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The Art of Seeing Paradox and Perception in Orthodox Iconography (Introduction)
The Art of Seeing Paradox and Perception in Orthodox Iconography (Introduction)
decoding of icons, this book is contextual in its approach, inter-disciplinary in scope, and, with some of the unavoidably experimental spirit of the pioneer, aims to open up pathways into what is still largely
uncharted territory.
Such an approach is also determined by the fact that patristic
commentaries on the books of the Bible far surpass the number of patristic works that deal with sacred images and other visual expressions of
the Churchs theology. We are consequently much better informed
about how the Fathers understood sacred Scripture than we are
about how they understood the meaning of particular icons, church
architecture, or the symbolism of liturgical movements and gestures.
Even so, the relevant sourceswhich include commentaries on the Divine Liturgy, theological treatises on icons, and occasional pieces dealing with speciic paintings or imagesare more than suicient to indicate that the Fathers of the Church understood sacred texts and images in similar and oten the same ways. And this is exactly what we
should expect given the interdependence of the verbal and the visual
in Byzantine civilization and in Orthodox Christianity more generally.
he reader is therefore encouraged to hear in what is said about the patristic interpretation of sacred texts a series of analogous propositions
concerning the interpretation of icons.
Being Attentive
To be sure, the fundamental approach of the Fathers to sacred words
and images is one and the same: an act of sustained, concentrated attention. If this seems obvious, it may perhaps bear some underlining,
since we live in an age of diminished attention spans, have been socialized
in a culture of organized distractions, and tend to rush (or to be rushed)
from one leeting image to the next.
What do we mean, then, when we speak of an act of sustained,
concentrated attention? Not to run from one thought to the next, but
to give each one time to settle in the heart. To collect ones cognitive,
volitional, and sensory faculties in the initial perception of what is said
or appears. Attention, from this point of view, means to accept what is
given just as it ofers itself to us, whether in our basic engagement with
the plain sense of a word or phrase, or in our perceptual awareness of
the physical appearance of an image. It means a readiness for, and an
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Introduction
openness to, another form which is diferent from me, which actively
approaches me from outside of myself, ofers itself to me as a git, welling
up to the surface from some mysterious depth.
Far from being a spontaneous or natural response (although it
may begin as such), such attention requires continual efort, will likely
be the fruit of many failed attempts, and thus has a distinctive moral
component. It includes a certain degree of commitment, of patience,
of time, a waiting on the object that is before us, a humble obedience
to it, for there is a sense in which it ofers itself to me only as much as I
renounce my own ability to grasp and comprehend it. Attention in this
sense is a refusal to pander to the self, to the desire to cling to a particular
thought, idea, or way of looking at thingssimply because it is my
way of looking at thingsand this is an act of self-denial, of continuous self surrender, which at the same time is a progressive entrance into
the mystery of that which makes itself present to me.
To the extent that attention requires the letting go of attachments,
illusions, prejudices, and the projection of personal desires, it has a
relatively passive side, a keeping still (Ps 45:11), in which I experience
the sheer perceptual weight of the form as it impresses itself upon me,
pours itself into me, ills my senses and pervades my being. But there is
an active side as well, for attention does not result in the loss or dulling
of the senses, but in their true awakening, which, as we said a moment
ago, is an engagement with the content of perception, an entry into the
inner logic of what is seen or heard, a deepening into the interiority of
the surface phenomenon, in the desire to understand, not simply what
one sees, but what one should believe.
here are of course many reasons why a mindful, disciplined
ordering of the data of experience is necessary, but here it will suice
to say that interpretation is both possible and necessary because the
form I see is a truly historical form, and thus it does not appear in isolation, but embedded within a diverse and multilayered context. I cannot readily remove it from this context, for it is the fulillment of all the
other forms that point to it, and not their abolition or destruction (cf.
Mt 5:17). In respect of sacred Scripture, the historical form is present in
the plain, literal sense of the words, which give shape and direction to
the texts proper interpretation, like a seed containing within itself a
forest of signiications. he Fathers did not leave such fertile ground
uncultivated, and accordingly made extensive use of the best philological
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and historical tools that were then available in order to draw out, clarify,
and expound the basic meaning of the text.
his does not mean that the Fathers of the Church read Scripture
in a theological vacuum, allowing themselves to be led about by the
logic of historical methodologies. Instead, they worked within a living
tradition of interpretation, within a community of faith and practice,
and so ethical and theological commitments constitute an essential
part of the context in which they encounter, experience, and interpret
the Bible. his becomes especially important when problems arise in
what we might call the texts surface appearance, such as a disruption
of meaning or a lack of coherence caused by an apparent self-contradiction
or a strong logical paradox. If Scripture portrays God as burning with
anger (Ex 4:14), it also declares that God is love (1 John 4:8); if it
provides God with an array of body parts (Ex 33:23), it also teaches that
God is spirit ( John 4:24), seemingly contradictory propositions that
can be resolved only in the light of a proper theological framework. In
the words of St. Irenaeos, the interpreter who works without such a
framework, that is, outside the tradition of the Church, is like an artist
who does not know how to put in proper order the pieces of a mosaic,
and so instead of producing a portrait of the king, depicts the image of
a dog (SC 264:114).
Contrary to what we might expect, framing the Bible theologically
does not mean that whatever is strange or diferent, or which appears
to contradict the faith of the Church, is simply suppressed or edited
out of the picture. Mindful attention to the text, as described above,
does not allow for such a facile dismissal of what is so egregiously given.
On the contrary, diicult passages, precisely because of their diiculty,
were traditionally said to have had a special function within the larger
fabric of meaning, constituting a positive challenge to the mind that
perceives them. In general terms, problems in surface appearances prevent
readers from adopting a simple, uncomplicated attitude to the texts in
which they appear. In the context of Scripture, diicult and obscure
passages, marred by a lack of coherence or credibility on a literal level,
have the power to jar and unsettle the mind, and so function as the
primary indicators that a deeper meaning is concealed beneath the
surface. If some passages of Scripture are like clear springs bubbling up
their meaning directly to the surface, others are like dark wells concealing
unknown depths, where greater efort is required to draw out meaning.
he same is true of images.
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Introduction
Dissimilar Images
Surely the most striking instance of this way of thinking is expressed by St. Dionysios the Areopagite. In his treatise On the Celestial
Hierarchy, Dionysios acknowledges that human beings cannot be
raised up directly to the heights of spiritual contemplation, but instead require the use of visible symbols, that is, complex representations
of what in itself is utterly simple, the multiform visualizations of what
in itself is beyond vision. hese symbols, which Dionysios calls coverings or veils, function as passages between two levels of experience,
and he contends that inadequate and incongruous symbols are supremely efective in carrying us across the threshold, insofar as their
sheer illogicality prevents us from associating the divine with anything
earthly, and so spurs the mind into an attitude of spiritual contemplation. Naturalistic, aesthetically pleasing images may be good art, but
they will not necessarily take us far in the direction of the transcendent,
and indeed may lead us to ixate upon the surface, having mistaken it
for the depth. And it was precisely to avoid such misunderstandings
among those incapable of rising above visible beauty that the biblical
authors wisely made use of incongruous dissimilarities, for by doing
this they took account of our inherent tendency toward the material
and our willingness to be satisied by base images. At the same time,
they enabled that part of the soul which longs for the things above actually to rise up. Indeed the sheer crassness of the signs is a goad so that
even the materially inclined cannot accept them at face value (141BC).
Here the question turns on biblical images of God and the angels in
which human forms are combined with those of animals, for angels are
not literally different colored horses, or lying men with multiple
animal heads, or whirling wheels of ire illed with eyes (Zech 1:8;
Ezek 1:4-14) (329A-337D), to say nothing of the various anatomical
partsmale, female, human and animalvariously attributed to God
(1105A).
Dionysios observes that these images create the impression of
outstanding absurdity, expressing truth with secret and daring riddles
(1104B). his, he contends, is the mode of representation in which the
hidden is brought out into the open, the undivided divided, and the
formless and shapeless clothed in multiple shapes and forms. he one
capable of seeing the beauty hidden within these images will discover
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that they are truly mysterious, appropriate to God, and illed with great
theological light (1105CD). Without in any way denying the reality
and goodness of created forms, Dionysios holds that they are the
expressions of a deeper or higher reality, which is the source of their
unity. hings, then, are not altogether what they seem, and meaningful
contents may be concealed behind unprepossessing exteriors, so that
even the seemingly absurdalong with the despised, the ridiculed, or
that which is simply overlookedmay be the precious vessels of light.
Stumbling Blocks and Corner Stones
Dionysios doctrine of dissimilar images was deeply rooted in a
tradition of interpretation common to all the schools of Christian antiquity. hese paradoxical images, remarkable for their failure to signify,
attracted the attention of the early Alexandrian theologians, and were
subsequently taken up by the Cappadocian Fathers, St. John Chrysostom, St. Cyril of Alexandria, and St. Maximos the Confessor, to mention only a few. All of these writers tend to work with a common set of
deinitions based on the readers response to the image in question. If an
image was seen to be diicult, contradictory, or ofensive, it was referred
to as a stumbling block, strategically placed within the sacred text in
order to engage the attention of the reader. If the principal diiculty
confronting the reader was the texts sheer impenetrabilitysuch as an
object or image that could barely be named, let alone described or understoodit was classiied as an instance of biblical obscurity.
hese views consistently presuppose a larger doctrine of biblical
inspiration, such as that which we ind in Origen of Alexandria, who
was among the irst to map the surface of the sacred text. For Origen,
every word of Scripture is divinely inspired (2 Tim 3:16), and every
particle of it is able to yield a sense useful for salvation. However, not
every particle is susceptible to the common modalities of sense perception and understanding. his is because the object of the text, its
deeper meaning, is ultimately God, who is universally present in Scripture just as he is in creation. And just as one can be ignorant of the
providential workings of God in creation, one can also be ignorant of
the deeper meaning of certain obscure or diicult passages of Scripture.
Origen argues that such passages, which contain seemingly irreconcilable contradictions or material that is illogical or ofensive, have
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Introduction
consequently reduces the divine to the measure of the human gaze, arresting the movement of ascent precisely at the threshold of the invisible.
he icon, on the other hand, aims neither to satiate vision, nor to
restrict it to a particular point, but to free it by confronting it with the
invisible, proposing to it that the boundaries of the possible are wider
than they seem. In using images to overthrow the power of images, the
icon seeks to disrupt habituated ways of seeing, to subvert the hegemony of naturalistic representation, and so summon the eye to a new
mode of vision, by opening it up to ininite depth. God is not a inite
object that we can hold within vision, but an ininite mystery, an inexhaustible personal plenitude that always has something more to reveal
to us in an endless transformation from glory to glory (cf. 2 Cor 3:18).
In seeking presence over representation, the makers of icons radically transformed the canons of classical art. No longer bound to the
depiction of idealized nudes, they abandoned sculpture for mosaic and
painting. At the same time, they reconigured the body on the basis of
a new canon of proportions, and related the sacred igures directly to
the beholder, upon whom the icons enlarged eyes were now squarely
ixed. Minimal efort was given to creating a sense of time and place,
and when not loating on a ground of golden light, the igures were
framed by attenuated architectural forms of inconsistent scale, rendered in inverted perspective. Classical elements, however, were not
rejected altogether, but combined with the new anti-classical forms,
making the icon a bridge between the old nature and the new (cf. 2 Cor
5:17; Jas 1:18; Rev 21:5). Origens predecessor, Clement of Alexandria,
describes his own literary style precisely as a studied mixture of these
heterogeneous elements, an artless work of art that mixes the truth
with Greek philosophy, artfully concealing the seeds of knowledge
among loams of learning, so that they may be sought ater with desire,
and unearthed only ater much toil (SC 30:58-59).
Origens hermeneutical principles were spared the condemnation that later befell his speculative theology, because for the most
part these principles were not his at all, but rather the common possession of the Church. hus, one hundred years ater his death, when
St. Basil of Caesarea and St. Gregory the heologian compiled an
anthology of the great Alexandrians writings, they devoted 20 of its
27 chapters to excerpts dealing with the interpretation of the Bible.
And of these 20 chapters, 14 are concerned with the nature of bibli22
Introduction
Introduction
the sensual perception of surface phenomena fails to disclose a complete view of reality, and must therefore be augmented, revised, and
transcended. Here it is worth stressing that, to the ancient Athenians,
Socrates himself was a massive stumbling block, that is, an externally
ugly man of unforgettable inner beauty, a confusing combination of
simpleton and sage, a relentless, troublesome, disconcerting gadly,
who drove his interlocutors to an awareness of the linguistic law that
was at the basis of their faulty construction of reality (Apology 30E).
hrough his mask of mediocrity, the philosopher mediated the transcendent ideal of wisdom to concrete human reality.
he Cratylus is rightly considered the fundamental Socratic dialogue on the problem of language, yet it also addresses the nature of visual images. At a certain stage in the dialogue, Socrates argues that all
images are necessarily dissimilar to their originals, for if they were like
their originals in every way, they would not be images at all, but rather
something like genetic duplicates (like an image of Cratylus, Socrates
suggests, which reproduced Cratylus mind and body, complete with
functioning organs) (432BC). It follows that verbal descriptions and
artistic images alike can only approximate the person or object described
or depicted; they can never attain to complete identity, for by deinition
they are incapable of reproducing all the qualities of their referents.
his incisive deinition lays open the ambiguous, equivocal character of every image, and exposes the dilemma at the heart of all representation. We ind essentially the same formulation in St. John of Damascus, who states that an image is a likeness depicting the original but
with a certain diference, for an image is not like its original in every
way (Images 1.9). To this he adds that every image is both like and unlike its prototype, for the image is one thing, and that which it images
is another (Images 3.16) (Kotter, 3:83-84; 125). his is the great paradox
of the icon, at once its weakness and its strength. As the likeness of
something else, icons bear certain formal points of resemblance to that
which they portray. Yet the very word likeness implies that their resemblance is not absolute, and so the Damascene says that they are also
unlike their prototypes. By deinition, then, every icon is both continuous and discontinuous with its source; both similar and dissimilar
to that which it relects.
From this point of view, icons are not so much transparent windows through which we may gaze more or less directly on physical ob25
jects, but work more like mirrors, on whose surfaces we see, not the
objects themselves, but only their distorted relections. Objects seen in
a mirror stand in a dynamic relation to their source, for they appear
only in virtue of the immediate and continuous presence of the actual
object, apart from which they have no existence. However, their appearance exhibits signiicant diferences which make them essentially
unlike the actual source of relection. Most notably, the structure of the
object appears reversed, so that its right side appears on the let, and we
see it only in two dimensions, lattened to the surface of the distorting
glass. Analogous to the model of relection, all representation (literary
or artistic) is a kind of distorting mirror, a shining surface on which we
glimpse the adverted igure of an enigma, for now we know in part,
we see in a glass darkly (cf. 1 Cor 13:12). And we cannot do without
such mirrors, for despite their shortcomings they are all that we have.
Plato himself recognized and accepted these exigencies, which
contribute to his complex views concerning the paradox of representation. Although he is oten described as having been hostile to art, it
should not be forgotten that, in the midst of his celebrated attack
against visual images, the principal weapon is itself an image, the famous Allegory (literally: image/eikon) of the Cave (Republic 514B).
As is well known, Plato here grants images a mediating role in the ascent toward the light of knowledge, a critical point to which he returns
in Letter 7. In this text, Plato recognizes three types of images that
serve to mediate truth: (1) a word (or name), (2) a verbal description,
and (3) a visual image. he word circle, for example, names a particular object, and thereby brings it to our mind. he same object, moreover, may also be made known as that thing which has everywhere
equal distances between its extremities and its center. Finally, the idea
of a circle may be mediated to us by the visible igure of a circle, of the
kind which may be drawn and then erased, or carved and then broken
(342BC). To be sure, each of these three falls short in perfectly reproducing the object, since even a inely drawn or carved circle will exhibit imperfections that make it dissimilar from the circle which is the
intelligible object of mathematical knowledge (343AC).
But rather than see these defects as purely negative factors, rather
than see dissimilarity as grounds for rejecting images altogether, Plato
suggests that they have a positive function, in so far as the images nonresemblance to its source is precisely the manner in which it relects real
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Introduction
Introduction
man life, to assume a human form, the ininite and invisible God committed himself to the body in a way that is beyond return. In plunging
himself into the dense particularity of our conditioned and limited
world, the Word of God showed us the way, revealed to us that the path
of exaltation and ascent does not and cannot precede self-emptying
into form (cf. Phil 2:7). Exaltation is consequent upon our embrace,
acceptance, and entering into all the limitations of the inite. With every descent, with every plunge into the real contours of being, there is
a corresponding surge up into insight and awareness, in such a way that
the movement down generates the way up.
C.S. Lewis invites us to think of God as a diver, who descends to
re-ascend. He comes down from the heights of absolute being into
time and space, down into humanity, into the womb; down to the very
roots and seabed of the nature he has created. But he goes down to
come up again and bring the whole ruined world up with him. One
may think of a diver, irst reducing himself to nakedness, then glancing
in mid-air, then gone with a splash, vanished, rushing down through
green and warm water into black and cold water, down through increasing pressure into the death-like region of ooze and slime and old
decay; then up again, back to color and light, his lungs almost bursting,
till suddenly he breaks surface again, holding in his hand the dripping,
precious thing that he went down to recover. He and it are both colored
now that they have come up into the light: down below, where it lay
colorless in the dark, he lost his color too (Miracles, chap. 14).
When the Word became lesh ( John 1:14), the verbal and the visual were granted inexhaustible signiicance, restored to their primal
dignity as transparent bearers of the Spirit, and it is only by recovering
the true iconicity of creation that we can hope to ind healing for our
damaged sensibility. It therefore seems churlish to protest that the image is somehow less authentic than the archetype, or that the surface
acquires meaning only through depth, for it is these very limitations
that enable creation to share in the life of God. he perceived weakness of the icon is precisely its strength, its self-efacement the much
needed corrective and cure (cf. 2 Cor 12:9). In any case, the power of
images in our society goes without saying: some people see more than
1500 advertisements a day. Many of these advertisements, projected by
the fashion industry, focus exclusively on the supericial appearance of
the body and undeniably constitute a new form of idolatry. Michelle
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Lelwica has argued persuasively that these images provide young people, and especially young women, with false visions of a kind of sainthood that resonate religiously, so that in their ethereality, the slender
lines of the models body symbolize the possibility of something more,
something better, something beyond life as it is (Lelwica 1999, 52).
Of course such a beyond exists only in a magazine, and the
something more is nothing more than the ever-increasing proit margins of unrestrained capitalism. Unlike icons, the allegedly sophisticated images of the mass media know nothingand wish to know
nothingof holding the spiritual and the material in a unity, to glorify them both, but only to disjoin and ultimately violate and destroy
both. We thirst for the absolute, but seem no longer to have the patience to wait for it, or the power to perceive its arrival, or even to know
from what direction it will come, and so in desperation we have become
the slaves of idols. he icon and all that it represents is surely one of the
most important and profound theological statements amidst the mirages of our media and image-saturated society. Who will free us from
the cave of our illusions, if not the child who was born in a cave? Who
will tear our vision away from the powerful grasp of the idols, if not the
bruised, defenseless man who had no beauty (Is 53:2) and who for
that reason is the Icon of the Invisible God (Col 1:15)?
Like the Psalmists thirst for God (Ps 62:1), and the brides longing
for her bridegroom in the Song of Songs, the most intense spiritual inwardness is characteristically expressed in the most concretely somatic
terms. hus the desire for the spiritual transformation of matter to
which icons give witness is not a driting away from matter but a deepening into it. And this is due in no small measure to the fact that the
medium is art, and that the pictorial content of every icon is the human
body. Whereas the Gospel of Luke can say that the angel Gabriel was
sent from God and came to the virgin whose name was Mary (Lk
1:28), iconographers have to depict the scene much more concretely,
locating the igures in actual physical relation to one another, which
requires countless decisions (of design, scale, proportion, perspective,
foreshortening, use of color, etc.) all of which concern the organization
of forms in physical space. he making of icons is thus an important
counterweight to the idealism inherent in any form of allegory and
anagogy, religious or otherwise, because it never relinquishes the material visualization that no artist can do without.
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Introduction
Introduction
the Middle East and Africa are also permeated by the uncreated light.
To grasp such a truth and hold it within our vision even momentarily
is perhaps more than most of us can bear. And if we could, what must
we do to honor such a vision? What does it mean to be an eyewitness
of his majesty (2 Pet 1:16-18)? It means, among other things, to experience oneself fundamentally altered from the person one thought one
was, to see for the irst time the image of ones true face. To see that the
world too is now a different place, illumined by the sun of righteousness, which shines even on its enemies (cf. Mal 3:20; Mt 5:45), and so
to move and be moved, to be changed, to be illed with an awareness of
tremendous and sometimes terrifying responsibility to that world.
Does this not explain the response we see in the disciples, their recognition that the uncreated light is everywhere, that the face of Christ is
in all faces? And to see the light of Christ in all creation also means to
see the suffering of all creation embodied in the cruciixion, to perceive
the paradox that Tabor and Golgotha are the same mountain. With
such a vision before their eyes, with such a stone beneath their feet, true
disciples fall radiantly from the comfort of the heights.
We have scratched the surface. In confronting the senses with powerful and often disturbing contradictions, the sacred art of the Orthodox Church calls us to abandon old ways of seeing, ofering us the conditions for the discovery of new states of attention, a new mode of existence, for only those who lose their life shall ind it, restored to them
a hundredfold.
...
Many of the ideas in this book were irst presented to, and elaborated in dialogue with, students in my courses at Harvard Divinity
School. I owe them a tremendous debt for their extraordinary level of
interest in the subject matter, and for enabling me to see with new eyes
what I had been looking atand inevitably overlookingfor many
years. To them my thanks and appreciation are unbounded.
Chapter 1 is an expanded version of a lecture given at Harvard Universitys Center for the Study of World Religions (29 April, 2004). I am
grateful to the Centers then director, Professor Lawrence Sullivan (currently at the University of Notre Dame), and his staf for their hospitality.
he main argument of chapter 2 was originally presented as a lecture given at Yale University (6 February, 2001). Professor George
33
Parsenios (currently at Princeton heological Seminary) was instrumental in organizing what was an enjoyable and memorable evening.
Other portions of this chapter make some use of material from my
book, Proclus of Constantinople and the Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity (Leiden, 2003). I am additionally thankful to my former student, Rachel Smith, for allowing me to cite from her unpublished paper, My Son and My God: he Kenosis of Grief in the Lamentation
of the Virgin in the Church of the Virgin Peribleptos (seminar paper,
Harvard Divinity School, 12 May 2003).
Chapter 3 is a revised and expanded version of A Spiritual Warrior
in Iron Armor Clad: Byzantine Epigrams on St. George the Great Martyr, in Only the Light Remains: Papers in Honor of George C. Pilitsis, ed.
John Papson (Brookline, 2006), 237-257. Professor Pilitsis was a beloved colleague of mine at Hellenic College and Holy Cross Greek
Orthodox School of heology, where I taught from 19931998. His
protracted struggles were a true martyrdom, and it seemed most appropriate to honor him through the igure of his patron saint. May his
memory be eternal!
Chapter 4 is a revised version of St. Symeon of hessaloniki and
the heology of the Icon Screen, a paper read at the Dumbarton Oaks
2003 Spring Symposium, and later published in a volume edited by
Professor Sharon Gerstel, hresholds of the Sacred: Architectural, Art
Historical, Liturgical, and heological Perspectives on Religious Screens,
East and West (Washington, D.C., 2006), 163-183. Very few of the original paragraphs remain unchanged. Consistent with the change of title,
a number of passages have been signiicantly altered, especially in the
two inal sections. Most of the footnotes have been pruned, and some
deleted altogether, although in a few cases new ones have taken their
place, or new material added to the ones that remained.
Many people were instrumental in helping me bring this book to
completion. Some read chapters or parts of chapters and ofered constructive criticisms, others assisted with the iconographic material and
related technical matters. To all of them I am grateful for the gits of
their time, expertise, and exemplary spirit of collegiality. I am especially thankful to Fr. Calinic Berger, Peter Collet, Luke Constas, Fr. Douglas Dales, Veronica Della Dora, Jonah Friedman, Sharon Gerstel, Perry
Hamalis, Bruce Herman, Fr. Justin (Mt. Sinai), Katherine Wendy Larson, Sister Danielia Ormyliotissa, Yuri Piatnitsky, Haralambos Pennas,
34