Cultural Paradosis and Orthodox America
by Bishop [now Archbishop] Chrysostomos
We are accustomed to seeing the Greek word paradosis,
or tradition, as a touchstone of Orthodox theology. What the Lord
gave us, what the Holy Apostles preached, and what the Fathers of
the Church preserved, as St. Athanasios expressed it, are the
very foundations of what we call Orthodoxy—they are its
"tradition. " Tradition expresses truth. All opinion,
speculation, and creativity in theological thought must be
measured against the criterion of Holy Tradition. Given the
singular ascendancy of the concept of tradition for the Orthodox
Christian, then, we might be startled at the words "cultural
paradosis." After all, Holy Tradition is something
meant for all times, for all places, and for all peoples. Holy
Tradition, Orthodoxy itself, is somehow above culture. Its frame
of reference is not only existential, but precisely away from the
mere human culture. It draws us toward that nonearthly
"homeland" to which St. John Chrysostom calls us. How,
indeed, can the Orthodox Christian give serious attention to the
concerns of cultural tradition, given the preeminent imperatives
presented by Holy Tradition?
If we are startled at the notion of a cultural paradosis,
our shock might well reflect a certain spiritual malaise which we
Americans, being so young in our Orthodoxy, tend all too often to
ignore or to fail to discover in ourselves. An anecdote from the
ancient desert Fathers might help us to understand this spiritual
foible. A young spiritual aspirant was once allowed by his elder
to go into the city. On his journey he passed a magnificent
monastery where he heard the brothers speaking of great and
marvelous theological precepts. He thought to himself how humble
and unimportant his own spiritual life was, centered, as it was,
around the simple practice of the Jesus Prayer ("Lord Jesus
Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner"). Returning
to his elder, he expressed his marvel at the monastery he had
seen on his journey to the city. His elder, a man of great
spiritual power, summoned the young monk after some time power,
make another journey into the city. The aspirant obediently
followed his elder’s directions and set out for the city. It
happened that, just as he came to the monastery that he had seen
on his previous visit, the earth began to tremble. Fearing the
earthquake, the monks of the monastery poured out of their cells
in full sight of the traveling aspirant. As they fled, the young
traveler heard each monk say, "Jesus Christ, Son of God,
have mercy on me a sinner." Foreseeing the earthquake, the
monk's elder had sent him on this journey to learn a profound
lesson.
And what did the young monk learn? He learned that long before
one may speak of great theological precepts, one must know basic
spiritual practice. Without the foundation of personal spiritual
experience, the great structure of theological theory cannot
stand. And if the structure of theological theory begins to fall,
the final refuge of the mature Christian is that personal
spiritual practice. In the moment of crisis, it was not to
highsounding theology that the city monks had turned, but to the
simplicity of the practice that the desert monk embraced. So it
is that here in America we tend to look at Orthodoxy's exalted
Holy Tradition, taking pride in our knowledge of Orthodox
history, dogma, and doctrine, all the while forgetting that this
tradition has reached us through historical reality, through our
forefathers, through our cultural paradosis. To know
Orthodoxy as the "cultureless" culture, as timeless
Holy Tradition, we must first know it as it is practically given
to us: through the customs, habits, and worldviews of our
Orthodox forefathers, be they Greek, Russian, Serbian, Rumanian,
Bulgarian, Syrian, or whatever.
The "Old Country" Phenomenon. Any Orthodox
Christian in America is for a moment discomforted by the notion
that the things of the "old Country" are somehow
essential to his reception of Orthodoxy itself. But this
discomfort comes to us because social realities have for some
time prevented most of us from reflecting maturely and
objectively on our cultural heritage. From early Greek
settlements in Nebraska to Slavic communities in the eastern
urban centers, almost all Orthodox have felt the sting of
prejudice and, to some extent, social alienation. Our natural
inclination has been to blend into the American social fabric and
to accommodate those traits which make us suspect to the more
prevailing culture. This blending and this accommodation have
brought a certain acceptance to Orthodox in America, and one
recoils at the thought of losing that safe social status. But we
must realize that, more importantly, we have paid a great price
in losing many of the things that our cultural oddities brought,
not the least of which is a certain subtle Orthodox spirit which
permeated the "old country" mentality and traditions.
Realizing this, we must now use the relative safety our
assimilation into American life has afforded us as a sense of
security in which we can regain freely much of what we have lost.
Orthodoxy is a way of life, a spiritual path, by which the
whole of the human creature is caught up in divinity,
transformed, united to Christ, and created anew. In the
hesychastic tradition of the Church, we are constantly struck
with the notion that the mind and its thoughts, the body and its
actions, the individual and society are somehow basically
integrated. Their correct and harmonious interactions are the
very expressions of spiritual attainment. Orthodoxy, then, is
more than a religion or the organization of a religious
community; it is at once a human culture and a divine
manifestation. As the Byzantines beautifully envisaged human
society (a vision so terribly distorted by prejudice and
misunderstanding in western historiography), it expressed in
human dimensions the magnificence and beauty of paradise. In the pleroma
of the Orthodox experience, society (be it the microcosmic
society of a church community or the macrocosmic Orthodox
imperial societies of Byzantium or Russia), in its ideal
expression, lifts up the mundane and unites it to the heavenly in
synergy and image. No single culture serves itself, but serves to
express the Eternal Orthodox Culture. And, as Khomiakov so
beautifully phrased it, man ceases to be an isolated, alienated
individual; he is lifted up in the whole, saved only together
with others, damned only in his individuality.
The "old country" mentality and tradition preserved
much of this higher view of Orthodoxy in daily life. How seldom
we think that the very foods passed down by our "old
country" cultures are not simply foods created by individual
taste and topography. Not at all. They are foods which developed
according to the canons of the church fasts. They are foods
(e.g., kulich among the Russians, vasilopita among
the Greeks, and wheat and honey in all Orthodox nationalities)
that surround a great celebration of the Church, often expressing
even a theological understanding of some particular feast day or
church service (as in the case of boiled wheat to represent the
resurrection of the dead at memorial services for the departed).
Individual taste is largely set aside to serve the eternal truths
of the faith. Food is raised up from the mundane and made holy.
Likewise in customs of dress we transcend personal taste and
exalt the spiritual. Not so much out of morbidity do Orthodox
traditionally mourn the dead by wearing black clothing, but out
of an understanding that death must be always remembered and
present to us in order to balance our reception of life. We are
drawn by the mourning families, who are visible to us, into an
understanding of our common fate. And we are further motivated to
seek our comfort and hope, not in the passing tastes of society,
but in events (such as death) which must guide our social lives.
And then, too, in the traditional dress of the clergy (which is
lamentably almost unknown here in America) we see before us the
image of the Patriarchs and Prophets who call us away from the
temporal to the enduring things of eternity. In the "old
country" culture we find ourselves immersed in that blending
of the spiritual and the mundane which should be the everyday
Orthodox experience, not the experience of an Orthodoxy which we
are ever faster relegating to the Sunday service.
We must say here, too, something about traditional Orthodox
culture and language. Perhaps nowhere else do we have a more
unbalanced view of what it means to be Orthodox and to be
American. With fierce emotions we often proclaim the fight of
English-speaking Orthodox to have the services in their own
language, decrying the use of the traditional languages as the
source of every ill in the Church: the young people do not
understand the services; the essence of Orthodoxy is lost because
of an incomprehensible Liturgy. What we must first understand is
that Americans do, indeed, have a right to the Liturgy in
English. But this right must be asserted and claimed correctly.
If our young do not want to hear the Orthodox message, the use of
English will solve nothing. (The experience of English-speaking
parishes suggests in many cases that this contention is correct.)
Those who truly want to know the Church at a deeper level would
never abandon the Church because of language. All of us can in a
few months learn enough of the liturgical languages in our
Churches to understand the basic nature of the services.
Moreover, good Greek-English, Slavonic-English, Arabic-English,
and other parallel texts are readily available. We must not
confuse those who would use language as an excuse to flee their
responsibilities to learn their faith with those who want a
deeper understanding of the faith they already feel in their
hearts through their own tongue.
Nor should we forget that the traditional liturgical languages
cannot be abandoned altogether. To seek repentance in the
Orthodox Church does not carry along with it the same
implications and meaning that such a quest has for the Protestant
or Roman Catholic. We can use, then, for example, an
understanding of the Greek word metanoia (a changing of
mind or outlook) to express the particularly Orthodox view of
repentance. Our traditional language has come to serve us
theologically; it has become something more than a mere language.
In the same way, the Slavonic language (and other Orthodox
liturgical languages) have preserved words that perfectly express
Orthodox theological notions unknown in the West or misleading in
translation. If, as civilized individuals, we at least recognize
the importance of knowing other languages in learning of other
people, we should not abandon a clear recognition of the fact
that Orthodoxy, too, speaks its own languages We should know
these. And finally, we must never think that the services
themselves are merely literal. If our traditional languages can
serve us, they also have their limits. The most authentic
experience of the Liturgy and the church services, after all,
takes place noetically, mystically, outside time and space. The
truest form of Orthodox worship comes to us through our culture
and then transcends form, image, and all dimensions of the
literal. We are transported to a new realm, where language,
expression, and human action have an altogether different content
and intent.
If we wish to attain to the highest understanding of
Orthodoxy, there is no doubt that we have to draw on the
"old country" cultures which expressed this
understanding. If America has a culture (and many sociologists
and anthropologists would argue that it does not), that culture
is not Orthodox. It was not created to serve the Orthodox Weltansicht.
It is in many ways incompatible with the Orthodox view. In
time, perhaps, an Orthodox culture might grow up in America. But
at this juncture, we have no choice but to retreat, whether
temporarily or permanently, to those cultures which were shaped
by their interaction holy We must regain the priceless crucible
saints and Holy Fathers were formed. As difficult as it may be
for us Orthodox in America to understand, the true expression of
our faith does demand the rejection of much of the witless,
plastic, and soul-destroying mediocrity of American society. This
may mean, ultimately, a change in our styles of dress, in our
manner of eating, and in our general self-presentation. But this,
after all, is what Orthodoxy is: what we eat, how we speak, how
we stand, how we sit, indeed how we understand ourselves and
others. If we succeed in regaining this view and this cultural
tradition, the benefits may accrue, not only to us, but to
America itself.
Converts and Orthodox Culture. Regaining our Orthodox
cultural traditions is crucial for those Americans who received
their Orthodoxy from their emigrant forefathers. But if it is
crucial for those with at least some exposure to that tradition,
it is for the convert to Orthodoxy in America a sine qua non
of successful growth in Orthodoxy that he adopt many of these
same cultural traditions. In many instances we have failed at
teaching the growing number of converts to Orthodoxy in this
country the fulness of the Orthodox experience. We have touched
them with a surface-level Orthodoxy, forming our witness into
something akin to a doctrinal or theological alternative to the
prevailing Western Christian traditions to which most Americans
adhere. In effect, not wholly grasping ourselves the fulness of
the Orthodox experience, we have presented the convert population
with a religious alternative modeled on a non-Orthodox scheme.
The result is that many converts live with an incomplete
Orthodoxy, lacking even the partial exposure to Orthodoxy as a
culture that the offspring of Orthodox emigrants experience. They
cannot even intuit in most cases this fuller Orthodoxy. Such an
Orthodoxy cannot fully serve them and stands to suffer from the
same foibles as the prevalent Christian witnesses, lacking as
they do a full integration of their theological precepts and
religious consciousness into daily life, into cultural
tradition—an integration which Orthodoxy holds up at its
practical means of transmitting the faith to generation after
generation.
The convert might object, indeed, to the thought of having to
adopt an Orthodox culture as a prerequisite for the reception of
the Orthodox faith. "Must I become a Greek, or a Russian, or
a Serbian, or so on?" might be the rhetorical response to
this prerequisite. The answer is, to some extent,
"yes." That we separate Orthodoxy from its cultural
medium is already evidence that we have lost a great dimension of
Orthodoxy, as we have said. But just as importantly, it is
essential to remember that conversion to a true Christianity is
the denial of secular culture, the acceptance of a new culture
formed by detachment from the world and Christian involvement in
it—St. Paul's paradoxical state of being "in" but
not "of" the world. This new culture is the very
culture which Orthodox societies, however successfully or
unsuccessfully, have attempted to build. We are bound by the
Christian experience to accept and follow those attempts. They
are our one step out of the world while being in it. American
society, not built on these same attempts, is not compatible with
Orthodoxy. The realization of this heavy and stark reality is no
more threatening to us than it was to the Greeks (and
subsequently all other Orthodox peoples) when they gave up their
pagan cultures and accepted the Christian culture of the Hellenic
world.
It is not too much, thus, to ask of the convert that he remain
loyal to his country (rendering unto Caesar that which is
Caesar's) while, at the same time, adopting a new culture and new
traditions better suited to the expression and preservation of
his Orthodox faith. This is not a restrictive requirement, but
one which brings the Orthodox convert spiritually into a new
dimension as well as intellectually into contact with some of the
most profound pillars of the edifice of human civilization. The
adoption of traditional styles of eating and dress lends itself
to the expression of Orthodox spirituality. It provides a context
in which association with the secularized world is predefined
from an Orthodox stance. And it provides, at the same time,
knowledge of the Christian ancients, of Greek and Slavic
civilization, and of the deep, theologically developed languages
in which the Truth of truths was articulated. To be sure, an
adoption of a traditional Orthodox culture expands the American
convert to Orthodoxy in every way, the end result being, perhaps
sometime in the future, the actual creation of a particularly
American expression of these cultures.
We might note here that in one other way the Orthodox convert
is called to a mature view of Orthodox cultural traditions. If it
is essential that some cultural medium for the expression and
preservation of Orthodoxy be realized, it is equally essential
that the constant emphasis in this realization is on medium and
purpose, not on the cultural traditions as ends in themselves.
All too often in our age of the "coy primitive," a few
"converts" are attracted to Orthodoxy by the very
cultural traditions to which most converts lack essential
exposure. These individuals find the "different" ways
of the Orthodox strangely appealing or "quaint." They
too lack exposure to true Orthodox cultural traditions, for these
traditions separated from the spiritual purposes that they serve
are false traditions. And anyone converted on such a basis is not
converted to the life-giving essence of Orthodoxy, but to
cultural dilettantism. Orthodox cultural traditions are lifted up
and participate in the holy only because they serve the Orthodox
Christian in his divine ascent and in his simple attempts to live
a pious, peaceful, and Christian life on earth. As such they are
invaluable. As simple human traditions, they have no meaning to
-the Christian. In their spirit, these traditions help the
aspirant in his God-pleasing life; by their letter, they lead to
the perdition of merely human thought and taste.
The Parameters of Genuine Orthodox Culture. It is
perhaps auspicious that we began this essay with reference, not
to simple tradition, but to Holy Tradition and its expression
through Orthodox cultural traditions. In so doing, we have made
spiritual considerations paramount in our references to those
traditions. Just as the Orthodox convert must receive the
cultural medium of the Orthodox faith in the sense of that
culture's facilitation of spiritual growth and maturity, we must
emphasize boldly the responsibility of those born to Orthodox
cultures (whether in the native cultural environment or in
diaspora) to receive those aspects of their cultural traditions
which are indeed designed to serve spiritual needs. Cultural
traditions can lose the spiritual, dimension which originally
engendered them. But at the same time, there exist cultural
traditions, despite the goals and ideals of its spiritual
leaders, which never reflected (nor were intended to reflect) the
precepts of traditional Orthodox society. The responsibility of
those born into an Orthodox milieu is to begin to distinguish
these mundane traditions from the spiritual ones and to protect
both their own scions and the convert population by this
distinction.
In this respect, the greatest caution should be exercised, in
recovering our lost traditions, in turning to modern Orthodox
societies. Many true traditions have survived from the "old
country," but, as we have noted, not all that is "old
country" is authentic. And often what is authentic must be
properly understood, since most modern Orthodox societies have
lost the spiritual perspective. modern Greek society, for example,
has undergone great secularization and has been very negatively
influenced, in many instances, by western (and thus non-Orthodox)
concepts. Until a very recent renewal of interest in patristics,
even much of the academic theology in Greece had little if any
relationship to the subtle mystical theology which distinguishes
the Eastern Church. Priests and lay theologians were taught
systematic theologies of western origin and were often encouraged
to pursue "scientific" empirical views of the religious
experience which almost wholly ignored the astounding richness of
traditional Orthodox theology. Moreover, years of brutal
enslavement of the Greek people under the Turkish yoke took a yet
uncalculated toll on the magnificent Orthodox society of the late
Byzantine period. Much of the richness of Orthodox tradition was
lost. In such circumstances, it is not difficult to see why a
frightful degeneration of Orthodox cultural traditions took
place. The presence of foreign mentalities, both in the sense of
a western intellectual captivity in theology and in the sense of
a literal captivity politically and socially, led to the loss of
many important traditions. Simultaneously, those traditions that
did survive survived in circumstances that changed, at times, the
essential nature of these traditions—a nature which would
have been organically present in the hegemony of the holy and the
mundane characteristics of pure Orthodox social structure.
In the Slavic traditions, too (especially in Russia), the
traditional Orthodox societies, in which cultural traditions were
made apparent in their spiritual content by the very functioning
of society, have disappeared to a great extent. The majority of
the Orthodox Church today labors under the yoke of communist
domination. Even where the Church does speak, it is either
speaking with the real threat of martyrdom (and thus in an
atmosphere of immediacy lost to us in the West who are free) or
through the channels of an atheistic regime. The resulting
witness must be cautiously approached. And even before the
horrible political conditions that now exist fell over the
Orthodox of Eastern Europe, much western influence had diluted
the extant holy societies. As in Greece, mystical iconography had
come to be replaced with insipid western painting. Systematic
western theologies, though less blatant than those in
contemporary Greece, were popular in Russia. And a very
romanticized view of Russian aristocratic society (perhaps
prompted by the real piety of the Russian nobles at different
times in history) has tended to obfuscate what many see as some
very un-Orthodox threads in the fabric of Russian imperial
society. Again, in such circumstances one must not be naive and
cling to what one wishes were true. There are among the Slavic
Orthodox, also, many traditions that should not be accepted as
expressive of the Orthodox mentality and therefore are not
conducive to proper spiritual growth.*
The weaknesses of traditional Orthodox societies were brought
by emigrants to America, too. They brought with them a weakened
Orthodox mentality and, in many cases, a knowledge of their own
cultures in general that was not adequate. If this did not, in
itself, augur well for a sound Orthodox spirituality in America,
there was manifested the unfortunate process of accommodating
this already diluted mentality with American culture. And the
resulting melange, however disconcerting the fact, has,
influenced the growth of Orthodoxy in America to no small extent.
The resulting "cultural tradition" is thus spurious
from its very inception. This spurious "tradition" is
yet another danger to which we must attend, in our attempts to
regain a truly Orthodox tradition. Suffice it to say that young
Greeks often cannot distinguish a prayer rope from "worry
beads." And when they finally discover the difference, they
hear the prayer rope described as a "rosary." They make
associations with a distinct western practice with no
relationship to the "Jesus Prayer," or the central
practice of the hesychastic tradition, and thus create, from
information resulting from ignorance of an ancient Orthodox
tradition, a new and wholly improper understanding of an
important part of Orthodox spirituality. The list could continue
from the "Mass" through "last Rites." The
point is that we do not have an authentic Orthodox cultural
tradition in America and that the so-called
"traditions" that we do know come to us in distorted
form.
We can conclude, from our discussion, that Orthodox
spirituality is transferred through a cultural medium and that
the cultural traditions passed on to us from Orthodox societies
can facilitate our personal spiritual growth. A mentality handed
down to us from societies that modeled daily life after spiritual
principles is a prerequisite for survival in a non-Orthodox
society. At the same time, we must be realistic and understand
that all that has been passed down from the "old
country" is not Orthodox, not only because historical
realities have eroded away ideal Orthodox societies, but because
not every Orthodox Christian fully receives and transmits genuine
tradition. Finally, we have said that in America a false Orthodox
culture has emerged, based not on genuine Orthodox cultural
traditions, but on distorted traditions accommodated to western
models and thus not expressive of the Orthodox spirit. What,
therefore, does it mean to recapture an "old country"
mentality, an Orthodox cultural paradosis, if such does
not exist in pure form? Where is the elusive cultural medium of
Orthodox spirituality?
The Person and the Transpersonal Consensus. Amidst our
qualifications and cautions, we have, in fact, given a clue as to
the path to true Orthodox cultural traditions. All traditions of
a genuine spiritual nature, it has been suggested, must relate to
the spiritual life. Let us consider this first on the personal
level. At the outset we noted that the adoption of "old
country" habits of eating and drinking can facilitate
fasting and one's religious outlook. Dressing modestly and
removing oneself from the prevailing secular culture are personal
requisites for fulfilling some of the most fundamental
commandments of Christian life. We know by religious instruction,
if not by a certain intuitive sense, what basic behaviors are
necessary to separate us from society at large and to nurture our
spiritual faculties. Certain church regulations regarding our
moral and daily behaviors are known to us. We know how they
relate to the increase of our spiritual desires and the
attenuation of our less-seemly motivations. If we monitor this
inward knowledge, then we have a sure way, if we are honest and
seek inward guidance, of knowing what cultural traditions handed
down to us lead to the expression of genuine Orthodox
spirituality. This is as obvious in every case as it is in the
case of incorporating into our lives dietary traditions from the
"old country" that by nature fashion our eating habits
to meet fasting regulations. It is as obvious as the spiritual
benefit offered to those Orthodox who celebrate the Nativity of
Christ on January 7 (new style), following the traditional
calendar of the Church, outside of the din and the merry ring of
the cash register that mark the western Christmas.
There is, above the merely personal level, a far greater
criterion by which to know the genuinely Orthodox from the
secular traditions of degenerating societies: that of the
spiritual father, the gerontas, or the staretz. These
God-bearing elders, having been raised up and joined to the
mystical spirit of Orthodoxy, are perfect guides. Knowing the
hearts of those Christians who appeal to them, they can give them
daily guidance and rules that surely set them on the road toward
spiritual enlightenment and a peaceful. pious life. These
fathers, speaking with one single voice through the mouths of the
Apostles and the Fathers of the Church up to our time are, after
all, the final source of our cultural traditions. Their
instructions helped shape Orthodox societies. But, sadly, we live
in a very barren age spiritually. Though there are still great
spiritual fathers in our times, there are probably few, if any,
in America. And if any exist, as most spiritual aspirants agree,
they are probably silent and hidden.
Where, then, do we turn to find these transpersonal criteria
for understanding what is and what is not Orthodox tradition? We
turn to the only fathers we have—dead, yet living. We turn
to the growing body of English-language translations of the
spiritual Fathers of the Church, or, if we are fortunate enough
to know or to have learned traditional Orthodox language, to the
great spiritual writings that the Church has passed on to us. And
yet even this is wrought with deadly dangers. Many Fathers speak
from elevated experience, and we must not aspire to their heights
without first building a foundation. Then, too, we might come to
a merely intellectual understanding of the great Fathers, turning
arrogantly away from certain salutary traditions as being too
primitive or crude for us. We can avoid these dangers only by
seeing the Fathers in a spiritual light, looking for a certain
inner spirit and sense of humility that true cultural traditions
will also reveal to us. Thus, we must follow Orthodox traditions
(it is perhaps safe to begin with fasting), seeking to avoid any
thing innovative, yet humbly remaining open to correction, not in
this greater sense exercising our personal opinion. As our
reading of the Fathers, prayer, and growth in God's grace in
crease, the harmony between our practices (in terms of cultural
traditions) and what they yield and the spirit we find in prayer
and reading will be apparent. In an automatic way, truth be comes
self-validating and true Orthodox tradition becomes self evident.
But the very foundations of this spiritual ascent are the
acceptance (with the caution suggested above) of the cultural
traditions in which Orthodoxy has prevailed and, above all,
humble submission to the consensus of the Fathers.
* Parenthetically, it seems necessary here to
interject several qualifying remarks regarding the foregoing
paragraphs. Especially in America, where the study of the history
of Orthodox countries is less developed, one is hesitant to decry
any aspect of that history or of Orthodox culture, as the
prejudices that might ensue would be unfair. We are attempting
here to extract from these Orthodox societies their spiritual
essence, and in so doing we have been cautious and critical. In
this process, however, the western reader should not forget that
these societies are among the greatest that man has ever
developed. Whatever their shortcomings—even their secular
triumphs are a witness to Orthodox history—it is from the
Greeks that the West received Christianity; the Russian people
civilized a vast part of Europe; Greek literary figures today
continue to gain world recognition; and the Slavic countries are
virtual centers of world culture even under the domination of the
communists. One need only mention Dostoevsky to epitomize the
blending of philosophy, literature, and culture with Orthodox
spirituality, and the trenchant observations of Solzhenitsyn
regarding western society suggest the continued ascendancy of the
Orthodox culture and spirit.
This originally appeared in Bishop [now Archbishop]
Chrysostomos, Archimandrite [now Bishop] Auxentios, and Archimandrite Akakios,
Contemporary Traditionalist Orthodox Thought (Etna,
CA: Center
for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies, 1986), pp. 67-80.
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