Phyletism and the poor

I should very much like to contend against the idea that the Church should be made up of "homogeneous" units, whether those "units" are based on "socio-economic," ethnic or racial categories. It is the desire for homogeneity that shuts the door of fellowship, even in an Orthodox Church, to the poor. And this idea, once enlarged and practiced as custom, can turn into something that we call "phyletism."

In this little essay, I will try to find more helpful meanings for this morose word – meanings that may be of better use than what is current in the rhetoric for administrative unity. To do this, I would like to think about phyletism mainly in terms of its original setting in racism, and in its expanded setting in the unwitting exclusion of the poor.

It should go without saying that many wrongs litter the path taken by the Orthodox community in America. This is especially true of its multiplicity of language and ethnic heritage. It should never be the case that non-ethnics should feel excluded or put down by an ethnic parish. Yet, at the same time, a non-ethnic should not be guilty of the same condescension by putting down the ethnicity of an ethnic parish. Orthodox parishes are naturally going to be more cultural than the usual American experience – which, it must be admitted, has a low-level (in intensity and quality) culture. Orthodox parishes so far have the freedom to respond to this American poverty of culture by continuing on with their own.

Moreover, it should never be the case that the poor should feel excluded or put down. With this category of the poor, we should also include the disabled – for, theologically, this is how we should understand and treat the disabled. This characterization may fly in the face of current efforts of re-labeling. But the disabled suffer disadvantage, discomfort and lack of power – and the Church, as it should do for all the poor, provides comfort and respect. This understanding of the disabled as "poor" is better than identifying the disabled as a political group (about which policies need to be written and approved and promulgated).

The Church should never identify groups within itself as political. Groups who organize themselves for political purpose within the Church – purposes which go beyond mere preservation, but are for the achievement of naked power through the re-definition of canon law and dogma – should hope very much that they can escape the downward trend of their self-chosen fate. Self-consciousness that is tied to political gain (i.e., "liberation" or "parity") cannot avoid the damning passion of pride: this is true of individual men and women – this is magnified exponentially in groups. Groups that self-organize for the sake of political power ultimately demand, when they claim to be oppressed, that the Church treat them as poor: but mere comfort and respect they usually do not want, and demand not accommodation but instead, mutation.

The results of calling anyone in hardship and in need "poor" – instead of labeling them as a political group – are pastorally prudent and practical. Thus, we can "minister" to those who are truly hungry, truly threadbare, truly discomfited by physical hardship. We can minister to the needy without denaturing our ministry by predicating it on policy – policy precludes ministry by its imperative, mandatory nature. "Ministry" must be an act of love – and as such, it can only be voluntary. They who are truly poor will always be satisfied with the gifts of ministry, which are comfort and respect.

The possibility of exclusion and oppression always exists, and it is sinful for those who do the excluding or oppressing. Thus, the real problem of phyletism is always more than administrative or jurisdictional. At the coining of the term in the 1872 Council in Constantinople, there was a reaction to the Bulgarians who established a separate diocese within an already well-established and historic jurisdiction – an understatement, in this case, if there ever was one. The Council was clear about the main offense against the Church. It used the term "racism" in its well-founded critique of the new, separate jurisdiction: We renounce, censure and condemn racism, that is racial discrimination, ethnic feuds, hatreds and dissensions within the Church of Christ, as contrary to the teaching of the Gospel and the holy canons of our blessed fathers which "support the holy Church and the entire Christian world, embellish it and lead it to divine godliness."

The problem of the Bulgarians in 1872 Constantinople differs from the problem of American Orthodoxy (and, I hear, Parisian Orthodoxy), where there was a simultaneous development of immigrant jurisdictions that were not established for racial reasons, but for uncoordinated pastoral reasons. In the history of my diocese, for example, Carpatho-Russian immigrants in New York and in the West Virginia coal fields needed a Church to be baptized and married in, and a Temple to receive the Eucharist in: speaking from my own experience in the Carpatho-Russian community, no parish or jurisdictional structure was ever established with a racial exclusionary intent. Anyone from the neighborhood was welcome: and whenever that welcoming ethos predominated, then phyletism could not have occurred – this was so simply because welcoming comfort and racist exclusion are mutually exclusive attitudes. A diocese that would be established for a particular race (e.g., "white people") would be an abhorrent apartheid establishment, and would certainly warrant the charge of phyletism (at least that charge, if not a worse one).

Before I leave the matter of the Bulgarians in 1872, I should like to ask whether the Greek churches in Constantinople were willing to accommodate their Bulgarian communicants. I wonder if the Bulgarians felt some necessity – albeit foolishly acted upon – to establish their own community of understanding and comfort.

Because the situation of American Orthodoxy is so very odd (and I think unprecedented), it seems that the usual meaning of "phyletism" may not have enough robustness to serve either for diagnosis or prognosis. "Phyletism" is usually described as the persistence of various ethnically-distinct Orthodox jurisdictions occupying the same political boundary. But this persistence is certainly not the same as "racism," which is what "phyletism" originally meant. It is not helpful to affix this label on the present confused array of jurisdictions – this confusion is the result of a lack of coordination on the part of the mother churches. If anything, the American morass is a symptom of disunity among the old world Sees. It is not so much an exhibition of disunity among American churches as it is a sign of immaturity.

Phyletism is blamed for the development of anti-canonical inconsistencies, such as those listed by Fr. Josiah Trenham and His Eminence, Archbishop Demetrios (particularly in his opening address at the Episcopal Assembly). Inconsistencies should be expected amongst such a wide array of simultaneously developing communities: and inconsistencies of cultural expression are to be expected and permitted in the Orthodox ethos. But the anti-canonical practices that are bewailed in "unity rhetoric" go beyond mere inconsistency: if there is any inconsistency, it lies in the fact that some jurisdictions are better at complying with the Church Canons than others. If I saw this list for the first time, without having read it first in the context of unification, I would have said, in my untutored "the-emperor-has-no-clothes-on" wit, that this list of problems must have spilled out from a departure from Tradition, or a failure of apostolic leadership – not disunity. If a funeral service in one Temple ends up with a trip to the crematorium, administrative unity is not what is needed: obedience is.

If such a list of historical aberrations were published – that is, aberrations that have accrued because of departures from Holy Tradition – then I would suggest a few additional bulleted items. I would say something about the exclusivity of the Nicene Creed (i.e., there is no other salvation than through Christ and His Church). I would add a line about the infinite worth of a fertilized embryo as a person. I would add to the paragraph about marriage (i.e., the reference to the various interpretations of civil and heterodox marriage contracts) at least a phrase that brought up extramarital distortions of the nuptial union.

Phyletism cannot be blamed for these inconsistencies. The list – especially my augmented one – reveals the presence of aberrations, not the detritus of disorganization. The list is tragic for its itemized sins: it is not to be despaired for its evidence of meshugas (a fun word to say out loud, and a mad term that eloquently describes a condition which, I'm sorry to say, is what we're going to suffer for a long time to come, despite our intentions otherwise).

I suggest a modified definition of "phyletism" – a definition that is based more on its cognate of racism. I doubt very much that racism is ever an identifiable problem in Chanceries or administrative office buildings (or on diocesan web sites). Ideals and platitudes are easy in these places, because they are too often far removed from the poignant and intimate deification struggle of parish life. Theosis happens in personal ascesis and the fellowship of communion.

The real peril of phyletism is derived not from disunity. The peril lies instead with the unconscious and expedient desire for homogeneity. Such a depersonalizing (and Christ-forgetting) desire can be for ethnic or socio-economic sameness: and such a desire, in turn, denies comfort, and sets in motion a subtle sociological dynamic that eventually makes it very clear to the marginalized and the poor, the unpopular and the difficult, the lame and the halt, the unwashed and the unlettered, the stranger and the outcast, that their presence is not welcome.

The denial of comfort to the poor, whether this denial is expressed in outright boorish racism or in a noxious liturgy of self-absorbed naiveté, is a constant temptation mainly in parish life – because it is the Church in her locality where real life is really lived.

The poor – simply because they are poor – can only be local. A parish without the presence of the poor is just not local, and therefore not Orthodox.

Phyletism is the persistence of any exclusionary (and oppressive) phenomena in parish life – especially any exclusion that is directed against the poor. This directed exclusion may be waged deliberately. But more likely (and more frequently), it is waged unconsciously and conveniently. It is convenient to not construct ramps and widen aisles and build accessible lavatories. There is never a conscious refusal to install earphones for the hearing impaired. It is easier to build a facility where the surroundings are nicer: it is harder to set up soup kitchens, food banks, and free rummage closets.

There is never a conscious decision to maintain a language that completely excludes people from the neighborhood: it just seems easier that way. There may be arcane reasons to continue an un-neighborly language in a parish or a monastery – but there exists no evangelical rationale for this deliberate foreign-ness.

We may speak of countering administrative phyletism after our parishes have thrown off their very local exclusionary practices. Indeed, administrative "macro" solutions are actually easier and far more amenable to political negotiation and conversations held in the background. But the Gospel starts face to face, and in the heart.

The comfort that is needed by the poor – whether they are of a different ethnicity or of a different tax bracket – can only come from the heart of a Samaritan. The comfort offered to the poor in whatever setting of their poverty can only be the fruit of deification. Food and vouchers the poor can get anywhere, and they will be hungry again. But the poor can come to Orthodox soup kitchens, and the material bread they receive there will be augmented by the Word of God and, perhaps, the Bread of Life.

What do the poor need? The question is pertinent, for it is exactly the criteria demanded by the Forerunner's question about whether the valid Gospel is being preached: "Are you He Who is to come?"

What do the poor need? Practically, for the sake of American Orthodoxy (and not the undead litany of bottom-line measurements and actuarial haruspications of self-preservation), the poor need English in parish and monastic life (monasteries that do not practice the vernacular are not located in America, despite their zip code). The poor need Spanish, too, in many places, and probably Chinese also in the future. In every case, the poor need fluency in American culture.

The poor need the Nicene Creed. They usually have no difficulty with the offensive certainties of conservative, traditional interpretations of dogma and canon. It takes a certain amount of comfortable sophistication to need something beyond the Creed.

The poor need communion and salvation, and you do not have to tell them this. This is so simply because the poor know a lot about hell – surely far more than do the residents of gated communities who attend blue-blood dinners for progressive and pro-choice politicians. The poor are not rich enough to ignore perdition: for them, it leaks in through the cracks of the everyday.

The poor need a Church that preaches the Gospel poignant enough to repent for, bright enough to open their eyes for, lovely enough to die for, peaceful enough to rise and be glad for.

We overcome phyletism – in its accurate definition and sinful aspect – when we open the doors of the Orthodox Church to our neighbors and the poor. We overcome this sin when we, as Priests and Levites, recognize the poor beaten senseless (by time and tide) along the wayside, and when we – who have reached apatheia enough to offer peace from a grace-enchanted heart – take the wounded and discomfited back to the Inn, and welcome them in.

The real and greatest problem of phyletism lies not in the American multiplicity of ethnic jurisdictions. It lies wherever a parochial ethnicity excludes non-ethnics, xenos or American. It lies wherever the needs of the needy are conveniently masked by hedgerows – whether they be planted in the landscaping, or in the addled mind of a Levite or a Priest.

Comments

[Fr. Jonathan]

I presume, Mr. Dale, that your comment carries no small irony.

But if this were not so, then I might remind you that I referred to the "usual American experience," certainly not that of "old American families" where there should obtain agrarian custom, a familial and republican hearth, songs and stories and callouses from the earth.

I am sure you may be referring to this honorable tradition: but it is not the usual. Hardly.

[Dale]

How dare you insinuate that those of us who come from old American families are deficient in a culture!!! How dare you!

[s-p]

Excellent, Father. Most of us can probably give a list of kinds of people who have been castigated, ignored, blockaded or sneered out of our fellowships by clergy and laity. Its a big world out there and the gospel is to be preached to all of it... all of "them". All of "us".

[Fr. Jonathan]

Orr, thanks for the nod to Orwell, and you're right about Jim Crow status quo.

Steve, I don't think there should be any interruption, especially for castigation of a real annoyance, much less a perfectly acceptable blind dog. I have little patience for such improprieties -- and I'm referring to neither the poor woman or the noble dog (whose character might be better, in a symbolic way, than his persecutor's).

AG -- I have only much sympathy for immigrants, and for precisely the reasons you mention -- the tradition of the extended family, the ugliness of the anti-agrarian and consumerist anti-culture barbarianism.

But barbarians we are commanded to welcome, and assimilate through catechesis, ascesis and communion.

Part of this assimilation -- as I shall try to explore in the next post -- ought to be articulated not in the spoken language of the immigrant, but in the unspoken (and more meaningful) language of immigrant memory and folkways.

So stay tuned.

[The Anti-Gnostic]

From the immigrants' perspective, they look at the acultural, consumerist mess that is America and decide that the Old Country definitely had its good points. Ethnicity is not a social construct. It is a group of people with a high percentage of ancestors in common: a very large, very extended family. Americans eschew this institution, and into the vacuum steps the market and trash culture. "Phyletism" is, in part, the immigrants' attempts to keep the barbarians from their gates.

Over time, this is a problem that solves itself with outmarriage and improving Old World economies. For the transitional generations though, it is hard to watch grandchildren unable to worship in the mother tongue.

[Steve Hayes]

When you speak of the disabled, I was once in a service where the priest interupted the service to castigate a blind woman for bringing her guide dog into the church, accusing her of blasphemous disrespect for the house of God. She left, and never returned.

I think it may have been a cross-cultural misunderstanding. I don't know if the priest was aware of the use of dogs as guides for blind people, and perhaps he had misinterpreted the situation, and I didn't feel that I could broach the subject with him, as he was clearly too upset by the incident to be approachable.

[orrologion]

We should name the vision of St. Tikhon (as much as I venerate him) and the structures of both the EP's exarchates and the OCA with its ethnic dioceses for what they are: ecclesiastical apartheid, 'separate but equal'. (Of course, while "All animals are equal, some animals are more equal than others" in such arrangements - and it ain't Christ or His Apostles.) It matters little if Abp Iakovos marched with MLK in Selma if we defend our own Jim Crow status quo contrary to our own ecclesiology.