It is readily agreed, perhaps too readily agreed—both by Orthodox and non-Orthodox—that Orthodox theology is “apophatic,” that it proceeds by denial rather than by affirmation. The Roman Catholic priest Joseph Famerée, very much a friend of Orthodoxy, asserts, “So, it is by indicating what God is not that the theologian most truly teaches. God is above any human word or thought. Eastern theology is, as such, negative or apophatic.”

On September 7, 1935, the Moscow Patriarchate delivered an ukaz against the sophiology of Father Sergii Bulgakov. On October 30, a similar condemnation was published by the Russian Church Outside of Russia (ROCOR), headquartered in Serbia, except this time Bulgakov’s teaching was labeled not simply “foreign” to Orthodoxy but outright heretical.

The classic case of intellectual freedom in modern Orthodox theology is the mid-1930s controversy provoked by Father Sergii Bulgakov’s theology of Sophia or Divine Wisdom (sophiology). Bulgakov’s sophiology was put “on trial” by three instances of the Russian Orthodox Church; two denounced it, and the third determined that Bulgakov should not teach the doctrine at the Saint Sergius Institute of Orthodox Theology in Paris.

When writer Nicu Steinhardt was released from the vicious Communist gulag alongside thousands of other political prisoners during the general amnesty of 1964, four years into his initial thirteen-year conviction, he didn’t exactly walk out into freedom. As his father had warned him when urging him to choose prison over the communists’ demand that he should testify against his friend, philosopher Constantin Noica, Nicu was about to walk out from a small prison into a larger one—an apt description for totalitarian Romania between 1947 and 1989, and indeed for the entire Eastern bloc at the time.

“We call upon all clergy, theologians, teachers, and lay persons within the Orthodox Church in America never to contradict these teachings by preaching or teaching against the Church’s clear moral position; by publishing books, magazines, and articles which do the same; or producing or publishing similar content online. . . ."

Throughout history, the Church has seen many contentious issues pose challenges to her structure and teachings. In the process of discernment that naturally followed every such disruption, the Church wisely listened to and considered the multiplicity of voices within the choir of Orthodoxy. Some of these voices were in discord with the initial stance of the Church, others in concord. Voices in discord, however, were nonetheless important for achieving a Spirit-guided resolution — a more satisfying harmony.

Historically, the use of the medium of stained glass in the Eastern Orthodox Church has been very little explored. One likely reason is the late discovery of stained glass and its flowering in the context of the church architecture of the Roman Catholic Church from the twelfth century in northern Europe, postdating the Great Schism of 1054. The Wissembourg Head (1060) is the earliest surviving painted head of Christ on glass, and marks the beginning of the architectural revolution in France, to which the development of stained glass was inextricably linked.

Much of the language one hears online from Orthodox Christians in reaction to our present age conveys danger, threat, fear, and enemies, and a need to be watchful, on guard, militant, and even aggressive in defense of the faith. In this view of the Church, our mission is to defend the truth of Orthodoxy (apologetics), to attract refugees from this decaying world, and to protect Orthodoxy from outsiders and internal enemies who would corrupt the Church.

In highlighting features of narcissistic relationships, the myth of Narcissus and Echo can help us appreciate the importance of academic freedom for the health of the Church. Stories often give us a glimpse of our own lives from outside our usual, egocentric frame of reference. An example of this is found in 2 Samuel chapter 12, in which the prophet Nathan tells David a story about a rich man who has taken a poor man’s beloved lamb rather than slaughtering one of his own to feed a visitor.

In our time of deep divisions in American cultural life, and as the church attempts to make sense of dramatic social transformation in a fast-changing world, ecclesial leaders have often fallen back on statements reaffirming traditional teachings as a soft means of underscoring the enduring traits of church belief and common life. Nowhere is this phenomenon more pronounced and deeply felt today than in the statements made by synods of bishops focused on LGBT people and the nature of Christian marriage.

When I pick up a book that comes endorsed with impressive blurbs on the back cover and an appreciative foreword by one of the tradition’s heavy-weights, my attention is piqued. Bradley Nassif’s The Evangelical Theology of the Orthodox Church is one such book. The title is supposed to be provocative, suggesting that Evangelicalism has its place in the very heart of Orthodoxy and, as such, is not incompatible with it.

The United States Supreme Court’s 2015 decision to legalize same-sex marriage in all fifty states drew the Orthodox Church’s attention to LGBTQ issues in a new way. Now that same-sex couples had access to civil marriage, the Church needed to decide whether it would recognize the sanctity of same-sex unions by granting admittance to the sacrament of marriage. The contours of this ecclesial conversation reflected many of the tensions already exhibited in the earlier Orthodox and Catholic responses to the ordination of women in the Anglican Church, beginning in the 1970s.

Roberto J. De La Noval—a writer and professor of theology at Notre Dame University—is the translator and editor of this volume, a significant contribution to the abundant new scholarship and translation of Sergii Bulgakov’s work. Centering on Bulgakov’s writings about eschatology and the meaning of creation—and its counterpart, death— it includes many essays that are, in the words of John Behr in his endorsement for this volume, “essential for understanding Bulgakov’s approach in exploring the relationships between the Creator and creation, the uncreated and the created, and between life and death and the life of the age to come.”

There can be little doubt that civil liberties are at risk of erosion today by certain ideologies. This is of obvious concern to intellectuals in liberal democratic societies. In the yearning for greater social good, both conservatives and progressives occasionally cross the lines of thought censorship. And when they do so, they threaten the intellectual freedom that lies at the foundation of modern democracy. It is essential that free intellectual conversation, even strident debate, about these issues continue unabated.

Albert Schweitzer set it as a goal to make his life the argument for his philosophy. Igor Kozlovsky, Ukrainian philosopher, historian, student of religions, and prisoner of conscience, who fell asleep on September 6, drew his philosophy of life from personal experience and shared its arguments with everyone who knew him, read him, listened to him, loved him. . . .