Showing posts with label theosis. Show all posts

Athanasius, Patriarch of Alexandria (298-May 2, 373), was a towering figure in the 4th-century church.  As a young deacon he attended the Council of Nicea and was a lifelong opponent of Arianism.  While patriarch he defined the list of 27 books which was eventually accepted universally as the New Testament canon.  He wrote a life of St Antony the Great that greatly stimulated the growth of monasticism.  And his tenure as a church leader was anything but placid; he was deposed and sent into exile by imperial edict a total of five times, as Arianism fell into or out of favor with various emperors. 

Among other things, Athanasius is famous for having said, "God became man that man might become God."  I thought it would be interesting to see the context in which this aphorism occurs.  It is found towards the end of his treatise On the Incarnation and is tied in with Athanasius' conception of the Incarnation, which has a decidedly kenotic cast. 

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54  As, then, he who desires to see God Who by nature is invisible and not to be beheld may yet perceive and know Him through His works, so too let him who does not see Christ with his understanding at least consider Him in His bodily works, and test whether they be of man or God.  If they be of man, then let him scoff, but if they be of God, let him not mock at things which are not fit subject for scorn, but rather let him recognize the fact and marvel that things divine have been revealed to us by such humble means, that through death deathlessness has been made known to us, and through the Incarnation of the Word the Mind whence all things proceed has been declared, and its Agent and Ordainer, the Word of God Himself.  He, indeed, assumed humanity that we might become God.  He manifested Himself by means of a body in order that we might perceive the Mind of the unseen Father.  He endured shame from men that we might inherit immortality.

Thomas Aquinas, whose feastday was recently added to the Episcopal Church sanctoral, is stereotypically regarded as a dry, quintessentially cerebral theologian, with nary a mystical bone in his body.  That this is a gross oversimplification is shown by a number of passages in his works referring to theosis or deification, which we stereotypically pigeonhole as an Eastern Christian concept.  This aspect of his thought is addressed by Daniel A Keating in his Deification and Grace (Sapientia Press 2007). 

A hat tip to the site Joe Versus the Volcano.

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Commentary on Ephesians (3:20)
The human mind and will  could never imagine, understand or  ask that God become  man, and that man become God and a sharer in the divine nature.  But he has done this in us by his power, and it was accomplished in the Incarnation of his Son.

Commentary on John (15:9)
The Son did not love the disciples in either of these ways.  For he did not love them to the point of their being gods by nature, nor to the point that they would be united to God so as to form one person with him.  But he did love them up to a similar point:  he loved them to the extent that they would be gods by their participation in grace--"I say, 'You are gods'" (Ps 82:6).

Summa Theologiae (I-II, q. 112, a. 1)
Nothing can act beyond its species, since the cause must always be more powerful than its effect.  Now the gift of grace surpasses every capability of created nature, since it is nothing short of a partaking of the divine nature, which exceeds every other nature.  And thus it is impossible that any creature should cause grace.  For it is as necessary that God alone should deify, bestowing a partaking of the divine nature by a participated likeness as it is impossible that anything save fire should enkindle.

Nicholas Cabasilas (1322-ca 1391) was born in Thessaloniki.  He was a functionary at the imperial court, where he became a friend of Emperor John VI Cantacuzenos.  When John was faced with a palace coup, he abdicated and became a monk.  Nicholas followed him into the monastery and eventually succeeded his uncle as archbishop of Thessaloniki.  He was a strong supporter of Gregory Palamas in the latter's dispute with Barlaam of Calabria over the validity of hesychastic spirituality.  He wrote Exposition of the Divine Liturgy but is probably better known for The Life in Christ (St Vladimir's Seminary Press 1974).  In these works he stresses that the spiritual riches of hesychasm, nurtured in the monastic cloister, are accessible by ordinary Christians living "in the world". 

Of central importance is the notion that theosis, the process of attaining union with God, is greatly facilitated by frequent reception of the eucharistic bread and wine.  The following quote comes from The Life in Christ, pp 122-123.

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Since it was not possible for us to ascend to Him and participate in that which is His, He came down to us and partook of that which is ours.  So perfectly has He coalesced with that which He has taken that He imparts Himself to us by giving us what He has assumed from us.  As we partake of His human Body and Blood we receive God Himself into our souls.  It is thus God's Body and Blood which we receive, His soul, mind, and will, no less than those of His humanity. 

It was necessary that the remedy for my weakness be God and become man, for were He God only He would not be united to us, for how could He become our feast?  On the other hand, if Christ were no more than what we are, his feast would have been ineffectual.  Now, however, since He is both at once, He is united to those who have the same nature as Himself and coalesces with us men.  By His divinity He is able to exalt and transcend our human nature and to transform it into Himself.  For when the greater powers are brought to bear upon the lesser they do not permit them to retain their own characteristics: when iron comes together with fire it retains nothing of the property of iron, when earth and water are thrown on fire they exchange their properties with those of fire.  If, then, of those which have similar powers the stronger thus affect the weaker, what must we think of His wonderfully great power?

It is clear, then, that Christ infuses Himself into us and mingles Himself with us.  He changes and transforms us into Himself, as a small drop of water is changed by being poured into an immense sea of ointment.  This ointment can do such great things to those who fall into it, that it not only makes us to be sweet-smelling and redolent thereof, but our whole state becomes the sweet-smelling savour of the perfume which was poured out for us, as it says, "for we are the sweet savour of Christ" (2 Cor 2:15).

For today's commemoration of Bishop Andrewes we have a passage from a 1605 Christmas sermon preached before King James I.  It well illustrates Andrewes as a theologian with very deep catholic and patristic roots.  It can be found, along with much other useful information on Andrewes, on the Anglican Eucharistic Theology website, accessible under the "Anglicans" section of the outer sidebar.

For "the Word" He is, and in the word he is received by us.  But that is not the proper of this day, unless there be another joined unto it.  This day Verbum caro factum est, and so must be "apprehended" in both.  But specially in His flesh as this day giveth it, as this day would have us.  Now "the bread which we break, is it not the partaking of the body, of the flesh, of Jesus Christ?"  It is, surely, and by it and by nothing more are we made patakers of this blessed union.  A little before He said, because the children were partakers of flesh and blood, He also would take part with them--may we not say the same?  Because he hath so done, taken ours of us, we also ensuing His steps will participate with Him and with His flesh which He hath taken of us.  It is most kindly to take part with Him in that which He took part in with us, and that, to no other end, but that He might make the receiving of it by us a means whereby He might "dwell in us and we in Him".

Frederica Mathewes-Green is a member of the Antiochian Orthodox Church.  A convert from Anglicanism, she is in a good position to explain Orthodox spiritual practices to Western Christians.  In The Jesus Prayer:  the ancient desert prayer that tunes the heart to God (Paraclete Press 2009), she gives a wealth of advice on how we may incorporate this prayer into our own spiritual practice.  Pp 80-82 deal with the objections some beginners--or even more experienced folks--might have with the notion of beseeching Jesus for mercy ("Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me").  As the excerpt below demonstrates, it all depends on how we interpret the word "mercy".

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People newly introduced to the Jesus Prayer often think:  Why should we continually beg God for mercy?  Can't we be certain that he has already forgiven us?  What, do we have to grovel?

The problem, I think, is that we are imagining a prisoner in court, begging the judge for mercy.  It is up to the judge whether to kill this man or free him, and she is justifiably angry.  His only hope is to squirm and plead, and beg her to be lenient.

Picture instead the man in Jesus' parable (Lk 10:  30-37) who was robbed and beaten on the road to Jericho, then left for dead.  His helplessness was so extreme that he was not even able to ask passersby for mercy, and the priest and scribe passed by on the other side of the road.  Yet, the Samaritan saw him and had compassion, and rescued him from death.

That's the kind of "mercy" the Jesus Prayer asks for.  We are not trying to get off the hook for a crime, but recognizing how the infection of sin has damaged us.  Revealing all the extent of our illness to the heavenly physician, we seek his compassionate healing.

The word in Hebrew is hesed, which has the sense of long-suffering love.  The prophet Hosea married a woman who was a prostitute.  Though she betrayed him many times, he kept seeking her and drawing her back again to himself.  This is hesed love, long-suffering love, a love that is valiant and breaks through the walls of self-love and pride.

In Greek, the word is eleos, and many of the Western liturgical churches still pray in Greek, "Kyrie, eleison," that is, "Lord, have mercy."

A listener in the ancient church would have heard a resonance between eleos and elaion, the word for olive oil.  Your experience with olive oil might be limited to salads, but in the ancient Mediterranean world, olive oil was used in a wide variety of ways, and filled essential roles.  A wick placed in a clay lamp filled with olive oil could burn and illuminate the darkness.  Medicinal herbs were combined with olive oil for healing; the Good Samaritan "bound up [the beaten man's] wounds, pouring on oil and wine" (the latter for the antiseptic quality of alcohol).  Olive oil would also be a medium for fragrant herbs in the making of perfume.  And of course it would be eaten; in a region where there were few sources of fat, olive oil provided essential nutrition.  Sufficient fat in the diet conferred a health glow, and the psalmist thanks God for giving "wine to gladden the heart of man, and oil to make his face shine" (Ps 104:  15).  This poetic echo between eleos and elaion contributed to a richer sense of "mercy" than we perceive in English.

I would guess that the majority of Christians I talk to don't particularly feel a need for mercy.  They might think of repentance as an initial step toward salvation, but that once you have become a follower of Jesus Christ, once you're baptized and going regularly to church, you're set for life.  There's still plenty of work to do, of course--work for the poor, for justice, for the church, for your family--but as far as you go, personally, you're pretty much done.

In the contemporary West, repentance is now considered an introductory activity to life in Christ (if it's considered at all); in the East, repentance lasts for a lifetime.  Salvation means healing from the sickness of sin, and we are always seeking to confront the sin that infects us, and to be healed at ever deeper levels.

This year marks the centennial of the publication of Evelyn Underhill's magnum opus Mysticism. It has held up remarkably well and Underhill's work remains the subject of much scholarly and popular interest. To honor the book's 100th birthday I have culled a few quotes on theosis (which she calls by its synonym deification) from chapter 10. Two striking things about this material are her use of metaphors drawn from alchemy to describe deification, and also the fact that almost all the mystics referred to are western Christians, proving that theosis is not some parochial notion limited to Eastern Orthodox monks.

The complete text of the book may be found here in an online version.

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The mystic, I think, would acquiesce in these [psychological] descriptions, so far as they go: but he would probably translate them into his own words and gloss them with an explanation which is beyond the power and province of psychology. He would say that his long-sought correspondence with Transcendental Reality, his union with God, has now been finally established: that his self, though intact, is wholly penetrated--as a sponge by the sea--by the Ocean of Life and Love to which he attained. "I live, yet not I but God in me". He is conscious that he is now at length cleansed of the last stains of separation, and has become, in a mysterious manner, "that which he beholds."

...In the image of the alchemists, the Fire of Love has done its work: the mystic Mercury of the Wise--that little hidden treasure, that scrap of reality within him--has utterly transmuted the salt and sulphur of his mind and his sense. Even the white stone of illumination, once so dearly cherished, he has resigned to the crucible. Now, the great work is accomplished, the last imperfection is gone, and he finds within himself the "Noble Tincture"--the gold of spiritual humanity.

We have said that the mystic of the impersonal type--the seeker of a Transcendent Absolute--tends to describe the consummation of his quest in the language of deification. The Unitive Life necessarily means for him, as for all who attain it, something which infinitely transcends the sum total of its symptoms: something which normal men cannot hope to understand. In it he declares that he "partakes directly of the Divine Nature", enjoys the fruition of reality. Since we "only behold that which we are", the doctrine of deification results naturally and logically from this claim.

...Whilst the more clear-sighted are careful to qualify it in a sense which excludes pantheistic interpretations, and rebuts the accusation that extreme mystics preach the annihilation of the self and regard themselves as co-equal with the Deity, they leave us in no doubt that it answers to a definite and normal experience of many souls who attain high levels of spiritual vitality. Its terms are chiefly used by those mystics by whom Reality is apprehended as a state or place rather than a Person: and who have adopted, in describing the earlier stages of their journey to God, such symbols as those of rebirth or transmutation.

...The first thing which emerges from these reports, and from the choice of symbols which we find in them, is that the great mystics are anxious above all things to establish and force on us the truth that by deification they intend no arrogant claim to identification with God, but as it were a transfusion of their selves by His Self: an entrance upon a new order of life, so high and so harmonious with Reality that it can only be called divine. Over and over again they assure us that personality is not lost, but made more real. "When," says St Augustine, "I shall cleave to Thee with all my being, then shall I in nothing have pain and labour; and my life shall be a real life, being wholly full of Thee". "My life shall be a real life" because it is "full of Thee". The achievement of reality, and deification, are then one and the same thing: necessarily so, since we know that only the divine is the real.

Lutheran theology rests mainly on the concept of justification by faith, with "justification" understood in juridical terms and "faith" conceptualized more as an act of the will rather than an experience of the mystical heart. Theosis, the notion of intimate union with God so characteristic of Eastern Christianity, is generally not the first thing that pops into one's head when hearing "A Mighty Fortress is Our God".

However, Lutheran scholars in Finland have over the past few decades reevaluated their theological corpus. Aided by an ongoing dialog with the Russian Orthodox Church--Finland was ruled by Russia for over a century and has its own indigenous Orthodox church--Lutheran theologians such as Tuomo Manermaa and Simo Puera have taken a fresh look at the former Augustinian monk and have uncovered consistent references to theosis in his voluminous writings. Their work is summarized by Jonathan Linman in an essay appearing in Partakers of the Divine Nature: the history and development of deification in the Christian traditions (eds Michael J Christensen and Jeffery A Wittung, Baker Academic 2007). The article (on pp 189-199) contains several quotes from Luther's writings which I reproduce below.

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Just as the word of God became flesh, so it is certainly also necessary that the flesh may become word. In other words: God becomes man so that man may become God. Thus power becomes powerless so that weakness may become powerful. [1514 Christmas sermon]

We should not doubt at all that whenever one is being baptized the heavens are assuredly open and the entire Trinity is present and through its own presence sanctifies and blesses the person being baptized. [The Freedom of a Christian]

Christ appointed these two forms of bread and wine, rather than any other, as a further indication of the very union and fellowship which is in this sacrament. For there is no more intimate, deep, and indivisible union than the union of the food with him who is fed. For the food enters into and is assimilated by his very nature and becomes one substance with the person who is fed. Other unions, achieved by such things as nails, glue, cords, and the like, do not make one indivisible substance of the objects joined together. Thus in the sacrament we become united with Christ, and are made one body with all the saints, so that Christ cares for us and acts on our behalf.

Eastern Orthodox theologian Vincent Rossi is the author of "Presence, Participation, Performance: The Remembrance of God in the Early Hesychast Fathers", which is chapter 5 in Paths to the Heart: Sufism and the Christian East, James S Cutsinger, ed (World Wisdom 2002). Rossi's article deals with contemplative stillness (hesychia, as it is termed in the Christian East), being mindful of the divine presence, and how these can be fomented by the regular recitation of the Jesus Prayer.

The book in which Rossi's essay appears contains the proceedings of a symposium between Orthodox and Sufi scholars which took place in 2001 only a few weeks after the tragic events of 9-11. That such dialogs can happen under any circumstances is a cause for continuing hope that some of the free-floating hatred so prevalent in the modern world can be mitigated.

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The reciprocity (perichoresis in Greek) of Divine incarnation and human deification is central to the path to the heart of the Hesychasts. Perichoresis is the theological ground of the Jesus Prayer. St Maximos [the Confessor] states this saving truth in a beautiful, lapidary expression of the very principle that grounds the invocation of the Divine Name of Jesus:

We are told that God and man are exemplars of each other. Man's ability to deify himself through love for God's sake is correlative with God's becoming man through compassion for man's sake. And man's manifestation through the virtues of the God who is by nature invisible is correlative with the degree to which his intellect is seized by God and imbued with gnosis. (Philokalia v 2, p 278)

This passage links the incarnation of God in Christ with the deification of humanity in Christ in the closest possible way. It is a restatement of the basic principle of deification as originally found in St Ireneos and St Athanasios: "God became man so that man might become a god", which is itself grounded in the two basic Scriptural warrants for deification: " I said you are gods and all of you sons of the Most High" (Ps 82:6); and "precious and very great promises have been granted to us, that through these you may become partakers of the divine nature" (2 Pet 1:4). The principle of perichoresis--the reciprocity of incarnation/deification--is the basis of the Hesychasts' conviction that the surest means of receiving the deifying energy of the Holy Spirit is ceaseless mindfulness of God through the invocation of the Name of Jesus. The "new theandric energy" brought to us by Jesus who is God incarnate has established for all time the mutual interpenetration without confusion of the Divine and the human...This "new theandric energy" is the gift of divinizing participation in the Divine Presence in Jesus, and it is activated by invoking the hidden power of the Name of Jesus. To invoke the Divine Name of Jesus in the Jesus Prayer is to pray for the influx of this deifying energy. In the tradition of the Hesychasts, the practice of the remembrance of God through the Prayer of Jesus is at one and the same time preparation, participation, and performance of the Divine-human synergy of deification.

Today being the third anniversary of this blog, I revisit the concept of theosis, which was the subject of our very first post. Theosis lies at the center of Eastern Christian theology and spirituality, but is by no means restricted to that tradition. In a very useful essay on the Jesuit site Ignatius Insight, Carl E Olson points out a number of places in which theosis is alluded to in Catechism of the Catholic Church (Doubleday 1994), the definitive statement of Roman Catholic dogmatic teaching.

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460. The Word became flesh to make us "partakers of the divine nature"(2Pet 1:4): "For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God (Irenaeus)..."The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods" (Athanasius).

654. Justification...brings about filial adoption so that men become Christ's brethren...We are brethren not by nature, but by the gift of grace, because that adoptive filiation gains us a real share in the life of the only Son, which was fully revealed in his Resurrection.

1996. Our justification come from the grace of God. Grace is favor, the free and undeserved help that God gives us to respond to his call to become children of God, adoptive sons, partakers of the divine nature and of eternal life.

2009. Filial adoption, in making us partakers by grace in the divine nature, can bestow true merit on us as a result of God's gratuitous justice. This is our right by grace, the full right of love, making us "co-heirs" with Christ and worthy of obtaining "the promised inheritance of eternal life" (Council of Trent). The merits of our good works are gifts of the divine goodness. "Grace has gone before us; now we are given what is due...Our merits are God's gifts" (Augustine).

Perhaps the best introduction in English to theosis--the Eastern Christian doctrine of how we attain union with God--is Norman Russell's Fellow Workers with God: Orthodox Thinking on Theosis (St Vladimir's Seminary Press, 2009). In straightforward, accessible prose, Russell outlines how the question has been addressed by the Fathers and contemporary Orthodox theologians; he also refers to the steadily increasing interest in deification by Roman Catholic, Anglican, and Protestant thinkers. Pages 169 and 170 contain a good summary of his argument. Theosis is not just for a monastic spiritual elite, and it furthermore underpins the liturgy.

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...as Metropolitan John Zizioulas has said, mystical experience is not to be identified solely with the extraordinary and unusual. The fact that theosis encompasses the whole of the economy of salvation means that it is intended for all believers without exception. To live theosis, then, means to lead our life in an eschatological perspective within the ecclesial community, striving through prayer, participation in the Eucharist, and the practice of the moral life to attain the divine likeness, being conformed spiritually and corporeally to the body of Christ until we are brought into Christ's identity and arrive ultimately at union with the Father. In simpler terms, it means for an Orthodox Christian to live as a faithful member of the Church, attending the Liturgy, receiving the sacraments and keeping the commandments. Nothing more--or less-than that.

The spirituality of the Orthodox Church is both liturgical and monastic. Liturgical spirituality takes full account of our corporeal nature. For the body is part of our identity. It is not something to be ignored or despised. The annual cycle of Great Feasts, particularly the Nativity, the Theophany [Epiphany], the Resurrection, the Ascension and the Transfiguration of Christ celebrate the transformation of humanity, body and soul, and its exaltation to heaven. On Holy Cross Day "the whole creation is set free from corruption". On Christmas Day "has God come upon earth, and man gone up to heaven". On the Forefeast of the Theophany Christ "opens the heavens, brings down the divine Spirit, and grants man a share of incorruption". On the Feast of the Transfiguration Christ "has changed the darkened nature of Adam, and filling it with brightness He has made it godlike". These feasts do not simply commemorate past events. With their eschatological dimension, frequently reinforced by the present tense of the verbs, they turn the worshiper "towards the future--towards the 'splendor of the Resurrection' at the Last Day, towards the 'beauty of the divine Kingdom' which all Christians hope eventually to enjoy."

Yesterday was, in the Orthodox calendar, the feast of St Gregory Palamas (1296-1359), a monk of Mt Athos, an archbishop of Thessalonica, but above all a great theologian. Largely as the result of a prolonged dispute with Barlaam of Calabria, Gregory clarified and solidified one feature of the Eastern Church's teaching on the nature of God. God's transcendent aspect (his "essence") is unknowable by us because of the gulf inherent between Creator and creatures. However, we do encounter God in his "uncreated energies" (his immanent aspect), in which God reaches out to us in love and holds us and the entire universe in existence. The process of theosis, in which we become progressively more united with God, is a process of union with God's uncreated energies.

Illustrating these observations are two quotes, one from number 78 of Palamas' 150 Chapters, and the second from an article by Russian theologian Georges Florovsky.

Palamas

There are three realities in God, namely substance [essence], energy, and a Trinity of divine hypostases. Since it has been shown above that those deemed worthy of union with God so as to become one spirit with him...are not united to God in substance, and since all theologians bear witness in their statements to the fact that God is imparticipable in substance and the hypostatic union happens to be predicated of the Word and God-man alone, it follows that those deemed worthy of union with God are united to God in energy and that the spirit whereby he who clings to God is one with God is called and is indeed the uncreated energy of the Spirit and not the substance of God, even though Barlaam...may disagree.

Florovsky

Actually the whole teaching of St Gregory presupposes the action of the Personal God. God moves toward man and embraces him by his own "grace" and action without leaving that light unapproachable in which he eternally abides. The ultimate purpose of St Gregory's theological teaching was to defend the reality of Christian experience. Salvation is more than forgiveness. It is genuine renewal of man. And this renewal is not effected by the discharge, or release, of certain natural energies implied in man's own creaturely being, but by the "energies" of God himself, who thereby encounters and encompasses man, and admits him into communion with himself.

Andrew Louth is an Orthodox priest as well as a theology professor at Durham University in England. In his article "The Place of Theosis in Orthodox Theology" (appearing in Partakers of the Divine Nature, Christensen and Wittung, eds, Baker Academic 2007), he outlines the Orthodox understanding of the Incarnation of the Son of God, which is seen as not exclusively a remedy for human sinfulness, but primarily as God's way of uniting in love with his creation. The quote appears on pp 34-35.

Deification, then, has to do with human destiny, a destiny that finds its fulfillment in a face-to-face encounter with God, an encounter in which God takes the initiative by meeting us in the Incarnation, where we behold "the glory as of the Only-Begotten from the Father" (Jn 1:14), "the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor 4:6). It is important for a full grasp of what this means to realize that deification is not to be equated with redemption. Christ certainly came to save us, and in our response to his saving action and word we are redeemed; but deification belongs to a broader conception of the divine oikonomia: deification is the fulfillment of creation, not just the rectification of the Fall. One way of putting this is to think in terms of an arch stretching from creation to deification, representing what is and remains God's intention: the creation of the cosmos that, through humankind, is destined to share in the divine life, to be deified. Progress along this arch has been frustrated by humankind, in Adam, failing to work with God's purposes, leading to the Fall, which needs to be put right by redemption. There is, then, what one might think of as a lesser arch, leading from Fall to redemption, the purpose of which is to restore the function of the greater arch, from creation to deification. The loss of the notion of deification leads to lack of awareness of the greater arch from creation to deification, and thereby to concentration on the lower arch, from Fall to redemption; it is, I think, not unfair to suggest that such a concentration on the lesser arch at the expense of the greater arch has been characteristic of much Western theology. The consequences are evident: a loss of the sense of the cosmic dimension of theology, a tendency to see the created order as little more than a background for the great drama of redemption, with the result that the Incarnation is seen simply as a means of redemption, the putting right of the Fall of Adam: O certe necessarium Adae peccatum, quod Christi morte deletum est! O felix culpa, quae talem ac tantum meruit habere Redemptorem!--as the [Exultet of the Easter Vigil] has it: "O certainly necessary sin of Adam, which Christ has destroyed by death! O happy fault, which deserved to have such and so great a Redeemer!"

Orthodox theology has never lost sight of the greater arch, leading from creation to deification.

John Chryssavgis, whose first-rate book on the Desert Fathers and Mothers is the subject of an earlier post on this site, has some insights on the relationship between ascesis (a systematic set of spiritual practices) and theosis (the process of gradually achieving union with God). They are found in "The Spiritual Way", a chapter in The Cambridge Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology, eds Mary B Cunningham and Elizabeth Theokritoff, Cambridge University Press, 2008, pp 160-162.

The ascetic way, then, is a way of authentic liberation and communion. For the ascetic is the person who is free, uncontrolled by attitudes that abuse the world; uncompelled by ways that use the world; characterised by self-control, by self-restraint, and by the ability to say 'no' or 'enough'. Indeed, asceticism aims at refinement, not detachement or destruction. Its goal is moderation, not repression. Its content is positive, not negative: it looks to service, not selfishness; to reconciliation, not renunciation or escape: 'Without asceticism, none of us is authentically human' [Kallistos Ware].

Unfortunately, however, centuries of misunderstanding and abuse have tainted the concept of asceticism, identifying it either with individualism and escapism or else with idealism and angelism. Both tendencies verge on the point of dis-incarnation, promulgating enmity towards the world. Yet, at least in its more authentic expression, asceticism is a way of intimacy and tenderness, a way of integrating body, soul and society. In this respect, asceticism is essentially a social discipline. Moreover, it is never practised in a way that would insult the Creator. It is no wonder, therefore, that even after years of harsh and frugal living, the early desert Fathers and Mothers would emerge in their relationships as charming and compassionate, accessible and tranquil...

In the final analysis, the aim of asceticism is to regain a sense of wonder, to be filled with a sense of goodness and of God-liness. It is to see all things in God and God in all things. And it is precisely here that ascesis encounters theosis. for the most divine experience is to discover the wonder of God in the beauty of the world and to discern the limitless nature of grace in the limitations of the human body and the natural creation. There are those among us who may well be converted 'suddenly with a light flashing from heaven'(Acts 9:3) or be 'caught up to the third heaven'(2 Cor 12:2). Yet such ecstasy is experienced by very few--'scarcely one among ten thousand...indeed, scarcely one in every generation', according to Abba Isaac the Syrian. It is no wonder, then, that the desert Fathers encourage their disciples to restrain someone rising to spiritual heights: 'The old men used to say: "If you see someone climbing toward heaven by his own will, grab his foot and pull him down; for this will be for his own good"'. The ascetic literature clearly demonstrates a preference for the more lowly experience of those who have known their passions and recognized their failures. John Climacus refers to them as 'blessed': 'I saw...and was amazed; and I consider those fallen mourners more blessed than those who have not fallen and are not mourning". While the end of ascesis may be the vision of God or theosis, the way of ascesis is none other than the daily life of self-knowledge or integrity, carved out of the ordinary experience of everyday life perceived in the extraordinary light of the eternal kingdom. It is the gradual--and, as a result of our resistance, painful--process of learning to be who you areand do what you do with all the intensity of life and love. 'An old man was asked: "What is it necessary to do to be saved?" He was making rope; and without looking up from the work, he replied: "You are looking at it"'. In this way, the ascetic way defines in a uniquely tangible and concrete manner the theological doctrines concerning the original creation of the world, the divine Incarnation of the Word, and the age to come that we expect.

A very provocative website is JN1034 (http://jn1034.blogspot.com/), maintained by a gay Greek Orthodox priest who remains anonymous for obvious reasons. However, his commitment to traditional spirituality and theology proves that being lgbt does not automatically make one an adherent of the Jesus Seminar. His post "The Theandric (God-Man) Flesh and Blood of the Holy Trinity", appearing in today's edition of his blog, speaks of the connection between the Eucharist and theosis--the process of becoming united with God by becoming God-like. Note the contrast between fear and awe.

In the Eastern...Churches, this is the priest's call for people to advance to the Mystical Supper and receive the Holy Eucharist: "With the awe of God, faith, and love, come near..." However, most English translations use the word "fear" rather than "awe"...

Established Patristic usage of the Greek word phobos (fear) also meant respect, honor, and reverence....The word fear contradicts not only the original meaning of the compulsory directive to come forth to the Holy Chalice with amazement and reverence, but also of Holy Scripture: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love" (1Jn 4;18).

The Theandric Flesh and Blood of Jesus Christ are not punishments whatsoever, but are the awe-inspiring, therapeutic, god-making holy gifts of recompense for all--all, not one foresaken, none passed over by the Paschal Lamb (double-entendre, yes).

"Take, eat, this is my Body...Drink it, all of you, this is my Blood".

Again, this is an obligatory command, not an elective, not an option, not multiple choice. To become a god via the Holy Eucharist is nonnegotiable. Its mystery of deification is unconditional. The mind need not comprehend this Holy Sacrament (it cannot, nevertheless); the heart must be receptive (love is the attracting force of nature between God and humanity); and the flesh must simply consume God.

Yes, swallow God. You are what you eat, yes? Please note Jesus is quoted as saying "This is..." He does not say "This is similar to..." or "This is an analogy of...", or "This is kind of like..."His words are clear. Is means is. Obvious, to the point, and not ambiguous. Hence, it is the most awesome Mystery of Life: God and God's gods in communion, as God promises: "I said, you are gods"(Jn 10:34).