to be—however much they seem to reflect a timeless, unvarying nomos—their origin reveals a process of appropriation of materials that were initially marginal. In Orthodoxy, materials such as the Philokalia could be seen as representing marginal commentary like that which appears alongside the Mishna in the Jewish Talmud. The core of any tradition might be described in terms of the extent to which it is able and willing to allow its margins to have influence. A partial determinant of this will be the tradition’s confidence in the grounded nature of its central tenets. A tradition whose core assumes an entirely defensive posture towards its margins is often one whose central tenets appear arbitrary in the context of current realities. The authority of such a tradition is experienced, more and more, as deriving from mere edict. A tradition that ceases to receive information from its edges has absolutized perspectives and strategies that once may have had critical value for its survival. On the other hand, when a tradition’s core demonstrates a degree of permeability towards its margins, it acknowledges the relation of its central teachings to universal truths that exist independently of its own authority. Likewise, it acknowledges the changing nature of the surrounding world for which its teachings have relevance. Such a tradition does not fear the annihilation of its own perspective upon relaxation of its advocacy for that perspective, because it considers reality to be its ally, and ultimately its vindicator. It values information from its margins because this information enables the core’s adaptation, evolution, and development—even if it initially introduces dissonance. A saying of St. Isaac of Syria alludes to the quiet confidence inherent in a tradition with this perspective towards its own teachings: “Someone who is considered among men to be zealous for truth has not yet learnt what truth is really like: once he has truly learnt it, he will cease to be zealous on its behalf.”10 Yet another image of cores and edges might be drawn from the phenomenon of black holes, in which material that resides at their edges moves towards, and eventually becomes, their center. If, as a thought experiment, we envisage the area at the center of a black hole possessing consciousness, we can imagine it might be tempted to defend against its disappearance into a singularity, against the material pouring in from the edges by which it may eventually be supplanted. It would take a particular kind of faith and confidence for it to resist becoming merely
defensive—a faith that its essential nature will remain intact, not because it resists the reality that surrounds it, but because it understands itself as integral to that surrounding reality, and as fundamentally in service to it. Orthodoxy might benefit from reflecting on its interface with the outside world as a creative and integrative zone rather than merely a defensive barrier. In the case of black holes, in fact, Stephen Hawking suggested that information at the center of a black hole is not actually obliterated in its process of swallowing up surrounding space11, but retained indefinitely—confirming, by way of analogy, that a tradition’s essential identity can be enriched, not inevitably obliterated, by interaction with its own edges and the surrounding world. Finally, we ought not overlook Scripture’s depiction of God’s relationship to borders. We might be tempted to consider borders as what separates the Church from what is alien to it, but Scripture shows us that God uses them for purposes that are ultimately inclusive. As Christ says, our Heavenly Father "causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" (Matt. 5:45). When God establishes borders, he sometimes appears later to disregard them for the sake of more fully communicating his intentions. As He says in Hosea (and as Sts. Paul and Peter quoted), “I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.’ I will say to those called ‘Not my people,’ ‘You are my people’; and they will say, ‘You are my God’” (2:23; Ro. 9:25; 1 Pe. 2:10). While we should not naively imagine that God's liberality implies that we do not need to articulate borders in Church life, we need to remember that borders are not ends in themselves. They are aspects of a larger message of universal mercy. They are elements of the divine grammar, whose purpose ultimately is to communicate love to all creation.
V. REV. DR. ISAAC SKIDMORE is a licensed therapist in Oregon and an adjunct professor in the school of clinical mental health counseling at Southern Oregon University. He is an auxiliary priest at Archangel Gabriel Orthodox Church in Ashland, Oregon. He is the author of Edge of the
Abyss: The Usefulness of Antichrist Terminology in the Era of Donald Trump.
10. St. Isaac of Syria. Daily Readings With St. Isaac of Syria (A. Allchin, Ed.) (S. Brock, Trans.). Springfield, IL: Templegate, 1989, p. 61 11. Overbye, D. “No Escape From Black Holes? Stephen Hawking Points to a Possible Exit.” The New York Times, June 6, 2016. https:// www.nytimes.com/2016/06/07/science/stephen-hawking-black-holes.html 29
jacob's well
