Part I
The Church New Year approaches on September 1/14 — the day on which the Church liturgically commemorates the creation of the world. In connection with this feast, we begin here a reflection on a question that sooner or later confronts every thinking Christian: how are we to understand the biblical teaching on creation and the Fall alongside what science tells us about billions of years of cosmic history? Part I appears below; the conclusion will follow in the September issue, timed to the feast of the Church New Year itself.

A Brief Preface from the Author
These reflections arose as an attempt to offer a response to the problem that every thinking Orthodox Christian sooner or later encounters. I offer it to the reader with caution and humility — fully aware that I am proceeding here partly at my own risk. I am not an experienced theologian, and the last thing I would want is for these thoughts to result in heresy.
I should note that reflection on time as something not absolute but created and relative is not only a theological intuition. Modern science and philosophy are also moving away from the Newtonian concept of absolute time. This theme has penetrated even popular culture — one need only recall a number of well-known films of recent decades in which the nature of time is called into question. Perhaps here an unexpected point of contact opens up between contemporary scientific thinking and Christian theological inquiry.
Finally, I must caution the reader: the language of this text is at times more categorical and polemical than strict theological reasoning would require. This is intentional — for the sake of clarity, so that the devout reader might more easily grasp the point. Where I speak in affirmative terms, please read: “so it seems to me,” “this is how I am inclined to think.” This is an invitation to reflection, not a pronouncement of judgment.
I ask you, as much as possible, to read carefully — and if needed, to re-read — as I may not have managed to express everything with sufficient clarity… and please do not judge me too harshly.
* * *
There is a question that every thinking person in the Church eventually asks — and rarely receives a satisfying answer to. On one hand, he hears that the world was created “very good,” that death entered through sin, that all creation groans and awaits deliverance from corruption. On the other hand, he knows that the earth is billions of years old, that long before man, creatures lived and died, that dinosaurs hunted and went extinct tens of millions of years before the first human being. These two bodies of knowledge collide within him. It seems one must cancel the other.
I want to suggest that this collision is an illusion — not because we will “reconcile” faith and science with a cheap concession, but because the question itself is usually wrongly framed.
Three Positions — One Shared Problem
While the Church dogmatically confesses God as the Creator of all things, she has never issued a dogmatic definition concerning the precise process by which the world came into being. Different positions therefore exist within her, and this is legitimate. Let me name the main ones.
Strict creationists insist on a literal reading of the Six Days: six days of creation, a historical Adam, no death before the Fall. Behind this position stands something precious — a firm confession that death is an enemy, not a norm, that corruption was never part of God’s design. This is not naïveté; it is theological faithfulness. The weakness is that sustaining this position requires engaging in scientific debate on someone else’s ground — and that is not always easy terrain for theology.
Evolutionary creationists accept the scientific account of the origin of species, seeing in evolution the action of God creating through process. They are honest before the created world, unafraid of science, and preserve the greatness of a Creator who works through time. Their weakness: it becomes difficult to maintain a historical Adam and to explain how death can be “the last enemy” (1 Cor. 15:26) if it has always existed, long before any sin.
There is a third path, closely tied to the first — so-called “scientific creationism,” the attempt to demonstrate creation by scientific means. The intention is noble, but here too the pieces do not always fit: the scientific arguments of this camp often fail to withstand scrutiny.
What do all three positions share? Each of them, in its own way, measures the Fall by linear chronology. They argue only about where on the timeline to place the flag marked “Adam’s sin.” But what if that very timeline is already on this side of the Fall?
Where We Go Wrong in Framing the Question
The Fall is not an event inside time. More precisely: it is the event that left creation in time — without God.
Before the Fall, the world existed in God and through God. Time existed — but it was filled with the Source of life, held in fullness. Sin did not insert death into an already existing order of things. It left creation alone with time, without the One who filled that time with life. And time, left to itself, became corruption.
To ask, therefore, “did dinosaurs appear before or after the Fall” is to measure a cause by the very yardstick that the cause itself creates. It is like asking where in space the cause of space is located. The question is grammatically correct — but meaningless. To put it very simply — even crudely — one might say: the dinosaurs appeared with the Fall. Not before it in time, but through it.
Here it is worth recalling St. Maximus the Confessor. He distinguished in every created thing its logos — God’s eternal design for it, unchanging and indestructible — and its tropos, its manner of existence, the way that design actually subsists in reality. Sin did not damage the logoi of creation — God’s design for the world remained whole and holy. But it corrupted the tropos, the mode of being. Corruption, disintegration, the one-way flow of time toward death— these are features not of the original design, but of a damaged mode of existence.
The universe was refashioned to the measure of fallen Adam. God, in His condescension, fitted the cosmos to the man who could no longer be contained within the primordial world.
And time, I think, is no hindrance to God here.
Part II

“This Is What It Looks Like — Without Me”
The Fall is a restarting of the universe in the mode of «without Me.» Not an event within the history of the world, but a restarting of history itself: creation is reassembled anew, yet now as if God were not in it. And being «as if without God» can look only one way — as evolution: the struggle for existence, selection through death, blind chance.
Here, I believe, the central image is born.
The fallen world is a world in a state of separation from God. Not a world from which God has departed — He does not depart, for even the fallen world is sustained by Him. But a world that has rejected life in Him and been left to live by its own fallen will. God, as it were, says to creation: this is what it looks like — without Me.
The struggle for existence, selection through death, the survival of the fittest, billions of years of creatures consuming one another — this is not the Creator’s original design. This is the face of being left to itself. The entire cosmos, not only man, bears the mark of the Fall.
But here we must guard against one extreme. «Without Me» does not mean that the world is somewhere wholly abandoned by God, become entirely self-standing and godless — to think so would be an error, for even the fallen world is held in being by God and without Him would vanish into nothing. The very world that groans in its separation from God also bears witness to Him: «the invisible things of Him… from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made» (Rom. 1:20) — and at the same time, «the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now» (Rom. 8:22). One and the same creation both reveals the Creator — in its design, in its logoi — and groans in its separation from Him in its fallen state. (And this very groaning, this very incompleteness of the fallen world, is itself a witness to God: as an empty place bears witness to the one who should have been there.) The truth dwells somewhere between these two words, merging with neither and departing from neither. In this there is an apophatic quality: like the greatest mysteries of the Church (for instance, the teaching of the two natures in Christ), it is more surely guarded by what we refrain from asserting than by what we dare to affirm.
On the Limit of Every Description
Evolution, then, does not refute faith. It describes what the world looks like in a state of separation from God. Or, in words that seem to me most precise: the Fall did not merely introduce death into the world — it brought into being the very temporal order in which death became the law of life. Evolution is the history of that order.
This world can be studied and described. But any description of it is a description of the fallen world — not the world as first created.
This is not a reproach to anyone. It is simply the marking of a boundary. The world before the Fall, the world of a different mode of time, lies beyond any method by definition. Of that world, only Revelation speaks.
A Stone Cast into the Waters of Time
If we ask not merely what existed before the Fall and what came after, but how the Fall itself changed the very nature of time, then perhaps one image may help — offered, I confess, with some daring.
The Fall of man — the center and priest of creation — is like a stone cast into the waters of time. The wave spreads in every direction: reaching back to the very beginning, and there laying a new beginning suited to man’s fallen condition — a development without God, a godless evolution (which, in this sense, bears witness to sin itself) — and reaching forward to the very end, to that moment when “there should be time no longer” (Rev. 10:6). But this whole image holds only because time is understood here not as an absolute, but as part of creation itself. Otherwise, the very question — «how could the event of the Fall determine the entire history of the world that preceded it?» — would remain unresolvable.
Sin wounded the very beginning of creation. Man found himself without God — as if from the very beginning. And in the place of God — an immense span of godless time: the whole of evolution.
The Missing Beginning
Something unexpected can be noticed here. The long span of evolution — billions of years of struggle, death, and extinction — is usually taken as a threat to faith, as something that argues against Holy Scripture. But in light of everything said above, the matter turns out otherwise. Recall the verse: «And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature after his kind» (Gen. 1:24). Evolution might be pictured as that very same verse, but with its beginning removed — as a consequence of the Fall: «…let the earth bring forth the living creature…» — now without «And God said.» The same process — the earth bringing forth living things — but without the Word, without the command, without the One standing at the beginning. And then, the longer, more complex, and more merciless this process turns out to be, the more clearly it shows what creation looks like when left without its Word.
One further, final touch is needed here. Man was created not by this word, but by another — «And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness» (Gen. 1:26). Yet the holy fathers, interpreting the words of the psalm, «man being in honour understandeth not: he is like the beasts that perish» (Ps. 49:12, 20 [48:13, 21 in the Septuagint numbering]), teach that through the Fall, man, having ceased to follow his Archetype, did indeed become like the unreasoning creatures. And in this light it becomes clear why the verse concerning the creatures of the earth — Genesis 1:24, and not Genesis 1:26 — now applies to man as well: not because he ceased to be the image of God, but because in his fallen state he took on the same trait as the wordless creature — a life running its course without the Word audible within it.
In Place of a Conclusion
Let me be honest: what is offered here is not “Church teaching” in a dogmatic sense. The Church teaches that God is Creator, that man was made in His image, that he fell and is saved in Christ. How exactly the time of the fallen world is ordered — this she leaves to our reverent reflection.
And yet this reflection is not idle. It removes a false choice — “either faith or reason” — in which so many people lose one or the other. It restores to the Fall its true cosmic scale: not a minor transgression by two people in a garden, but a catastrophe that determined the very mode of being of the created world.
And then the reverse becomes clearer — the Resurrection of Christ. If the Fall left creation in time without God, then the Resurrection is the return of God into creation — and the beginning of a new mode of being, where “time shall be no more” (Rev. 10:6). Dinosaurs, for all their ancient vastness, bear witness to one thing: the whole world, in all its depth and age, groans and awaits that Deliverance which has already begun in the empty Tomb.
Very Rev. Evheniy Protsenko,
2026
Author’s Note (Addendum)
After completing these reflections, I came upon a lecture by the paleontologist Alexander Khramov (Candidate of Biological Sciences, of the Paleontological Institute of the Russian Academy of Sciences), recorded as a conversation with the philosopher Alexei Gaginsky. There they discussed the concept of Alterism (from the Latin alter — «other,» «different»): a theological approach according to which the world originally created by God was fundamentally different from the one we observe today, and the whole observable universe — including the evolutionary process — already exists on this side of the Fall. This approach has roots in the Eastern Fathers, among them St. Gregory the Theologian, St. Gregory of Nyssa, and St. Maximus the Confessor; in our own time Bishop Basil (Rodzianko) came close to it in his book The Theory of the Decay of the Universe and the Faith of the Fathers (Moscow: Palomnik, 1996), and it has been developed systematically by Alexander Khramov in The Ape and Adam: Can a Christian Be an Evolutionist? (Moscow: Nikeya, 2019).
To my surprise, all this turned out to lie remarkably close to the direction in which my own thoughts had independently been taking shape — so what is offered here probably belongs simply to the broader tradition of alterism, if with a somewhat different placement of emphasis. (And perhaps these notes might help make the intuition underlying that tradition more accessible.) Where that tradition describes two states, before and after the Fall, I have tried to dwell on the transition itself: not only that the world became other, but how the Fall gave rise to the very order of time within which all the history studied by science unfolds. (Admittedly, I really do offer only an image here.)
I was struck to find that Gaginsky, near the end of the conversation, sensed a similar incompleteness and pointed toward the same ground. Reflecting on this, he turned, following Bergson and Heidegger, to the difference between objective, linear time and a deeper, more authentic time, and suggested that the passage from one state to another might be understood as a passage from one temporal regime to another. He even remarked that an article could be written on the subject in connection with Alterism, though he did not pursue it further (as far as I know). If the present reflection has any worth, it is perhaps as one small attempt to take up that open question.
What matters most, in the end, is a single conviction: time is not an absolute. It is created, subject to God, and cannot serve as the final framework for understanding reality. When we quietly take linear time — time that runs toward death — to be the only horizon of being, we begin to grant it what belongs to God alone; and to absolutize time is, in a subtle way, to deify it, which the Christian faith cannot allow. That time is created, and therefore not absolute, is no novelty: it is, in essence, what the Fathers of the Church testified to long before these modern debates arose.


