For many centuries, the personality of Jesus Christ attracted the attention of not only ordinary people, but also writers, artists, poets, philosophers, historians of almost all countries and peoples. Therefore, it is quite understandable that the Lithuanian religious philosopher Antanas Maceina (1908-1987) could not ignore the One Who, according to the philosopher himself, stood at the center of his entire life.

Matseina's proposed book, The Lamb of God (1966), is devoted to the Christology of the Eastern Church. And it seems that this very appeal of the Catholic philosopher to the Christology of the Eastern Church should arouse the interest of the inquisitive reader.

"The Lamb of God" is the third book of the theological trilogy by A. Maceina. It was first published in 1966 in America (Putnam). The first book of the trilogy, "Hymn of the Sun" (1954), is devoted to the life of St. Francis, the second, "The Great Helper" (1958), is dedicated to the life of the Mother of God, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

ru ExportToFB21, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 01.02.2012 OOoFBTools-2012-2-1-15-59-19-1438 1.0

INSTEAD OF A PREFACE

     The Russian reader has already had the opportunity to get acquainted with the works of the outstanding Lithuanian religious philosopher Antanas Maseina (1908-1987). In 1999-2000, the St. Petersburg publishing house "Alethea" published Maceina's trilogy "Cor inquietum", which consisted of philosophical interpretations of world-famous philosophical and literary works: "The Grand Inquisitor" by F. Dostoevsky, "A Short Story of the Antichrist..." Vl. Solovyov and the Biblical "Book of Job". This time, the reader is offered the theological work of Maceina "The Lamb of God", devoted to the Christology of the Eastern Church. In order to forestall perplexing questions that may arise when reading this book, I consider it necessary to preface this work with excerpts from A. Maceina's autobiographical philosophical essay "The Path of Philosophy", one of the chapters of which is devoted to the author's relationship with theology. It should be noted that Maceina himself, who devoted a significant part of his life to the study of dogmatic and fundamental theology, never considered himself a theologian, but many in Lithuania considered and still consider him primarily a theologian, a theologian...

     So, here is what Antanas Maceina himself says about his attitude to theology and theology:

1. RELATION TO THEOLOGY

     "Theology is dragging after me like a loose sleeve of bast shoes, and many, seeing this robo, consider me a theologian, perhaps even first of all a theologian, and only then a philosopher or even a representative of some spiritual teaching. (…). Thus, it seems to me that the time has come to reveal my relationship with theology so that it becomes understandable not only to others, but also to myself. I did study theology for quite a long time, and later I wrote several books on theological issues. But does this make the structure and direction of my thinking theological? This question arises by itself when you begin to trace the path traveled.

      When in June 1928 I completed four courses at the Gižai Theological Seminary (Vilkaviškis Diocese),[1] I was invited to his office by the rector of the seminary, I. Naujokas, who ordered me to write a letter of resignation from the seminary "of my own free will," saying that otherwise (if I did not write a statement), the council of professors would officially expel me from the seminary. The reason: "Dear, you will not get along with the abbots." I was never accommodating – neither in the gymnasium, nor even more so in the seminary. He did not start quarrels. He did not even enter into verbal battles with anyone. So could the rectors of churches be an exception? Didn't the rector who had taught and watched over me for four years of study ever get to know me? Today, when the rector's words of fifty years ago come to mind, it seems to me that the prelate[2] I. Naujokas was right, only he did not understand the true meaning of what he himself said at that time. He said them psychologically, when they should have sounded metaphysical: "Dear sir, you won't get along with theology."

      Theological and philosophical thinking go in opposite directions. Theology begins with an answer, philosophy begins with a question. The answer for theology is provided by faith, which is the freest action of man (H. de Lubac). Theology itself has no answer; it receives it and therefore begins with it, after which it historically examines this answer, reveals it from within, methodically brings it into the system. For example, the affirmation of the Holy Scriptures – "And the Word was made flesh" (John 1:14) – is the answer given by faith in Christ as the Eternal Logos, Who united in Himself both the Divine and the human nature. Without such an answer, there would be no Christology as a theological discipline. The statement that is often encountered today – "faith is one, but theologies are many" is a pure misunderstanding, for one faith can give birth to only one theology, and many theologies require many faiths, for it is not faith that arises from theology, but theology reveals the already existing faith with its inherent methodological consistency.

      However, it is here that the difficulties begin for the one who philosophizes, therefore, asks the question. Theology does not ask questions, because it is based on an answer, which is both its object and its starting point. As "science does not think" (M. Heidegger), so theology does not ask. And this is quite logical. After all, the answer makes the question meaningless. If I am familiar with the route from Boston to New York, it would be a mockery to ask a passerby if this path really leads to New York. And if I were to ask this question sincerely, then it would be a sign that I doubt my knowledge. Asking a question with an answer means doubting the answer. In the field of religion, this means that my faith is either weak or I have none at all, for only in these cases does the question acquire meaning and be justified psychologically. That is why the theologian is quite naturally unfriendly towards the questioner: he experiences the questioner as if he were mocking or hesitant. It seems to the theologian that to ask, having an answer, means to mock or really doubt this or that truth of the confession. And if such a lover of asking questions is also preparing to become a priest, then it is quite obvious that he is not suitable for this ministry. After all, the task of the priest is not to ask questions, but to proclaim through the Church the answer received from God. Therefore, a seminarian who is inclined to philosophize, that is, inclined to ask questions, is not in his place. Having become a priest, he will be a pure misfortune for the hierarchy. For the hierarchy, which in history has always stood ex professo[3] on guard over the answers given by faith (cf. 2 Tim. 1:14; 4:2-5), is thereby – and also ex professo – the opponent of questions, suspecting of unbelief or of false faith (heresy) anyone who asks questions in the face of faith. And the fact that this suspicion usually covers more than the dogmatic sphere is proved by the daily practice of all countries. The conflict that has arisen today between the German theologians (Haag, Hermann, Kung) and the German hierarchy is essentially nothing more than a conflict between philosophical and theological thinking. Philosophers who have been ordained and become theologians continue to think, asking questions, so they create a theology that they themselves invented, but did not adopt from church tradition, as St. Paul demanded. Paul: "Permane in his quae didicisti – abide in what you have learned" (2 Tim. 3:14). The priest-philosopher is as flawed as the priest-poet: one philosophizes, and the other composes verses not from priestly existence.