Illustration by Michael Hogue
Source:
The American Conservative | By Rod Dreher
- Since the Second World War,
Roman Catholicism has had enormous influence on American
intellectual conservatism. The postwar rebirth of conservatism had
two sources: libertarianism—a reassertion of classical liberalism
against statism—and cultural traditionalism. For Russell Kirk and
other leading traditionalists of the era, the Roman Catholic church,
with its soaring intellectual edifice and unitary vision of faith
and reason, matter and spirit, was the natural conservator of
Western civilization and the sure source of its renewal after the
catastrophes of the 20th century.
The Catholic contribution to
conservative intellectual life has been hard to overstate. It is
impossible not to notice the steady stream of right-of-center
intellectuals into the Roman church: Kirk himself, his libertarian
sparring partner Frank Meyer, early National Review
luminaries such as L. Brent Bozell Jr. and Willmoore Kendall, and
many more. One does not—or should not, at least—convert to a
religion for any reason other than one thinks it is true. But there
is something about the intellectual culture of Catholicism that
draws thoughtful conservatives, even amid an exodus of rank-and-file
American Catholics from the church.
Prominent intellectual conversions
have been notable among Evangelicals, many of whom find in the Roman
church a more solid theological, philosophical, and historical
grounding for their faith. As the Baylor University philosopher and
former Evangelical Theological Society head Francis Beckwith told
Christianity Today after his 2007 return to the Catholicism
of his youth, “We have to understand that the Reformation only makes
sense against the backdrop of a tradition that was already there.”
Much less well known is the small
but growing group of American conservative intellectuals who embrace
Christianity, but not in its Western forms—who are neither Catholic
nor Protestant. There is a distinct set of conservative converts to
Eastern Orthodoxy, which depending on your perspective either left,
or was left by, Roman Catholicism in the Great Schism of 1054.
Since then, Western and Eastern
Christianity developed separately, under very different social and
cultural conditions. It is often wrongly assumed that Orthodoxy is
little more than Catholicism without a pope, plus an ethnic
gloss—typically Greek, Slavic, or Coptic. In fact, the differences
with Catholicism are substantial and to a significant degree account
for why these tradition-minded conservatives have found themselves
looking past Rome to the churches of the ancient East, whose
theology and liturgy centers on the thought and practice of
Christianity’s first 500 years.
When I left Roman Catholicism for
Orthodoxy in 2006, an intellectual Catholic friend said he couldn’t
understand why I was leaving a church with such a profound tradition
of intellectual inquiry—Scholasticism and its descendants, he
meant—for one so bound up with mysticism. The comment was unfair, in
that my friend didn’t understand that the Orthodox are not
Pentecostals with incense and liturgy. Orthodoxy is about far more
than religious experience; its theology is extraordinarily deep.
But his remark was accurate in
that Orthodoxy is deeply skeptical of rationalism in religion.
Orthodoxy always keeps before it the primacy of the mystical
encounter with God, both through the sacraments and through the
early church’s practice of hesychasm, or inward prayer.
University of South Carolina
theologian James Cutsinger says that the point of all religion is
“not only to experience God, but to be transformed into His
likeness”—a process called theosis. For Cutsinger, a convert from
Protestantism, the mystical theology of the Orthodox Church is far
more important than Orthodoxy’s historical claims to be uniquely
faithful to the apostolic tradition.
“Orthodoxy is alone among the
Christian possibilities in offering its adherent the ancient
treasures of a contemplative method, in the form of hesychasm,”
Cutsinger has written. “Not that there aren’t Catholic and even
Protestant mystics and sages, to say nothing of saints. That’s not
in question. But which of them is able to tell the rest of us how to
attain to his vision, let alone transformation? Where is there a
step-by-step, practical guide to theosis outside the Christian
East?”
Hugh O’Beirne, a corporate
attorney in Princeton, NJ, was once an enthusiastic Catholic and
fellow traveler of the conservative Opus Dei movement. He came to
believe, though, that Latin Christianity is too bound up in legalism
and philosophical speculation—a legacy of the Middle Ages. Though he
remains an admirer of Catholicism, O’Beirne converted to Orthodoxy
12 years ago.
“Catholicism’s strong analytic
ability overshadowed the primal religious experience,” O’Beirne
says. “I think that’s a canard Protestants often level against
Catholics, but there’s something to it.”
“I reject the idea that because
you can talk about religious truths more exactingly that you have
gained any more intellectual insight into them,” he continues.
“Remember the mystical experience Aquinas had at the end of his
life, which made him describe all that he had written as ‘straw’?
After that, how can Catholics complain about our hesychastic
approach?”
For most converts, Orthodoxy’s
claim to be alone in its unbroken succession with the church of the
Apostles—a claim also made by the Roman church—is a significant
factor in conversion. Like Catholicism, Orthodoxy has an episcopal
structure. Unlike Roman Catholicism, the Orthodox churches are not
governed centrally, with power flowing downward from an ecclesial
monarch (the Pope) at the center, but are run collegially, by
bishops in council. The Orthodox view papal primacy as a Latin
innovation driven by Frankish politics. As one Orthodox professor
told me, “It’s not true that Catholicism is conservative. It is, in
fact, the mother of all religious innovation, and has been for more
than a millennium.”
Orthodoxy’s deep conservatism, for
better or worse, has much to do with its ecclesiology. Little can
change in Orthodoxy’s doctrinal teachings outside of an ecumenical
council—a gathering of all the bishops of the church. Though there
is some controversy among the Orthodox about when the last
ecumenical council was, the last one everyone agrees on was in the
year 787. Though some contemporary Orthodox theologians lament that
Orthodoxy has no effective mechanism for updating doctrine, others
see what innovation has done to Western Christianity—the chaos
following the Second Vatican Council, for example, and the endless
multiplicity of Protestant denominations—and count this procedural
stasis as a blessing.
Baltimore writer Frederica
Mathewes-Green, perhaps the best-known American convert, contends
that Orthodoxy’s stability in this regard appeals to conservative
Christians weary of doctrinal and liturgical tumult within their
churches and traditions.
“The faith stays the same,
generation to generation and from one continent to the next,” she
says. “It’s kept by community memory, grassroots, rather than by a
church leader or theological board. So someone who wanted to
challenge it doesn’t have any place to start, nobody with whom to
lodge a protest. I think this is a resource within Orthodoxy, a
really central and indelible one, that helps it resist the winds of
change.”
This is not to say that Orthodoxy
exists in a bubble untouched by the cultures in which Orthodox
Christians live. In fact, there is widespread agreement among
believers that the worst problem Orthodoxy faces is phyletism—a
heresy that makes the mission of the church perpetuating ethnic
culture. This has a particularly troubling effect in the United
States, blocking Orthodox unity and reducing parish life in some
places to the tribe at prayer.
On a practical level, any
conservative who believes he can escape the challenges of modern
America by hiding in an Orthodox parish is deluded. All three major
branches of Orthodoxy in America have suffered major leadership
scandals in recent years. And while Orthodox theology does not face
the radical revisionism that has swept over Western churches in the
past decades, there are nevertheless personalities and forces within
American Orthodoxy pushing for liberalization on the homosexual
question. And in some parishes—including St. Nicholas OCA Cathedral
in Washington, D.C.—they are winning victories.
Orthodoxy does, however, have
certain advantages over both Protestantism and Catholicism. Men who
convert often say that Orthodox worship and practice –especially the
ascetic rigor—feels more masculine than the more emotional,
consumer-driven atmosphere in the churches they left behind. “When I
go to Russian churches, I see men; when I visit Protestant churches,
I see a lot of men crying and holding each other,” says one convert.
“And we don’t have Dunkin Donuts in the narthex.”
Although Orthodoxy lacks the
administrative unity and strong teaching authority (Magisterium) of
Catholicism, the theological and liturgical atmosphere in Orthodox
parishes is usually far more traditional than in contemporary
American Catholic parishes. Converts from Catholicism fed up with
post-Vatican II liberalism frequently observe that Orthodoxy is what
Catholicism once was.
When Frederica Mathewes-Green and
her husband, now an Orthodox priest, realized that they could no
longer remain in the fast-liberalizing Episcopal Church, they
assumed Rome would be their new home. They were put off by the drab
modern Catholic liturgy, which struck them as too irreverent. But
there was more.
“We were also concerned that so
much of American Catholicism, in practice, was theologically and
socially liberal,” she says. “We were told that that was not
important, the important thing was that the doctrine taught by Rome
was correct. But it wasn’t enough for us. We could see that things
every bit as strange as current Episcopalian doctrine was being
promoted and taught all over American Catholicism. It did not look
like a safer place for our kids to grow up.”
Though many vote Republican,
nearly all the conservative intellectuals I spoke with for this
essay express gratitude that Orthodoxy avoids the “Republican Party
at prayer” feeling that pervades some Evangelical churches.
“Kirkean, Burkean conservatism
finds its paradise in Orthodoxy,” says a professor who teaches at a
Southern college. “It is non-ideological and traditionalist to its
bones. It collects and preserves and quietly presents the
organically grown wisdom of the past in a way that’s compelling and,
literally, beautiful.”
Alfred Kentigern Siewers, a
literature and environmental studies professor at a mid-Atlantic
college, says the social teachings of the church fathers, as adapted
by modern Russian Orthodox theologians, taught him to think of
society “more as an extended household, and less as an impersonal
economy, whether free market or socialist.”
“Orthodoxy taught me how Christian
notions of human dignity are more central to being authentically
human than impersonal notion of rights by themselves alone,” says
Siewers. “I think Orthodoxy encourages an awareness of the
importance of living tradition and community and the need for
caution in embracing either free market or socialist economic models
as social models.”
In part because Orthodox countries
did not undergo the Enlightenment, the Orthodox way of thinking
about social and political life is so far outside the Western
experience that it can sometimes seem barely relevant to American
challenges. On the other hand, Orthodoxy’s pre-modern traditionalism
can be a rich new source of spiritual and cultural renewal.
Pope Benedict XVI, who has made
generous and well-received overtures to Orthodox Church leaders, has
said that the regeneration of Western civilization will depend on a
“creative minority” of Catholics willing to live the Gospel in a
post-Christian world. Whatever role Orthodox Christians in America
have to play in this drama, it will certainly be as a minuscule
minority. In worldwide Christianity, Orthodoxy is second only to
Roman Catholicism in the number of adherents. But in the United
States, a 2010 census conducted by U.S. Orthodox bishops found only
800,000 Orthodox believers in this country—roughly equivalent to the
number of American Muslims or Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Yet
converts keep coming, and they bring with them a revivifying
enthusiasm for the faith of Christian antiquity. One-third of
Orthodox priests in the U.S. are converts—a number that skyrockets
to 70 percent in the Antiochian Orthodox Church, a magnet for
Evangelicals. In the Greek Orthodox Church, around one-third of
parishioners are converts, while just over half the members of the
Orthodox Church in America came through conversion. For
traditionalist conservatives among that number, Orthodoxy provides
an experience of worship and a way of seeing the world that
resonates with their deepest intuitions, in a way they cannot find
elsewhere in American Christianity.
“From the outside, Orthodoxy seems
exotic,” an Orthodox academic convert tells me. “From the inside, it
feels like home.”
Rod Dreher is a TAC
senior editor. His blog is www.theamericanconservative.com/dreher.