The Antichrist, says Soloviev, was "a
convinced spiritualist." He believed in goodness, and even in God. He was
an ascetic, a scholar, a philanthropist. He gave "the greatest possible
demonstrations of moderation, disinterest, and active beneficence."
In his early youth, he had distinguished
himself as a talented and insightful exegete: one of his extensive works on
biblical criticism had brought him an honorary degree from the University of
Tübingen.
But the book that had gained for him universal
fame and consensus bore the title: "The Open Road to Universal Peace and
Prosperity," in which "a noble respect for ancient traditions and
symbols was joined with a sweeping, audacious radicalism toward social and
political needs and directives. Limitless freedom of thought was united with a
profound comprehension of everything mystical; absolute individualism with an
ardent dedication to the common good; the most elevated idealism toward guiding
principles with the complete precision and viability of practical solutions."
It is true that some men of faith wondered why
the name of Christ did not appear even once, but others replied: "If the
contents of the book are permeated with the true Christian spirit, with active
love and universal benevolence, what more do you want?" Besides, he
"was not in principle hostile to Christ." On the contrary, he
appreciated his right intentions and lofty teaching.
But three things about Jesus were unacceptable
to him.
First of all, his moral preoccupations.
"The Christ," he asserted, "has divided men according to good
and evil with his moralism, whereas I will unite them with the benefits that
both good and evil alike require."
He also did not like Christ's "absolute
uniqueness." He was one of many, or even better – he said – he was my
precursor, because I am the perfect and definitive saviour; I have purified his
message of what is unacceptable for the men of today.
Finally, and above all, he could not endure the
fact that Christ is alive, so much so that he repeated hysterically: "He
is not among the living, and will never be. He is not risen, he is not risen,
he is not risen. He rotted, he rotted in the tomb…"
But where Soloviev's presentation shows itself
to be particularly original and surprising – and merits greater reflection – is
in the attribution to the Antichrist of the qualities of pacifist,
environmentalist, ecumenist. […]
Did Soloviev have a particular person in mind
when he made this description of the Antichrist? It is undeniable that he
alludes above all to the "new Christianity" that Leo Tolstoy was
successfully promoting during those years. […]
In his "Gospel," Tolstoy reduces all
of Christianity to five rules of conduct which he derives from the Sermon on
the Mount:
1. Not only must you not kill, but you must not
even become angry with your brother.
2. You must not give in to sensuality, not even
to the desire for your own wife.
3. You must never bind yourself by swearing an
oath.
4. You must not resist evil, but you must apply
the principle of non-violence to the utmost and in every case.
5. Love, help, and serve your enemy.
According to Tolstoy, although these precepts
come from Christ, they in no way require the actual existence of the Son of the
living God to be valid. [...]
Of course, Soloviev does not specifically
identify the great novelist with the figure of the Antichrist. But he intuited
with extraordinary clairvoyance that Tolstoy's creed would become during the
20th century the vehicle of the substantial nullification of the gospel
message, under the formal exaltation of an ethics and a love for humanity
presented as Christian "values." [...]
The days will come, Soloviev tells us – and are
already here, we say – in which the salvific meaning of Christianity, which can
be received only in a difficult, courageous, concrete, and rational act of
faith, will be dissolved into a series of "values" easily sold on the
world markets.
The greatest of the Russian philosophers warns
us that we must guard against this danger. Even if a Tolstoian Christianity
were to make us infinitely more acceptable in the living room, at social and
political gatherings, and on television, we cannot and must not renounce the
Christianity of Jesus Christ, the Christianity that has at its center the
scandal of the cross and the astonishing reality of the Lord's resurrection.
Jesus Christ, the crucified and risen Son of God,
the only saviour of mankind, cannot be transformed into a series of worthwhile
projects and good inspirations, which are part and parcel of the dominant
worldly mentality. Jesus Christ is a "rock," as he said of himself.
And one either builds upon this "rock” (by entrusting oneself) or lunges
against it (through opposition): "He who falls on this stone will be
broken to pieces; but when it falls on any one, it will crush him" (Mt.
21:44). [...]
So Soloviev's teaching was simultaneously
prophetic and largely ignored. But we want to repropose it in the hope that
Christianity will finally catch on to it and pay it a bit of attention.
The new book by Giacomo Cardinal Biffi from
which the passage on the Antichrist was taken:
Giacomo Biffi, "Pinocchio, Peppone,
l’Anticristo e altre divagazioni [Pinocchio, Peppone, the Antichrist, and other
Meanderings],” > Cantagalli, Siena, 2005, pp. 256, euro 14,90.
And this:
Soloviev And Our Time
By Giacomo Cardinal Biffi
Vladimir Sergeevic Soloviev passed away 100
years ago, on July 31 (August 13 according to our Gregorian calendar) of the
year 1900. He passed away on the threshold of the 20th century -- a century
whose vicissitudes and troubles he had foreseen with striking clarity, but also
a century, which, tragically, in its historical course and dominant ideologies,
would reject his most profound and important teachings. His, therefore, was a
teaching at once prophetic and largely unheeded.
A Prophetic Teaching
At the time of the great Russian philosopher,
the general view -- in keeping with the limitless optimism of the "belle
epoque"' -- foresaw a bright future for humanity in the new century: under
the direction and inspiration of the new religion of progress and solidarity
stripped of transcendent elements, humanity would enjoy an era of prosperity,
peace, justice, security. In the "Excelsior" -- a form of dance,
which enjoyed an extraordinary success in the last years of the 19th century
(and which later lent its name to countless theaters and hotels) -- this new
religion found its own liturgy, as it were. Victor Hugo proclaimed: "This
century was great, the one coming will be happy."
But Soloviev refused to allow himself to be
swept up in this de-sacralized vision. On the contrary, he predicted with
prophetic clarity all of the disasters which in fact occurred.
As early as 1882, in his "Second Discourse
on Dostoevsky," Soloviev foresaw -- and condemned -- the sterility and
cruelty of the collectivist tyranny which a few years later would oppress
Russia and mankind. "The world must not be saved by recourse to
force." Soloviev said. "One could imagine men toiling together toward
some great end to which they would submit all of their own individual activity;
but if this end is imposed on them, if it represents for them something fated
and oppressive... then, even if this unity were to embrace all of mankind, universal
brotherhood would not be the result, but only a giant anthill." This
"anthill" was later constructed through the obtuse and cruel ideology
of Lenin and Stalin.
In his final work, The Three Dialogues and the
Story of the Antichrist (finished on Easter Sunday 1900), one is struck by how
clearly Soloviev foresaw that the 20th century would be "the epoch of
great wars, civil strife and revolutions" All this, he said, would prepare
the way for the disappearance of "the old structure of separate
nations" and "almost everywhere the remains of the ancient
monarchical institutions would disappear." This would pave the way for a
"United States of Europe."
The accuracy of Soloviev's vision of the great
crisis that would strike Christianity at the end of the 20th century is
astonishing.
He represents this crisis using the figure of
the Antichrist. This fascinating personage will succeed in influencing and
persuading almost everyone. It is not difficult to see in this figure of
Soloviev the reflection, almost the incarnation, of the confused and ambiguous
religiosity of our time.
The Antichrist will be a "convinced
spiritualist" Soloviev says, an admirable philanthropist, a committed,
active pacifist, a practicing vegetarian, a determined defender of animal
rights.
He will also be, among other things, an expert
exegete. His knowledge of the bible will even lead the theology faculty of
Tubingen to award him an honorary doctorate. Above all, he will be a superb
ecumenist, able to engage in dialogue "with words full of sweetness,
wisdom and eloquence."
He will not be hostile "in principle"
to Christ. Indeed, he will appreciate Christ's teaching. But he will reject the
teaching that Christ is unique, and will deny that Christ is risen and alive
today.
One sees here described -- and condemned -- a
Christianity of "values," of "openings," of
"dialogue," a Christianity where it seems there is little room left
for the person of the Son of God crucified for us and risen, little room for
the actual event of salvation.
A scenario, I think, that should cause us to
reflect...
A scenario in which the faith militant is
reduced to humanitarian and generically cultural action, the Gospel message is
located in an irenic encounter with all philosophies and all religions and the
Church of God is transformed into an organization for social work.
Are we sure Soloviev did not foresee what has
actually come to pass? Are we sure it is not precisely this that is the most
perilous threat today facing the "holy nation" redeemed by the blood
of Christ -- the Church?
It is a disturbing question and one we must not
avoid.
A Teaching Unheeded
Soloviev understood the 20th century like no
one else, but the 20th century did not understand Soloviev.
It isn't that he has not been not recognized
and honored. He is often called the greatest Russian philosopher, and few
contest this appellation.
Von Balthasar regarded his work "the most
universal speculative creation of the modern period" (Gloria III, p. 263)
and even goes so far as to set him on the level of Thomas Aquinas.
But there is no doubt that the 20th century, as
a whole, gave him no heed. Indeed, the 20th century, at every turn, has gone in
the direction opposed to the one he indicated.
The mental attitudes prevalent today, even
among many ecclesially active and knowledgeable Christians, are very far indeed
from Soloviev's vision of reality.
Among many, here are a few examples:
• Egoistic individualism, which is ever more
profoundly leaving its mark on our behaviors and laws;
• Moral subjectivism, which leads people to
hold that it is licit and even praiseworthy to assume positions in the
legislative and political spheres different from the behavioral norms one
personally adheres to;
• Pacifism and non-violence of the Tolstoyan
type confused with the Gospel ideals of peace and fraternity to the point of
surrendering to tyranny and abandoning the weak and the good to the powerful;
• A theological view which, out of fear of
being labeled reactionary, forgets the unity of God's plan, renounces spreading
divine truth in all spheres, and abdicates the attempt to live out a coherent
Christian life.
In one special way, the 20th century, in its
movements and in its social, political and cultural results, strikingly
rejected Soloviev's great moral construction. Soloviev held that fundamental
ethical principles were rooted in three primordial experiences, naturally
present in all men: that is to say, modesty, piety toward others and the
religious sentiment.
Yet the 20th century, following an egoistic and
unwise sexual revolution, reached levels of permissivism, openly displayed
vulgarity and public shamelessness, which seem to have few parallels in
history.
Moreover, the 20th century was the most
oppressive and bloody of all history, a century without respect for human life
and without mercy.
We cannot, certainly, forget the horror of the
extermination of the Jews, which can never be execrated sufficiently. But it
was not the only extermination. No one remembers the genocide of the Armenians
during the First World War.
No one commemorates the tens of millions killed
under the Soviet regime.
No one ventures to calculate the number of
victims sacrificed uselessly in the various parts of the earth to the communist
Utopia.
As for the religious sentiment during the 20th
century, in the East for the first time state atheism was both proposed and
imposed on a vast portion of humanity, while in the secularized West a
hedonistic and libertarian atheism spread until it arrived at the grotesque idea
of the "death of God."
In conclusion: Soloviev was undoubtedly a
prophet and a teacher, but a teacher who was, in a way, irrelevant. And this,
paradoxically, is why he was great and why he is precious for our time.
A passionate defender of the human person and
allergic to every philanthropy; a tireless apostle of peace and adversary of
pacifism; a promoter of Christian unity and critic of every irenicism: a lover
of nature and yet very far from today's ecological infatuations -- in a word, a
friend of truth and an enemy of ideology.
Of leaders like him we have today great need.
Born in Milan on June 15, 1928, Biffi was
ordained on December 25, 1950. A Milan seminary professor, he became a bishop
in 1976, then archbishop of Bologna in 1984 and a cardinal on May 25, 1985.
In Bologna, he is the 110th successor of St.
Petronius.
