by Alexander B. Miller
History exists as much in our imaginations as in the archeology of
the past, and the potency of the imaginative depends upon our ability to
recreate sensory or visceral experiences.
The doctrinal exchanges
between the Russian Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches in recent years
are unlikely to make history, but accompanying cultic exchanges may
make a lasting impression and lend significance to the work of
theological commissions.
Communion and relationship
The July week in 1054 that witnessed the mutual excommunications of
Humbert of Silva Candida and Michael Keroularios is rich with drama and
outrage for Orthodox and Catholic Christians. This narrative is deeply
satisfying for our imaginations, affirming a sense of historical offense
as a foundation of our ecclesial identities. However, historians tell
us that this was not the earth-shattering event that we make it out to
be. In reality, few Christians felt this division in 1054—if they were
even aware that it had taken place—because ordinary Christians in East
and West had no substantial relationship with each other. Greek had
long ceased to be understood in the West, even among the educated, and
the East never considered Latin to be an adequate language for the finer
points of theology. Politically, the coronation of a Germanic Holy
Roman Emperor undermined the Byzantine Emperor in the West. To the
extent that Eastern or Western Christians thought of each other, it was
conditioned by centuries of polemic that hardly afforded the other the
dignity of the Christian name. 1054 merely set a seal upon the creeping
de-Christianization and dehumanization of the Other. When crusaders
sacked Constantinople, did they really think that such atrocities were
committed against fellow Christians, or could they excuse themselves
knowing that their victims were heretics? When politicians and
churchmen brokered reunion councils, could Eastern Christians really be
expected to accept communion with the heretical Other?
Removing doctrinal barriers is a only start.
Without a sense that the other is a Christian, division fails to
scandalize us, and union bears no fruit. So, when Patriarch Athenagoras
I and Pope Paul VI lifted the excommunications in 1965,
this did not yet amount to a restoration of communion. They recognized
offenses compounded over time, which required healing through the
development of “fraternal relations of confidence and esteem” and a
“unanimous sentiment of charity.” Since that time, doctrinal
commissions have been convened, and the 2007 Ravenna Document’s progress on the thorny issue of primacy and synodality has been enhanced by the Orthodox consensus on the 2016 Chieti Document
that recognizes both the divisive history and the sense of ecclesial
unity of the Church of the first millennium. Despite these advances,
what will drive Orthodox-Catholic ecumenism is not documents but the
demands of the faithful, without whose reception reunion will fail.
Getting the Russian Patriarchate to join multilateral ecumenical discussions
is no easy task, as the world witnessed most recently with the Great
and Holy Synod in 2016. In the same year, Patriarch Kirill and Pope
Francis met in a strikingly informal
encounter in Havana, urged on by the persecution of Christians in the
Middle East but also addressing political issues facing Europe, the
family, and the relationship between the churches. This May another
high-profile Russian-Roman encounter occurred, when Pope Francis met
with Metropolitan Hilarion in Rome at the conclusion of a “Summer
Institute” that brought Russian clergy to Rome. (Next summer, a
delegation of Italian clergy will be hosted in Russia.) As usual,
Metropolitan Hilarion clearly voiced his skepticism that doctrinal
agreement is on the horizon, let alone reunion. But all of these
clerical meetings are beside the point.
Voting with their Feet
What is more promising are two exchanges that Metropolitan Hilarion
reported during his Roman audience. Though doctrinal agreement may not
be imminent, he spoke with some optimism about the value of pious
cultural exchange. First, he expressed gratitude for the papal loan of relics of St. Nicholas from Bari to Moscow in 2017, and second, he promised a similar mission of the Icon of the Crucifixion
by Dionisij, a disciple of St. Andrei Rublev, to Rome in the Fall.
(This will be the first time that the icon leaves Russian soil.) I
contend that neither Hilarion’s words nor the sharing of objects of
piety are diplomatic pablum. Hilarion is not prone to appeasing speech,
nor would a man of his cultural accomplishment—a composer in his own
right—degrade the aesthetics of piety.
Importantly, this is not a giving of gifts, but a sharing of gifts.
The fact that St. Nicholas’ relics and the icon are loaned, not given,
is telling. This is not a transfer of diplomatic gifts between
dignitaries, which would never see the light of day beyond the photo op.
Nor is the an act of restitution, like the return of relics
of St. John Chrysostom and St. Gregory Nazianzus to Constantinople.
Instead, this is a sharing of the patrimony of the universal Church, and
when the millions stood in line
to venerate the relics of St. Nicholas in Russia and when so many
venerate the icon in Rome, they encounter more than objects of piety.
They are encountering and becoming indebted to fellow Christians,
disparate in ecclesial identity but united in the tactile expressions of
their faith. This is something that they do not share with political
parties or intellectual schools. The Christianity that they share is
some felt in their legs aching from the wait to see their patron and the
touch of their lips or hands extended in veneration. What is more, the
fact that the relics return to their home country is an acknowledgement
that the Other is Christian, trusted with the custody of such a relic.
Just last week, Metropolitan Kliment of Kaluga published a homily
apparently in response to Kirill and Hilarion’s efforts with the
Catholic Church, suggesting that these meetings amount to indifference
to Orthodoxy and naming Catholics as just one type of heretic among
many. I wonder which excite the imaginations of Russian Orthodox
Christians more: Kliment’s words or the bones of St. Nicholas.
Alexander B. Miller is a doctoral candidate in historical theology at Fordham University. His work focuses the early history of Eastern Christianity and the appropriation of its memory in modern Western ecclesiastical projects.
Public Orthodoxy seeks to promote conversation by providing a forum for diverse perspectives on contemporary issues related to Orthodox Christianity. The positions expressed in this essay are solely the author’s and do not necessarily represent the views of the editors or the Orthodox Christian Studies Center.