Concentric Circles, pt. I.

What began as a response to R. of Nipawin’s comments to the article ‘Culture and Religious Integration‘, also seemed like an appropriate (albeit partial) response to D. Smith’s comments at the bottom of ‘Apologia pro mutatione mea, pt. VII’. At the end of the day, it is my attempt to explain how I understand the Gospel to relates to culture, how the Church relates to the world, and how the Liturgy relates to life. Like the apologia, I intend to offer it in parts. Feel free to comment.

Back when I was in seminary, there were certain phrases I used that I understood perfectly, but that seemed to confound my teachers and perhaps, on reflection, some of my colleagues too. One of these was ‘cosmic nature of the Liturgy’. I was often asked to explain this phrase, and so I tried, although my attempts must not have been sufficient. For when it came to convocation and the presentation of the degrees, when I was called up to receive mine, my rhetorical eccentricities were used as fuel for an affectionate roast.

The thing is, what I meant when I referred to the ‘cosmic nature of the Liturgy’, and which I have since come to better understand, is something that I would still want to emphasise. I am of the firm conviction that the Liturgy of the Church is a literal extension of the Incarnation, and that by faithful participation in the faithful Liturgy, one is communing with none other than Christ himself. And if I am correct in this, then the implications are nothing short of cosmic.

In order to explain how I arrive at this, I must begin with an exposition of how I perceive the relationship of creation to God.

In the beginning, creation (a.k.a. the cosmos, the world, humanity, etc.) was established in intimate contact with the Creator. The only thing that separated them was the logical inferiority of the second being - that is, the fact that creation was by its nature derivative of the Creator. It was, however, good; and if good, then a reflection (an image, or icon). Then, the first disobedience took place, and creation’s intimacy with the Creator was lost as it spiralled away. The whole of the cosmos was thrown into disorder, and now the separation between God and his creatures included death.

Even as this separation unfolded, it was exacerbated by the forgetfulness of the creatures. Humanity, with its special vocation to reflect God’s image, still had some of the equipment by which to do so, but not the ability because of its new found propensity to pay attention to other things. Humanity had turned its back on God, and in so doing, set a precedent for all generations to follow.

Yet while human beings disregarded their original purpose, God did not leave them alone. Rather, in response, he called out of the human race a chosen group to serve as mediator between himself and his children. This was, of course, Israel, whose special task it became to do what priests do, by offering sacrifice and by presenting God to humanity and humanity to God. Israel was to become, by God’s decree, the divine image that the whole of creation had been intended to be in the beginning.

Of course, this situation could not last.

Israel was unable to uphold their side of the bargain; not because of who they were as a nation, but because of their human nature. It was inevitable that they should fail as image-bearers, because their creaturely status limited their ability to reflect the Creator. It was inevitable that they should fail as priests because God’s inherent justice could not possibly be satisfied by mere lamb’s flesh. The longer the situation continued, the more apparent it became that a Messiah was needed. Such was Israel’s desire, and such was God’s answer.

Then God sent his Son into the world to remedy the whole situation. The Logos took on flesh in Bethlehem, and in so doing, drew an invisible line between his dwelling place with the Father and his shelter in Mary - a line from Heaven to Bethlehem. As Jesus embarked on his ministry, walking the earth and teaching the people by pointing them in the direction of the God from whom they came, the mysterious line followed. It demarcated his path as he went the Way of the Cross, and it emerged with him on the other side of the tomb. As he spent the next forty days with his disciples, leaving them their final instructions, it traced his steps. And when he finally returned to his place at the right hand of the Father, his complete work was revealed in the trail: the work of descent, or enfolding, and of ascent. What the line revealed was a map of the exitus et reditus, of Christ’s procession and return.

In this procession and return, the stage was set for an explanation of what would become the vocation of the Church, the nature of the Liturgy, and the true nature of all good human endeavor.

To be continued…