I. Предварительные понятия

Science in its greatest effort is sometimes capable of producing results that at first glance are very strange. To clarify, I take an example from the field of physical and mathematical sciences, especially since mathematics (Greek máfhma) is a science par excellence. In 1895, two professors, the English Chaney and the Russian Mendeleev, compared two measures: the Russian half-fathom and the English yard. For a simple mind, this work will seem uncomplicated and unimportant; however, the famous scientists worked for 3 whole days, and it is not surprising: they made 22 series of comparisons, or 880 micrometric measurements and 132 thermometer reports. Such work required enormous labor. It must be said that linear measures are measured with terrifying accuracy; microns and even parts of microns are measured (a micron is a thousandth of a millimeter). But I want to draw attention not to the process of labor, but to its finale. At the conclusion of the work, a protocol was drawn up, the last words of which read as follows: “since the question of the identity of the normal temperature of 62 ° F and 16 ° C on the centigrade scale of a hydrogen thermometer cannot currently be considered as finally resolved, in this regard we consider the upcoming report not to be absolutely accurate, but provisional (we consider this report so far provisional).” From the point of view of elementary physics, such a question about the identity of the indicated temperatures is undoubted; but from the point of view of first-class scientists, we see here something unprovable. Thus, at the highest level of science, the result of the scientific work of first-class scientists is in the form of a highly scientific “we don’t know.” But this “ignoramus” is much more valuable than the ordinary scientific “we know”, “as everyone knows well.” Science can look upon such ignoramus as its pride, its adornment. They show how high the demands that such a science places on itself, which does not tolerate anything unproven. But can history make equally high demands on itself, impose on itself such a complete renunciation of everything unproven, whether it is ecclesiastical or civil? Of course, everyone will understand that the answer can only be negative. And therefore, history is not a science, and if it is called a science, then, so to speak, only honoris causa (“for the sake of honor”), or, in the words of the protocol cited above, only in a provisional manner. I came to this result - in the opinion of perhaps many of you - in too summary a way. But it will withstand the test of more detailed and thorough reasoning. History is not one of the deductive sciences, which are based on a form of analytical judgment. On the contrary, synthetic judgment dominates everywhere in history, since it is nourished by objectively given material, borrowed from the sphere external to our soul and consciousness. Such sciences, if they have reached a truly scientific stage in their development, must allow mathematical processing of their content. In other words: they must discover the laws of phenomena and investigate the course of their development. But does history know the laws of the phenomena it studies? True, you can find books written in a scientific manner, in which there is a lot of talk about the laws of historical development. But if we take a closer look, we will see that their value is small: all the laws discovered in them are more loud phrases than anything real. Apparently, it cannot be disputed that there are laws of historical development. It is known that every nation grows, ages and dies. Is it possible to dispute the fact of the discovered truth? But by law I mean a provision that has value. If someone from the pulpit proclaimed the indisputable truth that everyone is mortal, then no one would give him a copper penny for it. The truth is indisputable, but practically not applicable. Now, if someone proposed a formula for calculating how long someone has left to live, then such a message would be given great importance. If physics, on the basis of the law of attraction, preached that every body flying above the earth falls on it, but was not able to say which would be more likely to fall, whether it was a fired bullet or a beam lying on rotten supports, then they would give little for such physics. The supposed conclusion from this provision is formally so broad that it is practically completely unusable. I no longer insist that one can argue against the broad formulation of the proposition that peoples are mortal. In fact, what is a people? This concept is very vague. For those wishing to get acquainted with how difficult it is to establish this concept, I refer you to Debolsky’s book “On the Highest Good” (St. Petersburg, 1886). If we choose the unity of language as a sign, then we can apparently say that the Suevi, the Vandals, died. But why can we say that they do not live in modern Spaniards? They will tell us that this is a Romanesque tribe, but how will we then judge the French? Thus, the question of what constitutes the death of a people is an unresolved question. There are laws in history, but only the ability to predict events in advance shows that these laws are actually known. Physics knows some of its laws. A physicist, knowing the angle of incidence, can determine the angle of reflection. An astronomer, knowing the laws of motion of celestial bodies, predicts solar and lunar eclipses. There is no need to argue against them. But history is not in that position. What sage could have predicted the annexation of the Syro-Chaldeans on March 25, 1898, or predicted the results of the Spanish-American War? Without knowing the laws of historical life, history cannot boast of the ability to predict the future. If history knew its laws, then it could restore the missing information about the past through calculations; predicting a phenomenon in the future and calculating a phenomenon in the past are exactly the same for mathematics. These are facts, but not accusations. It is easy to talk about the laws of physical and chemical phenomena in which simple quantities operate. But what acts in history is man himself, whose mental life is so complex that psychology makes extraordinary efforts to study even individual phenomena of the human soul. What can we say about the summation, the synthesis of individual personalities? In history, it is not individuals who act, but entire nations. Even astronomy, although it has been observing phenomena for many years, cannot boast of accuracy in cases where it has to deal with many causes: it has not yet been possible to write an accurate table of the movements of the moon. Apparently, the astronomer mastered the task, achieved perfection in his science and completely completed his work; but ten years will pass - and his table no longer coincides with reality, corrections have to be made to it (currently there are up to 200 such so-called arguments of the moon and, therefore, the tables are corrected 200 times). If unconditionally accurate predictions cannot be made in astronomy, then it is all the more impossible to expect them from a historian. In every individual, in every society, there is such a mass of reasons that it is impossible for a historian to figure them out in full. Thus, in terms of the very subject of its study, history is not at the same level as the happier sciences mentioned above. Like many other so-called sciences, history is in an empirical state; she does not yet know the internal connection of events, but has only empirical data. This is the situation, for example, in medicine, which does not always know which chemical elements of a medicine (for example, quinine) produce a healing effect on the body. The doctor is guided only by empirical data that in many cases such and such a technique produces such and such an effect, but the doctor does not know why and how. This kind of science is more an art than a science. They do not yet have definite laws, and their pragmatic constructions depend on the subjective mood of a person or an entire era. The historian in his work does not act as an architect, but rather as a craftsman who knows how to draw arches resting on pilasters, which in this case are facts attested by history. In this case, the stronger the foundations - the facts - and the closer the connection between upcoming events, the stronger the construction. The question of whether history will ever reach the heights at which the sciences stand in the precise sense of the word is a moot point. The fact is that the ability to predict the future, for example, in astronomy, is based on the study of cycles of phenomena. Knowing a certain cycle of phenomena that repeats itself after a certain period of time, one can predict with certainty certain phenomena. Therefore, astronomers can establish the laws of motion of the moon and earth, the entire cycle of phases of which passes before the eyes of every observer. But astronomers sometimes cannot say anything about comets - these lawless luminaries, which, appearing before the observer for a while, disappear again, perhaps for an entire eternity. Meanwhile, regarding history, it is impossible to say definitely how many cycles have passed since the beginning of the world, or whether the entire world history represents only one cycle. If the latter is true, then, obviously, history will never be a real science. But this does not mean, however, that there is no hope for improving historical knowledge. In addition to observing cycles - the most solid basis for studying events - another way is possible. The scientific hope of history in this case can be presented in the following form. Arithmetic teaches about decimal fractions that every fraction is either finite or infinite; if it is infinite, then it is certainly periodic. For example, let's take the periodic fraction 0.142857142857...Until the fraction is expressed in the repetition of numbers, you can be in difficulty. This fraction is periodic and is a series of six digits. Until a person has gone through this series of numbers, he does not know what the matter is. But when the numbers repeat, he realizes that the period is limited. But even before that, he has some ability to predict starting from the third digit. The first two digits represent the number 14; the next two double 14 and give 28; then the next numbers are doubled again. If, at the onset of 28, the mathematician managed to guess the meaning and connection of the numbers, then prediction becomes possible. Something similar can be imagined in relation to history. The analogy is obvious: meteorology is a new and young science, although it has not had time to trace certain cycles, however, based on some elementary laws, it predicts temperature changes not without success. In itself, the deprivation of the right to call history by science, however, is not at all offensive to it, in view of its original true meaning. History is a Greek word and shows that the Greeks did not pass it off as science. Istoría from the noun i:stwr, which comes from the root Fid in oída – I know. It is a remarkable phenomenon that in the Aryan-Iranian branch two types of knowledge are distinguished. Our expression: “he knows” (in German - er kennt, in English - know), corresponds to the Sanskrit ganati, janati. But we also have another concept: “he is the message” (in German er weiss) - in Sanskrit vetti - the root vid. Thus, two concepts are distinguished - knowledge and knowledge. In Greek, these concepts are expressed by the verbs “gignw'skw” (“I know”) and “oída” (“I see, I know, I know”); in Latin, the concept of “knowledge” has been lost (video - I see), but the concept of “knowledge” has been preserved in the form of the verb novi, ignovi (prob. notus, ignotus). What is the fundamental difference between these two forms of knowledge? Man, as a rational being, wants to know, but even more wants to “lead.” Knowledge is scientific knowledge, and knowledge is knowledge in which a strong aesthetic or volitional element is mixed; knowledge is the impulse of human life. A person wants to be at the event itself in order to see everything with his own eyes. Gnw'sth_s (“expert”) is not i:'stwr (“knowledgeable, seen”); the one who himself was at the event, he himself saw something, and even if he did not understand anything, he i:stwr. The original meaning of the Greek istoria is not a narration of events at all, but only means a moment of observation. 'Istoría_s xárin ("for the sake of asking", "for the sake of information") the ancient Greeks traveled, and the first Christians made pilgrimages. Apostle Paul went to Jerusalem – ístorh'sai ton Pétron (“to see Peter”) (Gal.1:18) – to see with his own eyes. ' Istoría_s xárin - a person can look at the sky all day long, while an astronomer observes the same phenomenon through a reflector, turning his back to the vault of heaven - and is gnw'sth_s. By the same desire to “lead,” a person writes down the phenomena he sees - this constitutes history. The concept of “knowledge” contains a subjective element, and the concept of “knowledge” contains an objective element. Knowledge does not contain a deep concept of an object: it is the internal state of the subject in his knowledge of the object; whoever has it has no doubt, it is obvious to him. It does not yet include an objective element; it can be both deep and superficial. On the contrary, knowledge (gnw'si_s) is directly directed towards the subject (object); it presupposes on the part of the subject an outburst of self towards the object. We know, for example, that people must all breathe in order to live; this is obvious from observation. The scientific physiologist also knows this; but between our knowledge and the latter’s knowledge there is a whole abyss in content. Our knowledge is direct knowledge, and the knowledge of a scientist is knowledge in the proper sense; for us - wissen, and for him - kennen. A characteristic indication of the relationship between these two terms is the conversation of the Apostle Peter with Christ after the resurrection. As you know, Jesus Christ seemed to cast a shadow on the sincerity of the faith of Apostle Peter in his conversation with him; the apostle assures Christ that he loves Him. His last word: “Lord, You weigh everything: You weigh, because I love You” - in Greek: “Kúrie, Su:' pánta oi:'da_s; Sú gignw'skei_s, oti filw' Se" (John 21:17). The Apostle declares to the Lord that He knows everything, everything clearly appears to His consciousness; but he invites Him to focus His attention on one specific point: “Sú gignw'skei_s.” This concentration on one particular subject does not represent knowledge, but knowledge. This is the kind of knowledge that lies in the concept of “history”, “i:stwr - a person who submits to the desire of his nature - to know everything, strives to satisfy the thirst for knowledge. Man wants known things to fill his consciousness and be obvious to him. The person wants to know as the witness knows; this causes him to spin outward and even undertake long journeys. But here scientific knowledge (the goal of gnw'sth_s_'a) is absent. Those who embark on a journey do not yet think of acquiring scientific knowledge in the objective sense. If he has a predominant tendency towards self-absorption, if he processes his impressions internally, then he will be a philosopher, but this “philosophy” will not yet be gnw'si_s. This marks the beginning of just history. The desire to satisfy the inner desire to lead gives the concept of history. History is questioning, a person’s discovery of something that has happened, and the very desire to be a witness to events. The word “history” in Greek remained in this meaning until later times. So, in the concept of history there is given the desire for knowledge obtained through direct contemplation. But historical knowledge is, as it were, the direct opposite of such a concept of history. This contrast is caused by necessity: people who lived after certain events did not have the opportunity to witness them, to see them with their own eyes. But they could only learn about them from eyewitnesses. Thus, the concept of history indicates that it must draw its information from sources that ultimately lead to direct eyewitnesses, must go back to the last, most original foundations, beyond which it is impossible to go, must be based on “history” in the original sense of the word. Thus, history does not set itself extensive tasks, does not present itself as the metropolis of philosophy, although it is its first stage, and does not have didactic aspirations. Modest in its original definition, it remains so to this day. In 1872, academician-professor Bestuzhev-Ryumin began his Russian history with the following words: “History is a narrative about memorable events, we were taught in the gymnasium; History is national identity, we were taught at the university. Between these two definitions lies a whole abyss.” It is clear that history, as conceived by the Greeks, comes closest to the first definition. It really is, rather, a narrative about interesting events. The second definition responds to the work of a person who cares about “multiple services”; it is not feasible from a practical point of view. Among the most valuable products, springs for chronometers occupy a prominent place. It is remarkable that their weight is small, the quantity and cost of the material are negligible; Meanwhile, huge prices are charged for them, thanks precisely to human labor. The same must be said in relation to history, which is understood in the sense of national self-awareness. The scholar who would interpret history as popular consciousness would render the greatest services; but to interpret history in this way is as easy as drawing water from a stone. Therefore, the simplest definition of history as a narrative about remarkable events, remarkable simply because people noticed them, should also be valid. The object of study of church history is the church. The concept of the church in its depth can hardly be exhausted by a brief definition. The best definition, belonging to Metropolitan. Philaret, cannot be called adequate to its task, for it represents only an abstraction of the features of the church as it appears in history, whereas it is necessary to define the church even at the moment of its prehistoric existence, at the very beginning of its discovery. It is most natural and easiest to look for instructions for this in the name of the church among various nationalities. The Old Slavic word "tsr'ky" and the German "Kirche" (English church) are on the same line and come from the same root, from the Greek to kuriakón; with this word the Greeks of the 4th and 5th centuries. denoted a church as a building, a church. Among the Germanic tribes, hegemony in the east belonged to the Goths, and in the west to the Germans. In ancient High German, the word church had two styles: chirihha and kiricha. For scholars of philology, the final ch contains the surest sign that it existed before the High German stage; therefore, it does not belong to the Germans, but was borrowed from the Goths. Geographical names with the word kirche are found at the beginning of the 8th century. Unfortunately, this word is not found in Gothic writing, but instead we find only the word aikklesjö (ekklesie). Nevertheless, the West German tribes must have borrowed this word from the Greek language precisely through the Goths, and one must assume that the Goths had a corresponding High German chirihha word kyreiko (kireiko), which was an exact reproduction of the Greek kuriakón. Although such a word does not appear in Gothic literature, if we remember how many monuments of Gothic writing remain, we will not be surprised at this. It may have existed in Gothic since the 4th century. As for the ancient Slavic word - tsr'ky, it is undoubtedly of Gothic origin, and not German; if it were borrowed from German, it would be pronounced like church (remember the parallel between the Gothic word hrugg - banner and Russian - banner); there would be an "x" instead of a "k". Thus, the word church was adopted through Gothic media and much earlier than the Russian state arose, before Christianity spread among us. In that era, for our ancestors Κύ (ki) sounded something like ku (proof: from the words Κύριε ε̉λέησον (“Lord have mercy”) kuralesit came about; Churilo Plenkovich was formed from Kúrillo_s, “Kirill”). Our “church” is similar to the Gothic “kireiko”, in which the “k” turned into “c”. Our “sh” did not come from the Hebrew x (it is too curly), but from the Armenian 15th letter “k”, which was formed from the Greek letter “k” in cursive writing. As early as the Greek “k” began to be pronounced like the Latin “s”, I know the following fact: in 1016, the Bulgarian prince waged war with Vasily II the Bulgarian Slayer, who once made a surprise attack on him; The defeated Bulgarians shouted: run away from the Caesar. How Saints Cyril and Methodius pronounced the letter “k” is difficult to answer this question. In the Slavic dialect, the sound “k” had a rather unique pronunciation, for example, as it is heard in the words: prophet - in prophet; river - on the river 1. It is indisputable for us that the word church, like Kirche, is of Greek origin and means the building of a cathedral. The name biserica has a similar meaning in Romania, apparently derived from basilica. Among the Magyars, the word egyhäza (church) means house, building. Polish kos'ciol, from Latin castellum (fortress, walls), refers to the architecture of a church. Thus, a very significant part of the new peoples understand the church in an external way, borrowing its name from the place of worship; such a name obviously cannot give us an accurate idea of ​​the church. Ethiopians also have a superficial understanding of the church as the home of Christians (beta kristiyân, beta kristyan). Other European peoples, besides us Slavs and Germans, namely the Romance peoples (with the exception of the Romanians), learned from the Latins the Greek name of the church ekklhsía (ecclesia, Italian chiesa, French eglise, Spanish iglesia), which was left in Latin without translation. The same word was borrowed from the Greeks by two old Christian nations: Armenian (ekegetsi) and Georgian (ekklesia). It corresponds to the Syriac 'edta (etta, 'idta). The Arabic kanisatun is borrowed from the Syriac kenaš - “gathered” and is used to mean cathedrals; Among the Jews, pshe “keneset” meant synagogue. Thus we have, as the only important ones, the Greek ekklhsía and the Semitic edta. The Greek word does not need to be defined, just as bread is not defined, but offered. 'Ekklhsía is the antithesis of boulh' ("advice"). Among the Greeks, the highest class - the archons - participated in boulh'; in general, the first three classes enjoyed the right of passive election; the fourth class, the poorest - oi fh'te_s (“fetas, mercenaries”) - enjoyed the right to participate in ekklhsía, which was granted to him by Solon. Ancient Greek state units were a union of free citizens as full members. For a joint discussion of matters, when the boulh', the council of elders, recognized the matter as beyond the limits of its authority, kh'ru_ks was sent - a herald who invited the people to gather. Thus, the highest authority of state power was that of “making the church” - ékklhsían epoíhsan (Latin: concire concionem). The word ekklhsía is thus derived from the verb ékkaleín ("to call"), since among the Greeks the members of the ekklhsía_s were called by heralds. This meaning of the word ekklhsía gave rise to the creation of special terminology in the New Testament. The word klhtó_s - called - began to be used to name Christians. Apostle Paul addresses Christians as “klhtó_s apóstolo_s klhtoi:'_s ágíoi_s”, “called apostle to the called saints” (Rom. 1:1,7). To designate a state in Christianity, the concept klh'si_s “title” is developed. “I urge you to walk worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Eph. 4:1). The words klhtó_s, klh'si_s and ekklhsía are used very often in the messages. In the Gospel, the word “church” appears only three times: 1) “I will build my church,” 2) “the command of the church,” 3) “if the church disobeys” (Matthew 16:18, 18:17). All three times it is found as spoken by Christ Himself, and all three times in the Gospel of Matthew, that is, in the one that was originally written in Aramaic and the original of which is lost. There is no reason to doubt that Christ, who spoke Syriac or Aramaic, used the word "tu", ekklhsía. Hence the question, does ekklhsía fully express Christ’s “edta”? Strictly speaking, every translation is a forgery, since in two different languages ​​there are few words that are identical in meaning. In this case, 1) an external favorable sign of the correspondence of the word edta with the word ekklhsía is that the latter was used by the apostle Paul, a man educated in Greek and Syriac. 2) "Edta", a Syriac word in emphatic form, corresponds to the Hebrew gpr "eda", status constr. GPU "adat". Usually the entire body of the Jewish people was called ntrt gpu (society of Israel). The entire Jewish people constituted eda, the aliens D'-u (gerim) were not counted among them. The most common thing in this society was to gather under the chairmanship of the elders at the gates of the city to discuss political, judicial and social issues. These meetings have long been the highest authority in all matters; here all the commandments of God were proclaimed. They had a certain authority among the people. The meetings had certain set times (iPto moed, in Greek eorth' - holiday). The participants in these “edas,” each individually, were legitimate bearers of the rights of their society; they were supposed to be witnesses and made decisions of the meetings. The custom of the Jews to hold meetings at the city gates can be found, for example, in the story of Ruth (Ruth.4:1,11). The description of an active wife in the book of Proverbs says that her husband is always well dressed and that he is well known in the gates (Prov. 31:23). The human thought of Christ revolved in these concepts when He spoke about the church not overcome by hell, especially since He used the expression “the gates of hell.” Church and hell are represented as political societies; the question is whose policies will prevail. Otherwise, the expression about being overcome by the gates cannot be explained. The extent to which the concept of eda (adat) corresponds to the concept of ekklhsía can be seen from the fact that the verb “TU” from which it comes corresponds to the Arabic “vaada”, which means to establish, to promise. But if you find out the different shades of this meaning, then it turns out - to promise, to declare firmly, to appoint a place and time, to express a threatening demand to appear at a certain place at the appointed time. Taking into account the difference between the Arab and Greek cultures, based on the above, we can conclude that eda, or in Syriac edta, corresponds to ekklhsía. The fact that Christ called the society he founded edta - ekklhsía has a special polemical significance against Protestants. Protestants are running around with the invisible church. But in the concept of ekklhsía there is a strong moment of visibility. Therefore, the expression “invisible church” contains a contradictio in adjecto. There can be no invisible church. One can participate in the invisible only spiritually, in ekklhsía only with the body. In the practice of the Athenian people there is enough data for such an understanding of the word ekklhsía: a fine was imposed on those who did not come to the meeting. Participation in the invisible church would be like invisible participation in military service. Within the scope of the concepts ekklhsía – edta – eda the entire people is conceived. He who is not a participant in ekklhsía is not a políth_s (“citizen”), and he who is not a participant in eda is not an Israeli. Christians, as members of the church, are “fellow citizens with the saints” (Eph. 2:19). In the church founded by Christ lies the character of universality; there is no aristocratic moment in it, as there was in the Athenian boulh'. In ordinary life, ekklhsía rarely meets, and when the meeting is dissolved, it seems to disappear. But here we can draw an analogy with Roman state life. The Roman people as a whole were called Populus Romanus Quiritum (klhtó_s = quires). A Roman was called a Quirite only when he performed political duties; otherwise he was treated as a simple citizen (Cincinnatus example). Christ founded a society that never diverges, and klhtó_s must always fulfill its duties. Other expressions are also possible to denote a Christian society: “the tongue is holy” éfno_s agion (1 Peter 2:9), “the kingdom of God.” Christ preached the Kingdom of God, but founded a church on earth. The Church of Christ consists of those “called” (klhtó_s). The moment of relevance, initiative is expressed here with sufficient force. By birth we belong to the people; but in order to become a member of the national assembly, one must appear there, although one may not appear - under threat of a fine. It's the same in the church. The Church is not identical with the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven. In relation to the king, members of the kingdom must show unconditional obedience and must fulfill the will of the king. But how does it manifest itself?... This ambiguity does not lie in ekklhsía. Its member must only strive in every possible way to realize the ideal of his society, that is, the kingdom of God. Thus, from the analysis of basic terms, a concept is obtained that is not rich in content, but defined. Church history could choose this concept as its point of departure, meaning by church a community where each member is called to naturally participate in a common, common life. She must deal with what expressed the life of the New Testament society of the Lord, which was the successor to the Old Testament society of the Lord, must study both the phenomena of his life and the ideas and desires and goals to which it strove. The church includes the whole people: the whole dh'mo_s (“the people”) is contained in the ekklhsía. Everyone contributes something to the content of the life of the church. Ergo, church history should not be reduced to the history of individuals, it should be the history of the entire people; and if we have to limit ourselves to the first, then the reason is in the conditions of our knowledge. The responsibilities of a historian come down to a) collecting the fullest possible range of evidence about the past, b) eliminating what in the collected material does not have signs of reliability, c) it is advisable to present reliable information about the past. a) As was previously said, history does not belong to the number of deductive sciences. Its entire volume is borrowed from sources, that is, material that can be a victim of all sorts of accidents. We have several books that have survived, but we cannot increase their number. Only a happy accident can bring something else out of the darkness of the unknown. It is impossible to do anything systematic in this regard. And therefore, all the preliminary work of the historian comes down to clarifying the scope of sources and grouping them. b) Having found out the volume of sources, the historian must undertake work that has a reductionist meaning: select the most reliable from them. This task is the opposite of the first. There we try to increase the amount of data, here we try to reduce it, discarding everything that does not satisfy historical requirements. Thus, having collected the data, we must begin to criticize it. The initial processing of historical sources is carried out by the so-called lower criticism. Techniques for fundamentally resolving the issue of the reliability of the contents of documents are known as higher historical criticism. c) The reduction of the collected material in the second stage of the historian’s work begins with the fact that the original text of each document is established from manuscripts that can be found in different libraries. All these manuscripts need to be brought together and, if possible, restored the text in the form in which it came out of the hands of the writer, because, as you know, scribes and readers, according to their understanding, correct the writer himself. And such a selection of material already presents a lot of insoluble difficulties. In this regard, first of all, the view according to which an older manuscript is always given preference over a newer one should be considered outdated. In fact, it happens that even the oldest manuscript cannot vouch for the correctness of the text it transmits, and therefore in some cases preference must be given to the newest manuscripts. At present, this superstitious respect for the most ancient manuscripts has been shaken in principle. The antiquity of a manuscript often turns out to be an insufficient guarantee of its proximity to the original. Let us assume that some dilapidated Slavic manuscript was copied recently by some scientist and that it was also available in the 17th century. copied by some illiterate clerk, and then the manuscript itself was lost. Which manuscript should be considered the more precious of these two? Despite the fact that the latter is more ancient, the former deserves more attention, for while an illiterate copyist pays little attention to the accuracy of copying, the former pays attention to even minor features of writing. But the following phenomenon is also possible here. A well-known manuscript can be copied perfectly, so that its thoroughness will be evident to every philologist. Next to her is a manuscript, carelessly copied with many errors. However, it is possible that the first scribe copied a bad manuscript, and the second a good one. We have to weigh which of the two manuscripts is closer to the original. And often a manuscript copied carelessly, but from a satisfactory text, has priority. Consequently, the difficulty is first of all to determine the merits of manuscripts. When this is done, then the text can be restored, if not as it came from the author himself, then at least as it circulated in the immediate past. However, what may also happen here is that the issue will still remain controversial, since the work itself may already be lost in its original form. Some writer makes excerpts from some author for himself; then his interest in the composition is aroused, and in the end he makes a complete copy of the original. The original is lost, but the semi-original manuscript is distributed and in this form reaches the present day; we have to be content with that. Thus, the work of Dio Cassius has reached us almost only in excerpts by John Zonara and John Xyphilinus. Such is the fate and chronicles of John Malala. Then comes another task - to prove the authenticity, i.e., that a famous work belongs to a famous author. Here we have to be guided by all sorts of considerations. A work is recognized as genuine when there are many manuscripts, which both by the text and by the very errors show that they were copied from more than one manuscript, and when at the same time they indicate one author. It is the same when this author speaks about his work in his other works and himself testifies to it. Then the testimony of the author's contemporaries, friends and opponents matters when they mention him in their writings, where they really have the urge to tell the truth. On the contrary, authenticity is considered controversial when contemporaries remain silent about this work, even if there were incentives for them to mention it, or when, when mentioned, they express doubt or disagree. The question of the author may turn out to be difficult to the point of insoluble if the manuscripts are completely silent about him or came without a title page, and if contemporaries are also silent. Here, the efforts of scientists achieve only probable results, unless in some work there is a quotation from this work indicating its author. Then the whole situation changes. When this requirement is satisfied, i.e. the question of whether this or that work belongs to the author is established, then a new work arises, this is the determination of the sources used by the author. In general, if the ancient authors of historical works claimed to be appreciated by posterity for the merits of their creations, then they were bitterly mistaken, for, as research by scientists has shown, these authors, not being brilliant writers, usually left works of very low standard in scientific terms, which at present one has only to endure, and not bow before them, as was the case before. Sometimes we even have to regret that the white manuscripts of these authors have reached us, and not their black ones: it would be better if they delivered materials for the essays than to write these essays themselves with inept handling of the sources. That is why modern scientists have to make great efforts to understand the sources indicated by ancient authors and to find primary sources among them through critical analysis. The question of criticism of sources is, one might say, a question of the 19th century, for never so much has been done to develop it in the field of civil and church history as at this time. The research of von Gutschmid is especially famous in this regard. The task of criticizing sources is highly important, but also extremely difficult, and, unfortunately, work on it in the past was carried out without the necessary precautions. Meanwhile, how to criticize sources is the most important thing. To criticize events. Let us take, for example, the testimony of ancient historians about the conversion of Georgia and Ethiopia to Christianity. Previously, the names of 4 famous Greek and Latin authors reporting on this event could be displayed with aplomb. Meanwhile, according to the research of scientists of the present time, it turned out that three of them, Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret, were no more or less than copyists of Rufinus, so that all 4 testimonies are reduced, in fact, to one testimony of the latter. This fact already significantly clears the ground for further historical research. In this case, the criticism is made easier by the fact that these three authors do not speak more than Rufinus, and thus clearly reveal that they had no extraneous sources other than his work. But under such circumstances it is not always possible to decompose the work into its original sources, because authors rarely leave traces of their borrowings. And the issue of borrowing from other sources can be controversial even when the authors do not say anything new in comparison with other sources. The results of critical work can be lasting when they can be substantiated not on one particular circumstance, but on a whole series of circumstances. Generally speaking, one needs to know the economy of critical research in order to express an opinion regarding the scientific value of certain sources. For the most part, one has to compare the oldest evidence with the latest, with the former being preferred to the latter. This is a well-known technique, and in German critical literature they do nothing but reduce everything to primary sources. But von Gutschmid cautioned against this favorite technique. He said that so far the results are far from corresponding to the amount of work expended on this work and are not at all convincing. Old professors, through “listening to how the grass grows” (i.e., in their desire to identify primary sources), lose the taste for recognizing the truth. Students are given work to prove, for example, the dependence of an earlier writer on a later one, which they do brilliantly! The signs of comparative antiquity of news are so subtle and elusive. Von Gutschmid says that with certainty we can restore an ancient monument only when borrowings from it are more or less complete. And if they occur on the 20th, then the 50th, then the 80th page of the essay, then there is no basis for an undoubted conclusion. 2) If we achieve the point of breaking down the work into primary sources, we still need to remember that we are still far from the real historical task. The task of every reliable study of historical sources is to find a “historian,” that is, a person directly familiar with the course of events, from whom various subsequent sources come. But this task is extremely difficult and very rarely successfully accomplished. The usual method is to look for historians from more ancient authors, preferring them to later ones. But this technique, in fact, rests on the same illusion that underlies the preference for ancient manuscripts over the newest. In fact, it very often happens that an unknown and late author uses some very old source, which others no longer use, considering it outdated for the current state of science. Such a narrow horizon of the author is a gift from God for the historian: if the author had been more insightful, he would not have used this source. Thus, the author of the Easter Chronicle, writing during the time of Heraclius, used Arian sources, being himself Orthodox. If he had been more insightful, if he had known events and people better, he would have found more appropriate sources for his work. But he did not do this and thus preserved the sources he used for science. Thus, it is the duty of historical criticism to involve all monuments, without preferring the most ancient to the newest. But even if the historian is found in this way, the task of historical criticism cannot end there. We have to determine the veracity of the historian's story. Likewise, in the case when it is impossible to find a historian and you have to use the witnesses closest to him in time, you must first decide whether you can believe them or not. Here, on the question of the reliability of the events described by the historian, criticism goes in two directions: subjective and objective. In order to judge the merit of a message in a subjective sense, the critic must pose and decide the following questions: whether the author could have known the event and whether he had incentives to report the truth about it. At the same time, it is generally very difficult to obtain anything immutable as a result. We are very far from the ancient authors to judge how accurately they could know the event described, and whether they had any incentives not to tell the truth about this event or not. There are too rare cases when a scientist could directly say about the author: “no, he could not know this, or had personal motives not to tell the truth and did not tell it.” He might have had motives not to tell the truth, but he might have told it as a result of man’s innate honesty. The mistakes he encountered might not have belonged to him personally, but could have been inherited by him from others. Sometimes we know nothing about the author or know only what he was pleased to reveal about himself in his writings; and this is far from sufficient to judge whether the historian could have known and wanted to tell the true course of events. Taking into account the latest examples, one can see that chance plays an important role here too. A person removed from modern events accidentally meets a person who is familiar with these events, and from the words of this latter he writes down his story. But, knowing its remoteness, we may not believe his story. It is even more difficult to resolve the question: did the author want to tell the truth? Human cunning is so subtle that it often finds it advantageous to reveal the truth where its silence would seem more natural. Thus, both of these demands of higher criticism fail. In this difficult situation, however, a way out is possible if we remember that history is a highly conservative science. Accordingly, all historical documents from the point of view of conservative science should enjoy full rights. We must assume that the author knew and wanted to tell the truth, and not be skeptical from the very first word about the author’s ability and desire to tell the truth. This question is appropriate when there is a basis for it in the document itself. The same can be said regarding the objective side of critical research. The question here is: could the known event have happened or could it not? Truth here must be understood as the agreement of an event with the totality of our own ideas. If a historian gives many details that he could not extract by deductive means, if these details stand up to criticism from a technical point of view, from the point of view of all archaeological knowledge, then we are naturally inclined to recognize a well-known event as reliable. A more difficult situation occurs when we come across an event that disrupts the harmony of our ideas. Our knowledge, of course, can be incomplete and imperfect, and therefore the disagreement of any event with our ideas about it does not yet serve as proof that it did not actually happen in reality. It is very difficult to prove the impossibility of any event. There are many things that do not correspond to the current state of affairs, but that can take place with a changed point of view. Thus, history in its relation to sources is a conservative science. We must assume of every writer that he is an honest and knowledgeable person. Therefore, if, while reading a historian, objection after objection grows in us, and if in the end we form the conviction that we are dealing with a historian who is mediocre, unreliable, contradicting himself, who tells about events with which the interests of his party are connected, then even then we cannot eliminate his story from our critical apparatus until we find a true source that would reveal to us the lies of the first. Until then, it remains to be assumed that if the author wrote incorrectly in one case, then in another case he could have told the truth. It would be detrimental to historical science if we, on the grounds that the known information is unreliable, did not begin to use all the information of the author. If this principle were strictly followed, then the books on many historical departments would have to be closed. The historian must observe a sense of proportion or have special tact. Thus, here it comes down not to knowledge, but to tact. Often historians, distinguished by their wit, testifying to the deep fund of their historical knowledge, give false results in their research. This kind of critical work only gives rise to hesitation and doubt. Usually, depending on how the historian and his era are configured, the volume of what is considered reliable in history is also reduced. Therefore, “historical criticism” should be looked at not so much as a science, but as an art, where the skill and instinct of the historian, his experience, which cannot be precisely defined in his actions, gives the measure for the application of the scientific provisions of historical criticism. A mind without a sense of proportion, uncritical or hypercritical, can only pollute the scientific perspective with its objections and introduce skeptical uncertainty into the realm of the certain. The task of a historian making criticism, most of all in this case, can be compared with the task of a judge trying a case, or a juror in a trial. From the totality of available data, he must extract the most credible evidence. But the most important thing in this comparison is that the judge must work according to special laws, different from the laws of logic. A judge must have a sense of proportion. Irrelevant guidance by formal logic would never have allowed him to solve even one problem. He should always have let the culprit go with the words: “non dico.” But the judge judges because he must pronounce something definite, i.e. whether the defendant is guilty or not guilty, based on precisely these insufficient data. His sense of proportion must determine for him the weight of the evidence: he must know on which side the onus probandi lies, and accordingly he accuses the defendant or acquits him. Suppose a person would have to prove ownership of an object. According to the law, it would sometimes be possible to take away from a person his rightful property, because there is no such evidence that would fully prove that a certain thing really belongs to the one who claims his rights to it. And in historical matters one often has to deal with insufficient evidence. The most modest demands of scientific criticism can be made, in which the known evidence may be insufficient. But, obviously, this cannot be presented by a historian by profession, but only by some outsider. One can even make the following judgment: if a known historical monument is suspicious, then it is better not to use it, although history provides sufficient lessons when suspected monuments turned out to be true, but such a logical presentation is reminiscent of the logic of a doctor who advises his patient to abstain from drinking if he cannot use absolutely clean water. In choosing facts, a historian should be guided not by strictly logical laws, but by ordinary everyday tact: to accept what is doubtful and what is reliable at first glance to reject in view of one or another relationship to the entire mass of facts. As an example, let us point out what can be done with criticism without flair even with such a reliable fact as the baptism of Emperor Constantine the Great shortly before his death in Nicomedia. Eusebius speaks about this, followed by Socrates, Sozomen and Theodoret, who depend on him. Consequently, the reliability of the news here depends essentially on the reliability of Eusebius alone. Eusebius, in his work “The Life of Constantine” (IV, 57–64), says that Constantine the Great, preparing for a campaign against the Persians in 337, celebrated Easter, fell ill and went to the warm waters of Elenopolis. Feeling the approach of death, he accepted the catechumenate, and then convened the bishops and expressed a desire to be baptized, explaining that he had long had a desire to be baptized, but put it off because he wanted to be baptized in the waters of the Jordan, and promising, if he recovered, to lead a Christian life. After this, Constantine was baptized and thanked the Lord. When his warriors and associates expressed fear that he would soon die, he said that a new life had now begun for him. But there is another news according to which Constantine the Great was baptized before the victory over Licinius, therefore, around 323, in the city of Rome, at the hands of Bishop Sylvester, after he was healed of leprosy. It is read by Theophan the Confessor († 818) in his chronicle (a. 5814, cf. 5828). But it is known that already in the 3rd quarter of the 6th century. The Acts of Sylvester were translated from Greek into Syriac in the 6th century. received the final version. Their origin can be traced back to the 5th century. In the West, the story of Constantine's baptism in Rome is found in one of the editions of the Liber pontificalis, in the Catalogus Felicianus. If we imagine that these Acts were translated into Greek from Latin, then we can assume that they were compiled according to some ancient records. Thus, in principle, there can be no question of the equality of the Acts with the history of Eusebius. And if we understand this news as coming from certain individuals, then, according to Theophanes, considerations in favor of Eusebius fall. The question is, could Eusebius be telling the truth? If Constantine was baptized in Rome, a place so distant from Eusebius, then the latter could not know the whole truth. And if he could know, did he want to convey it correctly? Theophanes decides this question negatively, since he sees Arian tendencies in Eusebius. He presents Eusebius's story as a tendentious invention of the Arians in order to cast a shadow on Constantine and the first ecumenical council. Thus, since Eusebius could not know, his news may be unreliable, but at the same time it is tendentious. For his part, Theophanes explains in detail his conclusion about the baptism of Constantine in Rome, referring, among other things, to the fact that they remember the baptismal church in which Constantine was baptized. And the news of Constantine’s baptism in the last part of his life makes the activity of the emperor, who was present and discussed at the first ecumenical council, strange. It turns out, according to Eusebius, that Constantine took part in the church affairs of the Christian church, while still a pagan, and had communication with the fathers of the church without communing with them, and that, finally, Constantine was baptized by an Arian bishop. Here is a Byzantine attempt to cast a shadow on the message of Eusebius. Thus, already in the 9th century. objective criticism of the sources was carried out. Of course, a certain amount of justice should be given to such a remark, since otherwise the activities of Constantine would receive an undesirable bifurcation and, of course, it would be better for the interests of Orthodoxy if such a bifurcation did not exist. But if you compare the details of the news of Eusebius and the Acts of Sylvester, you will get many elements that, taken together, will make it clear where the historical truth lies. The Acts are characterized by their anonymity, which forces one to believe more in another message about the time and place of Constantine’s baptism, since it is customary to give preference to the news whose author is reliably known (although such preference is not unconditional). Secondly, it is also characteristic that the second edition of the Acts presents itself as a translation of the Greek work of Eusebius. This statement eliminates the reason to think that in the West the truth of the message of the Acts was confirmed by the local archives. The authenticity of the legend is supported, as we see, by a reference to Eusebius of Caesarea, by which this legend is sufficiently undermined in literary terms. If, further, we pay attention to whether the author of the Acts knew the whole truth about the baptism of Constantine and whether he had the desire to tell it, then the first question, due to the anonymity of the author, remains unanswered; the answer to the second question will not be in his favor: the tendency in his message is undeniable. He notices a desire to put the first Christian emperor in touch with the foremost bishop of the West and to present his entire life and work as strictly Orthodox. Thus, the bias of which Eusebius was accused falls back on the compiler of the Acts. The story itself, from an objective point of view, seems unreliable, because it talks about many miracles. The mention of miracles in itself is not yet a sign of unreliability, but miracles are miracles because they are not repeated often, but there are a lot of them here. The historian cannot deny the authenticity of the story about the emperor’s illness, such as leprosy, and the prescription of pagan doctors who promised the emperor recovery if he took a bath of warm baby blood. At first glance it seems hardly possible that the priests, representatives of the religious element, would come forward with such a remedy; if, finally, it was possible, it was very risky. But to us, familiar with the techniques of ancient medicine, it may not seem surprising that such a remedy was proposed. From the story of Theodorit, we know that doctors of the time of Julian, if a person was eaten alive by worms, cut up fat birds and put pieces around their sore spots in the hope that the worms would turn to the birds as more tasty food, although, from the point of view of modern medicine, such a recipe can only increase rotting. In any case, however, this recipe was risky. Moreover, if Emperor Constantine had been struck by this kind of disease, then the pagan writers, hostile to Constantine, would not have kept silent about this circumstance. On the contrary, the elements that do not favor Eusebius in his story are explained very easily. First of all, Eusebius himself does not attach particular importance to the fact that Constantine was baptized by Eusebius of Nicomedia: he does not emphasize it. In addition, Eusebius of Caesarea himself reports that Constantine invited many neighboring bishops to Nicomedia, so from this one can already see that Eusebius in his story about the baptism of the emperor is alien to the tendency in favor of people infected with Arianism. Further, the detail in Eusebius’s narrative that Constantine expressed a desire to be baptized in the Jordan is very natural for the worldview of the first Christian emperor. Finally, although the participation of Constantine in the activities of the first ecumenical council indicated by Eusebius before his baptism is not entirely convenient and pleasant for pious feelings, neither Sozomen, nor Socrates, nor Theodoret rejects it; and the analogy with Constantine shows that there is nothing strange or incredible here: Constantine postponed his baptism until the end of his days and at the same time took an active part in church councils. This circumstance could seem strange only to writers of the 9th century, when it had already become a widespread custom to perform baptism in infancy. In general, Eusebius does not at all emphasize the fact of the baptism of Constantine the Great, and he could hardly treat it tendentiously; for him, as a man of the 4th century, the baptism of Constantine did not have the important and special meaning that Western historians gave it. Eusebius knew well that many noble people of his time were baptized before death, that Constantine was a good Christian even before baptism, if he granted freedom of religion, participated in councils, etc. Having reduced the matter of Constantine's conversion to Christ to the psychological side, Eusebius was not interested in who and when Constantine received baptism. Thus, comparing the details, we come to the conclusion that preference should be given to Eusebius. And the fact that Byzantine historiography accepted the “Acts of Sylvester” only shows its unscientific nature. And if some new scholars would like to believe more in the message of the Acts, then usually such persons interested in it immediately paint their research in a special color: they say that it is more pious to receive baptism from the pope and it is more natural for the Equal-to-the-Apostles (Constantine) to be baptized by a saint (Pope Sylvester) than by an Arian heretic, such as Eusebius of Nicomedia. From this reasoning it is clear that the apologists for the papal baptism of Constantine follow an extraneous current; their arguments are marked by bias and it is not difficult to undermine their significance - one has only to re-read both accounts of the baptism of Constantine. The news of Eusevievo is striking in its neutrality, and the tendency attributed by Catholics to elevate Arianism, forcing St. Constantine to be baptized by an Arian. c) The task that the history of the ancient church can set itself when presenting critically verified information about the events of ancient church life is, of necessity, very modest. Much is desirable, but very little is possible - everything is determined by the sources available to us. One can talk a lot about the tasks and methods of constructing a new history when it has a whole archive of sources; It is strange to talk about such broad tasks and desirable methods in relation to ancient history, when all the material is contained in a few books. This state of the literature does not allow us to make broad generalizations and constructions that are theoretically tempting. You can strive for various kinds of plans - like constructing a story from one idea, but you can have many, many doubts about the correctness of such a construction. How much can the philosophy of history understand - it lies on the knees of the gods, and considering historical facts from the point of view of any idea - does not mean preparing for the majority of them a Procrustean bed on which they will be trimmed according to a predetermined standard. That is why, for example, the constructions of Gorsky, who wanted to construct periods of church history according to the three hypostases of the Holy Trinity, can hardly be given scientific significance. But there are other dangers in the pragmatic construction of history: by establishing a pragmatic connection between events, one can go into psychologization, that is, into explaining events by the personal properties of historical figures. This psychologizing poses a great danger, because in nine out of ten cases a historian can become a victim of his fantasy and instead of history, the result will be a historical novel. In the simplest life, actions flow from such complex motives that we are not able to accurately determine the motive for the activities of those around us. Often we provide motives that are not the ones that actually guide a person. If we take individuals of the highest rank, for example political figures, then the danger of mistakes increases tenfold. Brilliant personalities amaze with the unexpectedness of their actions; it is impossible to determine their modus agendi; their actions reveal some special angles of vision that seem unexpected to a contemporary; The complexity of the genius soul is such that for outsiders it is full of contradictions. In this case, they usually point to bl. Augustine, an outstanding personality; he built a system that often contradicts itself in its parts. Thus, church history in the ancient period can be set with a modest goal - to establish a connection between nearby events, without setting the goal of erecting a harmonious, completely finished building from the links of these events. 4. Objectivity and confessionalism in church history The ethical side of history was clarified quite a long time ago for ancient authors. The very concept of history also indicates the qualities that a historian should possess. A historian is someone who saw an event with his own eyes. The historian is an eyewitness, and an eyewitness can never lie to himself. That is why, from the point of view of a historian, even the fact that the sun sets in the west is an undoubted truth, although from the point of view of a Gnostic it is a complete fallacy. Thus, the knowledge of the “historian” is an undoubted truth for himself, and he must pass it on to others without any distortion. Therefore, the greatest love of truth must be an essential quality of a historian. This requirement most closely applies to the historian-everyday writer describing his historical observations. But it is no less applicable to the historian in the proper sense. By saying this, we seem to be making a strange demand, since truth is the basic element of any science. But this requirement has long been made of history. Thus, Lucian says that “those who intend to write history must sacrifice to truth alone” (mónh futéon th álhfeía, e_'í ti_s ístorían gráfwn i:oi). In relation to the “historian”, such service to the truth should be placed as a special requirement, because lies in history are both the most criminal and the most harmful. It is criminal because it is undoubtedly conscious and cannot be an error, as in gnosis. It is harmful because it is irreparable, in contrast to, for example, mathematics and other deductive sciences, where anyone can correct a mistake by a simple check. History proceeds in a synthetic way; there is relatively little analysis here; it must rest on eyewitness accounts, for it speaks of objects that existed. Therefore, a historian-witness who does not tell the truth causes irreparable harm, unless he is the only witness to a known event. On the other hand, the position of the historian, who understands the evidence that has reached him, is, as already noted, similar to that of a judge or juror in a court of law. The latter must make every effort to establish a known fact and make a decisive judgment; must find out the qualities of witnesses and force them to tell the truth. These responsibilities also fall on the historian. As a servant of truth, he morally cannot be responsible for his data, for the character - sad or joyful - of the reported events, and no one can blame him for this. The historian must always remember these duties and take into account what Cicero demands from a conscientious speaker: “not to say anything untrue and not to conceal anything true” (ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid veri dicere non audeat). In a word, despite the fact that the historian starts from subjective data, despite the fact that his science is subjective, he must strive to make it objective: it is not he who must control the facts, but the facts by him. This does not take us into the area of ​​the question of objectivity in history. Against this understanding of love for truth in the historian, in the sense of an objective attitude towards facts, an objection can be raised in relation to church history, which can be quite strong. As a theological science, it raises the following question: science wants to know something unknown to it, but theology has as its content what is already known - this is its main position in all religions. And such a concept of theology contradicts the concept of science in general. The subject of theology is given in advance, and thus, in essence, it cannot be free from subjectivity. This objection must be weakened primarily in relation to church history. There is not much that is devoted, dogmatic, in its content. Changes in the life of the church, even negative phenomena (heresies), are of no small importance for the positive understanding of the doctrine and, however, not all are included in the area of ​​sacred tradition. But this objection is removable by its very essence, because it attacks not only the theological sciences, but also the sciences in general. One really needs to doubt this: is science looking for only the unknown? What is known in theology seems to be a limitation of its scientific character because this known is given the meaning of something only theoretically given in advance, and is not looked at as it should be, that is, as an objective theological fact. And every science takes into account facts and axioms. For example, astronomy considers it a triumph if the theoretical calculation of the astronomer-counter exactly coincides with the readings of the astronomer-observer. The same is true in physics and philology. And the scientific sought-after (x) is often not the result itself, which may already be known in advance (for example, an eclipse of the sun, the phase of the moon), but a method that agrees the premises with this conclusion. Actually, when applied to church history, the question of subjectivism turns into the question of the confessional element. Sometimes they demand that history be not only general Christian history, but also the history of a particular Christian denomination. A demand made on such a scale would be illegal, because history in this form would become a complete negation of the idea of ​​historical knowledge. But within the limits of legality, the confessionalism of a historian is a completely natural phenomenon and not contrary to scientific objectivity. That absolute objectivity is an impossible thing is as obvious as it is obvious that absolutely pure water and air are impossible. However, both clean water and clean air are actually possible. The same should be said about our objectivity in the field of history. Here the point is only to prevent the subjectivity of the artificial in history as the deliberate implementation of a certain trend. A person cannot come, when starting to study this or that subject, to a state of “tabula rasa” (“blank slate”); he always approaches it with a certain content and will always be prejudiced. But this prejudice in each individual case is not yet an inevitable phenomenon, it is not a necessary property from which it would be impossible to free oneself. History has the church as its subject, and the church is the pillar and ground of the truth (1 Tim. 3:15); everyone sees the truth in the church to which they belong, and this confessionalism is considered by many to be an obstacle to objectivity. Meanwhile, without this element, the story turns into something colorless. The reason for the misunderstanding is that instead of the historical concept of the church, they put the dogmatic concept. Dogmatically, the church is defined as holy, while the catechism directly poses the question: how is the church holy if there are sinful members in it? Those who sin belong to the historical church, but they are classified as dogmatic. Objectivity requires a faithful portrayal of the historical church. You cannot see only light in your church and shadows in another. Subjective by nature, we can somewhat rise above subjectivity, examining an object from all sides, as we examine a building. If you examine the building from one side, from one portal, you may not notice much about it: if you look at the church only from the entrance, you may not notice the altar; When examining, you need to look at all available points of view as much as possible. Likewise, in relation to the events under study, we must move to different points, take different points of view, and perform in relation to them the functions that the court performs. With this attitude to the matter, of course, we recognize that in the churches that broke off from the Catholic Church there are many bright sides that are not in the Catholic Church, and that the members of the Catholic Church were not always high in the means and ends of their activities, therefore, their belonging to our church cannot justify all their actions. We recognize that some phenomena should not exist, others should be better. This way, light and shadows will be distributed evenly; you just need to make sure that the historical church does not diverge in the main thing from its ideal; to defend everything existing in one's church as something perfect would be false confessionalism. Historical objective material should also dominate the Orthodox historian, and he should: only illuminate it from the Orthodox point of view, that is, point out precisely those aspects of the facts that are important for the Orthodox, but should not see, at all costs, his Orthodox desiderata (“desires, demands”) realized: this would lead to a distortion of historical data. Consequently, confessional beliefs, faith in the truth of one’s church may not at all prevent the historian from striving for the truth. And whoever sets out to be completely objective takes a point of view that is unnatural for him, and in essence, it is impossible to be a historian from the point of view of a religion other than his own. Therefore, the historian should feel like a member of his church and should not deviate from the church point of view: even where the weakness of his point of view is felt, he should not give up his work. It can be assumed that on certain issues of dogma, the Orthodox parties conduct things more consistently, that in the church to which the confessional historian belongs, not everything can be light, there is also a dark side: it is only necessary that in the main and essential things the church corresponds to its basic principle, for if the historian comes to the conviction that his church does not have a historical basis, is not true, then he must reject it and move to another, which he recognizes as true, Orthodox. In general, the truth of religion for a Christian is only a concrete expression of truth in general. He adheres to his religion precisely because he sees in it evidence of truth in dogma and history, and is obliged to abandon it if he has come to the conviction that the truth is not on the side of his church. This is the axiom from which Christian polemics have proceeded at all times. But it is obvious that confessionalism expresses the truth only in the main thing, and in particulars it may not exist. The difference between the currently existing religions, from the point of view of their relationship to Christian antiquity, is even raised by some to a principle. But, if you look closely, this difference turns out to be not so much fundamental as methodological. Actually, those psychological types that are characteristic of the main religions of Europe can be observed in any, not particularly disciplined school, where the inclinations of children are not suppressed. Take the moment when such a school experiences the submission of some translation or arithmetic problem. Children of different temperaments will react differently to written work and to solving a problem. If the children are not constrained, it is quite natural that after submission, discussions about the work begin, and here it is discovered that some, not particularly talented, but not bad students, amaze with their amazing calmness; they are so calm about the result that they do not consider it necessary to worry and reason, if they have followed all the rules of arithmetic, they are content with their result, and as others have decided, they do not worry about it. But at the same time, we will find other children who, having made sure that so-and-so under number was always the first to solve problems correctly, turn to him and are happy if their solutions coincide with his solution, and are upset if the solutions diverge: they thus rely on authority. But there are people of a different nature who discuss the issue with anyone who takes it seriously, listen to conversations and are able to overestimate the result of their work. The first type is the Protestant type, as it developed historically. He does not worry about the beliefs of others, but bases everything on his own reason. Protestants allow complete freedom in the interpretation of Holy Scripture, rejecting the authority of the Holy Fathers, and pass this off as their principle developed by them. Meanwhile, this is not a principle testifying to a high mind, but is a necessary method of combating Catholicism caused by historical circumstances. Historically, initially, things in Protestantism were not at all like this: Protestantism did not inherit its conceit from Luther. The distinction between formal and material principles in Protestantism appeared by chance. Historically, at this point there was a complete distortion of Luther's idea. Now this is a dogmatic principle, then it was a polemical principle to which Luther was forced by circumstances. When he had a dispute with the papists regarding the abuses of the papal system and he began to prove their inconsistency with Holy Scripture, then tricks began on the part of his opponents in the sense of shelving the matter. They said that it was necessary to turn to the works of the holy fathers, which had not yet been published and were kept in different libraries. Success in this dispute became impossible for Luther, and he was forced to say that he renounced the authority of Tradition and recognized only the authority of Scripture. However, this principle, caused by the moment, later became a dogmatic principle, corresponding to the mental makeup of the Protestants. The requirement that believers be guided by their own authority can be considered in itself high and, in a certain sense, correct. But, on the other hand, presented as an unconditional principle, it can lead to moral complacency and complete superficiality. Protestants in dogmatics are wrong, because Christ from this point of view should not have said: where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them, i.e. there is a church (Matthew 18:20); It would be enough to say that if there is one believer, he will form a church. Whoever proclaims the absolute freedom of his personal understanding will end up asking questions regarding the books of Holy Scripture that will lead to the denial of Holy Scripture. Church history, from a Protestant point of view, is something indifferent; The Protestant does not recognize any authority behind it - the Holy Scripture alone is enough for him, or, more precisely, his personal opinion, and he uses history as something optional. This was reflected, for example, in the question of the hierarchical structure of Protestant society. Church history cannot but hurt his eyes, because hierarchy, according to history, has always existed in the church. He, evading the evidence of history, wants to prove at all costs that even in the time of the apostles the church had a Protestant structure. The second type of schoolchild is a born papist. God knows under what psychological layers this type developed. These are weak people, in need of external support, people who are strangers and foreigners, who are inclined to favor the one who spoke last. There are many such people, so papism will always have many supporters, because it is not easy to think and it is better to place responsibility for everything on the holy father. And papists can be completely indifferent to the church and its history. In view of the depressing burden of various doubts and perplexities on religious and church issues, they try to find for themselves evidence from outsiders, an authority on which they could rely when resolving certain issues, and such an authority for them is the pope. It is very characteristic that they supplemented their definition of the church by calling it Roman. The Catholic world spoke out fully at the Vatican Council, where the infallibility of the pope was recognized when he speaks ex cathedra (“from the pulpit”). Thus, it is natural for the Catholic world to have an indifferent attitude towards the church and church history. But since it is impossible to completely renounce the services of history and it is necessary to take it into account, the Catholic historian finds himself in the most unfortunate position and is sometimes even a harmful figure, since he tendentiously disposes of the material, and the material does not possess it, as it should. On the contrary, the third type is the type of true Catholic in its best definition. Catholicism is, in fact, a view according to which it is recognized that it is necessary to deal with the entire Catholic Church, and since the whole is always equal to itself, authority is placed in the background here. The papal system is built on the fact that moral principles are replaced by legal ones; Once something is defined, it no longer needs to be defined. The Catholic Church makes it possible to reconsider known truths. Probably ninety-seven out of 100 believe that we are closer to Roman Catholicism than to Protestantism. In fact, despite the proclamation of freedom, Protestantism is still closer to us, because where there is no personal conviction, there is no faith. When a pagan converts to Christianity, we demand that he personally rise above his ancestors, that he think for himself and not refer to their authority. The very conversion to Christianity is built on the beginning of personality. Everything we do not accept in Protestantism is based on the abuse of this personal principle. Practical life shows that, despite freedom of opinion, we often willingly give up the rights of personal understanding. We assume that mathematics is alien to the theologian and philologist; but he has to do the math. If there is a disagreement between a calculation and a specialist mathematician, we will suspect in the depths of our souls that it was we who made the mistake, and not the mathematician, even though our calculations were in fact more correct than the mathematician’s calculations. The same must be said regarding the authority of the holy fathers. The Orthodox Church provides freedom of theological inquiry and opinion to everyone. It does not demand from us that, if we disagree in anything with the opinions of the holy fathers and teachers of the church, we kill our personal convictions, but demands that we take our time, that we see whether we are making leaps in our reasoning that are imperceptible to ourselves. From what has been said it is clear that the importance of church history for an Orthodox theologian is greater than for a Catholic and Protestant. For a Protestant, this is an indifferent witness; for a Catholic it is a witness who often has to be forced to say what he does not want. For a Protestant, the strength and center of gravity lies in himself. For a Catholic, the papal belief is important, which replaces everything for him. The Orthodox theologian hears in history the voice of the church, scattered not only in space but also in time - a voice that is irreplaceable (quod semper, ubique et ab omnibus creditum est; “that which has always and everywhere been an object of faith for everyone”). Consciousness of oneself not as a whole, but as part of the Catholic Church, makes room for a correct assessment of other voices. For him, even the testimonies of societies that do not now belong to the Catholic Church are important, especially the ancient testimonies, since these latter are the voice of the universal church. The fact that these testimonies do not always cover our modern views to the point of identity should not frighten the Orthodox theologian, since he considers himself an exponent of only a certain local moment, and therefore should not refuse testimony to others. On the contrary, any evidence that fully confirms his point of view is especially important for him, because it is the testimony of the Catholic Church. The various types of psychological types in which the three main Christian doctrines are expressed are of direct importance in the question of the possibility of using scientific and theological works belonging to persons of different faiths. It is clear that Protestant works are, in the main and essential things for an Orthodox theologian, more sympathetic than Catholic ones. The reason for this must be sought not in religion, but in the main feature that distinguishes Catholics - their complete dependence on papal omnipotence. It should be noted that in some respects it is more convenient to use the works of Roman Catholic theologians, since a Catholic may be interested in many aspects of church life that a Protestant passes by indifferently; for example, in the question of ancient church services, a Catholic dwells with interest on the form of vestments, while a Protestant, not recognizing any church vestments, treats this issue completely indifferently, and therefore the archaeological research of Catholic scientists is undoubtedly much more respectful and meaningful. But the works of Protestant historians can be used with greater safety than the works of Catholic historians. I'm not talking about tendencies that usually appear clearly: a mature mind will know how to react to them, they are simply unacceptable from the point of view of its doctrine. The important thing is that Protestant historians are more objective in relation to many historical facts, since for them it is not difficult. They have settled accounts with tradition and have no reason to hide that the institutions of the ancient church do not correspond to their modern ones. They impartially treat various kinds of church-historical facts, depicting them as they happened and as understood by them. For Protestants, only the apostolic church matters, which they, in their conviction, are restoring; but they cannot deny themselves the desire to emphasize the dark phenomena in the life of the church in later periods, since for them there is no incentive to present the truth differently from how it appears. Ancient church history represents for them only an earlier point of view: then they thought one way, now they thought differently, and therefore they do not consider it obligatory for themselves to bring ancient orders into harmony with modern ones. The Protestant recognizes the right to be guided by personal opinion, but he has no incentive to form this opinion incorrectly, and nothing obliges him to come to a conclusion at odds with the opinion of the ancient authors. He may even sacrifice his views. But this is not the position of the Roman Catholic in relation to the facts of ancient church history. He has the burden of papism on his shoulders. He, according to the immutability of church teaching, recognizes that what exists now has always been in the same form. And since there are too few questions of church life in which papism is not interested, the Catholic historian almost always must allow various kinds of stretches, sometimes even unconscious ones. A Catholic can rarely reason sine ira et studio (“without anger or partiality”), and the celebrated techniques of some Catholic scholars resemble falsification. Reading Catholic works, especially if we know that the author belongs to the Ultramontanes, we can never get rid of a feeling of distrust of his testimony and look at them as not free from papal influence. The history of the Catholic represents that monotony which must always conform to papal commands. Any sharp protest is unfavorable for a Catholic, which is why he changes many things in order to carry out the dominant view. Thus, in all those cases where the course of conciliar meetings is marked by ignorance of papal interests, the Catholic has to resort to various kinds of overexposure and repainting of existing facts. This is especially striking in the matter of celibacy: there are even scholars who find an apostolic institution in celibacy. Both Protestant and Catholic scholars clearly express their denominational tendencies. But a Protestant is not interested in repainting church-historical facts, like a Catholic, especially since the latter is still subject to censorship and his true views cannot always be expressed. According to the usual order of subjects that are usually treated in introductions to science, the question of the usefulness of church history should be raised. But we consider this unnecessary; for the history of all sciences shows that every science only became useful when it abandoned all concern about being useful and pretending to be so. For example, let's take two sciences: chemistry and astronomy. Chemistry began with alchemy, the goal of which was the invention of gold. She did not invent gold, but, renouncing all aspirations to be useful, she came to the point that she began to represent a coherent doctrine and became a useful science. Likewise, astronomy began with astrology. The desire to know the will of the gods forced astrologers to peer into the starry sky all night long, to observe the flow of the heavenly bodies, and thus the science of astronomy was born. Currently, the astronomer is undertaking Egyptian work in compiling the astronomical calendar. Knowing that no one would read this book after him, he would have fallen into despair if he had not expected that his calculations could save, for example, the entire crew of a ship wandering at sea. Wed. V.V. Bolotov, From the history of the Syro-Persian Church. Christ. Thurs. 1899, II, 796 notes. (separate print, 75). (A.B.) – 12. You might be interested in: