Purity Of Faith Must Be Preserved, Even When Faith Is Found Mixed With Error
Despite being known as reactionary, and often inquisitional, Pobedonostsev, when writing on faith, has remarks which might surprise his readers. He had a tremendous respect for popular piety, because he understood it helped preserves the truth in a way a puritanesque rejection of all that is “superstitious” would allow. Indeed, when one reads what he has to say here, one can understand how and why Pobedonostsev would be a friend and advisor to Dostoevsky – they hold the piety of the ordinary people in common.
He begins his analysis expressing his believe that faith will lead ordinary people to all kinds of pious devotions, and then he expresses the sad fate they often face because others, who are not so simple in their faith, tend to respond to such simplicity with violence:
“The founders of religion recognising from the heights of contemplation the idea of Godhead and its relations to man, evolved in conformity therewith an order of rites and ceremonials inspired by that idea. But the mass of the people remains in the valley, and the light of pure contemplation shining above the hills does not reach it at once. To the people religious sentiments are expressed by a number of ceremonies and traditions which from the austerest standpoint may seem superstition and idolatry. Zealous defenders of the faith, alarmed and indignant, sometimes attempt with violent hand to destroy these external expressions of the vulgar faith, as Moses destroyed the golden calf raised by Aaron at the demand of the people, when the prophet was lost in high contemplation on the summit of Mount Sinai. Thence springs the Puritan zeal of the leaders of religion, passing often to fanaticism.”[1]
The existential angst of humanity, it can be said, leads to religion. Religion is a natural expression of the human condition. Comte and his followers properly understood that those who consider themselves irreligious end up creating semi-religious rituals (such as sports, voting, high school graduations, or the like). Rituals, even when they are not intended to be religious, given time, become religious and are incorporated into a true religious sentiment. Those who are looking for pure religion, of course, will begin to denounce the errors in such religious rituals – they might be right, but they often end up wrong in the way they deal with them. One can be so caught up in God one fails to understand how to relate to fellow humanity, to see the cries of the human spirit being employed by popular piety, and so fail to understand how to raise it up so it reaches God. The cries of the heart need to be heard and admitted. What people do in order to try to deal with the angst they feel must be allowed to be transformed into a bridge by which God and humanity can meet. Indeed, it can be said they have begun making that bridge to meet God. It might be flimsy and full of structural problems, but it is there. Those who feel so far advanced, so far away from such “superstition,” that they end up destroying the bridge instead of fixing it, make sure more and more people end up lost and confused. The solution is to recognize the value of the bridge, the foundation which is there, and to affirm the truths contained in such popular piety. Thus, Pobedonostsev continues:
“But in this envelope of the popular religion, often rude, are hidden elements of faith susceptible of development and sublimation, the germs of eternal truth. In tradition and in ceremonials, in symbolism and in custom, the people sees the actual incarnation of that which expressed in abstract formula would be neither real nor effective. What if destroying the husk we deaden the kernel of truth; if pulling up the tares we pull up also the wheat? What if in striving to purify the faith of the people under the pretext of enmity to superstition we destroy the faith itself? If the forms by which simple men express their faith in the living God repel us, let us remember that it is to us, perhaps, the command of the Divine Master was given: ‘Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones that believe in Me.’”[2]
Pobedonostsev was no liberal. He was one of the great conservative thinkers of the late 19th century. It put him in an important role in Russian society, for he was to be the chief advisor to the Tsar over the Orthodox Church. He was seen by his critics as being rigid in his governance. He could be quite the censor; men like Vladimir Solovyov had to write in French and publish abroad to make sure their voice could be heard and not squashed by him. Yet, he had quite a bit in common with them, a trust and faith in the people. His talks with Dostoevsky helped produce The Brothers Karamazov, and one can see in it the affirmation of the people which Pobedonostsev raises here. Unlike the typical approach to the faith we find by so-many today, Pobedonostsev did not have a fear of things “pagan,” of things “superstitious.” He did not want error, but he also did not want to have the faith of the people rubbed out by an over-zealous puritanism. He understood that if the people were creating rituals and traditions, even if he questioned them, they were promoting something which needed to be addressed and should not be summarily squashed. He took quite an interest in the people and their faith; he wanted to do what he could to preserve it. His work with the Orthodox Church could be compared to the work of Theophius of Alexandria: the two believed that the simple in faith needed to have their faith preserved, which led to serious consideration and criticism of theological and philosophical views which could confuse them and lead them astray.
To further make his point, Pobedonostsev looked to Islamic tradition and showed what it said on this matter:
“In an Arabic poem we find the instructive parable of the celebrated teacher Djelalledin. Once Moses, while wandering in the wilderness, came upon a shepherd who was praying fervently to God. This was the shepherd’s prayer: – ‘How shall I know where to find thee, and how to be thy servant? How I should wish to put on thy sandals, to comb thy hair, to wash thy garments, to kiss thy feet, to care for thy dwelling, to give thee milk from my herd; for such is the desire of my heart.’ Moses, when he heard these words of the shepherd was angered, and reproached him. ‘Thou blasphemest! The Most High God has no body, he wants neither clothing, nor dwelling, nor service. What dost thou mean, unbeliever?’ The heat of the shepherd was saddened because he could not conceive a being without bodily form and corporeal needs; he was taken by despair and ceased to serve the Lord. But God spoke to Moses and said: ‘Why hast thou driven away from me my servant? Every man has taken from me the form of his being, and the manner of his speech. What to thee is evil, to another is good, to thee it is poison, to another it is sweet honey. To me words are nothing. I look into the heart of man.’[3]
One might be surprised at Pobedonostsev’s use of an Islamic poem; was he not Russian Orthodox, and a leader in the Orthodox Church? Why was he using Islamic teachings to present the truth? Yet, he continued with his exploration of Islam by expressing what he found to be a valuable insight by Rumi, an insight which ends his reflections on faith. In it he points out how it is the cry of love for God which is the sign of one touched by God, a sign of God’s grace acting in their lives giving them forgiveness. It is the sighs of the heart which shows faith; it is the sighs of the heart allows one to be with God and to learn from God. “Thy suffering, thy ardour, and thy zeal, all these are my messengers to thee: when thou strugglest with thyself and cryest for help, by this struggle and cry I draw thee to myself, and answer thy prayer. Thy fear and thy love are the signs of my forgiveness, and in thy words, ‘Oh Allah!’ is a multitude of answers, ‘I am with thee.’” [4]This beautifully expresses Pobedonostsev’s point. Having a Muslim make it demonstrates how far he is willing to go with it. We must look to the hearts of people moved by God, wherever they are, and whatever knowledge of God they do or do not have, and we must go there to find true faith. It is there, in those cries, in such child-like purity seeking to know and understand God, the preservation of the faith is to be had. Yes, theological expositions are important, but without the depth of faith, they are not just empty words, but they are soul-destroying words which shatter the faith of those seeking God.
[1] Konstantin Pobedonostsev, Reflections of a Russian Statesman. Trans. Robert Long (Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press, 1973), 153.
[2] Ibid., 153-4.
[3] Ibid., 154-5.
[4] Ibid., 155-6.
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Great post, Henry.
Sam
Thanks. I’ve been wanting to bring Pobedonostsev back into modern dialogues… I certainly disagree with him in many areas (his harsh treatment of Eastern Catholics, for example), but I also find much in what he wrote is valuable and can now find new appreciation (of course, in a way which also knows of his foibles).
I think we should keep in mind that in the Russian context disputes about heresy seem, at least epiphenomenally, focussed not on doctrinal disputes, but on matters like whether one crosses oneself with two fingers or three, as in the case of the famous Old Believer controversy. That gives a different perspective on what could be meant by “without error”.
I think that over-simplifies the Russian situation; the Old Believer dispute was only one of many which was found in the Russian soil, and many other disputes were doctrinal (this often comes out of Moscow’s desire to be the Third Rome and to show how the other two Romes fell into heresy). Of course, the two often were combined (some disputes over icons fall in this category), and this combination is what one finds here in Pobedonostsev.
Well, yes, but as I said apropos another discussion with the fellow I call my favorite Dominican, there is simply a difference in tenor or type between the Eastern and Western responses to these issues generally. And I think the whole Third Rome issue shows this strikingly in fact. A big part of that whole trope for them was that other parts of the Christian world had lost their way precisely because they had fallen into dubious patterns of belief, which actually meant what they perceived as hyper-rationalistic patterns of the West (Thomism, etc, ). Thus they felt convinced that the Russian predilection frankly away from these tendencies was the true way, the true Russian way, the true way of the real Rome. To Western eyes these concerns looked somewhat fideistic, and very concerned with proper performance of ritual patterns. This concern speak to the fact that they did not have ex opere operato in their quiver. It is all very telling of religious tendencies to construe “orthodoxy” (with small o) very differently, even in conservative Christian climes.
Yes and no, again. I agree that there is a lot of mystical allowances in the East, and in Russia especially, however we must also not take this too far. Look into what happened in the early 20th century with the imiaslavie controversy.
The Imiaslavie Controversy was a new one for me, and interesting to read about. Anything that has to get the Russian Navy involved is pretty colorful in my book. But as to our point here, I don’t quite understand how this controversy bolsters your assertions. It seems to speak to precisely the strong mystical tendencies, in diverse directions and even “techniques” (Jesus Prayer, apparently), that take the place of any kind of rational dispute in the East. Could you explain how you meant this, I am curious??
Meanwhile, I will tray to explicate the wider sense which underlies my contention. As an intellectual historian, one of the things that fascinates me is how the West-East question, specifically in Christian orthodox belief, does not give more people pause as to the finalities contained in them. I guess I can more easily understand how the diversity of denominations in the West after the Reformation is either: 1.) By the Catholic right seen as essentially anathematizable material; 2.) on the Catholic left, seen as obliquely confirmative of the underlying correctness of the search for belief itself, if not doctrinally similar. But in the question of the Eastern Orthodox Churches, you would think some level of coherence at least would be applied to asking the elephant-in-the-room sort of question. Namely, if these ancient Churches, which have basically as much sacred pedigree, if I can put it that way, as the Roman Catholic Church, hold to their uniqueness and centrality to the Divine plan of salvation, then how is the following question not begged on an existential level. Is not the centrality of any of them really improbable in the Divine plan, given that they are now, and have been for a long time, actually diverse. I am not saying that it should necessarily give rise for the need of skepticism, just that it ought to give rise to vastly more institutional humility. That is has not, and continues not to, gives many people pause.
The issue is that the debate was very much doctirnal and philosophical… it is not just because of the practice, but the understanding of the practice, which was considered heresy, and from doctrinal not practical points.
Henry,
I was reading McGuckin’s Encyclopaedia, and I cannot see how this was in any way the sort of doctrinal controversy that is common in the West. Look at the great “heretics” who were condemned by the church in the West. On the whole their “heresies” are the stuff of rather abstruse conceptualization. Just think of all the wrangling over theological matters relating to Realist metaphysics. I don’t think much of that reached the East. This controversy you have mentioned as bolster is a controversy about a belief rising from prayerful exercise. That is precisely the sort I would expect in the East. It is just that this one seems more interesting than crossing with two fingers or three. I sort of think you have made my point.
Well, when you read the debates, it’s an issue of doctrine, not practice. The question is whether or not the name of God, when spoken, brings out the presence of God.
Beautiful, Henry. Our faith is to build-up one another and not tear down. I need three brains to do all the reading I want to do and you make me crave for more.
Ronald,
I think it is a common problem for us all — to need the time and brains to do the reading we want… because there is not enough time and energy to do it all in one’s lifetime.
I really enjoy much from Pobedonostsev, but, as I pointed out in my commentary, he is often seen as a rigorist-reactionary of the right, so one will find good and bad in his writings. Of course, I always tell people, I usually find that with most I like. In many ways, I think the criticism he got is similar to what Pope Benedict got while he was the head of the CDF (and sometimes, rightfully, imo). Nonetheless, passages like this show why he is worthy of reading and that he has much which can teach us today (and show these sentiments are not just “modernist liberalism” as some would wrongly call it).
I might comment on these words later, but I thought I would bring them up here as more examples of his thought on faith and unbelief:
(165-6 of the same work/volume). You can read more here: http://www.shsu.edu/~his_ncp/Pobed.html
Interestingly, one of the possible confirmations of the views expressed in this above quotation might be the history of Mexico. To my knowledge in world history it was only in Mexico that the Comtean ideas mentioned actually managed to be put into practice as a philosophy of government. I believe that the results, were a real mixed bag. Many could be read as pretty terrible in fact. But note this please. That historians see the the social ambience that allowed this Comtean ascension to power of “cientificos” as closely related to a reaction against the very desire for “absolute truth” on the other side, namely of course the Roman Catholic Church in Mexico which was never reform minded, not even in its own way. Is there a lesson in this: one extreme breeds another??