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From Ashes and Ruin: Selections from the Writings of St. Gennadios Scholarios
Gennadios Scholarios, sometimes called the “last of the Byzantines,” was the first Patriarch of Constantinople after the violent overthrow of the Byzantine state on 29 May 1453. He was a survivor of a once great civilization, the tattered remnants of which were swept away by the conquering armies of Islam. The drastically changed circumstances raised inescapable questions about the nature of one’s identity in such a strange new world. All, or nearly all, the institutions that had defined and supported his sense of self had vanished seemingly overnight. He had become, as it were, a displaced person, a stranger in the city of his birth.
While known to scholars and historians primarily as a theological writer, Gennadios was also a pastor who authored many works designed to edify and inspire the faithful. These works touch on virtually all aspects of the life in Christ: from sin and repentance, to questions of free will, faith, prayer, fasting, Almsgiving, participation in church services, the sacraments, and the life of holiness and virtue. His teachings are clear and forthright, filled with spiritual counsel, practical advice, and deeply shaped by Scripture and inspired by the spirit of the Fathers, and thus fulfill the injunction of the Apostle Paul: “Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and encourage with every form of patient instruction” (2 Tim 4:2). Father John Palmer is to be congratulated for making these texts available in a clear and readable translation, providing us with what is now the largest collection of works by Gennadios Scholarios in English.
While known to scholars and historians primarily as a theological writer, Gennadios was also a pastor who authored many works designed to edify and inspire the faithful. These works touch on virtually all aspects of the life in Christ: from sin and repentance, to questions of free will, faith, prayer, fasting, Almsgiving, participation in church services, the sacraments, and the life of holiness and virtue. His teachings are clear and forthright, filled with spiritual counsel, practical advice, and deeply shaped by Scripture and inspired by the spirit of the Fathers, and thus fulfill the injunction of the Apostle Paul: “Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and encourage with every form of patient instruction” (2 Tim 4:2). Father John Palmer is to be congratulated for making these texts available in a clear and readable translation, providing us with what is now the largest collection of works by Gennadios Scholarios in English.
263 pages, Paperback
Published July 4, 2022
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July 26, 2025
⚠️ Spoiler Warning ⚠️
This review will contain detailed reflections and direct quotations from From Ashes and Ruin: Selections from the Writings of St. Gennadios Scholarios. Proceed accordingly.
Before a single word of Scholarios is offered, the book gives a stark, iconographic glimpse into the fall of Constantinople. Three pages that bleed anguish in the style of Byzantine visual memory.
This piece is not merely decorative. Stepping back, it sets the tone for everything. As I’ll explore further in the foreword, this is an identity forged in ruin. The blood in the streets of the Queen City seeps into the margins of every homily and letter that follows.
Forward
The foreword sets the theological and existential stakes of this volume with clarity and force. At its heart is a question Gennadios Scholarios was uniquely positioned to answer: what remains when the empire, culture, and even language that once sustained Christian life collapse? He understood that ethnicity, language, or birthplace are not stable foundations for identity. The fall of Constantinople exposed the fragility of these categories. What did it mean to be “Roman” after 1453?
His answer was simple and unshakable: “I want to be named according to my religion; and if anyone asks me who I am, I will respond that I am a Christian.” Which is exactly what the early holy martyrs said as well.
Introduction
Reading this introduction made one thing clear: Scholarios left behind a gold mine of writings, yet tragically, almost none have been translated into English. This volume, while the largest, still offers only a small glimpse into his spiritual and intellectual range. It left me wondering why more of his work hasn’t reached the wider Orthodox world yet.
It also reminded me of something rarely emphasized in popular discourse: St. Mark of Ephesus personally chose Scholarios to succeed him as the leading voice of the anti-union movement. Their bond was not one of mere ideological agreement but of deep trust and spiritual confidence.
On his deathbed, St. Mark spoke of Scholarios as “my own son and friend,” praising his wisdom and eloquence. He laid upon him the task of defending the Church from corruption, calling him a “champion of right doctrines and the Truth”. And Scholarios lived up to it. His public defeat of Bishop Lapacci at the Palace of Xylala in 1444 helped reduce the Union of Florence to what he called “a simple scrap of paper.” The torch St. Mark passed to him was not dropped.
Frankly, in light of this, how some continue to doubt the sanctity of Gennadios Scholarios is beyond me.
The Foremost Worship of God or the Evangelical Law in Summary
The format in which Scholarios writes is structured yet spiritually rich. His use of numbered points keeps things flowing and seems simple at first glance, but the content within each is deeply theological and scripturally grounded. This method offers clarity without compromising depth, allowing readers to navigate complex themes in an ordered, almost catechetical rhythm. His synthesis of scripture into nearly every point should be noted and is not only impressive but also spiritually nourishing.
One passage in particular deserves special attention, especially since the “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit” is often a source of confusion or fear among believers. Here, Scholarios writes with both pastoral insight and theological clarity:
“Know that no sin is unforgivable except for the rejection of salvation. One rejects salvation through the multitude of sins, or through loving to commit one sin continually, or one might have contracted this illness through pride, not wanting to humble himself through repentance, or through slandering God, calling him harsh and unmerciful when he is by nature merciful, a lover of man, and forbearing, has given us all things and asked nothing in return, and came not to call the righteous, but the sinners, to repentance. He who rejects salvation in this way commits a great incurable sin, and many of the saints consider this to be that blasphemy of the Holy Spirit which will not be forgiven either in the present age or in the age to come.” -PG 81
(cf. Matthew 9:13; 12:31–32)
This articulation is very freeing. It removes the idea of a mysterious, accidental sin that one might unknowingly commit, and instead frames the unforgivable sin as a willful, enduring rejection of God’s mercy. It is, ultimately, the refusal to be healed by the One who offers healing freely.
Concerning Virtuous Works, Without Which Faith Is Fruitless
This section opens as a direct challenge to both Protestant soteriology and modern ecumenism. Scholarios wastes no time establishing his position: “There is one true faith concerning God and things divine: namely, the faith of the Orthodox Christians.”
One of the most striking analogies in this section compares faith and works to the two wings of a bird. By divine gift, man has been granted both, and they are meant to lift him toward the life of heaven. But if even one is broken, he cannot take flight.
An Admonition on Spiritual Nourishment
In this section, Scholarios turns to the question of spiritual growth and its proper ordering, grounding his reflections in the life of the Church. His emphasis on ecclesial belonging is unambiguous: “For as far away from the Church as you remain, that is how distant you are from the head of the Church, Christ.” The Church is not optional in the spiritual life; it is essential. To attempt to approach Christ apart from it is, for Scholarios, a contradiction in terms.
An Admonition to the Youth
This short poem stands out as a refreshing shift in both form and tone. After several dense and highly structured prose sections, we are given something more lyrical yet still nourishing. This poetic counsel demonstrates that Scholarios was not a one-dimensional thinker. He was equally capable of beauty and brevity, weaving virtue into verse with clarity and grace.
It is addressed to a young person, presumably as both a warning and a charge. But far from being moralistic or pedantic, it reads like a spiritual testament. The most compelling line, in my view, is this:
“Heed your conscience as your own rod of chastisement.
Be just before yourself and you will be to your neighbors.”
This is the kind of distilled moral wisdom we more often associate with the Desert Fathers, yet here it is offered in poetic form by a 15th-century patriarch. Quite beautiful, and perhaps my favorite poem of the book.
During the First Week of the Fast, Concerning Fasting
This section was surprisingly layered for the topic at hand. Scholarios opens with a stern yet spiritually piercing warning about the effects of gluttony, arguing that “the excess of food [...] clouds and confuses the thought and destroys the soul's means of judgment.”
Then, in an unexpected but endearing detour, which was funny enough, my favorite part of the section.. Scholarios addresses what might sound like a schoolchild’s question: “Why forty days?” Rather than brush it aside, he responds with a wide-ranging, almost encyclopedic list of symbolic associations. Maybe some are a stretch, but each was more elaborate than the last. We are told it is because Christ fasted forty days, yes, but also because the Ten Commandments (Decalogue) multiplied by the four Gospels equals forty. He continues:
The four elements of the body resisted by the ten commandments = forty.
A tithe of the year (roughly 360 days) is forty, symbolizing offering the year to God.
The Trinity (3) is to be loved with all heart, soul, and mind (3 powers) = 6; adding the body’s 4 elements = 10; times 4 (seasons or totality) = 40.
The climax is a whirlwind of Pythagorean numerology: four divides everything; the elements, the types of souls, the parts of time, space, climate, knowledge, rhetoric, and so on. It’s unexpectedly humorous to me, yet he draws from it a sober theological conclusion: forty is the number that arises from the union of two perfect numbers (four and ten) and thus signals the perfection of purification and subjection achieved through the fast. Wow!
Lastly, Scholarios also makes an interesting appeal to the natural law. He reminds the reader that fasting was practiced not only by the apostles and saints but also by Pythagoras, Diogenes, and “all the most-excellent among the pagan Greeks.” He shows that Christians have the greater obligation, because fasting is now not only affirmed by nature but defined by divine and ecclesial law. To break the fast, therefore, is to reject both the order of creation and the instruction of the Church.
Concerning Almsgiving
In this section, Scholarios offers a profound elevation of almsgiving, not as an optional act of generosity, but as the natural and necessary fruit of Christian love. He declares it “the immediate result of the apex of the virtues, love,” and insists it must be done “for God’s sake and not for the sake of anything transitory.”
One of the most memorable doctrinal insights in this section is Scholarios’ articulation of love itself. He writes that “Love is divided in two: into the love of God and the love of neighbor. The love of neighbor is the greater, for this presupposes the love of God.”
The Mind and the Passions
This section offers another poetic interlude in From Ashes and Ruin, and once again demonstrates that Scholarios was not confined to polemic and philosophy; he was capable of genuine lyrical beauty. This poem meditates on the instability of worldly success and the superiority of a rightly ordered mind over the chaos of the passions. Scholarios’s use of poetic imagery is rich; however, I found myself wondering how this would sound in the original Greek. It feels a bit choppy in English, and I suspect its rhythm and cohesion may come through more clearly in its native tongue.
On the Difference Between Venial and Mortal Sins
This section stood out to me immediately; nearly every line seemed worthy of underlining. Scholarios draws a powerful analogy between the soul’s sins and the body’s wounds: just as some physical ailments are grave and others minor, so too are there mortal and venial sins, depending on their effect on the soul’s health.
The key distinction, for Scholarios, lies in the presence or absence of divine love. Every action a human being commits is either directed toward God or neighbor. When such acts are animated by love, they are called virtues; when they lack love, they are sins. What renders a sin mortal, then, is not merely its external form but its full and willful rupture of this love. Especially when such rejection is enacted in deed. Venial sins, by contrast, represent a deficiency that has not yet reached the point of total consent.
Scholarios organizes this teaching by examining three loci of human action: the intellect, the tongue, and the body. Each sin is located in one of these, and the degree of its development determines its severity. A sin that is only conceived in the intellect but not expressed remains venial. If that same sin proceeds to speech, it may become mortal depending on its nature. And if it advances to bodily enactment, particularly in matters like fornication or violence, it is clearly mortal. This is because the will has moved from being tempted to fully cooperating, even delighting in an act that contradicts divine love.
In sum, Scholarios offers more than a legalistic account of sin’s gradations. His distinction rests on the soul’s union with God: mortal sin severs that union through active rejection of love, while venial sin falls short without complete rupture. His analysis is rigorous but never abstract, always attentive to the soul’s inner movements and the concrete choices through which it either ascends or declines. Truly fascinating.
On Whether Those Who Sin Do So Involuntarily or Voluntarily
In this section, Scholarios offers a rich psychological and moral analysis of the will’s relation to reason and passion. Sin, he argues, begins voluntarily, when the will rejects reason and aligns with desire. This initial choice, freely made, gradually entrenches itself into habit, such that future sinful actions may seem involuntary, not because they are without cause, but because the will has been deformed by repeated consent to evil.
Yet, Scholarios maintains clear moral responsibility. Even when one seems "compelled" by vice, that state was self-inflicted: the person willingly introduced the habit of evil... by continually and carelessly committing evil works. This doctrine carefully balances personal accountability with a compassionate understanding of human weakness. He does not deny the struggle of those enslaved to passion, but he refuses to absolve them of responsibility for the slavery they chose.
Most importantly, Scholarios holds out hope. As long as reason is not entirely silenced, one may rise again, choosing what is “according to nature” and recovering true freedom of the will. The moral vision here is deeply Orthodox: the will is wounded, not destroyed, and healing is possible through synergy with divine grace and the reordering of the soul.
Homily on the Parable of the Prodigal Son
In this homily, Scholarios offers a meditation on the Prodigal Son, illuminating the boundless mercy of the Father. With pastoral depth, he urges the reader toward true repentance, reminding us that grace is never 'earned', but always received in love. The section ends humbly, almost as a prayer that flows seamlessly into the next chapter on the Lord’s Prayer.
An Explanation of the Seven-Fold Prayer Taught by Our Lord Jesus Christ
This section is not simply a commentary on the Lord’s Prayer; it is itself a kind of prayer, it seems. Scholarios leads us line by line through the “Our Father,” and I feel as if he is the one kneeling before the text, letting it resound in his soul. This shows what distinguishes this explanation is its balance of doctrinal clarity and prayerful tone. Scholarios meditates on each phrase with a poetic sensibility, yet remains grounded in patristic theology and scriptural exegesis. The structure, style, and spiritual insight of this section make it one of the most compelling theological treatments of the Lord’s Prayer in post-Byzantine literature.
On Entrances
This section was refreshing to learn about the entrances, but what was best was that towards the end of the section, we see a clear exposition of Scholarios’s theological stance. Scholarios upholds transubstantiation, emphasizing that the bread and wine truly become the body and blood of Christ through a supernatural transformation. He also criticizes the Latins sharply for misunderstanding and specifically for their use of unleavened bread, employing harsh language to correct these errors, even going so far as saying: "Those who keep the Sabbath with the unleavened bread are neither purely Jews, nor Christians." Which was entertaining and insightful.
That the Theotokos Is Beyond Compare More Glorious than the Seraphim
This is a short but theologically rich section, offering a form of maximalist theology akin in my eyes to St. Gregory Palamas. Here, Scholarios makes a key distinction: while infinitely beyond belongs properly to God alone, beyond compare can denote an exceptional elevation among creatures. It is in this second, careful sense that the Theotokos is praised. "None are more closely related than mother and son, then none can be more divine after God himself than the blessed Virgin, who was deemed worthy to become the mother of God for our salvation. After God, none but her is more glorious than the Seraphim, and she is beyond compare more glorious, since no one has comparable experience of communion with God, which she lived in both soul and body. Exceeding every mind on account of the strangeness of the miracle, this experience was hers alone."
A Demonstration That St. Paul Is Greater Than All the Saints
This is the most mind-blowing section of the entire book, and I say that without exaggeration. Scholarios unfolds a deeply scriptural, rhetorically stunning argument that St. Paul is not just greater than John the Baptist, but greater than all the saints, human and angelic. The claim is bold, but the reasoning is rigorous, and I was convinced.
Drawing from Paul’s own confessions of being “least of the apostles” and “last of all,” Scholarios argues that it is precisely through his humility, suffering, and sheer labor that his unparalleled greatness is revealed. Scholarios doesn’t shy from Paul’s own words: “Are they Christ’s servants? I am even more so.” What could be clearer?
I won’t go into all the details because you should read them yourself, but the conclusion is remarkable. Paul is not merely faithful like Abraham or blameless like Job, but a chosen vessel, a title that signifies not just distinction, but supremacy. He is, in Scholarios’ unforgettable phrase, “the most-elect of the elect,” last to preach but first in the Kingdom, and even surpassing all noetic creation in honor. I finished this section stunned.
Happiness and Virtue in the Life According to the Philosophers
The final section is a beautifully formatted poem that elegantly brings the book to a close. Scholarios’ 'On Happiness' and reconciliation of Aristotle and Plotinus is not only intellectually satisfying but also a fitting capstone to the whole work. It’s structured like a philosophical hymn, progressing from Aristotle’s grounded political ethics to Plotinus’ higher contemplative ideals and finally, hinting beyond both toward the Church’s theological tradition.
He affirms Aristotle’s definition of happiness, “an activity of the soul according to virtue,” but clarifies that Aristotle speaks only of the lowest form: political happiness, which still depends on external goods. Scholarios then moves upward, through the four-fold hierarchy of virtues and happinesses, culminating in the purified soul who no longer even struggles with passions but lives above them. The final, greatest kind of happiness is divine, unshakeable, and only fully attained in the next life, known properly only to the inspired teachers of the Church.
This progression, both poetic and philosophical, was a brilliant way to end the book. It gives structure, reflection, and closure, reminding the reader that happiness in the fullest sense is not merely an ethical or intellectual achievement, but a divine gift. A powerful and contemplative ending to a genuinely remarkable book. I truly believe that as more works of St. Gennadios are translated into English, his reputation will rise, not just as a historical figure, but as a true saint and teacher of the Church, a small pillar of orthodoxy. All glory to God, and thank you for reading this review.
This review will contain detailed reflections and direct quotations from From Ashes and Ruin: Selections from the Writings of St. Gennadios Scholarios. Proceed accordingly.
Before a single word of Scholarios is offered, the book gives a stark, iconographic glimpse into the fall of Constantinople. Three pages that bleed anguish in the style of Byzantine visual memory.
This piece is not merely decorative. Stepping back, it sets the tone for everything. As I’ll explore further in the foreword, this is an identity forged in ruin. The blood in the streets of the Queen City seeps into the margins of every homily and letter that follows.
Forward
The foreword sets the theological and existential stakes of this volume with clarity and force. At its heart is a question Gennadios Scholarios was uniquely positioned to answer: what remains when the empire, culture, and even language that once sustained Christian life collapse? He understood that ethnicity, language, or birthplace are not stable foundations for identity. The fall of Constantinople exposed the fragility of these categories. What did it mean to be “Roman” after 1453?
His answer was simple and unshakable: “I want to be named according to my religion; and if anyone asks me who I am, I will respond that I am a Christian.” Which is exactly what the early holy martyrs said as well.
Introduction
Reading this introduction made one thing clear: Scholarios left behind a gold mine of writings, yet tragically, almost none have been translated into English. This volume, while the largest, still offers only a small glimpse into his spiritual and intellectual range. It left me wondering why more of his work hasn’t reached the wider Orthodox world yet.
It also reminded me of something rarely emphasized in popular discourse: St. Mark of Ephesus personally chose Scholarios to succeed him as the leading voice of the anti-union movement. Their bond was not one of mere ideological agreement but of deep trust and spiritual confidence.
On his deathbed, St. Mark spoke of Scholarios as “my own son and friend,” praising his wisdom and eloquence. He laid upon him the task of defending the Church from corruption, calling him a “champion of right doctrines and the Truth”. And Scholarios lived up to it. His public defeat of Bishop Lapacci at the Palace of Xylala in 1444 helped reduce the Union of Florence to what he called “a simple scrap of paper.” The torch St. Mark passed to him was not dropped.
Frankly, in light of this, how some continue to doubt the sanctity of Gennadios Scholarios is beyond me.
The Foremost Worship of God or the Evangelical Law in Summary
The format in which Scholarios writes is structured yet spiritually rich. His use of numbered points keeps things flowing and seems simple at first glance, but the content within each is deeply theological and scripturally grounded. This method offers clarity without compromising depth, allowing readers to navigate complex themes in an ordered, almost catechetical rhythm. His synthesis of scripture into nearly every point should be noted and is not only impressive but also spiritually nourishing.
One passage in particular deserves special attention, especially since the “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit” is often a source of confusion or fear among believers. Here, Scholarios writes with both pastoral insight and theological clarity:
“Know that no sin is unforgivable except for the rejection of salvation. One rejects salvation through the multitude of sins, or through loving to commit one sin continually, or one might have contracted this illness through pride, not wanting to humble himself through repentance, or through slandering God, calling him harsh and unmerciful when he is by nature merciful, a lover of man, and forbearing, has given us all things and asked nothing in return, and came not to call the righteous, but the sinners, to repentance. He who rejects salvation in this way commits a great incurable sin, and many of the saints consider this to be that blasphemy of the Holy Spirit which will not be forgiven either in the present age or in the age to come.” -PG 81
(cf. Matthew 9:13; 12:31–32)
This articulation is very freeing. It removes the idea of a mysterious, accidental sin that one might unknowingly commit, and instead frames the unforgivable sin as a willful, enduring rejection of God’s mercy. It is, ultimately, the refusal to be healed by the One who offers healing freely.
Concerning Virtuous Works, Without Which Faith Is Fruitless
This section opens as a direct challenge to both Protestant soteriology and modern ecumenism. Scholarios wastes no time establishing his position: “There is one true faith concerning God and things divine: namely, the faith of the Orthodox Christians.”
One of the most striking analogies in this section compares faith and works to the two wings of a bird. By divine gift, man has been granted both, and they are meant to lift him toward the life of heaven. But if even one is broken, he cannot take flight.
An Admonition on Spiritual Nourishment
In this section, Scholarios turns to the question of spiritual growth and its proper ordering, grounding his reflections in the life of the Church. His emphasis on ecclesial belonging is unambiguous: “For as far away from the Church as you remain, that is how distant you are from the head of the Church, Christ.” The Church is not optional in the spiritual life; it is essential. To attempt to approach Christ apart from it is, for Scholarios, a contradiction in terms.
An Admonition to the Youth
This short poem stands out as a refreshing shift in both form and tone. After several dense and highly structured prose sections, we are given something more lyrical yet still nourishing. This poetic counsel demonstrates that Scholarios was not a one-dimensional thinker. He was equally capable of beauty and brevity, weaving virtue into verse with clarity and grace.
It is addressed to a young person, presumably as both a warning and a charge. But far from being moralistic or pedantic, it reads like a spiritual testament. The most compelling line, in my view, is this:
“Heed your conscience as your own rod of chastisement.
Be just before yourself and you will be to your neighbors.”
This is the kind of distilled moral wisdom we more often associate with the Desert Fathers, yet here it is offered in poetic form by a 15th-century patriarch. Quite beautiful, and perhaps my favorite poem of the book.
During the First Week of the Fast, Concerning Fasting
This section was surprisingly layered for the topic at hand. Scholarios opens with a stern yet spiritually piercing warning about the effects of gluttony, arguing that “the excess of food [...] clouds and confuses the thought and destroys the soul's means of judgment.”
Then, in an unexpected but endearing detour, which was funny enough, my favorite part of the section.. Scholarios addresses what might sound like a schoolchild’s question: “Why forty days?” Rather than brush it aside, he responds with a wide-ranging, almost encyclopedic list of symbolic associations. Maybe some are a stretch, but each was more elaborate than the last. We are told it is because Christ fasted forty days, yes, but also because the Ten Commandments (Decalogue) multiplied by the four Gospels equals forty. He continues:
The four elements of the body resisted by the ten commandments = forty.
A tithe of the year (roughly 360 days) is forty, symbolizing offering the year to God.
The Trinity (3) is to be loved with all heart, soul, and mind (3 powers) = 6; adding the body’s 4 elements = 10; times 4 (seasons or totality) = 40.
The climax is a whirlwind of Pythagorean numerology: four divides everything; the elements, the types of souls, the parts of time, space, climate, knowledge, rhetoric, and so on. It’s unexpectedly humorous to me, yet he draws from it a sober theological conclusion: forty is the number that arises from the union of two perfect numbers (four and ten) and thus signals the perfection of purification and subjection achieved through the fast. Wow!
Lastly, Scholarios also makes an interesting appeal to the natural law. He reminds the reader that fasting was practiced not only by the apostles and saints but also by Pythagoras, Diogenes, and “all the most-excellent among the pagan Greeks.” He shows that Christians have the greater obligation, because fasting is now not only affirmed by nature but defined by divine and ecclesial law. To break the fast, therefore, is to reject both the order of creation and the instruction of the Church.
Concerning Almsgiving
In this section, Scholarios offers a profound elevation of almsgiving, not as an optional act of generosity, but as the natural and necessary fruit of Christian love. He declares it “the immediate result of the apex of the virtues, love,” and insists it must be done “for God’s sake and not for the sake of anything transitory.”
One of the most memorable doctrinal insights in this section is Scholarios’ articulation of love itself. He writes that “Love is divided in two: into the love of God and the love of neighbor. The love of neighbor is the greater, for this presupposes the love of God.”
The Mind and the Passions
This section offers another poetic interlude in From Ashes and Ruin, and once again demonstrates that Scholarios was not confined to polemic and philosophy; he was capable of genuine lyrical beauty. This poem meditates on the instability of worldly success and the superiority of a rightly ordered mind over the chaos of the passions. Scholarios’s use of poetic imagery is rich; however, I found myself wondering how this would sound in the original Greek. It feels a bit choppy in English, and I suspect its rhythm and cohesion may come through more clearly in its native tongue.
On the Difference Between Venial and Mortal Sins
This section stood out to me immediately; nearly every line seemed worthy of underlining. Scholarios draws a powerful analogy between the soul’s sins and the body’s wounds: just as some physical ailments are grave and others minor, so too are there mortal and venial sins, depending on their effect on the soul’s health.
The key distinction, for Scholarios, lies in the presence or absence of divine love. Every action a human being commits is either directed toward God or neighbor. When such acts are animated by love, they are called virtues; when they lack love, they are sins. What renders a sin mortal, then, is not merely its external form but its full and willful rupture of this love. Especially when such rejection is enacted in deed. Venial sins, by contrast, represent a deficiency that has not yet reached the point of total consent.
Scholarios organizes this teaching by examining three loci of human action: the intellect, the tongue, and the body. Each sin is located in one of these, and the degree of its development determines its severity. A sin that is only conceived in the intellect but not expressed remains venial. If that same sin proceeds to speech, it may become mortal depending on its nature. And if it advances to bodily enactment, particularly in matters like fornication or violence, it is clearly mortal. This is because the will has moved from being tempted to fully cooperating, even delighting in an act that contradicts divine love.
In sum, Scholarios offers more than a legalistic account of sin’s gradations. His distinction rests on the soul’s union with God: mortal sin severs that union through active rejection of love, while venial sin falls short without complete rupture. His analysis is rigorous but never abstract, always attentive to the soul’s inner movements and the concrete choices through which it either ascends or declines. Truly fascinating.
On Whether Those Who Sin Do So Involuntarily or Voluntarily
In this section, Scholarios offers a rich psychological and moral analysis of the will’s relation to reason and passion. Sin, he argues, begins voluntarily, when the will rejects reason and aligns with desire. This initial choice, freely made, gradually entrenches itself into habit, such that future sinful actions may seem involuntary, not because they are without cause, but because the will has been deformed by repeated consent to evil.
Yet, Scholarios maintains clear moral responsibility. Even when one seems "compelled" by vice, that state was self-inflicted: the person willingly introduced the habit of evil... by continually and carelessly committing evil works. This doctrine carefully balances personal accountability with a compassionate understanding of human weakness. He does not deny the struggle of those enslaved to passion, but he refuses to absolve them of responsibility for the slavery they chose.
Most importantly, Scholarios holds out hope. As long as reason is not entirely silenced, one may rise again, choosing what is “according to nature” and recovering true freedom of the will. The moral vision here is deeply Orthodox: the will is wounded, not destroyed, and healing is possible through synergy with divine grace and the reordering of the soul.
Homily on the Parable of the Prodigal Son
In this homily, Scholarios offers a meditation on the Prodigal Son, illuminating the boundless mercy of the Father. With pastoral depth, he urges the reader toward true repentance, reminding us that grace is never 'earned', but always received in love. The section ends humbly, almost as a prayer that flows seamlessly into the next chapter on the Lord’s Prayer.
An Explanation of the Seven-Fold Prayer Taught by Our Lord Jesus Christ
This section is not simply a commentary on the Lord’s Prayer; it is itself a kind of prayer, it seems. Scholarios leads us line by line through the “Our Father,” and I feel as if he is the one kneeling before the text, letting it resound in his soul. This shows what distinguishes this explanation is its balance of doctrinal clarity and prayerful tone. Scholarios meditates on each phrase with a poetic sensibility, yet remains grounded in patristic theology and scriptural exegesis. The structure, style, and spiritual insight of this section make it one of the most compelling theological treatments of the Lord’s Prayer in post-Byzantine literature.
On Entrances
This section was refreshing to learn about the entrances, but what was best was that towards the end of the section, we see a clear exposition of Scholarios’s theological stance. Scholarios upholds transubstantiation, emphasizing that the bread and wine truly become the body and blood of Christ through a supernatural transformation. He also criticizes the Latins sharply for misunderstanding and specifically for their use of unleavened bread, employing harsh language to correct these errors, even going so far as saying: "Those who keep the Sabbath with the unleavened bread are neither purely Jews, nor Christians." Which was entertaining and insightful.
That the Theotokos Is Beyond Compare More Glorious than the Seraphim
This is a short but theologically rich section, offering a form of maximalist theology akin in my eyes to St. Gregory Palamas. Here, Scholarios makes a key distinction: while infinitely beyond belongs properly to God alone, beyond compare can denote an exceptional elevation among creatures. It is in this second, careful sense that the Theotokos is praised. "None are more closely related than mother and son, then none can be more divine after God himself than the blessed Virgin, who was deemed worthy to become the mother of God for our salvation. After God, none but her is more glorious than the Seraphim, and she is beyond compare more glorious, since no one has comparable experience of communion with God, which she lived in both soul and body. Exceeding every mind on account of the strangeness of the miracle, this experience was hers alone."
A Demonstration That St. Paul Is Greater Than All the Saints
This is the most mind-blowing section of the entire book, and I say that without exaggeration. Scholarios unfolds a deeply scriptural, rhetorically stunning argument that St. Paul is not just greater than John the Baptist, but greater than all the saints, human and angelic. The claim is bold, but the reasoning is rigorous, and I was convinced.
Drawing from Paul’s own confessions of being “least of the apostles” and “last of all,” Scholarios argues that it is precisely through his humility, suffering, and sheer labor that his unparalleled greatness is revealed. Scholarios doesn’t shy from Paul’s own words: “Are they Christ’s servants? I am even more so.” What could be clearer?
I won’t go into all the details because you should read them yourself, but the conclusion is remarkable. Paul is not merely faithful like Abraham or blameless like Job, but a chosen vessel, a title that signifies not just distinction, but supremacy. He is, in Scholarios’ unforgettable phrase, “the most-elect of the elect,” last to preach but first in the Kingdom, and even surpassing all noetic creation in honor. I finished this section stunned.
Happiness and Virtue in the Life According to the Philosophers
The final section is a beautifully formatted poem that elegantly brings the book to a close. Scholarios’ 'On Happiness' and reconciliation of Aristotle and Plotinus is not only intellectually satisfying but also a fitting capstone to the whole work. It’s structured like a philosophical hymn, progressing from Aristotle’s grounded political ethics to Plotinus’ higher contemplative ideals and finally, hinting beyond both toward the Church’s theological tradition.
He affirms Aristotle’s definition of happiness, “an activity of the soul according to virtue,” but clarifies that Aristotle speaks only of the lowest form: political happiness, which still depends on external goods. Scholarios then moves upward, through the four-fold hierarchy of virtues and happinesses, culminating in the purified soul who no longer even struggles with passions but lives above them. The final, greatest kind of happiness is divine, unshakeable, and only fully attained in the next life, known properly only to the inspired teachers of the Church.
This progression, both poetic and philosophical, was a brilliant way to end the book. It gives structure, reflection, and closure, reminding the reader that happiness in the fullest sense is not merely an ethical or intellectual achievement, but a divine gift. A powerful and contemplative ending to a genuinely remarkable book. I truly believe that as more works of St. Gennadios are translated into English, his reputation will rise, not just as a historical figure, but as a true saint and teacher of the Church, a small pillar of orthodoxy. All glory to God, and thank you for reading this review.
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