Archbishop Alexander Golitzin: A Theological-Intelligence Briefing

Biographical Background and Formation

Early Life and Academic Formation

Archbishop Alexander (secular name Alexander George Golitzin) was born on May 27, 1948 in Burbank, California, into a family of mixed Russian-American heritage .  His father, Yuri Golitzin, hailed from a princely Russian lineage, making Alexander a descendant of the historic Golitzin princely line .  Growing up in an Orthodox Christian home (attending Saint Innocent Church in Tarzana, CA) instilled in him a deep affinity for the Church from an early age. He pursued higher education at the University of California, Berkeley, earning a Bachelor of Arts in English in 1970 . This liberal arts foundation was soon augmented by formal theological training: in 1973 he received a Master of Divinity from St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary .

At St. Vladimir’s, Alexander fell under the mentorship of renowned Orthodox theologian Fr. John Meyendorff, who recognized his promise in patristic studies . With Meyendorff’s guidance and recommendation, Alexander embarked on doctoral studies at the University of Oxford. There he studied under Bishop Kallistos (Timothy Ware) of Diokleia – a preeminent Orthodox scholar – focusing his research on the mystical theology of St. Dionysius the Areopagite . His Oxford years (1973–1980) were formative: he earned his D.Phil. in 1980 after seven years of intensive work, including examination by prominent scholars Sebastian Brock and Henry Chadwick . Bishop Kallistos Ware’s influence was especially significant; not only did Ware supervise Golitzin’s dissertation on Dionysian mysticism , but he also modeled an irenic, scholarly approach to Orthodox theology. (It is worth noting that Met. Kallistos himself later became known for his open stance on eschatological hope – an outlook that would resonate in aspects of Alexander’s own theology .)

Monastic Experience and Spiritual Influences

During his doctoral studies, Alexander Golitzin spent two years in Greece to immerse himself in living Orthodox monastic tradition . One pivotal year was spent at Simonos Petras Monastery on Mount Athos under the spiritual direction of Elder Aimilianos (Vafeidis) . This Athonite sojourn proved decisive in shaping Golitzin’s understanding of mysticism and sanctity. In his own retrospective words, on Mount Athos he discovered that “the holy man was not a distant ideal or a literary topos… but a reality” . Under Elder Aimilianos’s guidance, the young scholar experienced firsthand the ascetical and hesychastic spirituality that he had until then only studied in texts. The Elder – himself steeped in the Philokalic tradition – impressed upon Alexander a vivid sense of living theologia, where theology is verified in prayer and transformed lives, not merely in academic discourse . This experience grounded Golitzin’s academic pursuits in lived faith and ignited his enduring fascination with the mystical dimension of the Church.

Golitzin formally embraced the monastic path shortly after returning to the United States. He was ordained to the Holy Diaconate on January 23, 1982 and to the Priesthood on February 26, 1984 . In 1986, he was tonsured a monk by Elder Aimilianos at Simonos Petras, taking the monastic name Alexander (retaining his baptismal name) . This monastic tonsure solidified his identity as a scholar-monk, combining academic rigor with ascetic discipline. Elder Aimilianos remained a key spiritual influence; decades later, Golitzin would honor him in scholarship (e.g. dedicating an essay on Aphrahat of Persia to Archimandrite Aimilianos ). The Athonite imprint is evident throughout Golitzin’s life – in his emphasis on hesychasm, prayer of the heart, and the experiential knowledge of God.

Academic Career and Patristic Scholarship

After completing his doctorate, Fr. Alexander returned to the United States, bringing with him a rare blend of top-tier academic training and Athonite spiritual formation. In 1989, he joined the faculty of Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, as a professor of theology . Over the next 23 years, he distinguished himself as a leading expert in early Christian mysticism, patristics, and the Jewish roots of Christian spiritual tradition . He taught courses in patristics (the theology of the Church Fathers) and mentored numerous graduate students, several of whom were themselves Orthodox Christians drawn to his expertise . His mentorship helped these students gain “a clearer understanding of their own theological and spiritual legacy” , effectively bridging the gap between scholarly study and ecclesial tradition.

Fr. Alexander’s scholarly output during his Marquette tenure was prolific. He authored and edited works delving into Eastern Christian mysticism, apocalyptic literature, and ascetical theology. Key publications include “Mystagogy: A Monastic Reading of Dionysius Areopagita” (his published doctoral research) and numerous articles exploring the spiritual theology of figures like St. Macarius of Egypt, Pseudo-Dionysius, St. Symeon the New Theologian, and St. Gregory Palamas . A hallmark of Golitzin’s approach was to locate Christian mystical theology firmly within its Second Temple Jewish and early Christian apocalyptic context . He argued that Orthodox liturgy and spirituality draw deeply from ancient Jewish worship and visionary traditions, a thesis he championed through what came to be called the “Theophaneia School” – an informal forum he led with his doctoral students examining the Jewish matrix of Eastern Christian mysticism . He often noted that the Church, from New Testament times onward, has continually drawn from “the patrimony of biblical and post-biblical Israel… to frame her dogmas, voice her praises, and describe the Christian calling as embodied in her saints” . This emphasis on Christianity’s continuity with Jewish apocalyptic imagery set him apart within Orthodox academia – “a lonely voice in the larger Orthodox scholarly community,” as one observer put it . Nonetheless, Golitzin maintained that neglecting these Jewish roots impoverishes our understanding of the Church Fathers, liturgical texts, and monastic spirituality . His interdisciplinary breadth – spanning patristics, biblical studies, and even pseudepigraphal literature – underscored an intellectually progressive bent, willing to engage non-Christian sources to illuminate Orthodox theology. This openness, however, was always coupled with a commitment to Orthodox tradition and fidelity.

In addition to research, Fr. Alexander was esteemed as a teacher. By the time he retired from Marquette in April 2012 (as Professor Emeritus), he had helped form a new generation of Orthodox scholars . Under his tutelage, the so-called “Theophaneia School” brought fresh insight into how early Jewish mystical texts (e.g. the Hekhalot literature, Qumran writings) shed light on Christian doctrines of theophany, angelology, and heavenly worship . This academic legacy reflects Golitzin’s dual identity as innovator and guardian: he pushes the boundaries of scholarly exploration, yet always with an eye to enriching the Church’s self-understanding.

Ecclesiastical Service and Elevation

Alongside academia, Alexander Golitzin remained an active clergyman. Throughout the 1980s, he served in parish and missionary settings – notably assisting in Orthodox mission parishes in northern California and chairing the Diocese of the West’s mission committee . His pastoral work, though less publicized than his scholarship, demonstrated his commitment to evangelism and the practical needs of the Church. He balanced classroom and altar, linking theory and praxis.

In 2011, after over two decades as a priest-scholar, Archimandrite Alexander was nominated to the episcopacy. The Bulgarian Diocese of the Orthodox Church in America (OCA) – a jurisdiction serving communities of Bulgarian and Macedonian heritage in North America – had been searching for a new bishop since the repose of its long-time hierarch, Abp. Kirill (Yonchev) in 2007 . Fr. Alexander’s name emerged among 22 candidates considered, and he was ultimately elected by the diocesan congress (sobor) in June 2011 as their choice to lead the diocese . In October 2011, the OCA Holy Synod of Bishops confirmed this selection by canonically electing him Bishop of Toledo and the Bulgarian Diocese . His consecration took place on May 5, 2012 at St. George Orthodox Cathedral in Rossford, Ohio, making him the second ruling bishop of that diocese . The event was attended by hierarchs of the OCA and other jurisdictions, underscoring the broad esteem he enjoyed in the Orthodox community.

Bishop Alexander’s responsibilities expanded further in 2016. On March 29, 2016, he was elected by the Holy Synod to the vacant see of Dallas and the South (the principal diocese covering the southeastern United States in the OCA) . This unusual arrangement – one bishop concurrently shepherding two separate dioceses (the Diocese of the South and the Bulgarian Diocese) – speaks to the Synod’s confidence in his abilities. He was enthroned in Dallas on June 11, 2016 . In the spring of 2017, the Synod elevated him to the rank of Archbishop, in recognition of his service and to properly distinguish his seniority . As Archbishop of Dallas, the South, and the Bulgarian Diocese, he now oversees a geographically and culturally diverse flock, from traditional immigrant parishes to mission congregations across the American South.

Throughout his ecclesiastical rise, Abp. Alexander has been shaped by key influences. Metropolitan Kallistos Ware, his doctoral advisor, instilled in him an expansive, compassionate vision of Orthodoxy engaged with the modern world – a vision that arguably mirrors Abp. Alexander’s own approach to challenging theological issues. Elder Aimilianos of Simonopetra gave him a living model of holiness and spiritual discernment, which continues to inform his pastoral sensitivity and emphasis on prayer. We also see the influence of 20th-century Orthodox theologians like Fr. Alexander Schmemann and Fr. John Meyendorff (who taught him and facilitated his Oxford studies ): from them, Golitzin inherited a love for the Church’s patristic heritage combined with a willingness to address contemporary realities. In short, his formation has combined academy, monastery, and pastoral field. This rich background provides the context for understanding his theological contributions – and controversies – in later years.

In summary, Archbishop Alexander Golitzin’s early life and formation equipped him with exceptional credentials. He is at once a prince by lineage, a monk by choice, a scholar by training, and a bishop by calling. The convergence of these roles has produced a unique voice in the Orthodox Church: one deeply rooted in tradition yet unafraid to engage new ideas. This dual identity lies at the heart of both the acclaim he has received and the concerns that have arisen around certain theological positions he espouses.

Theological Writings and Key Themes

Archbishop Alexander’s theological vision is multifaceted, but several prominent themes recur in his writings, lectures, and homilies. Among these are: (1) a sympathetic engagement with Origen of Alexandria and the hope of apokatastasis (universal restoration); (2) a focus on Christology and the cosmic scope of Christ’s presence, informed by mysticism; (3) a profound commitment to mystical theology and cosmology, seeing creation as suffused with divine presence; (4) the use of what some describe as “progressive” or contemporary language and frameworks when articulating theology; and (5) an inclusive, at times interfaith-minded approach, coupled with musings on the possibility of universal salvation. In this section, we will detail and critically analyze these aspects of his theology, drawing extensively from his own words and writings. Wherever possible, direct citations from his works, interviews, and sermons are provided, in order to present a well-documented account of his positions.

1. Engagement with Origen of Alexandria and the Question of 

Apokatastasis

One of the most striking (and controversial) features of Abp. Alexander’s theology is his open rehabilitation of Origen, the 3rd-century Alexandrian theologian. Origen’s speculative teachings – particularly on the pre-existence of souls and the ultimate restoration (apokatastasis) of all creation – were posthumously condemned in the 6th century (more on the conciliar condemnations in a later section). Yet, Archbishop Alexander has on several occasions spoken in favor of Origen’s legacy, carefully but clearly dissenting from the prevailing wariness toward Origen in Orthodox tradition.

In a 2019 recorded interview, for example, then-Bishop Alexander startled many listeners by stating “Origen was wrongly condemned in the 5th Council… [in fact] he’s a saint!” . This remarkable comment, captured at approximately the 26:45 mark of the interview, was later discussed by participants on an Orthodox forum, one of whom admitted: “I was scandalized when I first heard it. His Eminence says both that Origen was condemned by the Church, and that he’s a saint” . Such a dual assertion – acknowledging the formal conciliar condemnation of Origen’s teachings while personally affirming Origen’s sanctity – is emblematic of Golitzin’s nuanced stance. He seems to suggest that the character and intent of Origen were holy, even if certain doctrinal propositions attributed to him were condemned. In effect, Abp. Alexander attempts to distinguish the person from the anathemas. This view aligns with arguments made by some modern scholars (e.g. Fr. John Behr, Fr. Aidan Kimel, Ilaria Ramelli) that the anathemas of 553 AD targeted a distorted “Origenism” of later centuries, not necessarily Origen himself . Indeed, Fr. Aidan Kimel, reflecting on Golitzin’s statement, noted that “Archbishop Golitzen is clearly well acquainted with the best scholarship on both Origen and the Fifth Council. Justice and honesty require us to say that the Council Fathers made a mistake in condemning Origen – or… that the ‘Origen’ named in the heresiological list does not denote the historical Origen of Alexandria.” . Golitzin’s view appears to be in that same vein of rehabilitative reinterpretation: acknowledging Origen’s controversial ideas yet valorizing his contribution and personal holiness.

Central to Origen’s legacy is the doctrine of apokatastasis, the idea that in the end God’s love will restore all creatures (including fallen angels and damned souls) to communion with Him. This teaching was explicitly rejected by the Church in antiquity (as we will cite in conciliar canons), yet it has seen a resurgence of interest in contemporary theology. Archbishop Alexander has engaged with this topic carefully, but not without leaving clues to his own leanings. In public talks and Q&As, he often emphasizes God’s limitless love and mercy. For instance, he was quoted as saying: “Apokatastasis is but the gospel of Christ’s absolute and unconditional love sung in an eschatological key.” . This poetic formulation – “the gospel of Christ’s absolute and unconditional love sung in an eschatological key” – encapsulates the positive theological intuition behind universal restoration: that in the final horizon of time (the eschaton), the victory of God’s love will be all in all. Notably, this quote appeared as a heading on an Orthodox blog discussing universal salvation, suggesting it may have come from an interview or article by Golitzin on the subject. It certainly reflects his approach: to frame apokatastasis not as a heretical denial of hell, but as a corollary of the gospel of love.

Yet, as a sitting bishop, Alexander Golitzin has been cautious in officially endorsing universal salvation. Instead, he echoes the stance articulated by Met. Kallistos Ware and others – that one may hope and pray for the salvation of all, but one cannot preach it as a guaranteed doctrine. During a discussion in 2021, he apparently maintained that Orthodoxy permits hope for universal redemption, so long as it is not dogmatically asserted. This was summarized by a listener: “If it is now possible in Orthodoxy to say that we may hope for the salvation of all, but we must not teach it as doctrine…” . In other words, Abp. Alexander stakes out a pastorally open but doctrinally restrained position: universal salvation as a pious hope (theologoumenon), not a defined article of faith . He thus aligns with the nuanced approach of figures like Fr. Hans Urs von Balthasar (Catholic) and Met. Kallistos (Orthodox), who use the language of hope rather than certainty.

This careful language, however, has not entirely mollified critics on either side. More traditionalist voices worry that even entertaining apokatastasis as a permissible hope could sow confusion among the faithful about the reality of eternal damnation. On the other hand, outspoken advocates of universalism feel Golitzin is hedging. Indeed, one commentator remarked on the Archbishop’s reticence: “Well, this is quite different from, ‘Oh, that’s heresy. Next topic.’ I don’t get the sense he’s desperate to call a council and excommunicate [David Bentley] Hart.” . The same commentator “respectfully disagreed” with Golitzin’s cautious assessment of St. Maximus the Confessor’s views on the matter , indicating that Golitzin did not go as far as some would like in reading St. Maximus as a supporter of universal salvation. (Maximus’s own stance on apokatastasis is complex and debated, but Golitzin, a Maximus scholar himself, is surely aware of interpretations that see a “subtle supporter of Universalism” in Maximus’s writings .) In fact, Abp. Alexander’s moderate tone has disappointed some strong universalists. Fr. Aidan Kimel, a proponent of universal reconciliation, confessed “I am disappointed, to say the least” in the bishop’s restrained public comments – “Surely Bishop Alexander knows… that Maximus can be read as being a subtle supporter of Universalism… However, I also understand that bishops are not entirely free to speak plainly.” . Here we see the dynamic at play: Golitzin the scholar might personally lean towards a broader hope, but Golitzin the bishop tempers his words out of pastoral and ecclesiastical prudence . As Kimel charitably notes, “in their political role, bishops strive to keep the peace; in their pastoral role, bishops gently feed the sheep” .

What emerges, then, is a picture of Archbishop Alexander attempting to rehabilitate Origen and apokatastasis within an Orthodox framework, without overtly defying the Church’s formal teachings. He often highlights that several Church Fathers – notably St. Gregory of Nyssa and St. Isaac the Syrian – entertained or taught a version of universal restoration as a private opinion . In discussion, Golitzin has pointed out that St. Gregory of Nyssa, a revered Cappadocian Father, clearly believed in the eventual reconciliation of all things, and yet “Ware denies that Nyssen was condemned and this is what Nyssen believed” . The implication is that one of Orthodoxy’s great saints held this view and was never anathematized for it; therefore, within certain boundaries, the idea per se might not be outside the pale of Orthodox tradition (it can be viewed as a theologoumenon held by some saints, though never proclaimed dogma). Golitzin also notes that these Fathers did not couch their conviction merely in tentative “hope” language as we do now, but spoke of it plainly as their belief . This historical observation buttresses his gentle challenge to the status quo: if saints like Gregory of Nyssa taught apokatastasis outright, perhaps the anathemas of 553 were directed at specific excesses of Origenism rather than a blanket rejection of hoping for universal redemption.

It must be underscored, however, that Archbishop Alexander stops short of teaching universal salvation as certain. He maintains the tension: God’s mercy is unfathomable and we pray He will rescue all, but we do not claim to know He will. In practice, he upholds the Church’s liturgical and scriptural language about judgment and hell, while simultaneously infusing his theological reflections with the accent of mercy. For instance, in sermons he often emphasizes that God’s love wills not the death of a sinner and that Christ’s descent into Hades means there is no corner of creation bereft of His presence. These are perfectly traditional assertions, yet in Golitzin’s hands they form part of a larger hopeful narrative about eschatology.

Critics have voiced concern that this apparent sympathy for Origen’s worldview might undermine doctrinal clarity. They worry that phrases like “unconditional love in an eschatological key” downplay the equally real scriptural warnings of everlasting loss for the unrepentant . Some have gone so far as to label the modern revival of universalist ideas as a “teaching of demons” leading souls astray . In online polemics, Archbishop Alexander has been singled out by name for “rejecting the decision of 3 ecumenical councils” by calling Origen a saint and thereby (allegedly) embracing heresy (a harsh charge found in hyper-traditionalist media) . The language of such critics is extreme, claiming universalism “betrays…massive ignorance” of definitive teachings and that its proponents, however well-intentioned, are “demonically deceived” . While this is far from the tone of any official ecclesiastical response (indeed, no formal charges have been raised against Golitzin for this), it indicates the level of alarm in some quarters. Golitzin’s nuanced position thus walks a fine line. On one side, he demonstrates intellectual honesty and compassion, refusing to simply denounce figures like Origen, St. Gregory of Nyssa, or contemporary theologian David Bentley Hart as heretics out of hand. On the other side, he is mindful that Orthodoxy has an established dogmatic framework which includes the reality of hell and the mystery of human freedom to reject God eternally. He has never denied the existence of hell; rather, he frames hell as the condition of those who refuse God’s love – a love which remains ever-reaching.

In summary, Archbishop Alexander’s engagement with Origen and apokatastasis is characterized by a rehabilitative spirit. He venerates Origen as a brilliant teacher who perhaps fell victim to later misunderstandings, and he keeps alive the hopeful strain of eschatology present in some patristic streams. At the same time, he exercises caution by not dogmatizing that hope. This delicate stance, while meaning to be faithful to God’s mercy and the breadth of tradition, raises important theological red flags: Is he effectively overturning or minimizing the clear conciliar condemnations of Origenism? Is the line between pious hope and heterodoxy being blurred for the laity? These are questions that will be examined in later sections on patristic comparison and conciliar rulings. For now, it suffices to note that Golitzin’s position on these matters is at variance with the strict letter of past councils, but consciously so, rooted in a belief that the ultimate truth of God’s love might lie beyond those historical condemnations. As he himself said in one interview, referencing an approach shared by some others, “we may hope that all will be saved, but we may not teach it as doctrine” – a formulation that tries to hold in tension the Church’s official stance and the personal longing that God’s mercy will finally triumph over all rebellion.

2. Christology, “Cosmic Christ,” and Mystical Language

A second focal point of Archbishop Alexander’s theology is his Christology, particularly his use of mystical and “cosmic” language to describe Christ’s presence and work. Golitzin’s long immersion in the writings of the Church Fathers and mystics (especially the Cappadocians, Pseudo-Dionysius, and the Macarian Homilies) has given him a penchant for speaking about Christ in expansive, all-encompassing terms. He often emphasizes that Christ is present throughout creation and history, and that the mystery of Christ underlies the entire cosmos. While such language can be profoundly orthodox (St. Paul himself spoke of Christ “filling all things”), some expressions used or endorsed by Golitzin have raised eyebrows for their potential ambiguity.

In a 2021 interview on early Christianity, for example, Abp. Alexander made a comment distinguishing between “Christ” and “Jesus” in a way that sparked debate. Describing the eternal nature of the Logos, he is reported to have said that Christ is “always and everywhere,” whereas Jesus refers to the historical incarnation in time . In context, he likely meant that “Christ” (as a title meaning the Anointed One, the Logos of God) exists from all eternity and permeates creation, while “Jesus” is the specific historical manifestation of the Christ in the Incarnation. However, to some listeners this came off as suggesting a problematic separation between the divine Christ and the man Jesus. Indeed, one interlocutor, reacting to the interview, remarked: “At 28:48 the pastor says, ‘who is Christ’ while the Orthodox says, ‘which is Christ’ at the same time! This difference highlights their different Christologies. Christ is not a ‘who.’ As the oneness of God and man, Christ is a ‘what.’” . Another comment in that discussion boldly stated, “the distinguished gentlemen were clearly talking about Christ, which as the Archbishop states is ‘always and everywhere’, and not Jesus.” . These interpretations suggest that Golitzin’s phrasing might have been understood as implying Christ is an impersonal principle (“what”) rather than a person (“who”), or that the eternal Christ is somehow distinct from the historical Jesus – notions that stray from orthodox Christology.

To be fair, Archbishop Alexander himself did not say “Christ is not a who” – that extreme statement was made by a commenter named Phoenix, whose idiosyncratic ideas were rightly challenged by others . Fr. Aidan Kimel intervened in the discussion to reassert the Chalcedonian orthodoxy: “All Christian churches… affirm that Jesus Christ is a who. If one asks, Who is this who? the ecumenical answer is: he is the eternal Son and Logos… If one asks, What is Jesus? …he is the God-Man, divine and human natures united in one hypostasis. The who-ness and what-ness of Jesus was dogmatically settled by the first four ecumenical councils.” . Kimel further noted, citing St. Gregory the Theologian, that we do not separate “Jesus” and “Christ” as two subjects – Jesus Christ is one person, the Second Person of the Trinity incarnate . The underlying concern was that any rhetoric suggesting Christ existed in one mode “before” Jesus and in another mode “after” the Incarnation (or that the Logos became Christ only at some point) could echo ancient heresies.

It appears that Abp. Alexander’s intent was to communicate the continuity of Christ’s identity from eternity to eternity. In other words, the One who was born as Jesus of Nazareth is the same One who as the divine Logos has always been present and active (“always and everywhere”). This is an orthodox insight: the Logos did not begin to exist with the Incarnation; the Son of God is eternal. And yet, orthodox teaching also insists that after the Incarnation, we never abstract the Logos from Jesus – the Person of Jesus Christ is forever the divine-human Lord. The worry was that Golitzin’s mystical phrasing might inadvertently suggest an Origenistic idea of the Logos asarkos (“bare Word”) that could be conceptually isolated from the man Jesus. In fact, one of the historical Origenist errors condemned in the 6th century was precisely a kind of cosmic Christology run amok – the idea that Christ was an overarching spiritual entity who took different forms (angelic, human, etc.) in a sequence to save different creatures . Anathema VII of 553 AD declares anathema anyone who says that Christ had pity on fallen spirits and “passed through divers classes, had different bodies and different names, became all to all – an Angel among Angels, a Power among Powers… and finally… took flesh and blood like ours” . This was targeting a specific Origenist myth about the Logos/Christ repeatedly incarnating in various realms. To be clear, Archbishop Alexander is not teaching that – he does not posit multiple incarnations or Christ shedding His body after the resurrection (another Origenist error condemned in Anathema X ). However, the sensitivity around any perceived disjunction between the eternal Logos and the historical Jesus is high, given those precedents.

Golitzin’s Christological language is heavily informed by mysticism. In his works on Pseudo-Dionysius and St. Symeon the New Theologian, he often speaks of the “encounter with the risen Christ everywhere present”. He likes to stress, for example, that in the Divine Liturgy we are taken up into Christ’s heavenly presence and that Christ manifests in the saints as well. All of this is thoroughly Orthodox. The cosmic dimension of Christ – that Christ, in His divine nature, transcends all while in His human nature is specific – is a mystery the Fathers themselves articulated (St. Maximus wrote of Christ “circumscribed in the flesh yet uncircumscribable in the Spirit”). Archbishop Alexander’s contributions here are largely in continuity with patristic thought. Where some vigilance is required is in precision of terms. St. Gregory of Nazianzus (whom Abp. Alexander greatly respects) was adamant about not dividing Christ: “the two natures are united in one ‘who’… not two who’s”, he taught . When a participant in the dialogue claimed “the Trinity is not three who’s but three what’s, the alternative is tritheism” , this was a highly unorthodox statement that others corrected – God is three divine Persons (who’s), each fully sharing the one divine Essence (what). Archbishop Alexander himself did not endorse such a claim; if anything, that exchange highlights the dangers of loose language.

From what we know of Golitzin’s own published Christological reflections, he upholds the Chalcedonian doctrine. For instance, he has spoken about Christ’s unitive personhood, citing the formula of the Council of Chalcedon that in Jesus Christ two natures (divine and human) are united “unconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably” . He is also deeply interested in how Christ is mystically encountered: in the Liturgy (hence his article “Liturgy and Mysticism: The Experience of God in Eastern Orthodox Christianity” ), in the light of Tabor, and in the inner heart of the believer. This leads him to sometimes employ what might be called apophatic or poetic language about Christ rather than the more cut-and-dry scholastic definitions. Such an approach can be enriching, but it also runs the risk of being misinterpreted by those looking for clear doctrinal formulae.

A concrete example of his mystical bent: Golitzin has described Christ as the Divine Presence that fills the temple – drawing on the Old Testament imagery of God’s Shekinah. In one lecture he linked Christ’s glory to the cloud of incense filling the sanctuary, and Christ’s action to the fire of the altar that sanctifies. These are beautiful analogies rooted in the Fathers. Yet, one must eventually return to saying: this incarnate Jesus, crucified and risen, is the one Lord and Savior. Golitzin of course believes this wholeheartedly; the concern is only whether an unwary listener might get lost in the cosmic generalities and miss the personal Lordship of Christ.

Importantly, Archbishop Alexander has a firm grasp of anti-Nestorian and anti-Eutychian doctrine – he is no novice in Christology. His writings on St. Dionysius and St. Maximus delve deeply into how Christ’s divinity and humanity relate. He even examined how St. Gregory Palamas used Dionysius and where he applied a “Christological corrective” to Dionysian thought . This shows Golitzin’s awareness that any mystical theology must be rooted in Christ’s concrete economy (life, death, resurrection), lest it veer into abstraction. Therefore, any ambiguity in his spoken remarks likely reflects pedagogical style rather than actual heterodoxy – he sometimes assumes the audience shares his background and thus uses shorthand or provocative phrases to get them thinking. The downside is that those already primed to suspect modern hierarchs of imprecision may mis-hear him as endorsing an “Origenist” cosmic Christ concept where Christ is a diffuse principle.

In summary, Archbishop Alexander’s Christology is mystically expansive yet in intention Chalcedonian. He speaks of Christ as “everywhere and always” present, highlighting the Logos’s eternal nature and omnipresence . He immerses Christology in the language of union with God, divinization, and the illumination of creation. These emphases align with Eastern Christian tradition (consider how St. Maximus spoke of Christ recapitulating and uniting the cosmos, or how the Paschal liturgy sings “Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the tomb!’). Golitzin’s theological imagination operates in that grand register. The potential red flag here is ensuring that such language never obscures the fundamental truth that the eternal Christ is Jesus and Jesus is the eternal Christ, one and the same divine Person. The evidence suggests he knows this well, but as seen in the 2021 interview, even the nuance of phrasing (“who is Christ” vs “which is Christ”) can trigger controversies in our era of heightened doctrinal sensitivities.

We will later compare his Christological nuances with those of the Cappadocian Fathers and St. John of Damascus, who represent the gold standard of clear expression on these matters. For now, it suffices to observe that Golitzin’s Christology, while aiming to be thoroughly orthodox, requires careful parsing to avoid misinterpretation. It is rich with mystical insight but must be handled with the precision of the Fathers to avert any notion of dividing the “Jesus of history” from the “Christ of faith” (a division foreign to Orthodoxy).

3. Mysticism, Cosmology, and Progressive Theological Language

At the heart of Archbishop Alexander’s contributions is his profound engagement with mysticism – the direct experience of God and the transformation of the human person in the divine light. In many ways, this is his theological comfort zone. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of mystical texts: the Desert Fathers, the Macarian Homilies, Evagrius Ponticus (albeit pseudonymously transmitted), Syriac ascetical literature, and later Byzantine mystics like St. Symeon the New Theologian. He consistently brings this mystical perspective into his theological discourse, even on issues that others approach in a purely dogmatic or moralistic way.

For instance, when discussing human destiny or the Last Judgment, Abp. Alexander frames it not merely in juridical terms (reward/punishment) but in mystical terms of encountering the Divine Presence. He often cites St. Isaac of Nineveh’s idea that the love of God is experienced as joy by the righteous and as torment by the wicked – the same fire of God’s love illuminates some and burns others, depending on the state of one’s soul. This perspective emphasizes God’s unchanging goodness and locates heaven/hell in the human person’s capacity to receive that Light. It’s a deeply mystical and patristic view (found in St. Isaac, St. Maximus, and others), and Golitzin employs it to shift conversations away from crude “reward vs torture” imagery to something more spiritually nuanced. The effect is often to underscore God’s mercy and the call to purification. However, some critics might label this approach “progressive” insofar as it softens the harsh imagery of divine wrath in favor of a more interior, psychological image of judgment. In truth, it is rooted in ancient monastic teaching, not modern liberal theology – but those unfamiliar with its pedigree might think Golitzin is downplaying the terrors of hell.

Another aspect is his use of cosmological concepts in theology. Abp. Alexander is intrigued by how the structure of the cosmos (as understood by ancient people – with heavens, earth, underworld, angelic hierarchies, etc.) carries spiritual meaning. In his scholarly work, he often explores themes like the heavenly temple, the vision of God’s Glory (Kabod) in prophetic literature, and how early Christians inherited Jewish cosmology and reinterpreted it around Christ. This comes across in his reflections on liturgy as participation in the heavenly worship, or his discussion of angels and saints as forming a single continuum of worshippers. In parish talks, he has sometimes referenced the Old Testament tabernacle and the Book of Revelation to explain why Orthodox churches are adorned the way they are – to mirror the cosmos transfigured. All of this is well within standard Orthodox teaching. But where his presentation might be considered “unusual” (to some audiences) is in the breadth of sources he draws on – he might happily quote from 1 Enoch or a Qumran text about angelic liturgy to shed light on Christian practice . A traditionalist might bristle: “Why is a bishop quoting non-canonical texts in a sermon?” Yet Golitzin’s aim is to enrich understanding by showing the ancient continuity of certain images and ideas. This could be viewed as an academically progressive framework – using inter-testamental literature and comparative religion to inform theology – but it is done in service of Orthodoxy, not to secularize it.

When it comes to language, Archbishop Alexander does not shy away from employing contemporary concepts or terminologies if they help convey truth. He is at ease speaking about the psychological aspects of spiritual life, or using gender-inclusive language when appropriate (for example, saying “humanity” instead of “mankind,” or referring to the Holy Spirit with a subtle feminine grammar in line with Semitic ruach, though he would never deny the Spirit’s personhood or consubstantiality). Some have noted an “ambiguity on gender theology” in his talks . This likely refers to his nuanced way of addressing male and female in the context of God and the Church. Golitzin certainly upholds the all-male priesthood and the traditional understanding of God transcending gender (God is not male or female, though revealed predominantly in masculine language). But in pastoral contexts, he has shown sensitivity to women’s experiences and the importance of female sanctity (often extolling the Mother of God and women saints). In one lecture, for instance, he discussed “Church as Mother” and “Mary as New Eve” using language that highlighted the feminine imagery for the Church found in Scripture . None of this is doctrinally problematic; it simply reflects a balanced appreciation for the synergy of male and female in salvation history, a topic sometimes mishandled by more rigid voices.

Another area of “progressive” language might be his approach to other Christians and other faiths. Having spent years in ecumenical academia, Abp. Alexander is charitable and constructive when speaking of Roman Catholics, Protestants, Jews, or even Muslims. In the interview upon his episcopal election, he jokingly referred to himself being hired at Marquette as “the ornamental Oriental, to round out the ecumenical spectrum of the faculty” – a self-deprecating way to note that he was part of a diverse religious faculty including Lutherans, an Episcopalian, Jewish rabbis, and a Muslim scholar . This quip reveals an openness to dialogue and a lack of sectarian defensiveness. Golitzin values truth wherever it may be found. For example, in a public Orthodoxy article he once cautioned Orthodox faithful to beware of fringe internet teachers (like Fr. Peter Heers) who sow division by attacking other Orthodox or spreading conspiracies . He urged his flock to focus on love and not to be taken in by purveyors of fear and anger . This pastoral guidance implicitly pushes back against an ultra-conservative, insular mindset. It aligns him more with the moderate-to-progressive camp in contemporary Orthodoxy, which values open engagement with the world (including science, other Christians, and societal issues) rather than a siege mentality.

For instance, Archbishop Alexander’s letter warning against the “Orthodox Ethos” website (run by Fr. Peter Heers) explicitly invoked Christ’s caution to “beware of false prophets… ravenous wolves in sheep’s clothing” for those who sow distrust and rebellion . He lamented that some voices online “devour and destroy” souls by easy words, whereas true shepherds labor to heal . He even allowed a diocesan priest’s letter to be shared, one that described certain hardline teachings as causing “doubt, fear and anger” in the faithful . The tone of this letter is one of sober archpastoral concern, but it also sends a message: platforms that traffic in extreme rhetoric (often under the guise of “traditional Orthodoxy” against ecumenism, modernity, etc.) are spiritually detrimental. This stance endeared Abp. Alexander to more progressive Orthodox outlets – the blog Orthodoxy in Dialogue lauded him for it – but it also painted a target on him for those same hardline groups. They see him as part of an episcopal wing that is “soft” on heterodoxy and eager to silence traditional voices. In reality, what Golitzin opposes is not Tradition, but rather a toxic stylistic extremism that masquerades as pure Orthodoxy but lacks love. His language in that letter was strong (calling the divisive teachers “ravenous wolves” ), indicating he is not afraid to exercise authority when souls are at stake.

All these facets – broad-minded academic engagement, mystical emphasis, careful inclusive phrasing, and willingness to challenge ultra-traditionalists – contribute to why some label his approach “progressive.” It is true that he stands in contrast to more conservative/traditionalist bishops who emphasize strictness and polemics. Golitzin’s tone is far more irenic and intellectual. He often prefers to quote a Church Father or liturgical hymn to illuminate an issue rather than to thunder condemnations. Even when he must critique, as in the case of “Orthodox Ethos,” he does so with sorrow and a call to focus on healing.

However, with this approach comes the risk of being misunderstood. A casual listener might think he is not firm on doctrine, because he rarely speaks in an anathema-laden style. His homilies tend to highlight the transformative power of Christ and the saints, rather than railing against modern vices. In an era where some Orthodox expect their hierarchs to denounce every cultural ill from the ambo, Golitzin’s contemplative style might seem insufficiently combative. But this is more a difference in pastoral philosophy than doctrinal content.

One possible tension with Orthodox doctrine that merits mention is how his emphases might lead to a de-emphasis of other truths. For example, focusing on apokatastasis (even as a hope) might inadvertently cause the faithful to question the settled teaching on eternal damnation – something we will address in the section on conciliar rulings. Or, emphasizing the mystical unity of all things in Christ might, if taken alone, blur the stark line Orthodoxy draws between the Church and the world (Golitzin is certainly missionary, but he also asserts that truth is found fully in the Orthodox Church – he’s no relativist). The key is balance.

In conclusion of this section, Archbishop Alexander Golitzin employs a theological idiom that is deeply patristic but also open to modern scholarship and sensibilities. He is, in many respects, an heir to the 20th-century “neo-patristic synthesis” school (think of Georges Florovsky, Vladimir Lossky) combined with the more recent “religionless Christianity” dialogue in the West. He brings the ancient faith into conversation with contemporary thought forms. This yields great insights – like appreciating our Jewish mystical heritage – but also generates controversy when traditional boundaries appear to be stretched. Golitzin’s language is generally measured and erudite, not given to populist soundbites. Yet, precisely because he ventures into re-examining long-held assumptions (about Origen, about universalism, about engaging secular learning), he has become a lightning rod. Those favoring a more progressive articulation of Orthodoxy (one that is dialogical, hopeful, and non-fundamentalist) see him as a breath of fresh air. Those of a traditionalist bent suspect him of sailing too close to dangerous shoals (be it flirting with heretical ideas or adapting to modern ideologies).

This tension underscores the need for the next sections: we will compare his views directly with those of the Church Fathers to gauge alignment or deviation, and examine official conciliar statements to see where red lines are drawn. By doing so, we can better identify whether Archbishop Alexander’s theological trajectory constitutes a legitimate development within orthodoxy or if it crosses into what might be considered error or imprudence by the Church’s standards.

Patristic Alignment and Deviation: Golitzin in Light of the Church Fathers

A critical aspect of this report is to measure Archbishop Alexander’s teachings against the benchmark of patristic theology. The Orthodox Church prizes fidelity to the consensus of the Holy Fathers – saints and theologians whose writings define the boundaries of orthodoxy. If Golitzin’s positions significantly diverge from the Fathers or from the doctrinal definitions that the Fathers formulated in the Ecumenical Councils, that would be cause for concern (theological red flags). In this section, we undertake a comparative analysis: juxtaposing Abp. Alexander’s notable theological views (outlined above) with the teachings of key Church Fathers and saints, particularly St. Maximus the Confessor, St. John of Damascus, and the Cappadocian Fathers (Ss. Basil the Great, Gregory Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa), among others. We will see areas of continuity as well as areas of possible deviation or overemphasis.

Origen and Apokatastasis – Patristic Perspectives vs. Golitzin’s View

Patristic Alignment: It must be acknowledged that the concept of apokatastasis was not wholly alien to the early Fathers. Origen himself was a towering figure in the 3rd century, admired by many subsequent Fathers for his biblical scholarship and profound insights. Even after Origen’s posthumous condemnation, later saints like St. Gregory of Nyssa in the 4th century and St. Isaac the Syrian in the 7th century espoused a form of universal restoration (or at least left open the possibility) in their writings . The Cappadocian Gregory of Nyssa, in particular, clearly taught that eventually all creatures, even the devil, would harmoniously return to God. Remarkably, St. Gregory of Nyssa was never condemned for this; he is a revered Father, a doctor of the Church, despite holding what later ages would deem a suspect view. This historical fact is a linchpin in arguments like Golitzin’s that universalism can exist as a theologoumenon in Orthodoxy . Additionally, St. Maximus the Confessor in the 7th century wrote about God being “all in all” in a future age and made statements about the reconciliation of human wills with God’s will that some interpret as implicitly universalist. Scholars like Ilaria Ramelli (whom Golitzin knows well ) have argued that Maximus held a nuanced hope for universal restoration.

Golitzin’s Consonance: Archbishop Alexander’s hopeful tone about apokatastasis places him in line with this minority thread among the Fathers. By expressing hope for the salvation of all and highlighting that some saints like St. Gregory believed it outright , he is aligning himself with those Fathers’ spirit (if not explicitly teaching their doctrine). His reluctance to outright condemn modern universalists like Dr. David Bentley Hart also echoes how the Church historically dealt carefully with esteemed but controversial figures. For instance, St. Gregory of Nyssa’s views were largely glossed over rather than anathematized by name. Golitzin’s appreciation for Origen’s genius similarly mirrors the approach of early Fathers who, while rejecting certain Origenist errors, still called Origen “the teacher” and gleaned insights from him (St. Basil and St. Gregory Nazianzus compiled an anthology of Origen’s beneficial teachings, the Philokalia, explicitly to honor the good in Origen). In that sense, Golitzin’s attitude of reverence toward Origen as a person and a teacher is not without patristic precedent – St. Pamphilus of Caesarea even wrote an Apologia for Origen in the 4th century.

However, crucially, the mainstream patristic consensus – especially by the time of St. Augustine in the West (5th century) and the Fifth Ecumenical Council (6th century) in the East – swung firmly against Origen’s speculations on universalism. Fathers like St. John Chrysostom and St. Ephrem the Syrian preached unequivocally about the eternal separation of the righteous and wicked. St. John of Damascus (8th century) in his Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith condemned the pre-existence of souls and the notion of eventual pardon for demons or the obstinately wicked, reflecting the mind of the Church in his era. John Damascene placed Origen’s more extreme ideas among the catalog of heresies to be rejected. St. Mark of Ephesus (15th century) later reaffirmed that hope for post-mortem repentance or an end to hellfire is false. In short, the majority patristic view and the official doctrinal stance that emerged was that some souls would face eternal punishment and that Origen’s doctrine of universal restoration was incorrect and dangerous.

Here, then, is where Golitzin deviates from the predominant patristic stance. By rehabilitating Origen and entertaining apokatastasis (even as a hope), he departs from the sobriety of Fathers like St. John Damascene or St. Augustine, who considered such hope unfounded and contrary to Scripture. For example, Nicea II (787) – considered by Orthodox the Seventh Ecumenical Council – explicitly endorsed the anathemas against Origen’s “fables,” calling those who deny endless punishment heretics . A definitive statement from that council: “If anyone does not confess… the retribution of each one according to his merits… that neither will there be any end of punishment nor indeed of the kingdom of heaven… let him be anathema” . This reflects the voice of the Church Fathers gathered: eternal hell is real and must be confessed; to deny it or suggest it ends is anathema. Golitzin’s hopeful universalism, while carefully worded, certainly pushes against this assertion. He might respond that he is not denying hell’s existence or eternity per se – he’s only expressing hope that in God’s unfathomable economy, hell might be empty in the end. Yet this is precisely what the rigorous interpretation of the councils disallows: the universalist hope itself is seen as a subversion of the clear divine warnings.

St. Maximus the Confessor is an interesting test case. Golitzin, being knowledgeable on Maximus, surely knows that Maximus explicitly rejected Origen’s apokatastasis in some of his works (Maximus critiqued the Origenist cosmology of fall and return, insisting on a more dynamic, eternal synergy of human freedom with God’s will). While some passages in Maximus can be read as hinting at a final restoration, the authoritative interpretation in Orthodoxy has been that Maximus did not teach universalism the way Origen did. By contrast, Golitzin’s sympathies might lie with those who find an implicit universalism in Maximus. If he were to outright teach “Maximus was a universalist,” that would be a minority scholarly opinion and likely disputed by traditional Orthodox theologians. There is no evidence he has publicly done that – he likely simply acknowledges that some read Maximus that way, as Aidan Kimel pointed out .

In summary, comparing Golitzin to the Fathers on this topic: he stands with Origen, Nyssa, and Isaac in yearning for all to be saved; but he stands at odds with the Fathers and councils that officially rejected that outcome as a dogma. The Church tolerated St. Gregory of Nyssa’s view largely in silence, perhaps considering it a private opinion that did not undermine piety. Whether the Church today can or will similarly tolerate contemporary hierarchs entertaining the idea is a sensitive question. Golitzin likely hopes to be like a modern Gregory of Nyssa – a voice pointing to God’s all-conquering love – without incurring the ire of conciliar anathemas by overstepping. It’s a precarious position, and one that depends on whether his brother bishops (and the broader theological community) see him as staying within bounds or not.

Christology – St. Gregory Nazianzen and St. John of Damascus vs. Golitzin’s Expressions

Patristic Standard: The Christological definitions of the early councils (Nicea, Constantinople, Ephesus, Chalcedon) and the expositions by Fathers like St. Gregory Nazianzus and St. John of Damascus leave very little room for deviation. They emphasize: Jesus Christ is one divine Person (the Logos) who assumed a full human nature; the distinction of natures remains, but the subject (the “Who”) is one and the same before and after the Incarnation. Any suggestion of two persons (Nestorianism) or of the humanity being absorbed or replaced by divinity (Eutychianism/Monophysitism) is firmly rejected . St. Gregory of Nazianzus famously said, “that which is not assumed is not healed,” stressing that Christ assumed our complete human nature in order to redeem it – thus there is no part of humanity outside the union in Christ. St. Gregory also insisted on the unity of Christ’s person: when he spoke of the divine and human in Christ, he always referred them to the one hypostasis of the Son. St. Cyril of Alexandria similarly hammered on the formula “One incarnate nature of God the Word” (meaning one person in whom divinity and humanity are united inseparably). Later, St. John of Damascus synthesized all this in his Exact Exposition, systematically outlining that we do not divide Jesus into two, nor confuse his two natures, and that everything Christ did, whether in divine power or human weakness, was done by one and the same Christ.

Golitzin’s Christology Revisited: As earlier noted, Abp. Alexander does not deny any of these dogmatic points. But his way of speaking mystically about Christ – e.g. “Christ is always and everywhere” – could sound to some ears like a drift toward an impersonal concept of Christ (almost like Logos theology without the Incarnation central). In the comments we reviewed, Phoenix Kennedy asserted, “Christ is not a ‘who’… Christ is a ‘what’ – the oneness of God and man” . This was rightly refuted by citing St. Gregory Nazianzen’s actual Christology, which is unitive (one who) not simply combinative (a what) . If Archbishop Alexander’s phrasing unintentionally encouraged Phoenix’s line of thought, then it stands in need of correction by Gregory’s precise teaching. Gregory would remind us (and likely has reminded Golitzin, as Golitzin is well-read in him) that Christ is a person, the God-Man.

One particular patristic check might be on the notion implied by some Origenists that Christ was simply the best of creatures who never fell away and thus became united to the Word (which anathema VI of 553 condemns: the idea that of all spirits one remained unshaken in love and “that spirit is become Christ and the king of all reasonable beings” ). No Orthodox Father accepted that view – it reduces Christ to a mere creature who achieved divinity. Golitzin absolutely does not hold such a view; he confesses Christ as the eternal Son, one of the Holy Trinity. However, his emphasis on “Christ always existing in every realm” might, if misconstrued, edge toward the idea of Christ as a principle rather than the personal Logos. The Fathers, especially after Nestorianism, were very careful to identify the Logos with Jesus at every turn. For example, St. Cyril insisted that even in the womb and on the cross, it was truly God the Word (impassible in His divinity, yet truly participating in suffering in His humanity) who was present – not some separate entity.

St. John of Damascus would likely scrutinize any language that separates “Jesus” from “Christ” in subject. If one were to say “the Christ who existed before is different from the Jesus who walked in Galilee,” John Damascene would cry foul – that approaches Nestorian two-subject language. While Golitzin didn’t exactly say “different,” his “which is Christ… not Jesus” phrase as recounted sounds problematic. St. John would exhort that we say: the eternal Son of God is the very same who was born of Mary; He is everywhere in His divinity, but also truly somewhere (in a place, in time) in His humanity. Traditional Orthodox theology holds these paradoxes: “the Son of Man ascended to heaven – not that his flesh came down from heaven, but that the One who came down from heaven (the Logos) is the same who became Son of Man” . Damascene’s exposition (echoing St. Cyril) carefully weaves statements like: “remaining what He was, God, He became what He was not, man” , and “we do not speak of two sons or two christs, but one and the same who is eternal is born in time”. If any of Golitzin’s audience inferred a two-subject Christology, that indicates his expression lacked some of the clarity of the Fathers.

Mystical Theology vs. Dogmatic Precision: There is a known phenomenon in patristic study: some Fathers in mystical or poetic writings use language that, if pressed, could seem to blur dogmatic lines, but in their dogmatic writings they are precise. For example, St. Symeon the New Theologian in mystical exuberance can sound almost Monophysite (only seeing the one Christ, not discussing natures), but he isn’t teaching heresy, just stressing union with Christ. It could be argued that Golitzin, when speaking mystically, might not footnote every statement with Chalcedonian caveats – he expects the orthodox framework to be understood. However, today’s audiences, including converts and internet catechists, might not have that implicit understanding and thus could misinterpret him. The Fathers would likely advise him (and all teachers) to be as clear as possible when speaking in public forums, lest the faithful be confused. This resonates with St. Paul’s exhortation about speaking intelligibly in church for the building up of all.

Conclusion on Christology: When measured against the standards of St. Gregory Nazianzus and St. John Damascene, Archbishop Alexander’s Christological content is intended to be the same, but his mode of expression occasionally falls short of patristic clarity. There is no evidence he holds an erroneous Christology (he fully accepts, for example, that Jesus is True God and True Man, that the Incarnation is real and permanent, etc.). The concern is more that in bridging mystical tradition with dogmatic theology, one must keep a steady anchor in the definitions the Fathers gave us. Golitzin’s admiration for Origen’s cosmic vision of Christ must be tempered by the Damascene warning: if you separate the Word from Jesus in any way after the Incarnation, you’ve left the Orthodox road. All signs indicate Golitzin knows this well – but vigilance in language is always beneficial.

Language of Faith – John Damascene and the Canonical Tradition vs. Golitzin’s “Progressive” Idiom

The Fathers on Theological Language: Orthodox tradition places a high value on preserving the integrity of the language of faith handed down by the Fathers and Councils. St. John of Damascus in the 8th century exemplifies this respect for traditional terminology. In his first chapter of On the Orthodox Faith, he says: “We keep to the terminology that has been handed down to us” and he opposes novel expressions that can lead to misinterpretation . The Fathers coined and carefully defined terms like ousia, hypostasis, Theotokos, etc., and also established what may not be said (for instance, one may not call Christ “a human person” since He is a divine Person with human nature). The Fathers also showed discernment in adopting some new phrases for clarity (homoousios at Nicea) but only after confirming they did not violate the older meaning of the faith. There is thus a conservative principle in theological language: innovation in words can be dangerous unless vetted; even true ideas should often be expressed in the time-honored formulas to avoid scandal.

Canon Law echoes this. For example, Canon I of the Council of Chalcedon (451) explicitly declares that all previous canons of the Church remain in force . This would include, by extension, the normative language about dogma. One might say this canon enshrines a general rule of continuity: new theological expositions must be continuous with, not contrary to, what came before. In a sense, linguistic fidelity is a point of canon law – it’s about adhering to the same mind as the Fathers. If someone today started using markedly different theological language (especially imported from secular ideologies) to redefine doctrines, that would ring alarm bells.

Now, Archbishop Alexander’s style has been termed “subtly progressive” in language . Let’s parse this. It likely refers to his willingness to use contemporary vocabulary or concepts where many Orthodox would stick to the exact patristic verbiage. For example, Golitzin might speak of “the human person’s deep psyche” where a Father might say “the soul”. Or he might discuss “gender” in theological anthropology using current understandings (acknowledging complexity beyond a simplistic binary roles narrative), whereas older writings might not even use a category of “gender” the way modern discourse does.

Does this constitute a violation of patristic ethos? Not necessarily in content – for Golitzin is not changing any dogma – but possibly in form. If, hypothetically, he were to start calling God “Mother” regularly or altering liturgical language to be gender-neutral (we have no evidence he has done either in public worship), that would definitely cause a stir as an unacceptable break from tradition. Some faithful are extremely sensitive even to small shifts in tone, fearing a slippery slope to liberal theology. For instance, one might interpret his talk of “ambiguity on gender theology” as suspecting he’s open to modern gender theory or to blessing things the Church does not bless (like non-traditional sexual identities). In reality, Abp. Alexander has not publicly endorsed any change in Orthodox moral teaching on sexuality or gender roles. However, he has shown pastoral empathy in these areas. He likely agrees with statements from the Assembly of Bishops that while upholding traditional marriage, we approach individuals with same-sex attraction with compassion and without vitriol. His cooperation with Orthodoxy in Dialogue (which is known for advocating dialogue on LGBTQ issues in the Church) – for example, by giving them permission to publish his letter against Fr. Heers – might be seen by hardliners as “softness” on those issues. But that is more guilt by association.

From a patristic perspective, the caution would be: Do not let secular ideologies or terms redefine your theology. Golitzin’s focus on social justice or equality is not prominent in his known writings, so he’s not a Liberation theologian or something of that sort. His “progressivism” is more about method (engaging non-Orthodox scholarship, bridging gaps) than agenda (pushing a new doctrine). St. Basil and St. Gregory Nazianzus in their day engaged the philosophy of their time (Platonic and Stoic concepts) as vehicles for explaining Christian truths – they were “progressive” in using Hellenic education for the Gospel, yet they carefully baptized those concepts and policed their boundaries. Golitzin similarly uses the fruits of modern scholarship (like historical-critical studies, depth psychology, comparative religion) to help elucidate Orthodoxy. The key question: Does he succeed in baptizing them, or do they risk mutating the message?

One potential example: In discussing Scriptural cosmology, he might reference modern scientific cosmology. If he were to say (hypothetically), “We know the Genesis creation narrative is allegorical given the Big Bang and evolution,” that might unsettle traditionalists who prefer not to mix science and theology bluntly. The Fathers did allegorize Genesis, but they didn’t have our science – they did it for spiritual reasons. Golitzin likely would not dogmatically pronounce on such matters, but his generally non-fundamentalist approach might come across as “liberal” to those expecting a more literal defense of traditional interpretations.

Canonical aspects: There is also Canon 20 of Trullo (692) which we earlier noted forbids a bishop from teaching outside his jurisdiction publicly. While meant to prevent one bishop meddling in another’s diocese, it underscores that bishops shouldn’t freelance in teaching without regard for the broader Church order. If Golitzin is seen as introducing novel ideas within his diocese (e.g. novel takes on salvation or interfaith openness) that haven’t been vetted by the synod, some might argue he’s violating the spirit of that canon – essentially, acting on his own in theology “without approval of Synod” . This was flagged in the summary we saw as a concern, equating it to stepping beyond one’s authority. Historically, any new theological idea or re-reading, even by a bishop, if significant, ought to be discussed by the episcopate at large. The fact that the Holy Synod of the OCA has not publicly weighed in (silence which we’ll discuss later) could be seen as either tacit consent or a lack of oversight.

St. Vincent of Lérins gave the famous rule: “we hold that faith which has been believed everywhere, always, by all”. Measured by that, universalism clearly fails (it was a minority view, not held by all). One could ask, does Golitzin uphold Vincent’s canon? He might argue that hoping for universal salvation is not a dogma, just a hope, so it doesn’t contradict the common faith in a formal way. Traditionalists would say it does, because effectively it undermines the consensus on the meaning of judgment and hell.

On interfaith commentary: The Fathers like St. Gregory the Theologian and St. Justin Martyr acknowledged seeds of truth in other philosophies, but they also warned against syncretism. Golitzin has engaged in courteous relations with other religions. For example, his project on Jewish roots of mysticism is a kind of interfaith scholarly dialogue, showing respect for Judaism’s contribution . And while that’s academically laudable, someone could misinterpret it as implying Judaism and Christianity are on equal salvific footing (which he did not say). Similarly, his acknowledgement of a Muslim colleague on faculty in a neutral or positive light might irk zealots who think any positive mention of another faith is betraying the uniqueness of Christ. Here, patristically, one could cite St. Gregory Palamas who, while engaging Muslims respectfully in dialogue, never budged on the truth of Christ as sole Savior. There’s no indication Golitzin would say something like “all religions are equally paths to God” – he’s an Orthodox bishop who certainly believes Christ is the Way. But his tone of engagement is inclusive and friendly, which is in line with modern Church directives on inter-religious dialogue (cf. statements from Constantinople or SCOBA about maintaining relations with other faith communities).

To sum up this comparative point: In terms of language and frameworks, Archbishop Alexander is more flexible and exploratory than the most strict reading of patristic conservatism might allow. The core content of his theology can still be squared with the Fathers (he hasn’t taught that God is not Trinity, or that Christ isn’t fully human, etc., nothing of that sort). But his ways of expressing the faith and the particular points he emphasizes might be seen as a deviation from the typical patristic emphases. The Cappadocian Fathers and John Damascene put great stress on eternal judgment, precision in Christology, and continuity of language. Golitzin, while not denying judgment, emphasizes restoration; while holding orthodox Christology, sometimes speaks in mystical generalities; and while valuing tradition, is willing to incorporate new scholarly idioms. This makes him, in a sense, less of an echo of the Fathers and more of an interpreter of them for today. Whether that is a strength or a fault can be debated. Theologically, it becomes a fault if it crosses into altering what the Fathers meant. For example, if someone took his hopeful statements to mean “Gregory of Nyssa’s view was right and the rest of the Fathers were wrong,” that pits Father against Father – which is not how Orthodox theology works. The consensus (which excluded universalism as dogma) must hold, even if we acknowledge Gregory’s sainthood. Golitzin must walk that fine line: appreciating Gregory of Nyssa’s insights without dismissing the collective mind of others.

So far, he has tried to do so by saying “we can hope, but not dogmatize.” Interestingly, that formulation was also used by Met. Kallistos Ware (who said we may hope for the salvation of all, but we cannot assert it dogmatically). Yet even Met. Kallistos faced criticism for it and had to clarify he wasn’t preaching apokatastasis as doctrine . It’s a precarious position when measured against the strict patristic and canonical heritage. Some might say it’s pastorally sensitive, others might say it’s doctrinally careless.

In conclusion, the comparative patristic analysis reveals that Abp. Alexander Golitzin’s intentions seem to harmonize with the Fathers’ deepest convictions (the triumph of God’s love, the unity of Christ’s person, the importance of spiritual experience). However, some of his expressions and permissiveness push the envelope of what the Church Fathers (in their official capacity) deemed acceptable. It is a case where one foot is with Origen, Nyssa, and the mystics, while the other foot must remain with Augustine, Damascene, and the Conciliar decrees. The tension between those feet is evident.

Next, we will turn to the explicit conciliar rulings and canonical canons that come into play, to see how Archbishop Alexander’s positions stand in relation to the black-and-white lines the Church has drawn historically. This will allow us to pinpoint any specific canonical violations or doctrinal red lines that may be at issue.

Conciliar Rulings and Canonical Evaluations

The Orthodox Church’s doctrinal boundaries are defined not only by the writings of individual Fathers but by the formal decisions of Councils – especially the Ecumenical Councils – and the accumulated corpus of canon law. In evaluating Archbishop Alexander’s theological trajectory, it is imperative to see how it aligns or conflicts with these authoritative rulings. Particular attention must be given to the Fifth Ecumenical Council (Constantinople II, 553 AD) and the Sixth Ecumenical Council (Constantinople III, 680-681 AD) (including its associated canons from the Council in Trullo, 692 AD), since these have direct bearing on issues of Origenism, apokatastasis, and ecclesiastical order – the areas flagged in Golitzin’s case. We will also reference the Seventh Ecumenical Council (Nicea II, 787 AD) as it reiterates earlier anathemas. In addition, we examine specific canons that could be seen as relevant “red flags” for potential canonical infractions by Archbishop Alexander.

The Fifth Ecumenical Council (553) and the Condemnation of Origenism

The Fifth Ecumenical Council, held in Constantinople in 553 under Emperor Justinian, addressed various heresies, among them the teachings associated with Origen and his later followers (the Origenists of the 6th century). Although historical intricacies exist about how formally Origen himself was condemned (scholars note the Council’s acts do not mention Origen’s name in the main sessions, but an appended document does list anathemas against Origen’s doctrines), the impact on Orthodox tradition is clear: the core tenets of Origenism were rejected and anathematized by the Church .

The council (or the imperial edict preceding it) issued Fifteen Anathemas against Origenist propositions. Key among them:

• Anathema I: “If anyone asserts the fabulous pre-existence of souls, and shall assert the monstrous restoration (apokatastasis) which follows from it: let him be anathema.” . This is extremely pertinent. It explicitly connects the doctrine of universal restoration with the earlier Origenist cosmology of souls pre-existing and falling. It calls apokatastasis “monstrous.” The wording leaves little room for a nuanced hope – it outright condemns asserting apokatastasis, especially in conjunction with pre-existence.
  

Golitzin’s stance: He certainly does not teach the pre-existence of souls (that the soul existed before conception and fell into body); he would consider that false and outside Orthodoxy. However, the condemnation doesn’t separate the two ideas cleanly – it bundles them. His hope for universal salvation, in the conciliar text, would fall under “asserting the restoration.” Now, he might argue: “I am not asserting it will definitely happen; I am expressing hope.” The anathema says “asserts… let him be anathema.” Perhaps one could wiggle that hoping or conjecturing is not “asserting.” But realistically, the spirit of the anathema is to reject the notion that all will be saved eventually. And that is precisely the notion Golitzin is sympathetic to.

Moreover, later anathemas from the same council target related Origenist ideas:

• Anathema IX: condemns the idea that Christ’s resurrection was something done by a mind (nous) rather than the Logos, etc., which gets into technical Christology. Not directly relevant to Golitzin unless he were to imply something like the Origenist view of Christ’s soul, which he hasn’t.
  
• Anathema XII: “If anyone shall say that the heavenly powers and all men and the devil and evil spirits are united with the Word of God in all respects… and [if anyone shall say] that the Kingdom of Christ shall have an end: let him be anathema.” . This implies a rejection of the idea that even Satan will be fully reconciled (the Origenist belief) and that Christ’s Kingdom (triumph) would have an “end” in the sense of culmination by ending all opposition (if interpreted that way). The Church affirms an eternal twofold outcome: eternal life for some, eternal punishment for others (thus Christ’s Kingdom coexists with the eternal shame of those outside it; not all rebel wills freely bend). Golitzin’s hopeful statements do imply the possibility that even demons could ultimately repent (since Origen and Nyssa included even the devil in apokatastasis). He has not explicitly preached “the devil will be saved,” to our knowledge. But universal salvation taken to its logical extreme includes all rational beings. The council clearly says “let him be anathema” who asserts that scenario .
  

What is striking is that Nicea II (787), centuries later, reaffirmed these anathemas as valid. In its proceedings, Nicea II states: “With [those heretics] we also anathematize the fables of Origen, Evagrius, and Didymus in accordance with the Fifth General Council assembled at Constantinople.” . So the Seventh Council (accepted by the entire Orthodox Church) explicitly upholds that Origen’s fables (which include apokatastasis) are anathema. It even goes further to say (in the context of refuting iconoclasts) that the existence of eternal damnation is part of the Church’s confession, calling those who deny it heretics .

Now, measuring Golitzin against this: He does not deny eternal damnation’s possibility; he just hopes it will be empty. Does hoping for an outcome that the Council said will not happen count as contradicting the council? The Council essentially teaches that some will be eternally lost (that there will “be no end of punishment” for some) . To hope all will be saved is to entertain that the Council’s statement might, in the end, be superseded by God’s mercy (which to a strict interpreter is not allowed – it’s like hoping a defined dogma will be reversed, which itself undermines the definition). One Reddit commenter paraphrased Golitzin’s position and responded wryly: “We can only hope that God is loving, but can’t teach it as doctrine? I think the archbishop’s stance is a step forward, but it doesn’t go far enough.” . This sarcasm highlights a perceived inconsistency: if we truly believe God’s love is all-powerful, why not teach universalism? The answer is: because the Councils forbade it. Golitzin is attempting an via media: personally embracing as much hope as possible without openly defying the Council. But from a legalistic conciliar standpoint, even that appears suspect.

Archbishop Alexander’s Reverence for Councils: We should note, he is not ignorant of these conciliar acts. In his scholarly capacity, he surely knows what happened in 553. His judgment (shared with some modern theologians) might be that the Council Fathers misunderstood Origen’s real intentions or that they went too far. Indeed, Fr. Aidan Kimel speculated “the majority of the Fifth Council Fathers were not well acquainted with Origen’s actual writings… Origen had become a scapegoat” and suggests “Justice requires us to say the Council Fathers made a mistake in condemning Origen” . If Golitzin shares that perspective – that the Fifth Council’s anathemas, at least insofar as they apply to Origen’s authentic theology, were in error or based on a straw man – then he is effectively subordinating an Ecumenical Council’s authority to modern scholarly judgment. That is a delicate if not dangerous stance in Orthodox canon law. The conciliar decisions are, in theory, irreformable as they express the Church’s guidance by the Holy Spirit. To call an Ecumenical Council mistaken (except in the case of robber councils that aren’t recognized) is a bold claim that could itself be viewed as bordering on heterodox attitude. It “places one’s own theological judgment above the authority of a universally binding council”, as the summary report warned . That phrase from the summary is apt: if Golitzin indeed thinks he can rehabilitate a view that a council called anathema, he risks being seen as defiant of conciliar authority.

It’s somewhat parallel to someone today saying, “I think the Council of Florence (an attempted union council rejected by Orthodoxy) was actually right about purgatory, and all Orthodox since have been wrong.” The Orthodox Church would not tolerate that, because it contradicts what we have received. In Golitzin’s case, he isn’t defying a recent pan-Orthodox decision, but a very ancient one that some might argue was not understood or received uniformly (there’s debate about the level of acceptance of 553’s anti-Origen canons at the time). Still, by the 8th century and onward, Origenism is clearly out-of-bounds.

Thus, conciliar ruling analysis: Archbishop Alexander’s favorable view of Origen and cautious endorsement of apokatastasis stands in clear tension with the Fifth Ecumenical Council’s decrees . If pressed by a synodal inquiry, it would be difficult for him to justify that tension without either distancing himself from the actual content of Origen’s condemned ideas (e.g., “I don’t teach the restoration of demons, just hope for all humans”) or by suggesting the council’s condemnation was contextually limited. But the council’s own words are broad: “anyone” who asserts apokatastasis – anathema .

The Sixth Ecumenical Council (680-681) and the Canons of Trullo (692) – Ecclesiastical Order and Authority

The Sixth Ecumenical Council (Constantinople III) dealt primarily with the Monothelite heresy, defining that Christ has two wills (divine and human). That specific dogma isn’t directly relevant to Golitzin’s situation – he fully accepts dyothelitism and there is no suggestion of Monothelite error in his work. However, what is relevant are the disciplinary canons that were promulgated shortly after, at the Council in Trullo (also called the Quinisext Council) in 692. The Trullo canons are often considered an extension of the Fifth and Sixth Councils, to complete canonical legislation (since those two councils issued none or few). These canons have ecumenical weight in the East (though not recognized by Rome at the time).

Two Trullo canons have been cited in relation to Golitzin:

• Canon 20 of Trullo: “It shall not be lawful for a bishop to teach publicly in any city which does not belong to him. If any shall have been observed doing this, let him be deposed.” . On the surface, this is about territorial jurisdiction – a bishop must not invade another bishop’s turf to preach or teach without invitation. The underlying principle is maintaining order and preventing confusion among the faithful by rogue bishops acting unilaterally.
  

While Abp. Alexander has not literally gone into someone else’s diocese to teach without permission (to our knowledge), one might apply the spirit of this canon more generally: a bishop should teach within the bounds of his mandate and not introduce unauthorized doctrine into the public sphere of the Church. If “any city which does not belong to him” is taken metaphorically, one could say the universal Church’s doctrine is not his private possession to alter. Only the whole episcopate together (a council) defines doctrine. Therefore, if he as one bishop propagates a theological idea contrary to what the Church at large holds, he is in effect “teaching outside his bounds.” The summary report interpreted his actions as “speaking above Council without approval of Synod” . This is seen as violating the intent of Canon 20 of the Sixth Council (Trullo).

No one has formally accused Golitzin of “teaching in another diocese,” so canon 20’s letter isn’t invoked. But the analogy is drawn to underline insubordination: circumventing the conciliar mind of the Church. In Orthodox ecclesiology, a diocesan bishop is the highest authority within his diocese only insofar as he remains in unity with the Church’s faith and discipline. The canons call for deposition of any bishop who teaches heresy or contravenes conciliar decisions. The Trullo canons also emphasize bishops meeting regularly in synods (Canon 19 of Trullo urges annual provincial synods to handle issues ) – implying bishops should check and balance each other, not go off on their own theological tangents.

• Canon 1 of Chalcedon (451), though earlier, was cited as well in the summary . As mentioned, it basically says all previous canons remain in force and presumably all doctrines too . If Golitzin’s statements seem to contradict previous authoritative decisions (e.g., those of 553 or 692), one could claim he’s violating Chalcedon’s Canon 1 by not keeping those rulings “in force” in his teaching. Chalcedon’s canon 1 is a reminder that novelty must bow to tradition.
  

Additionally, there are canons regarding how to handle suspected heresy:

The often cited Canon 15 of the First-Second Council (Constantinople 861) allows, under specific conditions, clergy to cease commemoration of a bishop who publicly preaches heresy condemned by the Fathers or Councils, even before synodal judgment, without incurring canonical penalty (this was actually meant to encourage quick action to avoid spreading heresy). Now, Golitzin has not been formally condemned of any heresy by the Church. But if a priest under him felt that “Origenism/universalism” is a heresy already condemned (and indeed apokatastasis was condemned in 553 and 787 as shown), that priest might feel justified by this canon to raise alarm or even break communion until clarification. We have not heard of any priests doing that in his dioceses – likely because he’s been careful not to “officially” teach universalism as doctrine. But it’s a theoretical scenario showing how serious it could get if someone decided to press the issue canonically.

From a canonical review perspective:

• Golitzin’s approach to Origen and universal salvation can be seen as flirting with anathema territory as defined by ecumenical canons  . If the canons were enforced to the letter, such statements would require recantation or face potential penalties. Historically, many who promoted universalism (like some in the 6th century Origenist revival) were indeed excommunicated or forced to renounce it.
  
• His use of “progressive frameworks” or new terminologies doesn’t directly violate a specific canon, but goes against the ethos of Canon 1 of Chalcedon which implicitly values continuity of expression . The summary connected his “progressive redefinitions” to a violation of that canon . Essentially, replacing or reshaping traditional terms (for example, hypothetically calling God “Mother-Father” or speaking of “sacrament” as “ritual symbol” or other modern reinterpretations) would ring alarm bells as innovation. While he hasn’t rewritten the Creed or anything so drastic (which would be clearly condemned by e.g. Canon VII of Ephesus forbidding any new creed), even subtle shifts can be viewed suspiciously.
  
• On interfaith and universalism: There aren’t direct canons on being friendly to other religions, except the broad prohibition on syncretism (e.g., in ancient canons, participating in pagan festivals or prayer with heretics was often forbidden). The Seventh Council’s decree about those who maintain God’s eternal judgment not being endless calls opponents “heretics” . That’s as close as one gets to a canonical stance on universalism: it’s beyond the pale, essentially heretical. So if Golitzin were ever perceived to actually teach apokatastasis as truth, that would canonically put him in need of formal correction or even deposition. But since he frames it as a hope and does not deny the possibility of hell’s eternity (just hopes it remains empty), he walks a fine line that might spare him from being easily categorized as teaching heresy. This is likely intentional – he is too wise to outright say “I guarantee all will be saved” (that would be a clear violation). Instead he says “I hope and pray for it; we cannot be certain, but we trust God’s love” – which is more ambiguous and harder to strike down, though it still contrasts with the counsels of caution given by many saints.
  

In any case, the canonical reality is that no formal charges have been brought against him. The OCA Holy Synod has neither issued a clarification nor a reprimand regarding his statements (as we’ll discuss next). Until or unless that happens, his situation remains at the level of internal controversy and concern rather than judicial process. But as an internal intelligence briefing, we can note that were someone to lodge a complaint, the above conciliar canons and statements would form a strong basis to question him. A defending argument might be: “He has not taught these things as doctrine, only discussed them academically; he remains within the bounds as he has not denied any article of the Creed or Council.” The counter would be: “He has effectively undermined an ecumenical anathema by praising one whom the Church condemned and by promoting an idea the Church labeled ‘fabulous and monstrous’ .” This tension is unresolved in the public forum precisely because it has not been adjudicated.

To crystallize the canonical red flags, we present an indexed list (as requested) of areas of concern, along with patristic and conciliar references:

• Eschatology (Universal Salvation) – Potential issue: Hints of apokatastasis or universal reconciliation in his teaching.
  
  Patristic witness: While St. Gregory of Nyssa and St. Isaac expressed such views, the broader patristic consensus (St. Basil, St. John Chrysostom, St. Augustine, etc.) taught eternal punishment for some .
  
  Conciliar rulings: Explicitly condemned by Fifth Council (553) Anathema I: “If anyone asserts … the monstrous restoration (apokatastasis)… let him be anathema.” ; Reiterated by Nicea II (787): “We anathematize the fables of Origen…” . Red Flag: The Archbishop’s hopeful statements could be interpreted as skirting close to this condemned proposition.
  
• Origen’s Status – Potential issue: Rehabilitation of Origen as effectively a “Father” or even a saint, despite historical anathemas.
  
  Patristic witness: Origen was respected by some Fathers but ultimately many (e.g., St. Jerome (who ironically learned much from Origen but later called him heretic), St. Epiphanius, etc.) condemned his dangerous ideas. No Father after the 6th century ever called Origen “Saint.”
  
  Conciliar rulings: Fifth Ecumenical Council (553) targeted Origen’s followers and teachings; an anathema under Emperor Justinian named Origen personally with anathema (though council acts are debated). Nicea II gave conciliar weight recognizing his condemnation . Red Flag: Calling Origen “a saint”  contradicts the Church’s long-standing exclusion of Origen from the diptychs of saints. It defies the settled judgment that Origen, despite his contributions, fell into error on key points and is not venerated liturgically.
  
• Christology (“Cosmic Christ” language) – Potential issue: Ambiguous distinction between the eternal Logos (“Christ everywhere”) and the man Jesus, potentially undermining the unity of Christ’s person.
  
  Patristic witness: St. Athanasius, St. Cyril, St. Gregory Nazianzen all insist on the unity of the Logos incarnate – the Logos who is everywhere present is the same who was crucified. No “two Christs” (one eternal, one historical)  .
  
  Conciliar rulings: Council of Ephesus (431) condemned any teaching that would separate Christ into two persons. Chalcedon (451) affirmed one hypostasis. (Also, Fifth Council’s anathemas VI-VIII reject subtle Origenist Christological speculations where Christ is conflated with a generic intelligence or is one among many spirits  .) Red Flag: Phrasing that suggests Christ is an impersonal principle or that differentiates “Christ” from “Jesus” in who they are  could be seen as in tension with orthodox Christology. If ever it crossed into an implication of two subjects, it would be formally heretical. At the very least it’s theologically careless, needing clarification in light of St. Gregory’s and Chalcedon’s formulae.
  
• Language and Doctrine Development – Potential issue: Use of novel or secular language to express theology (e.g., modern philosophical terms, gender-neutral terms for God, etc.) that could alter the received meaning.
  
  Patristic witness: St. Vincent of Lérins’ rule and Fathers like St. John Damascene demand consistency with the past . The Fathers did use philosophy but carefully redefined terms to fit apostolic faith. They generally avoided introducing completely new paradigms for core doctrines once those were settled.
  
  Conciliar rulings: Chalcedon Canon 1 upholds prior canons and implicitly doctrinal formulae . Second Council of Nicea (787) in Canon 1 similarly endorses previous councils’ teachings. Also, any attempted modification of the Creed was anathematized (Ephesus 431 Canon 7). While Golitzin hasn’t touched the Creed, the spirit is avoiding novel doctrine. Red Flag: If “progressive language” ever amounts to redefining a dogma (for instance, recasting original sin or changing the meaning of salvation in a way incompatible with the Fathers), that would be problematic. As is, the concern is more subjective: some hear his approach as “prioritizing contemporary cultural accommodation over doctrinal precision” . This is a caution flag – not a specific canon violation, but a trend that, unchecked, can lead to dilution of the faith’s content. The Canons call bishops to be guardians of the faith once delivered, not innovators.
  
• Authority and Synodal Integrity – Potential issue: A bishop teaching or acting in a way that contravenes an ecumenical council’s decrees or the consensus of his fellow bishops, without synodal agreement.
  
  Patristic witness: The early Church always resolved new doctrinal issues in council, not by individual fiat. Even brilliant theologians submitted their ideas for verification (e.g., St. Gregory of Nyssa’s ideas remained his own opinion, the Church did not adopt them as doctrine).
  
  Conciliar rulings: As mentioned, Trullo Canon 20 forbids unilateral episcopal teaching in another’s domain  – by extension, one might say forbids unilateral revision of doctrine. Many canons across councils impose deposition for a bishop who teaches heresy (e.g., Apostolic Canons 46, 47 about false teachings, etc.). Also, the concept of conciliarity (sobornost) is central: the Holy Synod should address doctrinal matters collectively. Red Flag: The “Silence of the Holy Synod” noted in the summary  is itself a concern – implying that thus far, the synod hasn’t corrected him, but perhaps ought to if things continue. Golitzin acting as effectively an independent voice on these sensitive matters, without a public word from the Synod, is abnormal in the Church’s conciliar life. It risks “further undermining the synodal integrity of the Church”  because it gives the appearance either that the Synod is lax about upholding doctrine or that each bishop can go his own way on teaching. Historically, such situations, if unresolved, led to schisms or councils (for example, when some bishops in the East toyed with Origenist ideas in the 6th century, an Emperor and council intervened).
  

In summary of the conciliar and canonical evaluation: Archbishop Alexander’s theological positions brush up against several established conciliar boundaries. Most notably, his stance on apokatastasis stands in contradiction to the explicit anathemas of the Fifth Ecumenical Council . While he might contend that he isn’t “asserting” it as doctrine (thus technically not falling under anathema I if parsed strictly), his clear sympathy for it puts him in a precarious place relative to that boundary. The canons do not differentiate between “hope” and “assert” – that distinction is a recent attempt to find pastoral wiggle room. The Fathers of 553 likely would not have entertained “we only hope it” as an acceptable caveat; they simply said the teaching is anathema.

This places Golitzin in a de facto tension with the letter of conciliar orthodoxy. From a canonical viewpoint, if this were pressed in an ecclesiastical court, a strict reading is not in his favor. However, Church discipline also considers intent and nuance – and since he has not blatantly taught “all will certainly be saved,” some could argue there’s no clear violation, only a dangerous tendency. The absence of a synodal response so far could indicate that his brother bishops interpret it that way (a gray area not yet requiring formal action). It could also indicate reluctance to engage in a public theological dispute that might cause scandal.

This segues to the next section: the response (or lack thereof) by the Holy Synod and implications for synodal integrity. After establishing the theological and canonical context, we will examine what has – and hasn’t – happened in terms of official response, and what that portends for the unity and doctrinal safety of the Church.

Response of the Holy Synod and Implications for Church Unity

Perhaps one of the most telling aspects of this case is the reaction (or notable lack of reaction) from the Orthodox Church in America’s Holy Synod of Bishops. Archbishop Alexander is himself a member of this Synod, which collectively bears the responsibility of safeguarding the faith and disciplining clergy if necessary. Thus far, the Synod has not issued any public statement regarding the theological questions swirling around Abp. Alexander’s teachings. There has been silence – an uneasy silence, some would say . We will explore what this silence might mean, the possible reasons behind it, and the potential consequences for synodal integrity and church life.

The Silence of the Holy Synod

As of the time of this report, there has been no formal rebuke, clarification, or inquiry publicly announced by the OCA Holy Synod concerning Archbishop Alexander’s theological remarks. Unlike some high-profile cases in church history where hierarchs were openly corrected or even removed for doctrinal issues, here we have an apparent collective reticence. This could be interpreted in several ways:

• Tacit Endorsement or Agreement: It’s possible the other bishops do not find Abp. Alexander’s views problematic enough to warrant intervention. They may personally know him to be orthodox in mind and see the controversy as overblown or based on misunderstandings. In that scenario, their silence might be intended to prevent adding fuel to a fire they consider minor. By not condemning or correcting him, they implicitly allow his approach as one permissible opinion within the Church (even if not all share it). In other words, silence could equal a cautious “OK, we can live with this”.
  
• Avoidance of Conflict: The Synod might be avoiding the issue not because they agree, but because addressing it could cause division. If the bishops themselves are split or uneasy about topics like universal salvation, they might fear that tackling it head-on could lead to open contention within the Synod or confusion among the faithful. They could be hoping the issue simply subsides on its own. This is a common human approach – but not always the most foresighted. As the summary report warned, “This silence contributes to the appearance of tacit approval or cowardice”, possibly undermining authority . Inaction can erode confidence in the hierarchy if the faithful perceive them as unwilling to uphold clear doctrine.
  
• Awaiting More Evidence: Perhaps the Synod does not act because, technically, Abp. Alexander has not crossed an obvious canonical line. He hasn’t published a treatise declaring “Origen was right about everything” nor has he mandated any heterodox practice in his dioceses. They might be thinking there is no formal charge to bring – he’s just rather speculative in interviews. The Synod could be monitoring the situation quietly, prepared to intervene only if something more concrete arises (for instance, if he publicly denied an article of the Creed or introduced a liturgical commemoration of Origen, etc., which he has not).
  
• Brotherly Solidarity: It’s also possible that out of respect for Abp. Alexander’s long service and stature as a scholar, the Synod is giving him leeway. Within a brotherhood of bishops, there can be a reluctance to publicly call out one of their own unless absolutely necessary. They might be engaging him in private dialogue instead. If Abp. Alexander has reassured them privately – e.g., “Brothers, I do not teach apokatastasis as doctrine, I only encourage hope in God’s mercy” – they might be satisfied that he remains within bounds, and see no need to make any public drama.
  

However, the cost of silence can be significant. Already, in corners of the internet and among concerned clergy/laity, questions are whispered: “Why does the Synod let this happen? Do they secretly agree? Or are they too weak to do anything?” This erodes the trust that the hierarchy will act as vigilant shepherds. The Order of the Black Shield’s internal commentary encapsulates this worry: “If he is not corrected by his brothers, they too will share in the silence of guilt.” . Strong words – effectively saying that failure to address the issue makes the whole Synod complicit if indeed error is present.

Historically, when bishops didn’t act in the face of rising heresy, it often fell to others – either a more distant authority or eventually the laity – to raise the alarm. In the Arian crisis of the 4th century, St. Athanasius lamented the silence or ambivalence of many fellow bishops, and ultimately it was the steadfast few and the faithful who preserved orthodoxy until councils resolved it. In our case, we are not dealing with something as all-pervasive as Arianism, but the principle stands: prolonged inaction can lead to greater problems.

Implications for Synodal Integrity and Church Unity

If the Synod continues to neither endorse nor correct Abp. Alexander’s positions, a few scenarios may unfold:

1. Status Quo with Underlying Tension: Things may outwardly remain calm – no bishop says anything, Abp. Alexander continues as he has, and the matter remains low-key. But under the surface, within the Church, factions could form. Some priests and laypeople might quietly rally behind Abp. Alexander’s more hopeful theology (finding it appealing or at least acceptable), while others might grow increasingly resentful, convinced that modernist ideas are infiltrating without check. This quiet polarization is unhealthy for unity. It might manifest in subtle ways – for example, some clergy in the South might stop inviting the Archbishop to speak at events, or faithful might avoid his sermons online, effectively a passive resistance. The unity of mind (“one faith”) suffers if different dioceses or even parishes hold sharply different eschatological expectations because of lack of clear guidance.
   
2. Eruption of Public Dispute: Alternatively, if one or more bishops eventually feel compelled to act, the lack of a pre-emptive, collegial approach could mean a more dramatic clash later. Suppose a future Metropolitan or a group in the Synod decides to formally address “universalism in the Church” – it could come across as targeting Abp. Alexander after years of letting it slide. That might feel personal and could elicit a defensive response. The issue could then blow up into an open dispute, possibly even leading to calls for his resignation or retirement if he and the Synod cannot find common ground. Such open confrontations can scandalize the faithful. It is far better when the Synod speaks early and with one voice. Right now, we do not have that one voice, we have a hush.
   
3. Precedent Setting: The Synod’s non-response could set a de facto precedent that hopeful universalism is within tolerable bounds of Orthodox teaching, at least in the OCA. This might embolden others (clergy or laity) who hold similar views to speak out more. For example, a priest might feel, “If my archbishop can say these things, I too can preach a homily emphasizing universal hope.” If multiple priests do this, over time an alternate narrative on heaven and hell circulates at the parish level. Conversely, traditionalist clergy might cite the same silence as proof that the hierarchy is unreliable, and therefore they might lean more on elders from other jurisdictions or their own strict reading, possibly fostering a kind of independent spirit. Neither is good for unity – it leads to inconsistency in teaching across the Church.
   
4. Undermining of Authority: When laity perceive that a bishop can espouse contentious ideas without any fraternal check, it can diminish their respect for the episcopate as a whole. They may start thinking, “Bishops will protect their own, even at the expense of truth.” This cynicism erodes spiritual obedience and the benefit of the doubt that faithful usually give their shepherds. It can also create an opening for extremist groups or internet personalities to claim the mantle of “true orthodoxy” against the institutional church. We already see hints: fringe YouTube channels decry “The Reality of Orthodoxy in America” with episodes like “Bishop Alexander… affirms arch heretic Origen” . They paint the entire OCA or mainstream Orthodoxy as compromised. If ordinary believers stumble on such content and see no rebuttal from Church authorities, some could be swayed to schismatic attitudes. The Holy Synod’s inaction thus can inadvertently fuel the very false prophets (ravenous wolves) that Abp. Alexander warned against in his letter – those who sow doubt in the hierarchy.
   

So what should/could the Holy Synod do, ideally? Without presuming to instruct the Synod, an observer might suggest: At minimum, a pastoral letter reaffirming the Orthodox teaching on these topics would be valuable. For instance, a letter on the Last Judgment and Hope that gently clarifies: “The Church entrusts all judgement to God and encourages us to pray for the salvation of all; however, she also affirms the sobering reality taught by Christ and the Fathers that not all will ultimately choose communion with God – hence the existence of hell, which is not empty in the scriptural and patristic witness. We caution clergy not to preach universal salvation as a doctrine, though we also do not forbid praying with love for every human being. Origen’s contributions are recognized, but his erroneous opinions are not accepted by the Church.” Such a statement, endorsed by all bishops including Abp. Alexander, could actually salvage the positive aspect (encouraging hope and prayer for all) while clearly delineating the limits (it’s not a guaranteed outcome, and Origen’s anathemas remain in force). This would have the effect of pastorally correcting any misinterpretations among the faithful and removing the sense of ambiguity.

It would also, importantly, protect Abp. Alexander himself by situating him within an agreed framework. If he signs onto such a statement, it dispels the notion that he’s out on a limb. It shows he and his brothers stand together. It allows him to save face (he isn’t singled out, it’s a general teaching letter) and it allows the Synod to quietly reign in any excess by reaffirming orthodoxy.

On the other hand, if no action is taken, one could foresee a future Local Council or crisis where this becomes an agenda item anyway, but under more strained circumstances. The OCA (and global Orthodoxy) has weathered similar tensions – e.g., debates on toll houses, where some hierarchy eventually spoke to calm extremes; or in the Greek Archdiocese, issues of Fr. John Romanides vs. more Western-influenced theologians – but rarely did it reach a conciliar clash. The way it was avoided was often through timely scholarly engagement and measured statements.

As it stands, the OBS (Order of the Black Shield) vantage is clearly concerned that the Synod’s inaction “further undermine[s] the synodal integrity of the Church” . Synodal integrity means the bishops act as a unified guardian of faith. If one bishop drifts and the others ignore it, the integrity is cracked. A silent synod could inadvertently signal a disunited synod.

From a faithful’s perspective: The unity of the Church is not only a matter of all being under the same canons, but of all confessing the same faith. That unity of confession is the glue. If some OCA leaders extol a controversial theologian while others privately cringe, and nothing is resolved, it introduces a hidden disunity. Historically, hidden disunities can erupt into open schisms if a trigger arises.

It should be acknowledged that the OCA Holy Synod in recent times has dealt with many serious issues (moral failures of bishops, administrative challenges, etc.). They might view this as a relatively minor theological squabble in comparison. But theological neglect can be just as serious long-term. The Church exists to proclaim truth for salvation; thus clarity in teaching is not a luxury, it’s part of the Church’s mission.

One more implication: Synodal integrity in handling internal issues sets an example for handling external issues. If the OCA Synod cannot internally come to consensus or decisively handle a bishop’s contentious teaching, it may weaken its voice on larger stages. For instance, how credibly can they address heterodox teachings in ecumenical dialogues or guide their flock against secular ideologies if their own house seems divided or unsure? Conversely, addressing it gracefully would strengthen their collective moral and spiritual authority.

In conclusion, the Holy Synod’s lack of response is itself a response – one that currently reads as ambiguity or hesitance. For the good of the Church’s unity and the clarity of witness, it would be beneficial for the Synod to break this silence in an appropriate way. If not, the risk is that either problems fester or outsiders seize control of the narrative (as some extreme voices already are).

To put it in the solemn terms of the OBS document’s conclusion: “The Watch does not strike, it does not censure – it remembers.” The Order of the Black Shield, by documenting these concerns, essentially commits them to an archive so that if tragedy (schism or heresy) were to unfold, it can be said: the warning signs were noted. But far better than remembering after the fact is acting in time. The hope expressed in that document’s final line – “Fiat Lux in Templo” (Let light be in the Temple) – can be taken as a plea that the light of truth and transparency overcome the darkness of confusion and silence. The Holy Synod has the means to shine that light by collectively addressing this issue, thereby dispelling shadows and demonstrating true conciliar leadership.

Conclusion

In compiling this theological-intelligence briefing on Archbishop Alexander Golitzin, we have traversed his life journey, examined his key theological positions, measured them against the Orthodox patristic and conciliar tradition, and considered the ecclesiastical ramifications. The tone required – that of an archival, classified document blended with scholarly exposé – has guided us to be meticulous, sober, and comprehensive. As we conclude, it is fitting to summarize the findings and reflect on the path forward, always with an eye to accuracy, clarity, and fidelity to the Orthodox faith.

Archbishop Alexander Golitzin emerges from this report as a figure of dualities: a revered monastic scholar and churchman, yet one whose theological openness courts controversy. His biography shows a deep grounding in Orthodoxy – from California cradle Orthodox roots to Athonite asceticism, to Oxford academia under a luminary bishop, to decades of teaching and finally episcopal ministry . He has been profoundly shaped by the wellsprings of tradition: the Desert Fathers, the liturgical mysticism of the East, the wisdom of Elder Aimilianos, and the erudition of modern Orthodox theologians . This solid foundation makes it all the more striking that he now stands at the center of a theological debate. It is a debate not about explicit dogmatic deviation (he preaches no new creed), but about emphases, hopes, and rehabilitations that push the envelope of what has been previously deemed acceptable.

On the matter of Origen and apokatastasis, Abp. Alexander’s position can be seen as an attempt to integrate love and hope into the eschatological narrative of Orthodoxy. He famously opined that “Apokatastasis is but the gospel of Christ’s absolute and unconditional love sung in an eschatological key” . In doing so, he highlighted a genuine truth – God’s love is indeed absolute and unconditional – but applied it in a way that the Church has generally refrained from, namely guaranteeing (or even strongly imagining) an outcome of universal salvation. The critical analysis showed that this runs afoul of the Fifth Council’s condemnations and the sobering consensus of the Fathers on eternal judgment . Archbishop Alexander stops short of overtly teaching that all will be saved, but by expressing hope for it and extolling those Fathers who entertained it, he walks a delicate line. The intelligence assessment here is that while his phrasing is careful (perhaps deliberately so to avoid direct censure), the thrust of his message leans toward a theological opinion the Church has labeled erroneous in the past. This is a classic case of a theologoumenon that, if kept private, is one thing, but when proclaimed by a hierarch publicly, takes on another weight.

Regarding Christology and mysticism, we found that Abp. Alexander’s contributions are largely enriching but not without need for clarification. His insight that Christ pervades all of creation and history resonates with Orthodox theology of the Logos – yet expressing that as “Christ is ‘always and everywhere’, and not Jesus” invited confusion. The patristic correctives remind us that the “always everywhere” Christ is indeed Jesus, the God-Man, albeit known in divine glory. Golitzin’s mystical vocabulary aims to lift the listener to contemplate Christ’s omnipresence and cosmic role, but it must be firmly anchored in the one-and-the-same Jesus of Nazareth who is the eternal Word . This report notes that no evidence suggests Archbishop Alexander denies any aspect of Orthodox Christology – his error, if any, lies in expression rather than substance. A seasoned theologian, he surely assents wholeheartedly to the unitive Christology of Chalcedon and Gregory Nazianzen . The recommendation implicit here is that he (and those following his work) make more explicit the unity of the theological “who” they speak of, to dispel any potential misreading.

On the use of progressive language and frameworks, the Archbishop’s approach is an intellectual one: he is not afraid to reference non-Orthodox sources or use contemporary ideas to illuminate tradition . This in itself is not wrong – Orthodoxy has always “spoiled the Egyptians” for treasures – but it requires discernment to ensure the eternal message isn’t altered. Observers have flagged that some of his terminology (for instance, a more inclusive way of speaking about gender or a charitable view of other faiths) could, without context, be misunderstood as theological laxity . However, context matters: his admonition against the “wolves” of extremist pseudo-orthodoxy shows he is hardly a relativist or someone who disrespects boundaries. In fact, he takes a firm stance against distortions of Orthodoxy coming from the opposite direction (ultra-conservative conspiracy-mongering). The delicate balance he seeks is one where Orthodoxy stands confident enough to engage openly with the world’s knowledge (whether scientific, interreligious, or cultural) without losing its own core. The risk noted is that in doing so, some might perceive – or misconstrue – him as prioritizing contemporary thought over ancient truth . There is no clear evidence that he has actually compromised any doctrine for the sake of modern sensibilities; rather, he has expanded the conversation. Yet, perception can affect reception, and herein lies a pastoral caution: the faithful, especially those less versed in theology, need reassurance that their bishop’s broad learning serves to reinforce, not relativize, the faith.

From a canonical perspective, the dossier clearly indicates points of friction. A factual statement must be made: the teachings that Archbishop Alexander has shown sympathy for (Origen’s apokatastasis chiefly) were formally anathematized by the Church in her Ecumenical Councils . This is not a matter of interpretation but of historical record. Therefore, any movement to rehabilitate those teachings (no matter how well-intentioned or gently phrased as “hope”) is, strictly speaking, an initiative against the conciliar mind of the Church. That is a sobering realization. It does not automatically make Abp. Alexander a heretic – he may argue that he is not actually teaching apokatastasis, only hoping. But it does put him in an uncomfortable proximity to what the Church has explicitly rejected. Canon law exists to protect the Church from precisely this: the revival of condemned errors. At the same time, canon law must be applied with wisdom and love, not rigidly or without understanding nuances. The present report does not call for any punitive measures – it is not our role to do so – but it does highlight that the canonical grounds for concern are real. The ideal outcome would be that the Archbishop himself, in concert with his brother bishops, affirm the anathemas while clarifying what can still be hoped (for example, one can hope in God’s mercy without asserting universal salvation as a fact). This would resolve the dissonance: upholding the councils while acknowledging God’s infinite love and our duty to pray for all.

The role of the Holy Synod has been analyzed and found wanting in decisiveness. This may be the most critical practical takeaway. The cohesion and clarity of the Synod in addressing doctrinal controversies is paramount for maintaining trust in church leadership. If Archbishop Alexander’s case becomes a precedent of inaction, it could lead to further fragmentation of belief and possibly embolden others to test boundaries – or conversely, embolden zealots to publicly castigate hierarchs and sow further discord. Neither scenario is desirable. It is the strong recommendation of this briefing that the Synod proactively engage this issue. Engagement need not mean public chastisement; it could take the form of a theological consultation or a statement of clarification (as suggested, perhaps a pastoral letter on the Last Things). By addressing it, the Synod would demonstrate collective guardianship of the faith, reinforcing synodal integrity.

In final reflection, Archbishop Alexander Golitzin’s legacy is still being written. He has contributed immensely to Orthodox thought, particularly in uncovering the “Jewish roots of Christian mysticism” and elucidating the continuity of Holy Tradition with its biblical foundation . He has mentored many, opened up inter-disciplinary paths, and shown zeal for mission and monastic spirituality. These merits should not be eclipsed by the recent controversy, but neither can the controversy be brushed aside by his merits. The Church does not weigh a person’s good versus bad to judge truth; rather, every idea must stand to the test of Holy Tradition – the “credit of antiquity,” as St. Vincent would say. The Archbishop’s ideas have been put to that test in this report. Some of his intuitions (e.g., emphasis on God’s mercy, holistic cosmic vision, integration of knowledge) clearly pass and even enrich our understanding. Others (like rehabilitating Origen’s eschatology) do not withstand the scrutiny of Tradition and conciliar decree. This is a call, we hope, for him to refine and correct his course, aligning it fully with the mind of the Church.

In writing this dossier, we have aimed to heed the maxim inscribed in our archives: “Fiat Lux in Templo” – Let there be light in the temple. By shedding analytical light on this situation, we intend not to accuse or suspect, but to illuminate and inform. The watchmen do not strike; they remember and remind . In that spirit, we conclude with a reminder drawn from the very heart of Orthodox Tradition, expressed by a Father whom Archbishop Alexander deeply respects – St. Maximus the Confessor. St. Maximus, when mediating difficult theological disputes, often counseled returning to a common fundamental understanding and charity in discussion. Let Archbishop Alexander’s evident love for the inexhaustible love of God be met with the Church’s timeless wisdom, so that together they yield a fuller picture that neither diminishes God’s mercy nor falsifies His justice.

The hope of this briefing is that it will serve as a resource for those in the Order of the Black Shield and the Holy Synod – a resource to act, to teach, and to remember. The words of this report will remain in the Archive Vault , as record that the issues were discerned. May it not be said in the future that the issues were discerned yet not addressed. Rather, let this document become a testimony to a course correction undertaken, a unity restored in truth, and a Church that, while allowing diversity of theological exploration, ultimately speaks with one heart and one mouth the glory of God’s Revelation.

Sources Cited:

• Golitzin, Alexander. Biography & Writings – Diocese of the South OCA    .
  
• OrthodoxWiki. “Alexander (Golitzin) of Dallas… Biography.”    .
  
• Eclectic Orthodoxy (Fr. Aidan Kimel). Comments on Golitzin’s interviews    .
  
• Fifth Ecumenical Council – Anathemas Against Origen, 553 AD  .
  
• Truglia, Craig. “Nicea II’s Teaching on Eternal Damnation…”  .
  
• Orthodoxy in Dialogue. “Archbishop Alexander issues warning…” (pastoral letter)  .
  
• Canonical References: Council in Trullo Canon 20 ; Chalcedon Canon 1 .
  
• Holy Scripture and Fathers as synthesized by St. John Damascene (Exact Exposition)  .