the most explicitly ethnic of the jurisdictions, and they both have mother churches which either are or were politically oppressed when they made decisions breaking up their daughter churches and exercising more direct control. In other words, in a reverse from the situation which obtained with respect to the Moscow patriarchate and the Metropolia, political pressure or, alternatively, fear emanating from a siege mentality, have led these mother churches to attempt to control more directly their daughter churches.
One is hard-pressed to imagine that Orthodoxy should be defined by a preoccupation with such matters. Granted, I speak from the within the confines of a monastery, but perhaps the image of the spiritual illumination of the monastic by the light of Angels and the illumination of the laity by the light of monasticism is not a bad one to apply here. In a monastic setting, where administration is grounded in spiritual obedience and love, that administration takes its form from that in which it is grounded. This may be a model that would serve the jurisdictional problems that face Orthodox in America today. The challenge is an idealistic one, of course, but so is the challenge of Christianity and all efforts at spiritual transformation.
Of course, these attempts to tighten control and authority are doomed to failure, in both practical and theoretical terms. As a practical matter, the mother churches exhibit woeful ignorance in their understanding of the realities of Orthodox church life in American society. They ignore the consequences of both ethnic and religious inter-marriage as well as the challenges posed by a confessionally pluralistic society which creates a religious marketplace. Instead, such mother churches operate under a false notion of diaspora and, insofar as they do recognize the ever-diminishing ethnic and mother-church identity of their faithful in North America, they naively believe that it can be remedied through language instruction, dance and youth groups, and greater control by the mother church over ecclesiastical affairs here.
Of course, most attempts to exercise greater control, because they are based in a false understanding of the realities of the church here, are unsuccessful and simply create animosity toward the mother church and strengthen the American faithful's resolve to become self-governing. Moreover, from a historical perspective, these attempts to govern from abroad are doomed to failure because no mother church has managed to maintain strong control over a geographically distant daughter church for very long. Finally, impeding the establishment of a self-governing local or regional church is theologically and ecclesiologically untenable. It cuts against the grain of Orthodox practice and replaces traditional Orthodox ecclesiology with a series of mini-Catholic models (or not so "mini" in the case of the Ecumenical Patriarch, who has meddled in the affairs of the Church of Russia in Estonia, Ukraine, and even its relations with the Vatican).
So, where have we come since Ligonier? Not nearly as far as most of us had hoped. Perhaps our American bishops have become too American. Rather than - as bishops in Greece would certainly have done - standing up to the Ecumenical Patriarch and other mother church hierarchs opposed to Ligonier, the American Orthodox bishops caved in to opposition from abroad and essentially retreated. Nevertheless, I believe that the autonomy granted by the Patriarchate of Antioch to the Antiochian Archdiocese bodes well for the future. Specifically, I optimistically foresee the OCA and Antiochian Archdiocese uniting to form the nucleus of a truly pan-ethnic autocephalous Orthodox Church in America, although it is unclear to me whether the autonomous Romanian Archdiocese and other smaller Orthodox jurisdictions will join them. The Serbian and Greek Archdioceses, however, will remain outside this unity as a result of ethnic insularity and opposition to unity from their mother churches (I believe that ethnic insularity plays a greater role in the Serbian Archdiocese, while maternal ecclesiastical opposition plays the greater role in the GOA). Unless and until conditions change in these two mother churches, I believe their two daughter churches will remain stagnant and insular, although maintaining cooperative ties with other Orthodox. However, I also believe that their numbers are likely to diminish over time, as less ethnic future generations "vote with their feet" and leave these archdioceses either for a united American Orthodox Church or, tragically, for non-Orthodox churches.
Paradoxically, I observe that at the same time that we are striving for unity across jurisdictions, we are becoming more internally divided within jurisdictions and even within parishes. I foresee this deepening rift creating a reorganization and reshaping of Orthodox jurisdictional lines in the future along the lines of two competing philosophies: on the one hand, the main American Orthodox church, with a dynamic and acculturating approach to Orthodox tradition and history; on the other hand, a smaller, perhaps uncanonical body, with a more static and sectarian approach to tradition and history, i.e., a traditionalist Orthodox church.
It is rather amazing to see "tradition" used as a demeaning epithet. And again, the use of the word "uncanonical" is a rather strange one, particularly when applied to jurisdictions rightly more concerned with the practice of the Faith (the canon of Faith) than the prerogatives of administration.
In reality, most people - and even churches - combine aspects of both these approaches, often in an unconscious and inconsistent manner. To give one example, traditionalists often insist that clergy should wear cassocks, not a clerical collar, and keep their beards and hair uncut because that is Orthodox tradition, as they believe. However, the historical evidence, both literary and artistic, is that clergy for many centuries had short hair and close-cropped beards and that monks - in the East as well as the West - retained their monastic tonsure (the shaving of the upper part of the head which always makes medieval monks look bald).
Dr. Karras certainly must be aware, as a scholar, that she is citing here diversity in practice over a long period of history. Both the full tonsure and practices that survive as the dominant custom in Orthodoxy today existed in the very first centuries of Christianity. Uncut beards and hair were inarguably the more common feature in Eastern monasticism, as evidenced by the fact that they survived and the exceptions did not. One must avoid off-handed scholarship that feigns authority which is not there. A good graduate school guide would find much to criticize and correct in her scholarly presumptuousness.
As for clerical attire, as late as the 18th or 19th century, drawings in the Benaki Museum in Athens depict a village priest dressed in typical village attire, not in specifically clerical garb.
There are, of course, artistic representations of this kind, and naturally one can find village Priests, both in Greece and elsewhere, in civilian attire while working or in other circumstances, even today. They are, however, rare.
In actual fact, the anteri (cassock) was monastic dress and only later came to be adopted by secular clergy; the exoraso (the robe with wide, flowing sleeves) and kalamafki (pillbox hat) which virtually all bishops and many priests wear comes from the judicial robes worn in the Ottoman Empire: during the Ottoman period, Orthodox clergy became judges and the ecclesiastical courts served as civil and criminal courts for intra-Orthodox disputes.
This is a muddled account of the very complex history of clerical dress. It is partly based on the kind of limited scholarship that inspired the Calendar innovation and had its provenance in the absolute distaste for traditionalism among many Greek clergy and scholars in the first few decades of the twentieth century. (See an excellent discussion of the "Europeanization" of Orthodoxy favored by these modernists in Dimitri Kitsikis's THE OLD CALENDARISTS AND THE RISE OF RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM IN GREECE [Etna, CA: C.T.O.S., 1995]. Professor Kitsikis is a distinguished historian, member of the Royal Academy of Canada, and Professor emeritus at the University of Ottawa). This same trend, which centered on what can only be called an abuse of scholarly standards, can be seen in the pitiable theological writings of the advocates of the"Living Church" movement in Russia, after the Bolshevik Revolution. These turn-of-the-century modernists eschewed objective scholarship for the purpose of finding any justification for their innovations, and this in a spirit of disdain for Church tradition that is rather astonishing.
In the first place, special dress for the clergy is not something new. Canon 27 of the Fifth-Sixth Oecumenical Synod (692), for example, not only warns clergy (and not just monks) to avoid "inappropriate clothing," but directs them "to use the garments that have already been assigned to those ranked among the clergy." And we are not here, as some innovative interpreters have suggested, talking about liturgical dress. As well, St. Basil the Great (fl. fourth century) tells us that the clothing that we wear is an expression of our spiritual witness and way of life (see PATROLOGIA GRAECA, XXXI, col. 980). This advice is given to monks, but it obviously applies to all clergy, as evidenced by the Canon cited above. The rason (raka in its ancient form"), anteri, or cassock, was the garb of monks from the early centuries of Christianity. In fact, there is little specific evidence of its developed form until the eleventh century, except in references to monastic garb; so, we do not know precisely what married clergy wore, though it is likely that they dressed in a manner much like monks. At any rate, from the eleventh century forward, as Dr. Karras certainly knows, there are many representations of every rank of Byzantine clergyman in clerical robes of various styles. It was not unusual, just as monastic practice dominated in the liturgical formation of the Church, that monastic practice should have thus prevailed in the dress of married clergy.
As for the present inner and outer cassocks worn by Orthodox clergy, they are quite different in style than those worn by officials and jurists in the Ottoman Empire. Anyone who has studied the matter even casually can see this. The clerical dress of Orthodox clergy at the time was very much influenced by the Turkish model (included in this influence, for example, was the adoption of the kalymmauchion in a form much like what we use today). But this was a matter of influence in style, not of invention or wholesale adoption. This influence is also reflected in the Sultan's various dicta requiring Orthodox clergy to wear their clerical garb. These were not institutions of innovation, but a matter of enforcement. The question of the informal judicial role of clerics within the Orthodox community had very little to do with this change in style. Such an assumption is simply not based on adequate scholarship.
To place the complex matter of clerical dress in perspective, let us just note that the official and judicial attire of the Ottoman Empire, which empire was theocratic, as we often forget, was borrowed from the dress of Moslem clerics. This raises the perplexing and difficult (if fascinating) question of the model of Islamic clerical dress, which many trace to the monks who occupied the lands in which Islam came to flourish. These are scholarly matters that need tremendous attention, and one cannot simply argue his point without due regard for the canonical, Patristic, and historical witness as a whole.
Finally, let us grant (and only for the sake of argument, since the evidence for the maintenance of traditional clerical garb in the Orthodox Church is far more abundant than Dr. Karras opines) that present-day Orthodox clerical attire derived from the Turkish court and judiciary (and, again, to make this assumption is to ignore historical data to the contrary). What would this mean? Our present style of dress is still a living tradition that should not be dismissed simply because of taste or whim. For example, many Hasidic Jews wear clothes styled in part on the formal dress of the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Central European gentry (though with many specifically Jewish components, it must be observed). I rather doubt that any of them would find it reasonable to argue that, because their clothing resembles that of their former oppressors, they should discard it as "foreign" to their tradition, and especially after centuries of use.
By the same token, it is patently absurd to imagine that something which has entered into Orthodox tradition (which is, in fact, ancient, even if we will set that fact aside) should be discarded in favor of a new form of dress that makes Orthodox clergy, whose witness should be separate and unique, look like the heterodox around them. One has to wonder, in all candor, about the aims of those who support such an abrupt departure from tradition in the direction of social conformity. What motivations underlie such a proposition? Moreover, from the standpoint of spiritual life, not just a few Priests would benefit from the limitations imposed on their less-clerical activities and temptations by the easy and immediate attention that Orthodox clerical dress affords. And if the argument that this brings such Priests ridicule arises, what, indeed, would the Gospels and the Fathers have to say about a desire to avoid ridicule occasioned by our observance of the Faith?
In the end, Dr. Karras argues with passion and a lack of objectivity. These traits are not conducive to good scholarship or compatible with the Patristic mind-set.
Traditionalists are not the only ones guilty of an uninformed or hypocritical application of their model. Sometimes even those who in general follow the dynamic approach to tradition occasionally visit the traditionalist side, often with equally uninformed results. (I am applying here a "pox on both your houses" approach.)
This is an unfortunate portrayal of traditionalism. Though certainly many traditionalists are guilty of overstatement at times, our respect and our reverence for tradition are things that should not be dismissed simply on account of the harshness with which some may express them. If we are called to more moderate language and thought, so are those who wish to dismiss any tradition as "sectarian" or whatever. Not long ago, I read a most regrettable attack on my spiritual Father and Bishop, sent to me by a friend in one of the "official" Orthodox jurisdictions. Among other things, my spiritual Father was described, in a quotation from a clergyman, as being "too humble." I was astounded by this statement, even if it was meant to cast doubt on the authenticity of the humility attributed to my spiritual Father. It strikes me that many of the attacks against traditionalists, today, are designed to question the genuineness of their personal virtues. This is something about which I will not comment. But the tactic employed, that of using virtues and lofty precepts (such as traditionalism) in a pejorative or vulgar way, speaks to the disrespect for Holy Tradition generated in these sophomoric slaps at traditionalists and those who uphold customs and standards that some may dislike. This habit must be avoided.
For example, I was dismayed to read the statement just issued by the Holy Synod of the OCA, from their meeting at St. Tikhon's ten days ago. They were responding to a controversy, emanating largely from traditionalists, about the participation of girls in altar service. The synod, seeking to maintain "the integrity of the Church and its traditions reaffirms the ancient practice of the Orthodox Church that only males are to be admitted to service within the holy altar." This affirmation is, quite simply, factually false, and I am extremely distressed that, in the 21st century, a synod of Orthodox bishops theologically trained in the United States would make what most of them must have known to be an untruthful claim and then use it to buttress the exclusion of young women from a particular area of church service.
Perhaps the more important issue is that of seeing that not just any male is allowed in the Altar and that some order must be preserved. This issue, I would argue, is one of order, not of gender and prerogative.
Granted, I know a bit more about this particular area than even most bishops. It has been one of my major areas of research for well over a decade now, and I am in fact completing revisions to a book on the liturgical participation of women in the Byzantine Church.
We cannot lay claim to knowing more than "most Bishops," I admit, and our scholarly approach is always that of explaining and defining the traditions of the Church as they are. To revive practices that have died out, such as the female Diaconate, to which Dr. Karras is referring here, is perhaps theoretically possible. However, such Deacons (Deaconesses), were they to serve properly, would have to show the humility, respect, and obedience to their Bishops that would obviate self-advocacy.
Nevertheless, modern Orthodox research on the ordained female diaconate in the Eastern Church began with Evangelos Theodorou's publication of his doctoral work on this topic in 1954 and 1955. Subsequent research over the past five decades, including my own, has proved conclusively that women were ordained at the altar and received the Eucharist from the bishop at the altar in the Byzantine Church. They were considered full deacons, although their diaconal functions did not include public liturgical service. However, these functional limitations were consistent with the cultural distinctions at that time between public and privates roles which men and women in general followed; they were not the result of canonical restrictions. There are no canons, for example, excluding female deacons from doing petitions during the liturgy. St. Nektarios, who ordained several nuns as deaconesses at the women's monastery he founded on the island of Aegina, ordained them in large part precisely so they could do petitions and therefore allow the nuns to enjoy fuller services (what is called the Liturgy of the Hours) when there was no priest.
This whole matter must be approached with humility and spiritual circumspection. Scholarship is inadequate as a path to actual practice. We must reflect on the level of virtue among Orthodox today. If Deaconesses were allowed to function outside of convents, for example, is this something from which a society increasingly exposed to the passions and the life of the flesh would benefit? Should men and women serve together? I have no definite answer to this, except as someone who knows the spiritual state of those who turn to our monastery for guidance and confession. From that perspective, I cannot imagine such a scenario. Moreover, the spiritual life is not about rank, position, and authority, but about service and submission. Would it perhaps not be better for women to seek a monastic profession, if they feel a spiritual calling? These are questions that must enter into this debate.
The modern liturgical service of women is further evidenced in most Orthodox countries, where nuns serve as acolytes in their monasteries. Even in parish and cathedral settings, the bishops of the OCA, above all others, should be aware that non-monastic, non-ordained women help vest the clergy in the altar area of the large cathedrals in Moscow and St. Petersburg, and no one blinks an eye.
If this is so, it is QUITE inappropriate and shocking, and especially if the clergy are monastics (which applies to Bishops, of course). This kind of contact between men and women in the Church violates the proper limits that a society like ours (and perhaps all societies) would be wise to impose. Common sense must prevail in this instance.
As for boys and young men serving as robed acolytes, that is not even a traditional Orthodox practice to begin with (we have adopted it in this country from Roman Catholic practice),
This is quite a strange statement, since young men have long been blessed by the Church to assist in the Altar, as we see in ancient hagiographic accounts.
so there is no historical foundation to exclude girls and women from that role.
Logically, if this is not a role proper to men and boys, how is it appropriate to women and girls? I do not mean to be rude, but this statement shows us that we must exercise caution in discussing Church matters, never bringing into the Church, with a choleric ardor that militates against logical consistency, the debates and controversies of society at large.
I cannot stress strongly enough how damaging this synodal statement is going to be to the spiritual and liturgical well-being of women and girls throughout the Orthodox Church. Orthodox lack of unity and ethnic insularity are not the only factors leading to the continuing exodus of cradle Orthodox from the Church. Faulty theological arguments and practices which exclude fully half of our faithful from broader liturgical participation play an important - and too often overlooked - role as well.
I would think that such a restriction would call women and girls to a renewed vision of humility and prompt them to explore the many ways that women may serve the Church without resentment, today.
In conclusion, the above examples help to highlight the challenges facing us as we strive to bring to reality the vision of Ligonier, not only for Orthodox unity, but also for Orthodox mission and evangelism. Our churches are hampered in their quest for unity by threatened mother churches, by concerns over power and prominence among some of our hierarchs, and by lethargy and inertia on the part of our laity.
This is all the more reason for us to look to spiritual guidance and principles and to separate ourselves from administrative concerns and Protestant Evangelical concepts of mission. The path to holiness begins with our observance of the Orthodox Faith and the attraction that the our acquisition of holiness holds for others. That is the basis of Evangelization. We must be humble enough to see that not many are endowed with such gifts, first among them myself and those whom I know as fellow-strugglers.
Our churches are hampered in their witness to Christ and His Church by a devotion to ethnicity over Orthodoxy, on the one hand, and by a traditionalist and sectarian mentality, on the other hand.
I agree that we must avoid Phyletism, but I am not sure that traditionalism should be so easily dismissed as sectarian, simply because it disallows what we may consider our personal agenda for Orthodoxy. We must rise above such ideas as quickly as we rise above the notion of ethnic exclusivism.
Yet, we have a canonical obligation to pursue Orthodox unity, and a dominical obligation - from the Lord himself - to mission and evangelism.
Again, in an Orthodox, not a heterodox context; that is, by transforming ourselves, that others might find in themselves what Grace effects in us.
Nor can these obligations be divorced from each other: an essential problem with our limited Orthodox witness in North America is our lack of unity and the all-too-apparent reasons for that lack.
Our unity as I have stated, must begin with spiritual pursuits and with the abandonment of personal agenda, name-calling, epithets, and any sense of self-importance. In that way, acquiring virtue, we can approach unity.
The two statements from Ligonier, on Orthodox unity and on mission and evangelism, are more than simply desiderata. They are a moral as well as ecclesiological mandate to the Orthodox in North America, and to fail to take them seriously is, I believe, essentially to sin. Let us, therefore, fulfill Christ's charge to us in Matthew: to help build His Church, against which "the gates of hell shall not prevail" (Matt. 16:18), by "teach[ing] all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit" (Matt. 28:19).
Let us, instead, begin with a less lofty goal, which we find in the words of St. Peter (I St. Peter 1:22): "Seeing ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the spirit unto unfeigned brotherly love, see that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently." In the purification of our hearts, or deification, we are made Apostles and Evangelists, not in administrative manoeuvres and restructures.
Least Among Monks,
+ Hieromonk Patapios
 John H. Erickson, Orthodox Christians in America, Religion in American Life (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 100.
 Ibid., p. 117.
 Ibid., p. 114.
 Ibid., p. 115.
 v. Serbian Orthodox Archdiocese.
 Andrew Walsh, "The Patriarch's Visit: Pouring Oil on Troubled Waters," Religion in the News 1:1 (Summer 1998)