Greetings!
A very personal and interesting post. I’d like to share some of my thoughts on religion and its relationship with philosophy.
I am an Orthodox Christian by baptism and by tradition. If we look at my life through the lens of Christianity, it consists of periods of formation. The development of my own attitude, the degree of my involvement and participation in Christ’s teachings. These included periods of complete immersion in Christianity (with the utmost diligence in observing the church calendar of fasts) and periods of excommunication, when I might not have attended church for a year, or maybe even more.
If I were to try to sum it all up, my entire life would be a dialogue. A dialogue with the Christian tradition, a dialogue with myself, with my attitude toward all of this.
In my experience, it often turns out that people who study academic philosophy are most often connected in some way to religion. That is, they most often come from a religious background (not necessarily Christianity) – believers, disillusioned believers, atheists. But all those who philosophize are somehow connected or have been connected to religion.
If we take the last few years of my personal interaction with the teachings of Christ, then, theoretically speaking, this has perhaps been the most productive period. These years are associated with attempts to ask questions of Christianity: “Why does it assert this and not another?”; “Where did this or that tradition come from in Christianity?”; “Did this or that understanding of doctrine exist in early Christianity or is it a consequence of later interpretation?”; “What should we consider Christianity itself – what was uttered by Christ or what was brought about by 2,000 years of tradition?”
All of this undoubtedly accompanies me. It accompanies every attempt at my philosophizing, although the very subject of my philosophical research may not even be connected to the teachings of Christ. I would like to say that the “spirit of Christianity” (if one can call it that) and dialogue with the Christian tradition permeate my research aspirations.
My friend, a Holy Father from the church, had long since ceased to be my interlocutor on religious topics. Our conversations were left somewhere in the past, when I was interested in more superficial topics of Christianity. At some point, we stopped discussing these topics, remaining simply friends. We parted ways because he himself honestly told me that he is not a philosopher or a profound theologian. He is merely a “philistine priest” (as he called himself); a priest for people who come to church for solace in their life’s difficulties, to find simple guidance in life; to baptize children or to perform funeral services for the dead. Despite his seminary education, the topics raised by philosophy in Christianity don’t bother him so much, as they have no significance whatsoever for either the average parishioner or the holy father who greets them. Perhaps the holy fathers with whom it would be truly interesting to discuss the fundamental questions of Christianity live in monasteries somewhere? Who knows.
Returning to your suggestion that Christianization would be more successful without churches (if I understood it correctly), I would disagree. Perhaps at some point, at some stage in one’s exploration of Christianity, a person doesn’t need a church. But in ordinary cases, for the average person, a church is a place where God dwells, where they can find help, comfort, guidance, and where they can feel that special feeling that arises somewhere in the body upon entering a church.
I would even say that the Christian tradition, or the church, is largely unsuited to satisfying the subtle aesthetic needs of the advanced parishioner’s faith. In most cases, this is a mass product, for mass demand. Therefore, I would say that preserving what exists—the churches and traditions—seems desirable to me. Provided they don’t wither away over time, as we see, for example, in the modern Czech Republic.