Modem Theology 9:1 January 1993

ISSN 0266-7177 $3.00
THE HUMANITY OF GOD IN
LIBERAL ORTHODOX THEOLOGY
PAUL VALLIERE
Introduction
The purpose of this paper is to present some of the testimonies of liberal
Orthodox theology in late Imperial Russia concerning the theology of
Incarnation. Since it may come as a surprise to many people, even to many
Orthodox, that a tradition of liberal theology existed in Russian Orthodoxy,
the evidence I adduce may be of interest apart from the specific theological
discussion to which it pertains.
A consideration of liberal Orthodox theology may also suggest a fresh
perspective on the phenomenon of theological liberalism generally. The
problems the Russian liberals wrestled with were much the same as those
that occupied their Western counterparts, but the distinctive cultural and
ecclesiastical context of Russian Orthodoxy dictated an important difference
in approach. The classical Christian dogmatic tradition was far less eroded by
Renaissance and Enlightenment thought in Russian Orthodoxy than in
Western Christianity, and most theological liberals worked within the
tradition, not against it. This made the project of liberal theology more dif-
ficult but also more profound by lending it a rich dogmatic content which
much Western liberal theology sorely lacked. It was no accident that the last
great intellectual achievement of liberal Orthodoxy was a massive synthesis
of dogmatic theology: Sergii Bulgakov's trilogy, The Humanity of God.
1
To appreciate liberal Orthodox theology in the larger scheme of things one
has first to find it and understand it in its own terms—tasks rendered more
difficult than they might otherwise be by the governing tendency of Ortho-
dox theology in recent decades. Twentieth-century Orthodox theology has
been shaped mainly by "neo-patristic" interpreters of Orthodoxy (e.g.,
Florovsky, Lossky, Schmemann, Meyendorff). The dominance of the neo-
patristic school has been so complete that the theological dialogue between
Dr Paul Valliere
Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Butler University, Indianapolis, IN 46208, USA
56 PaulValliere
Orthodoxy and Western Christianity in the 20th century has been to a great
extent a dialogue between various Western theologies on the one hand and
the neo-patristic school, also based in the West, on the other.
The cause of this remarkable contraction of Orthodox theology can be
traced to the aftermath of the Russian Revolution. The destruction of the
Russian Orthodox Church and most other Russian cultural institutions after
1917 suspended theologizing in the world's largest, most dynamic and best
educated Eastern Orthodox society. The richness, complexity and creative
antagonisms of Orthodox theology in Imperial Russia were forgotten.
One of the first casualties was liberal Orthodox theology, a tendency which
began to take shape in Russia in the 1840's and was in full bloom by the turn
of the century. Its last major theologian was Sergii Bulgakov, who died in
Paris in 1944. Liberal Orthodoxy—which may also be called "modernist",
though the word "modernist" is even more problematic than "liberal" in
this context—refers to systematic efforts by theologians and other Orthodox
to relate the vision and structures of Orthodoxy to what we today call a "free
society": that is, a society composed of a plurality of dynamic and relatively
autonomous spheres of activity—not always interlocking, not always in
harmony, and free of the direct tutelage of church or state. Such a society was
struggling to be born in 19th and 20th century Russia, and the Orthodox
community was deeply involved in the process.
To understand liberal Orthodoxy one must keep this historical context in
mind, for the context was integrally related to the theological view. The
theme of the movement, repeated over and again, was that the Orthodox
Church is called by its Lord to engage the secular world—to enter into it in
mission, to penetrate it with sympathy and love, above all to sanctify it;
certainly not to flee it, forget it or, least of all, fear it. One of the theological
terms which the liberals used to express this vision was kenösis, the self-
emptying of the divine into the world of humanity.
I. Incarnation as Kenösis
All Orthodox would agree that the mystery of the Incarnation encompasses
both the kenösis of God in Christ and the theosis of humanity in God. But it
seems pointless to deny that differences of emphasis are inevitable as this
mystery is articulated by theologians and related to various contexts of faith
and life. While the perfect balance of kenösis and theDsis is surely a worthy
theological ideal, one must wonder whether finite minds can envision it with
perfect clarity short of the eschatological kingdom. Comparing the evidence
from neopatristic and liberal Orthodox sources, one can see that the théosis
of human nature shines more brightly in the former, while for the liberals the
kenösis of the divine nature into humanity is the dominant theme. Most of
the thinkers who developed the theme of the "kenotic" or "humiliated"
Christ in 19th and 20th century Russia were liberal Orthodox: e.g., Bukharev,
Dostoevsky, Soloviev, Tareev, Bulgakov.
The Humanity of God in Liberal Orthodox Theology 57
We may attempt to summarize the liberal Orthodox view of the meaning
of Incarnation by framing a sentence paralleling Athanasius's famous
formulation in On the Incarnation of the Word. The Alexandrian's statement
that the Word "became a human being so that we might be made God" (De
Inc. 54) is probably as good an encapsulation of the theology of theösis as we
are ever likely to have. What would the liberal counterpart be? Perhaps this:
' ' God became a human being so that nothing truly human should be deemed
alien to God's being, mercy and love". Athanasius' statement opens onto a
theology of ultimate vision; the second statement suggests a theology of
penultimate responsiveness.
It would be wrong, of course, to overdo the contrast between neopatristic
theösis and liberal kenösis in Russian Orthodox theology. Key figures in the
tradition were connected with both tendencies. For example, Metropolitan
Filaret of Moscow, hegemon of the 19th century Russian Church, is properly
seen as a forerunner of the neopatristic sensibility; but his preaching of the
divine kenösis was also the immediate source of the idea in the theology of
the first liberal Orthodox theologian, Archimandrite Feodor (Alexander
Bukharev, 1824-1871).
Archimandrite Feodor's On Orthodoxy in Relation to the Modern World (1860)
provides good examples of liberal "kenotic" christology at work.
2
The title
of this collection of essays, a crucial and controversial chapter in the history
of modern Russian theology, clearly indicates its problematic: how should
Orthodoxy engage with the brave new world of modernity which was
coming into being around it? The essay with which we are concerned by way
of sampling Archimandrite Feodor's thought (any of the essays would do) is
an interpretive piece on a work of contemporary Russian art, A. A. Ivanov's
painting "The Appearance of Christ to the People".
3
This rich canvas,
which the artist intended as his masterpiece, depicts a grand, muscular John
the Baptist baptizing in the Jordan before a crowd of onlookers, while deep
in the background, walking alone, Jesus quietly makes his way toward the
scene. We observe in passing that it was unusual, and definitely a sign of
change, for an Orthodox scholar-monk to be writing essays on modern art.
To Feodor's eye, everything in Ivanov's painting conspires to impress the
viewer with the reality of the humanity of God in Christ. He begins by con-
sidering the overall design: why does the artist make Christ the smallest
figure in the painting and place him in the background at furthest remove
from the Baptist who heralds him? The answer, Feodor believes, is that if
Christ were placed in the foreground "he would attract and consume all the
attention regardless of the other figures. But in that case the idea of the Lord's
appearance to the world would not have been exposed, namely, that He became
human and appeared to us human beings in our order of things not for His
own sake, but for the sake of us human beings, . . . so that our free activity—
intellectual, emotional, physical—should not perish but be saved by being
brought into the love and favor of God the Father in the very person of our
Lord."
4
The point resonates with the theme of the gentleness of God in
58 PaulValliere
Feodor's theology. As in the Old Covenant God appeared to Elijah not in
earthquake and storm but as a "still, small voice", so, one might say, God
sends the Son of the New Covenant into the world as a "still, small Christ".
Feodor rightly sees that human freedom ("our free activity") is at stake in
the way salvation in Christ is understood. In Ivanov's vision Christ does not
override freedom but incorporates it. Feodor finds one of the most striking
features of the painting to be "the freedom and lack of constraint in the
figures, in their expressions and postures; neither physical nor spiritual con-
straint is to be seen in anyone or anything; each person appears just as he is,
just as the Lord found him at His gracious appearing".
5
Moreover, the artist
does not neglect to represent the great diversity of the human estate,
depicting men and women, old and young, learned and simple folk, slaves,
Gentile soldiers and others. Feodor deems Ivanov's respect for the freedom
and diversity of humankind an appropriate response to the advent "of One
Who will not quench a smoking wick or destroy a broken reed".
6
Feodor shows a particular interest in Ivanov's treatment of women in ' 'The
Appearance of Christ to the People". The women are shown among a group
of venerable clergy, the scribes and Pharisees, who stand with their backs to
Jesus. The clerics look dignified but world-weary. By contrast, "in all the
female figures whose faces are shown" Feodor finds "a simple, unforced
expression exhuding peace and purity". This shows, he continues, that
"when the grace of the Lamb of God appeared [in the world], it began
fashioning the vessels it needed first of all among Israelite women". In other
words, the Jewish clergy shut themselves off from Jesus, but the women of
Israel received him. This receptivity carries over into the life of the Church as
well, where, Feodor believes, women have the potential for "bringing the
vital and illuminating spirit of Christ to the most calloused souls and matern-
ally supporting and tending it in places where it is completely new".
7
The baptismal scene in the foreground of the painting allows Ivanov to
present human bodies in various stages of undress, including two nudes.
The result is a strong emphasis on the physicality of this presumably spiritual
scene. Feodor reports that some of his contemporaries were offended by the
fleshliness of Ivanov's painting, especially the frankly sensuous treatment of
the naked, extended body of a youth climbing out of the Jordan following his
baptism. The young man is also one of the few figures in the painting who
appears to be looking straight at Jesus. In Feodor's opinion, the physicality
of the painting is essential not just on esthetic and historical grounds but for
theological reasons as well. He laments that Orthodox people often appear
to forget "that the Lord took our whole nature upon Himself, i.e., not just
the soul but the human body, not to destroy but to save human beings even
in relation to their own bodies. Think how much of our humanity we treat as
hopelessly lost and condemned when we forget this, when we could so
easily elevate it to be something saved and spiritual!"
8
Those who object to
Ivanov's nudes fall prey to a narrow, pharisaical concept of righteousness,
while the righteousness of the Gospel embraces everything human.
The Humanity of God in Liberal Orthodox Theology 59
Of course the Gospel can embrace everything human because Jesus
Christ, on whom it is founded, is everything human. Feodor's essay on
Ivanov ends with the theme of the panhumanity of Christ. It is interesting to
note, however, that Feodor presents the idea to his Russian Orthodox
audience in a way that caters to their religious and racial prejudices:
For your comfort I may add that the overall appearance of Christ [in
Ivanov's painting] is drawn from Orthodox icons of the Savior: an
uncovered head with long walnut hair, a beard of the same color, a
reddish tunic and a sky-blue overgarment. By thus eliminating sharp
Jewish features from the face of the Savior, how beautifully [the artist]
expresses the fact that the Lord Jesus, belonging to the East and the
South by virtue of his descent from Abraham and David according to the
flesh, belongs to the West and to our North by virtue of his humanity.
9
If one were seeking to deconstruct Feodor's theology, this might be a good
place to begin. One could then argue that Feodor's professed universalism
is subverted by racialist stereotypes. On the other hand, if one reads this
passage in the light of the general dogmatic-theological scheme of Feodor's
theology, one can see that it presents simply another instance of a traditional
idea: the twofold "economy" of salvation. Christ comes not to a generic
humanity but, as the venerable Simeon saw (Luke 2: 29-32), to Jews and
Gentiles, respectively. As the "glory" of the Jews he belongs to East and
South; as "a light for revelation" to the Gentiles he belongs to West and
North. As the humanity of God he belongs to everyone.
II. Incarnation and Ecclesiology
A second contrast between liberal Orthodox and neopatristic theology lies in
the way the meaning of Incarnation for ecclesiology is construed. Again we
are speaking not of totally different and unrelated concepts of the Church but
of a difference in emphasis and orientation, though one with important
practical consequences. The neopatristic school focuses on the inner spirit of
community, or koinonia, of the Church, realized above all in the liturgical
fellowship. Liberal Orthodox focus primarily on the prophetic and mission-
ary dimensions of the Church, on the work of the Church extra muros. Both
schools agree, of course, that the Church is the eschatological community;
but neopatristic interpreters tend to focus on the eschatological gathering,
liberals on the eschatological ingathering.
This difference of orientation is connected with an extremely important
point in the liberal Orthodox theology of Incarnation, which may be formu-
lated as follows. If the Church continues the ministry of the Incarnate Lord,
and if Incarnation implies the humanity of God, it would seem imperative
that the Church, whatever else it is, should be fully human: not just
empirically human, but ideally so, i.e., humane. Neopatristic interpreters
60 PaulValliere
would not deny this, to be sure, but the point does not loom large in their
work. It figures centrally in the liberals' theology. This does not mean that
the Orthodox liberals viewed the Church as a purely human institution or
proposed sociology as a substitute for theology. Their concept was more
subtle and profound: the Church is neither a divine nor a human institution;
it is, as Vladimir Soloviev (1853-1900) liked to put it, a divine-human
organism (bogochelovecheskii organizm), the community of "the humanity of
God" (bogochelovechestvo), the community of the Incarnation. Nothing
human is alien to it, nothing human falls outside the scope of its engage-
ment, nothing inhumane should cling to it.
Of course much that is inhumane does cling to the Church, for which
reason incarnational ecclesiology functions in part as a critical and prophetic
principle. In his day Archimandrite Feodor criticized the rigorist zeal of some
of his fellow Orthodox on this score. "If we do not partake of the spirit and
attitude of the Lord's love by which, as the Word of God puts it (Gal. 3:13),
'he became a curse for us' sinful and wayward human beings, then our firm
faith, however zealous, will not be far removed from spiritual complacency,
a complacency more or less connected with the censure of other people for
their deficiencies and errors regarding faith. Our zeal against all that is
hostile to Christ will not be far removed from a repugnant and frightening
spirit of intolerance."
10
Soloviev extended the critique by calling not only for the humanization of
church life but for a rapprochement between Orthodox Christianity and
modern humanism. "When in the future", he wrote, "authoritative rep-
resentatiaves of Christianity focus their attention on the fact that our religion
is above all and par excellence a divine-human religion and that humanity
is not some sort of appendage but an essential, formative aspect of the
Humanity of God, they will resolve to exclude from their historical pantheon
some of the inhumanity that has casually slipped in during the course of
so many centuries and to replace it with a little more humanity. At that
time it will behoove them to remember the thinker who, in spite of his great
errors and the limitedness of his theoretical horizon, surpassed all others in
our now waning 19th century in his feeling for and efforts to promote the
human side of religion and life which has not always been sufficiently
recognized by historical Christianity."
11
The thinker Soloviev refers to here
was Auguste Comte, the French positivist and preacher of "the religion of
humanity".
The liberal Orthodox viewed the ministry of the humanity of God in very
practical terms. It meant applying the mind of the Church to social problems,
national concerns, problems of family life, sexuality, esthetics, the media
and many other spheres of modern life. We remember that the 19th century,
in Russia as elsewhere, liked to style itself as "a practical age" ("l'âge
positive", pozitivnyi vek). Liberal Orthodoxy typically presented itself as a
practical theology, a response to the needs of the age in light of the com-
mandments of the Lord.
The Humanity of God in Liberal Orthodox Theology 61
This practical concern went hand in hand with a critique of the isolation of
the church, indeed of piety itself, from the mainstream of contemporary
Russian society. With its caste-like parish clergy, an episcopate supervised
by state bureaucrats and a huge monastic estate, the Russian church was
vulnerable to the charge of living in a ghetto. As Archimandrite Feodor put
it, Orthodoxy was a treasure, but unfortunately a buried one. He pleaded
with his contemporaries "not to bury but to use" the riches of Orthodoxy,
remembering that "we who possess this treasure are debtors before the
whole world".
12
Monasticism was often the target of this critique for obvious reasons.
Breaking with the monastery came to serve as a kind of parable for a new
engagement with the world. The most familiar example of the case to a
Western audience is probably the fictional one in Dostoevsky's Brothers
Karamazov: Father Zossima commands his protégé, the novice Alyosha
Karamazov, to leave the monastery after his death, telling him: "I give you
my blessing for a great obedience in the world. You still have much journey-
ing before you. And you will have to marry—yes, you will."
13
But already
in 1863, fifteen years before Dostoevsky's novel appeared, Archimandrite
Feodor had abandoned his monastic vows with a similar self-understanding,
although the real-life drama was a good deal more complicated than a work
of fiction.
14
Just five years before The Brothers Karamazov, Vladimir Soloviev,
spending a postgraduate year at Moscow Theological Academy in the Holy
Trinity Monastery in Sergiev Posad—it was an unusual thing for a young
intellectual to do at the time—reassured his girlfriend that he was not con-
templating the monastic life. "Monasticism at one time had a lofty destiny",
he wrote, "but now the time has come not to flee the world but to enter it in
order to transform it".
15
Moreover, while Soloviev enjoyed the theological
academy, it was not because the atmosphere there was especially monastic.
"The academy . . . is not the absolute vacuity that the university is", he
wrote. "For all their coarseness the students strike me as a practical lot;
besides which they are happy, good-natured and great masters of the bottle
—in sort, healthy people."
16
Soon befriended by Dostoevsky, Soloviev
went on to become Russia's greatest religious philosopher.
III. The Education of the Human Race
Some of the liveliest engagements of liberal Orthodoxy with the world
around it came in the area of education. Liberal Orthodox avidly promoted
the schooling of Russian society by a wide variety of means, including formal
educational institutions, theological journalism, the Sunday school move-
ment and Bible reading. The last activity, for example, forms the background
against which one should read the famous chapter in Dostoevsky's Crime
and Punishment (4:4), where the prostitute Sonya reads from the Gospel of
John to the murderer Raskolnikov in her garret. The first vernacular Russian
translation of the New Testament was published in 1860, just six years before
62 PaulValliere
Crime and Punishment, and Dostoevsky was promoting it to an Orthodox
audience by no means accustomed to Bible reading. One might also point out
that the chapter which Sonya reads to Raskolnikov, John 11, contains that
touchstone of all testimonies to the humanity of God in Scripture: "Jesus
wept" (11:35).
To be sure, it was not only liberal Orthodox who recognized the value of
schools, journals and Bibles for modern Russia, nor did they institute these
things single-handedly. Yet it is arguable that the liberals reflected more
deeply in theological terms on these institutions for the renewal of humanity
than most of their Orthodox contemporaries, turning above all to the the-
ology of Incarnation for an interpretive framework. Again Archimandrite
Feodor stands out as a good example.
In the 1850's Feodor worked at Kazan Theological Academy where he
combined the duties of Inspektor with a teaching post in dogmatic theology.
An Inspektor was what we would call a "dean of students", a position which
involved overseeing student discipline. Discipline in the Russian theological
schools of the time was virtually military. The rules were strict, and harsh
punishments common. Feodor could not have been less suited to this ethos.
Nervous, physically unimposing and immensely gentle, he was anything
but a born Inspektor; yet the position offered him an opportunity to witness
in a very public way to the central values of his theology. Father P. V.
Znamenskii (1836-1910), a student of Feodor's and later professor of church
history at Kazan, has left us the following portrait of the young monk's
decanal labors:
Continually absorbed in his ideas, [Feodor] applied his profound, schol-
arly view of the Old Covenant in relation to the New to the system of
academic life that existed at the time. He viewed the whole disciplinary
system of the previous inspectorate as a kind of legalistic tutelage which
had no place and was even sinful in the new age of grace, a tutelage
based on the dead letter of law without spirit, on an old-testamental
fear devoid of the love and liberty of the children of God and operating
for the sake of outward appearances alone. The nervous and impres-
sionable man did not hide these thoughts even from his students. Con-
sequently they strongly hoped that in his inspectorate there would be a
weakening of the strict regimen that had held sway earlier, and in this
hope they were, in fact, not disappointed. By nature and even more by
conviction, [Feodor] simply could not present himself in a domineering
manner, as all inspectors before him had done. Viewing his service as
divine service and, in the spirit of his theological system, conforming his
own person to the Only Begotten, he took on "the form of a student",
so to speak, he tried to live the students' life as a member with them of
one body and one little church, he viewed everything pertaining to the
students as pertaining also to him and to Christ, he reckoned even the
students' faults as his own and suffered over them as over his own, as
The Humanity of God in Liberal Orthodox Theology 63
if they manifested his deadness and distance from the Only-Begotten.
He approached all students with the same tenderness and love, those in
whom he noticed something amiss even more benevolently than the
well-behaved. The first time a student appeared before him to be dis-
ciplined, the youth stopped at the threshold of the dean's office and
stood waiting in the anteroom, as had long been the custom. Father
Feodor took him by the hand and, leading him into the office, observed
with a smile: "It' s obvious that you are a child of the law".
17
Feodor's approach to deaning was an early example of what we might call
liberal pedagogy in Russia, although to his mind it was simply the Lamb's
pedagogy that he was applying: if Christ became incarnate and assumed
"the form of a servant' ' for the sake of humanity, should not a Christian dean
assume "the form of a student" to minister to his charges?
IV. Postscript: The Legacy of Liberal Orthodox Theology
What is the legacy of the liberal Orthodox theology that flourished in 19th
and early 20th century Russia? For a long time the answer to this question
was not clear, for the Russian Orthodox liberals had no direct heirs. Their
work posed the question of the mission of Orthodoxy to a free and complex
modern society, but Soviet Russia was scarcely that, nor were the sovietized
countries of Southeastern Europe. Neither was Greece or Cyprus or
Lebanon, for different reasons. The Orthodox diaspora in the West did find
itself in the midst of a modern liberal society, but the minority and immigrant
status of these communities, inducing anxieties about the preservation of
Orthodox identity, produced an elective affinity for theological options
stressing Orthodox particularity—always an important part of the appeal of
neopatristic theology.
In 1991, however, the question of the liberal Orthodox legacy can be seen
in a radically new light. A liberal moment is at hand in the lands of the
Orthodox East—in Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Romania and elsewhere. In all
of these countries people are applying themselves with a sense of urgency to
the cause of social, political, economic and cultural reform. What does the
Orthodox community in these lands have to say on the subject? How will the
theology of Incarnation, a vision of the renewal of humanity, be put to work
in the cause of renewing actual societies in the Orthodox world? In one way
or another, and to one degree of clarity or another, millions of Orthodox
people are asking this question today. They need to know that Orthodox
people before them have asked it. The answers they come up with, which
will be shaped in part by the work of their predecessors, will be the primary
legacy of liberal Orthodox theology.
Another important legacy involves Western theology. The process of
renewal in the Christian East, as it unfolds, cannot fail to have a profound
impact on the shape of theological discussion throughout the Christian
64 PaulValliere
world. For the last seventy-five years most theological conversations in
Western Christianity have proceeded largely without reference to the Chris-
tian East and certainly without its active participation. As for Russia, if it
received attention at all from Western theologians, it did so in many cases not
because it was Orthodox but because it was Marxist (or so it was believed to
be). All this must now change. With the renewal of the Orthodox common-
wealth Eastern Christians will begin to take a much more active part in the
conversations that shape worldwide Christian theology. The richness,
diversity and subtlety of modern Russian theology are resources of in-
calculable importance in this process of renewed mutual acquaintance.
The process is one in which many of the ideas of modern theology will have
to be rethought or reevaluated. The entire spectrum of theological opinion
will be affected, though not every point on the scale in the same way.
Western liberals will be acutely challenged by Orthodox insistence on the
authority and centrality of the classical dogmas. On both sides there will be
those who do not know how to talk to each other. In such a situation the work
of the Russian Orthodox liberals can provide a bridge of understanding
while challenging each side to approach contemporary theological tasks
more thoughtfully. Contemporary Orthodox theologians obviously need to
think more deeply about freedom. Western liberal theologians need to think
more deeply about dogma, without which there can be no serious Christian
theology. The work of the theologians who reflected on both subjects in late
Imperial Russia forms an integral part of the legacy of 21st-century theology.
NOTES
1. Sergii Bulgakov, O bogochelovechestve, 3 vols. (Paris: YMCA Press): Part 1: Agnets bozhii
(1933); Part 2: UteshiteV (1936); Part 3: Nevesta Agntsa (1945). The first two volumes have
been translated into French: La Sagesse Divine et la Théanthropie, trans, by Constantin
Andronikof, 2 vols. (Paris: Éditions Aubier [Montaigne]): Du Verbe Incarné (Agnus Dei)
(1943); Le Paraclet (1946).
2. Arkhimandrit Feodor, O pravoslavii ν otnoshenii k sovremennosti, ν raznykh stat'iakh, Izdanie
"Strannika" (St. Petersburg: V Tipografii Torgovogo Doma S. Strugovshchikova, G.
Çokhitonova, N. Vodova i Ko., 1860).
3. "Iavlenie Khrista miru (kartina Ivanova)'', O pravoslavii, pp. 222-46. Feodor refers to the
painting as "The Appearance of Christ to the World". Aleksandr Alekseevich Ivanov
(1806-1858) worked on it throughout the last two decades of his life.
4. O pravoslavii, pp. 225-26.
5. O pravoslavii, ρ. 226.
6. O pravoslavii, p. 228, referring to Isa. 42:3.
7. O pravoslavii, pp. 240-42.
8. O pravoslavii, p. 232.
9. O pravoslavii, p. 244.
10. O pravoslavii, pp. 54-55.
11. ' 'Ideia chelovechestva u Avgusta Konto"', in Vladimir Sergeevich Solov'ev, Sochineniia ν dvukh
tomakh, ed. Akademiia nauk SSSR, Institut filosofii (Moscow: Izdatel'stvo "Mysl' ", 1988),
2: 580-81.
12. O pravoslavii, pp. 90-92.
13. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans, and annotated by Richard Pevear and
Larissa Volokhonsky (San Francisco: North Point Press, 1990), 1:2:7, p. 77. Pevear and
The Humanity of God in Liberal Orthodox Theology 65
Volokhonsky rightly observe that the word poslushanie ("obedience") is a traditional
monastic term.
14. A detailed biographical essay on Bukharev may be found in Elisabeth Behr-Sigel, Alexandre
Boukharev: Un théologien de l'Église orthodoxe russe en dialogue avec le monde moderne, Preface
by Olivier Clément (Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, 1977), pp. 25-98.
15. Quoted in S. M. Solov'ev, Zhizn' i tvorcheskaia evoliutsiia Vladimira Solov'eva (Brussels:
Izdatel'stvo Zhizn' s Bogom, 1977), p. 88.
16. Zhizn' i tvorcheskaia evoliutsiia Vladimira Solov'eva, p. 90.
17. P. Znamenskii, Istonia kazanskoi dukhovnoi akademii za pervyi (doreformennyi) period ee
sushchestvovaniia (1842-1870 gody), 3 vols. (Kazan: Tipografiia imperatorskogo uni-
versità, 1891-1892), 1: 129-30.
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