When this seminal essay was published in 1926, it ignited discussion about freedom of conscience in Orthodox life. It remains a key point of reference for nearly all Orthodox thinkers wrestling with this issue. The essay was originally written in the context of a sharp disagreement in the émigré Russian Church that led on the one hand to a major ecclesial schism and on the other to the formation of Orthodox lay organizations and an academic community that gave birth to what is now known as Russian Religious Renaissance.

The Church’s first serious, and arguably greatest, exegete of Scripture who could claim a solid philosophical education was Origen of Alexandria (185–254). His theory of exegesis approached the Scripture more as of a body of oracular literature than as the product of any coherent historical evolution of traditions.

The term syneidēsis, “conscience,” appears more than twenty times in the New Testament, mostly in First Corinthians, but also in other Pauline epistles including Romans, Second Corinthians, First and Second Timothy, and Titus. Although Paul brought syneidēsis into the Christian lexicon, Luke also used it in his Acts, as did Peter and the writer of Hebrews. There are three instances in the wisdom literature of the Septuagint, translating the original Hebrew עדמ) mada’) from the root עדי (yod-daleth-ayin), “knowledge,” and one use of the root בל) lamedh-bet), “inner man, heart, mind, will.”

American capitalism venerates choice as the sacred vessel of consumerism. The message is that endless acquisition is the path to happiness and, implicitly, that if we could only choose the right object, experience, or partner, we would (at last) be perfectly happy and fulfilled. This reasoning, is seems to me, now extends to what I would call Life Questions, serious questions about our most important concerns, the answers to which have implications for our lives.

The Russian emigration of the 1920s, which followed in the wake of the Russian Revolution, gave rise to numerous Orthodox communities in Western Europe and North America. In an effort to serve the spiritual needs of these communities, the bishops-in-exile at times made decisions that were not followed by all. This inevitably led to divisions.

Conscience is personal and unique. Prior to my birth, my conscience never existed. It is mine and it is me: who I am, what I think and feel, how I act, what I say and do. At the same time my conscience is part of my consciousness and my consciousness is part of the consciousness that all human beings share.

The advent of the Internet, along with mobile devices that ensure our 24/7 connection with it, has changed us and continues to change us. And by “us” I mean not only all of humanity in general, but more specifically the smaller “us” that are church communities. While “we,” as the broader globalized society of today, are beginning to comprehend What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains—as Nicholas Carr entitled his excellent book on this question—it is also necessary that “we,” as both lay and monastic members of today’s churches, contemplate how we are being changed or re-formed through the Internet and social media.

This article considers academic freedom—understood as a scholar’s freedom of conscience to pursue research without interference or retribution— and its application within the Church as a freedom to think, ask questions, speak, do research, and propose new ideas that address contemporary culture. After cataloging some of the challenges to academic freedom, the article looks at the gospel basis for an Orthodox approach and at the ways two contemporary thinkers, Jaroslav Pelikan and Metropolitan Kallistos Ware, have defended academic freedom.

For the Life of the World: Toward a Social Ethos of the Orthodox Church is a social doctrine statement prepared by a commission of Orthodox scholars appointed by His All-Holiness, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople and chaired by Archdeacon John Chryssavgis. The team of scholars who collaborated on the document included David Bentley Hart, George Demacopoulos, Carrie Frederick Frost, Brandon Gallaher, Father Perry Hamalis, Father Nick Kazarian, Aristotle Papanikolaou, Jim Skedros, Gayle Woloschak, Konstantinos Delikostantis, and Theodoros Yiangou.

Terrence Malick’s new film, A Hidden Life, is closely based on the life of Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian farmer who was beheaded in Berlin in 1943 for refusing to make an oath of allegiance to Hitler or serve in the armies of the Third Reich. For Jägerstätter, his conscience became his cross.

The Mystery of Confession in the Church is far from being a well-described science, with universally accepted rules and guidelines—hence the term mystery. We have, however, perhaps far too long acted as if the science and its application were indeed clear. After forty-two years as a pastor, and some twenty five years prior to that as a lay sinner in the Orthodox faith, and seven gloriously sinless years as an innocent youth even before that, I have no prescriptions for the formal Rite of Confession. I hope here to propose a few sketches or notes on confession for a conversation that may be long overdue, to which confessors and penitents might continue adding their wisdom and experience as long as we don’t think the tradition has somehow been perfected and frozen in time.

The sacrament of confession is strongly encouraged for practicing Orthodox Christians throughout our life in the Church. And yet it is rare that a layperson’s perspective on this practice is sought or offered. In the course of my life in the Church I have observed three types of confession: formal, controlling and responsible. While the first two approaches are widespread, the third requires a significant amount of work, self-awareness, and mutual respect from both the penitent and the confessor priest.

The difficulty of writing about conscience lies in its malleability—that is, in its complete dependence on one’s worldview. Conscience is interwoven with a complex tapestry of other human faculties. There exists an ethos of Orthodox Christianity that necessarily loses coherence when put in writing, but when transcribed will help elucidate this perspective on conscience.

IV. Towards an Efficacious Council on Specific Points

The council should devote itself to resolving two major problems, the solutions of which cannot be delayed: one internal to Orthodoxy, that of the Diaspora; the other concerning the relations between Chalcedonian and non-Chalcedonian Orthodox.

In the introductory remarks to his latest book, David Bentley Hart admits that his arguments will convince few who were not already predisposed to accept the central thesis contained in the title of the book. Yet he persists. Hart was already known for his universalist understanding of Christian eschatology, yet for him, the significance of the question necessitated reworking and expansion of his previous contributions.

The importance of understanding the social, political, and economic context in which a biblical text was written and received in order to properly read and interpret it has been a central principle of biblical scholarship for some time now. This movement started with the well-known work of Wayne Meeks in the 1980s, followed by Bart Ehrman’s classic university text, and more recently N.T. Wright and Michael Bird’s voluminous study of the New Testament world and the history, literature, and theology of the first Christians. The latest contribution to this movement is the work of John A. Jillions, Divine Guidance: Lessons for Today from the World of Early Christianity.