The question, “Who is my mother and who are my brethren?” has not been acceptable to the West. The West would have preferred Jesus to be a model family man, not only loving mother and brothers and sisters, but having a wife and children about him. The Eastern Church takes its stand with the early Christians and the denial of earthly ties. Sometimes news is brought of father or mother or brethren to the wonderful Russian hermits such as Father Seraphim, but they coldly repel the tidings with Christ’s words, “Whosoever doeth the will of God, the same is my brother and sister and mother.”
Casting the wicked into the fire—this idea lingers in America, but it is dead in Russia and in England.
The confession of Peter, and the prophecy, “Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church,” the Roman Church has necessarily taken to itself.
The Transfiguration on the mountain—the possessed about the foot of the mountain—is taken as an Eastern understanding of life. The light of transfiguration is the halo about the head of the hermit; the possessed below make the hurly-burly of the world whence the hermit made his escape. “The light of transfiguration,” I heard Prince Trubetskoi say in a lecture at Moscow, “is the light of haloes, the light of Holy Russia, the light of friendship.”
“Let us build three tabernacles” is, as I said, Western.
The West has believed Jesus in that He answered the question, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” by taking a little child and setting him in the midst of them.
The West has allowed its eyes to rest on the parable of the Talents, but the East has had more appreciation of “The first shall be last, and the last first.”
The West has insisted on “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,” but it has avoided the condemnation of the Pharisees; the Gospel of St. Matthew reveals itself as the gospel of the kingdom of heaven as opposed to “the world.” But the West has sought to find “the world” holy. Western Christianity was started by the conquest of worldly armies, but Eastern Christianity was founded on the example of hermits, eunuchs, stoics, philosophers, fanatics. It had all the advantage of proximity to the place where Christianity started, all the advantage of the traditions of Greek and Roman philosophy. Despite all our study of Greek and of history and of philosophy at the schools, and despite the Russian’s lack of study, yet the latter is nearer to the ancient spirit; but he has lived historically in direct relation to Byzantium, and has ever had before his eyes living examples of the way to live a Christian life.
“Many are called, but few are chosen” has had great influence in the West, but the power of the text is waning. Protestantism is becoming more philanthropical, easy-going, and generous than it was in the days of persecution.
The idea of the Second Coming of Christ is a strange will-o’-the-wisp of light that cannot be tracked and is difficult to account for, breaking out ever and anon unexpectedly where you would think it had for ever disappeared. At present it is seen in many places, East and West. Originally it was a very powerful sentiment, but after two thousand years of waiting hope has died down, and it is seldom that whole societies sell up all their worldly goods and repair to the valley of Jehoshaphat to wait the great day.