The historical example of Judaism in this respect is profoundly instructive: Judaism wanted to be completely worthy and, rejecting all existence, concentrated on the law, seeking in man the righteousness by virtue of which he could worthily stand before his Creator; Then behavior began to become absolutized, and the commandments received absoluteness from the point of view of their human fulfillment. "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain" {906} was understood, as it should have been understood if one were to seek absoluteness in earthly things, as a prohibition to pronounce the name of God in general, for before the infinity of the Eternal, all our motives melt away as vain. Then, in order that someone might not accidentally pronounce the terrible Name, it was considered more correct simply to conceal it with a deep secret kept in the senior line of the high priestly family.

As is known, the ancient biblical text did not contain vowels and, as consisting only of consonants, could not be read, i.e. pronounced aloud without being preceded by oral instruction on how this or that word was to be pronounced; consequently, the sacred name of God, the pronunciation of which remained secret even from the teachers themselves, could not be read, because the reader did not know by which vowels the four consonants of the Name were to be phonetically animated. But not only that: there was a fear that the senseless or careless reader, while reading, would vocalize the four letters of the Name at a run, not immediately realizing what he was doing, and, as if by chance, among a multitude of different combinations, it would turn out to be true. Once the line of prohibitions had been initiated, it was necessary to protect against such an accident. In order to prevent the Name from being accidentally read correctly, he was forced to read, but deliberately incorrectly; In order that correct vowels should not be accidentally added to the consonants, they deliberately added to them deliberately incorrect vowels: the Jewish wise men permeated the word of God with a system of false moves, and moreover in all the most important places. No one now, even by chance, would call upon his God by His name, which He Himself had revealed, evidently in order that it might be revealed; and if it were a good fate for the human race not to know the Name, then the Eternal, without waiting for people to safely conceal His revelation, would simply not give it. Only one clan, in the person of its senior representative, knew the pronunciation of the Name, but even this representative could use his knowledge only once a year, on the day of Atonement: only once a year was the name of God invoked; But no one heard this call, "poured into the letters" {907}into the sounds of thousands of choirs, accompanied by trumpets, tympanums and other musical instruments. However, it is clear that this practice does not provide an absolutely understandable commandment "Thou shalt not take the name of thy Lord in vain...{908} because even this single call of the high priest is nevertheless uttered by a person and, therefore, may not be pure from a certain "in vain." Is it not more correct, then, to abstain from the true Name? The logic of history—it is not known whether on someone's initiative or only on the general meaning of the whole course—led to the complete oblivion of the name of God by Judaism.

The people, having received the revelation of the Name, wanted to rely not on God, Who Himself came so close to them, but on merit by their own deeds, they wanted to be equal in their righteousness to God's holiness, i.e. they secretly believed in themselves instead of God and actively forgot, closed from themselves God's revelation — humility, which was from pride{909} And while all theocratic history was an approach of God to man, man, in his proud humility, distanced himself from God and believed that this was how he achieved the goal of life. What must have been his incredulity, amazement, and indignation when the theocratic process, coming to an end, finally brought closer to Him from Whom man thought himself called to shut himself up? The Incarnation of God is the ripe fruit of the entire history of economy, and when we look back from this peak at the entire past, it seems to us some kind of madness that Israel does not accept Christ. But if we look at Christ from the historical consciousness of Israel itself, it is impossible not to see that this rejection was also the ripe fruit of this consciousness, and we cannot but see that Israel could not accept Christ: as a Jew, ontologically it was impossible not to accept Christ without denying one's being, and psychologically it was impossible not to accept Him without denying one's consciousness.

So this is where the desire to be not light-minded leads and has already led the whole God-chosen people. And when the ontology of the call is now denied, pointing out its lack of thoughtfulness in some cases, are they not reviving the arguments of rabbinism, and will they not be compelled to push the artificial boundary between the frivolous and the frivolous deeper into the latter, until there is nothing left unrecognized and, in all fairness, humanly superficial and unconscious in full measure of its significance? For example, one of our theological thinkers, not without Jewish leaven, denied, from the fullness of consciousness, the ontological nature of the sacrament of the Eucharist. "It would be frightful to admit transubstantiation," he said, "for that would mean that a particle of the Body of Christ could fall to the floor and be humiliated" {910}. In the same way, it was pointed out that the recognition of the ontological nature of the invocation of God in the sacraments also results in the possibility of a secret performance, frivolous or even blasphemous. But does not this falsely understood reverence presuppose a proud Pharisaic self-esteem that in certain cases a sufficient (i.e., in comparison with God!) degree of consciousness can be assured, either to others or at least to oneself? And does not this kind of reverence for the sacrament destroy the sacrament at its very root, since I, who receive the sacrament, can never decide with certainty whether the celebrant of the sacrament is sufficiently conscious, when I do not know this about myself, or, more precisely, when I know perfectly well my own weakness and the weakness of those celebrants, I know the weakness of the mind, who even in such great saints as St<Odobno> Macarius of Egypt, cannot hold entirely on God even for a few minutes{911}

If we were to say to ourselves that the frivolous invocation of the name of God has no ontological force, if we were to think through to the end the assertion of those who see in such invocation "the word, and only the word," then this would mean altogether destroying the possibility of the sacrament, of prayer, of the whole cult, and, under the cover of piety, of giving oneself up to the most unbridled positivism. If those who express such considerations had thought about their consequences, they themselves would have been horrified by the destruction of the entire ecclesiastical order contained in them.

But here a new, even greater question arises: did they have the grace of their rank? And in order to answer this question, it is necessary for me to penetrate into the spiritual state of the bishops who ordained them, and moreover, not to clarify for myself the moral makeup of these persons in general, but also to penetrate into their thoughts and feelings at the very moment of their ordination. And further: innumerable similar questions, more and more inaccessible to solution, will arise infinitely in relation to the entire hierarchical Church, which transmitted the grace of the priesthood through its links. And if, even at one point, the slightest doubt arises about this chain, and not about the unverifiable external, but about the unverifiable internal, then the whole chain will be suspected, and with it my own fate. For it may turn out that not only do I not have grace, but at every step I provoke the wrath of God when I behave as if I had, that is, when I act as a deceiver and an impostor.

Of course, the only way out of this endless world confusion produced by religious subjectivism can only be the reverse recognition, the primordial belief of every religion, that the subjective has significance primarily in the internal assimilation of divine energy, the way in which it is assimilated, while the objective and universal significance of the sacrament is determined by its objective performance ex opera operatum.

The rite of the sacrament introduces the moisture of life into the world, and rivers of grace have flowed in the world by the very performance of the rite; and whether anyone drinks from them, and if he drinks, whether he drinks for his own benefit, is a special matter for everyone, and here everyone looks after himself. However, by my unwillingness to drink from the river of eternal life, the satisfaction of my neighbor's thirst is not hindered or damaged.

This is what had to be said, first, in response to the consideration that the frivolous invocation of God is nothing: and now, secondly, to put it simply, there is no frivolous invocation of God, because it cannot be, because it is impossible. Here again it is necessary to distinguish fully and clearly between the ontological fact and its consequences. There may be an irreverent attitude towards God or even opposition to Him. There may be an inner duality, when, calling upon God, a person is busy thinking about something completely different and, perhaps, incompatible with the thought of God. All this means that man places himself before the face of God, without thinking about the consequences, or thinking about them contrary to what he ought to think. In this sense he may be called frivolous, perhaps impious; but this does not mean that the invocation itself is frivolous or impious: just as a mathematical theorem in the mouth of a criminal remains true and cannot be called criminal, although the conduct of the one who utters it, for example, to conceal traces or to deceive, is criminal, so the invocation of the name of God always retains its ontological truth and, consequently, cannot be pronounced as such, i.e., when pronounced, it is thought with its true content. and not with false or no content at all. Whether the holy or the wicked names God in his call, he names Him, and not anyone else or anything else. Whoever and with whatever intentions invokes the name of God, he nevertheless directs his call in the right direction, to God, not somewhere in the void. Word—

In the mouth of a good or bad person, believer or unbeliever, the name of God means God and no one else; and this first act, the prostration of the Name towards its content, is necessarily identical with all who pronounce it, for it is only by the identity of this act that the pronouncer of the Name adjoins the language in which he speaks, and consequently enters into the sphere of reasonableness; If there were no such act, he, the speaker, would remain irrational and wordless, άλογος, and consequently his sounds, not being words, would be devoid of any rational significance, like the howl in a trumpet, not only in the minds of others, but also in his own, for language belongs either to society or to no one, but cannot be individual. Such sounds could not then be <yes or no> to be said, and consequently, denying them a rational meaning, it would in no way be reproached for them in irreverence. But if we reproach, we are acknowledging the logical content; it means that the words have in all mouths a meaning of universal significance, and, therefore, the name of God, even in the mouth of the wicked, is what it is, directed to God{912}.

Thus{913} the invocation of the name of God in its very first moment is an ontological exit to God; For whatever purpose such an exit is made, it – as a way out, as a call – can in no way be evaluated in itself, as empty or ineffective. He who calls on God knows what he is doing and wants what he is doing. When it is noted that the pronunciation of the name of God is unconscious, it is certainly true that in most cases the conscious attention of the one who pronounces the holy name is not directed with the clearest sight to the word itself, to the name; in this sense, one can speak disparagingly of the overwhelming majority of "those who receive the name of the Lord God"{914}

But if we see in the lack of concentration of conscious attention the decisive reason for condemning as meaningless the ordinary invocation of the Name, then will not almost all of our speech, and in particular all our appeals, not only in relation to God, find themselves in an even worse situation? In general, apart from the exceptional cases of deliberate gazing at our own words, of deliberately fixing our attention on each individual word, does not our speech in general flow semi-consciously, which, however, does not in the least prevent us from recognizing and taking into account its logical significance and imputing this significance to the speakers? In relation to the word, as well as to other means of expression, no matter what actions they may be manifested by, we recognize conscious attention as secondary, reflexive, while the very creativity, the very activity of expressing meaning, belongs to the greater mind, to the subliminal and supralitinal consciousness. It is this latter that guides our life in general, it is it that carries the inspiration of good or the passion of evil; And the ever-present manifestations of our meaning, no matter how little conscious they may be, i.e., how unreasonably far-fetched, are nevertheless the essence of the phenomenon of meaning, of reason, and nevertheless express the active, though profound, sometimes even hidden from the lower consciousness, self-determination of our personality. If a drunken man swears, we speak of him as not restraining thoughts and feelings, and in this sense as consciously insane, but we do not at all think that his curses are in no way imputed to his moral person: otherwise we would not consider such swearing a bad thing; and the drunken man himself, when he sobers up, is ashamed of her and would like her ex to be gone. And a promise made while drunk is not considered to have given an empty sound. This proves that both he himself and those around him consider his abusive words precisely for what they are, and do not at all think about the possibility of reinterpreting them in a good way or about simply annulling them, as something standing outside of meaning and outside of moral evaluation. In other words, language is universally and always recognized as a supra-individual, supra-conscious, supra-rational essence, objectively preceding the intellect, just as in general it objectively conceives entities which are not created by it. Therefore, whether consciously or semi-consciously he takes a word from the treasury of language, he takes it, takes an objective word, with its meaning inseparable from it, and therefore bears the corresponding consequences. There is no need to refer here to conditionally subjective notions of justice or injustice, of deserved or undeserved consequences: the contact with an objective essence can in a certain sense be likened to the introduction of a substance into oneself, and if the latter has caused harm, then there is no need to talk about the undeserved misfortune that has befallen it, just as there is no need to talk about the undeserved help, since the substance taken unconsciously has produced a cure. And at the same time, we are convinced that the word, even if it is unconscious, was not said by chance: the higher self-determination of the individual brought "on the tongue" what was "on the mind".

Everything that has been said about words in general applies especially to condensed words, which constitute the points of reference of the historically formed thought of a people, even of mankind: such words are especially powerful, especially real, have extraordinary consequences, and, consequently, their use is especially responsible. Names, more than other words, are such centers of condensation, concentrators of universal meaning, and the name of God, of all words, is naturally the word of the greatest depth and power, and consequently of the greatest responsibility. But this responsibility belongs to the noumenal roots of the personality, to the deep self-determination of our entire being, and not to the peripheral consciousness and not to the rational attempts at depth, sincerity and piety. The hysterical accentuation of the Name of God, the exclamation of tone, the loud voice, which arise as a result of the conscious emphasis of the Name, do not at all ensure a genuine walk before God, and even more likely this is seen as a sign of the Pharisaic duality of consciousness. "Not everyone shall say to me, 'Lord, Lord! will enter into the Kingdom of Heaven" {915}, does not mean that the Name in itself does not give anything, but that in this rational sincere effort to give itself a mile of growth (— after all, sincere, as the ancient Pharisees were sincere in its own way; the spiritual falsity of hypocrisy and insincerity, of course, was implied by itself by everyone and apart from Christ—)—in this effort is contained, already contained, the inner duality of man, who doubles in his thoughts, for he calls upon the Lord, but does not hope in the Him who is called, Who would give him growth, but in Him himself, as one who makes a conscious effort and intends to cultivate himself by his own effort of invocation. But such a person, i.e. one who calls on the Lord and, consequently, does not remain unanswered, but does not really need the Lord (in his opinion), will not enter the Kingdom of God. He called God, but—in order to explain to Him his high intentions; opened, but just enough to show off his humility and immediately slam the door into his heart. Deliberate appeal, if not always, then most often, its consciousness, is a negative sign; on the contrary, semi-consciousness rather indicates the coincidence of the inner and the outer: called, out of love or hatred, but because he wanted to stand face to face and therefore stand. And each of us does not value the semi-conscious, or even completely unconscious, invocation of the name of God as low as it is done in abstract discussions. When a sick person in delirium, or dying in agony, clearly unconsciously whispers the name of God, we are moved, we see in this—and even in the very unconsciousness of the invocation—something lofty, spiritually victorious—somehow even better, that it is unconscious, knowingly without reflection, without self-recklessness; We believe this is not in vain. Unconscious does not mean unreasonable. Even the drunken man has the name of God on his lips as somehow removing the guilt, or at least the burden of condemnation from him, somehow paralyzing the evil that the wine brought with it. It is not without reason that in the innumerable cases narrated by the people, partly known to everyone from personal experience, included in fairy tales and approved by the Church's consciousness, the sign of the cross, as they say, "out of habit", "automatically" or "mechanically" performed by an intoxicated person, and the invocation of the name of God, which also fell off the tongue, as if accidentally, i.e. unconsciously pronounced, is attributed grace-filled help, which more than once saved evil people from inevitable death. some accident, danger or dark delusion.

9. All that has been said brings the philosophical-theological thought about the efficacy of calling to the usual everyday view of this subject, or, more precisely, everyday thought to the theological one. Invocation is not a particular aspect of our spiritual activity, but the concentration of our whole being, culminating in a mystical exit from oneself and a touch of the Invoked. The whole cult has in its essence the removal of us from the earthly sphere and ascension to the heavenly sphere; the sacrament is this very ascent to heaven, consequently, the sacrifice of our being to God. From this it is clear that the secretly concluding and secretly performing prayerful invocation is a sacrifice, a spiritual self-sacrifice. Prayer is a sacrifice. "Be pleased then, O Lord, to accept the voluntary sacrifice of my mouth" (Psalm 118:108). "Turn, O Israel, to the Lord thy God; for thou hast fallen because of thy wickedness. Take with you the words of prayer and turn to the Lord; say to Him: 'Take away all iniquity, and receive it for good, and we will offer the sacrifice of our mouth'" (Hos. 14:2-3){916}. The words of the mouth, prayer are sacrifice and the source of all sacrifice, for every other sacrifice is made a sacrifice through prayerful invocation, by which our mystical self-sacrifice is embodied in certain actions and becomes a visual manifestation. For every sacrifice is vicarious, is a victima vicaria, is an image of our own creation, annihilated in its unrighteousness before the Eternal. The slain Lamb is myself, my being, and He became so because I actually sacrificed myself, appearing before God through my call; but through my prayer I transferred the material significance of this spiritual process to the Lamb, and only then did He become slain, devoured. And every other sacrifice is me, but since mystically I have indeed sacrificed myself and embodied this mystical act in a certain materiality. "The lifting up of my hand is the evening sacrifice"{917} but the matter of lifting is the raising of hands, and only by prayerful invocation are these rising hands of mine a visual image of the ascension of my own being, self-devoured by the Being of beings. By elevating our perishability to another world, to the Holy, prayer receives to earth an already renewed and sanctified being.