In the beginning: the “house church”

I came across an interesting article by a minister in the Disciples of Christ. In it he points out that the ancient “house church” was nothing like the typical “house church” one thinks of today, the latter being a very informal affair in someone’s living room, while the former was a rather formal affair of up to 100 people in a public room called an atrium.

Read more here.

Our fight

Christ said, ‘I came not to send peace, but a sword’ and ‘division’. Christ summoned us to war on the plane of the spirit, and our weapon is ‘the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.’ Our battle is waged in extraordinarily unequal conditions. We are tied hand and foot. We dare not strike with fire or sword: our sole armament is love, even for enemies. This unique war in which we are engaged is indeed a holy war. We wrestle with the last and only enemy of mankind — death. Our fight is the fight for universal resurrection.

– Archimandrite Sophrony, “His Life is Mine”

never confuse the person

Never confuse the person, formed in the image of God, with the evil that is in him, because evil is but a chance misfortune, illness, a devilish reverie. But the very essence of the person is the image of God, and this remains in him despite every disfigurement.

– St. John of Kronstadt

“Where is her head?”

Recently, our neighbor’s old Golden Retriever died. My girls had grown quite fond of “Maggie,” and her passing was difficult for them. The night of her passing, we prayed for her family and for her. After prayers, my wife remarked that they were able to bury her at the family farm outside of town, so that they could “visit her whenever they wanted to.” My three year old remarked, “So, she’s alive now???” My wife said, “No; her body is buried at the farm.”

After several seconds of contemplation, my three year old asked, “Then where is her head?”

It never occurred to me that one might envisage the dog “Maggie” in this way. When we speak of “her body,” we naturally think of the whole “Maggie.” But, to my 3-year-old, such a conception was quite flexible.

It occurred to me later on, though, how her mis-thinking about this is actually very common among many of us adults when it comes to our Christian life.

I have met many Christians who much enjoy their relationship with Christ, but feel little need for the Church.

I have met others who much enjoy the liturgy of the Church — the candles, processions, mysticism, etc., — but who would be quite happy to leave off all the emphasis on Christ as the only way to the Father (as He seems to have claimed for Himself).

The connection with Maggie the dog? Well, in historical Christian thought, Christ is the Head, and the Church is His Body. Much like my three year old, many Christians have no problem seeing the body as separated from the head, or vice versa. But, if we listen to the voices of our Faith’s history, such a conception is inaccurate.

In St. Paul’s thought, we are “one with Christ” precisely because we are His Body. It is why Orthodoxy says that the Church is Christ. We cannot encounter Christ fully apart from the Church, and we cannot fully experience life in the Church apart from Christ, Her Head.

Fr. Thomas Hopko once remarked even that Christ cannot Himself function properly apart from His body, the Church:

“The head cannot say to the feet, “I have no need of you.” — 1 Cor. 12.21 (paraphrased)

There is no such thing as a functioning head apart from the body, nor the body apart from the head. As much as it may offend our sensibilities about God’s “sovereignty,” our Faith is that God has chosen not to function for mankind’s salvation apart from the Church, i.e., apart from people as intermediaries. And, as much as it may offend our sensibilities about our own prowess and freedom, the body cannot function adequately or viably without Christ, Who is our Head and source of Life.

I do well to remember this whenever I grow tired of the pettiness I may observe in others around me in the Church (and which I am most sure is observed by them in myself), or when I become overly infatuated with the services of the Church, to the point of losing sight of the Christ.

Remember, the head is not apart from the body. The whole organism, thriving with life, is both head and body. We live in Christ only inasmuch as we live with each other. And we truly live with each other only insofar as we have Christ living in us.

Added note: This unavoidable connection between the Head and Body — Christ and the Church — is also why the Fathers said that “outside the Church there is no salvation.”  Such was not just an ecclesiologically exclusive claim; it was a christological claim.  That is, it was, in effect, saying that “Apart from Christ there is no salvation.”  To be found in Christ is to be found in Him, and that means in His Body, the Church, which is the “fullness of him who filleth all in all” (St. Paul).

varied thoughts… liturgy, rituals, church, grace

Various musings that have crossed my mind in the last few weeks:

1. Liturgy. Paralleling the liturgical development of the early Church is the liturgical development of the Hebrew people. Beginning with Abraham, a “relationship with God” was itself somewhat “nomadic,” being detached as it was from permanent sacred places, etc. (though even the early patriarchs built altars and gave various places sacred names that lasted through ages). Abraham the friend of God, who heard God’s voice on numerous occasions and had a strong faith in God, would have been somewhat surprised at the later liturgical shape that would develop as his ancestors became “Israel.”

Likewise, the early Christians might be surprised to sit in on the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom today (though, in fact, we believe that they do). Their spiritual children have, like Israel, been blessed with the ability and often the freedom to worship God in degrees of beauty not always afforded to the early martyrs.

Christians today who balk at the beauty or complexity of Liturgy should recall that, as our Israelite forbears gained size and ability, they also built (or rather it simply evolved naturally) a liturgical richness appropriate to the grandeur of the God they served. Their God was not a pragmatic deity who disdained beauty or saw it as opposed to “faith” and “personal relationship,” nor to “radical discipleship.” A golden temple did not stand opposed to charity. And, neither did liturgical richness (and necessity) lessen the role of personal faith: would anyone argue that Abraham was more “personal” with God than King David — a “man after God’s own heart” — the latter who wrote much of the Psalter used in the Jewish temple liturgy?

2. Rituals and attention to detail. Recently, one of our priests who travelled to our city to give us the Eucharist in the Divine Liturgy found that he had forgotten a small item used in the Liturgy. I could sense that he was somewhat concerned over this, though he was still able to proceed with the Liturgy. Most American Christians would likely laugh at such concern over details, thinking it “Pharisaical” or “legalistic” (Bonhoeffer, though, said that the real legalism was when people use “freedom” to get out of obeying Christ).

However, I’ve noticed something. The more a church waters down its liturgy, the more it scoffs at the idea of correctness in worship… the more likely it is to lose the importance of faith and practice. I’ve seen “church plants” where a younger generation breaks off from the parents, wanting a “more free worship style.” You can find casual approaches, peppy songs, “communion” (with what?) in dixie cups, and — oh yes — don’t forget the raising of hands at the peaks of emotion-stirring. Chalice and stole are replaced with a grinning and insipid iconoclasm. And — would you believe it? — in such places it matters less and less what is believed. At first, this is denied: “we only are rejecting the traditions of men!” But, and usually inevitably, the Creed is simplified to “I believe in Jesus. Love each other.”, a nice sounding sentiment that unfortunately, outside of a Tradition that both explains and enables, can be understood in as many ways as there are degrees of “un-formation” in such tradition-less groups.

I believe it was Stanley Hauerwas at Duke who once said, “You start out singing ‘worship songs’ and you end up murdering your neighbor.” There is a link between attention to liturgical detail and belief, and a link between belief and life. The chalice really does lead to conduct.

3. Church. Is the Church just the “invisible Church”? Orthodoxy holds that the Church is, for us, visible, though it certainly has an invisible aspect (the part visible only to God). St. Paul says that the Church is the pillar and foundation of truth, and that through the Church is made known the wisdom of God. A purely (or primarily) invisible entity cannot uphold anything. If the Church is merely invisible, comprised of any “sincere believer” regardless of denominational affiliation, what truth does it uphold? Is it any wonder that truth must constantly be whittled down into less and less, the holding up of the least common denominator that this “invisible church” might happen to still share? How does an invisible church speak authoritatively on Christ? Salvation? Ethics?

There must be a Visible Church that is ONE, for only then can it be the pillar and ground of truth.

4. Grace. From this morning’s Psalter readings (the 7th kathisma):

There be some that trust in their strength, and boast themselves in the multitude of their riches.

A brother cannot redeem; can a man redeem?

He shall not give to God a ransom for himself, nor the price of redemption of his own soul, though he hath laboured for ever, and shall live to the end.

This is from Psalm 48 (49), a psalm that is stark in its portrayal of death’s reality, but that to Christians provides a rich looking forward to of a time when men would not longer need give a ransom for themselves, or the price of redemption for their own souls. Though we labour forever, we could not do this. Can a man redeem? No. But, the Son of Man can, and has. Glory be to God!

On the Ascension, or, “Are we there yet?”

This past Thursday, forty days after Great and Holy Pascha, was the Great Feast of the Ascension of our Lord. It’s one of those events not normally associated with our salvation (at least it wasn’t for me, in my denominational heritage), at least not like the Cross, or perhaps the Resurrection or the Nativity. And yet, the Church Fathers viewed it as an integral part of what God did to accomplish our healing and eternal salvation.

We spend a good deal of time each Sunday driving to Liturgy, and rarely a drive goes by without one of my four children asking, “Are we to Nashville yet?” “Are we THERE yet???” There are a great number of variations on this theme, such as last week, when one of my younger daughters asked, from our Kentucky residence, “Mommy, can we visit America some day?” On some days, we “grown ups” are not all that different: we spend much of our time wondering “when will I get there?” or not even realizing what we have or where we, in fact, already are. Whether we keep looking for “fulfillment” even while our beautiful family surrounds us with the greatest fulfillment which could ever be found, or something else, we waste much time “looking” for something. “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for” is not only a great song by U2; it’s also a dead-end attitude we often embrace.

My priest this morning remarked on the great mystery of heaven and the ascension. Christ said at one point that the Kingdom of Heaven is “within” us (Luke 17:21), and yet at another time he is said to have ascended “into heaven” (Mark 16, Luke 24). In all of our Lord’s teaching, He presents heaven as a paradox: it is found deep within us, and yet it is something we can “look up” to see, or “go to” at some point in the future. It is, as many contemporary theologians have noted, both “already here” and “not yet” here. In short, and like so many things in our Christian Faith, it is a mystery.

At first glance, it might seem that the Ascension is somewhat of a sorrowful event: our Lord is leaving us for heaven. However, it has been said that “We celebrate not Christ’s departure, but His ascension” (Schmemann). But, why is this? How is it that we celebrate the Ascension as something other than His leaving?

St. Paul spoke of God’s immeasurable power in Ephesians, “…which He accomplished in Christ when he raised him from the dead and made him sit at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in that which is to come” (1:20-21, RSV). The Church has always seen Christ’s Ascension as his ascension to the throne of glory. But, St. Paul does not stop there. Just a bit later, he writes, this time of us: “God…made us alive together with Christ…and raised us up with him, and made us sit with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (1:5-7, RSV).

The whole point, then, of the ascension, is that (1) Christ has been raised into heaven, and (2) so have we, inasmuch as we are found in Him. Now, this calls for a bit of mental gymnastics for most of us, accustomed as we are to thinking of “heaven” (to St. Paul, “the heavenly places”) as “some place up there,” i.e., anywhere but here. However, to St. Paul and the Fathers, we have also been raised “with Him.” We are in heaven. Granted, there is a sense in which we still long for heaven, for its culmination and completeness, for all things to be made new. But, there is also a sense in which we are already there, seeing that we have been raised with Christ (in baptism) and made to sit with him in the “heavenly places.”

And so, like my children wondering if we are “there yet,” many of us also see heaven as some place we are going, but a place at which we have not yet in any way arrived. And inasmuch as we think this way, we are — at least somewhat — wrong.

And so, Schmemann said this:

The feast of the Ascension is the celebration of heaven now opened to human beings, heaven as the new and eternal home, heaven as our true homeland…heaven is the name of our authentic vocation as human beings, heaven is the final truth about the earth. No, heaven is not somewhere in outer space beyond the planets, or in some unknown galaxy. Heaven is what Christ gives back to us, what we lost through our sin and pride, through our earthly, exclusively earthly, sciences and ideologies, and now it is opened, offered, and returned to us by Christ. Heaven is the kingdom of eternal life, the kingdom of truth, goodness and beauty. Heaven is the total spiritual transformation of human life; heaven is the kingdom of God, victory over death, the triumph of love and care…”

Are we there yet? Well, yes and no. I am, and yet I know that when the whole world is returned to heaven, it will “feel” much more like I am there. But now, I am there, though I often know this only by faith and not by sight. Christ has not left us; he has ascended, and for those who have eyes to see, he has taken them with Him!

Completing Your whole plan for us
Uniting earth to heaven,
You ascended in glory, O Christ God
Not parting at all
But ever remaining,
And saying to those who love You,
I am with you and no one will be against you…

Setting as Hermeneutic

This morning, I attended a prayer group with some old and dear friends of mine who are non-Orthodox, but very welcoming of my faith. The Gospel they read during their prayer group was from Romans 1. As I listened to the reading, it actually sounded somewhat “un-Orthodox” to me. But, as I pictured hearing it in an Orthodox liturgical setting, read by the cantor at our Church, it “sounded” very different. As I reflected on that this morning, it dawned on me that, without a doubt, the setting in which I hear Scripture read becomes a distinct hermeneutical element.

Hearing Romans 1 read in a non-liturgical, casual, “living room” feel setting, led to a very different grasping of what this text might mean. Imagining the hearing of this same text in a solemn and beautiful liturgical setting, led me to hear it not just in a different “tone” but perhaps in an entirely different meaning.

I’m not sure exactly what goes into this. Is it just the Orthodox understanding of the text? Is it the more solemn nature of the lection? Is it something as physical as the vestments worn by the one reading? Is it the liturgical surroundings? A mixture of all the above?

I’m not sure. But, I know now the importance of the setting of the Scripture. Interpretation is not only a matter of syntax and hermeneutical models. It also involves, at a very intimate level, the very setting in which the Scriptures are read. I’ve a feeling these questions drive at some important understandings of language and culture and ecclesiology (I’m just not well studied enough on these matters to have a good answer).

This is not said to berate the non-liturgical reading of Scripture in non-Orthodox groups, but only as an observation. Setting does matter. Have any of you experienced this? I’d love to hear from some more advanced linguistically and liturgically than myself. How does the setting and place of reading influence the meaning of Scripture? It is obvious, to me, as of this morning; the question is, “How?”

One is Orthodox all the time, or…

“Too many people make the mistake of limiting Orthodoxy to church services, set prayers, and the occasional reading of a spiritual book. True Orthodoxy, however, requires a commitment that involves every aspect of our lives. One is Orthodox all the time every day, in every situation of life—or one is not really Orthodox at all. For this reason we must develop an Orthodox worldview and live it.” Blessed Fr. Seraphim Rose of Platina – Living an Orthodox World-View

(thanks to Rdr. Seraphim at Orthodox Incense for this posting this quote)

Recommend Ron Paul Book

I highly recommend the newly released Ron Paul book, The Revolution: A Manifesto.  It is outstanding.  My only fear is that not enough Americans still care enough about civic duties and freedom to fight for both.  Read this book.  Listen to Ron Paul.  And, while you’re at it, read the Constitution; it’s an interesting read.  And some, like Congressman Paul, would even go so far as to suggest it might be important.

Be a part of the revolution.  Support the Constitution.  Demand freedom.

Is There an Invisible Church?

I had a nice, long talk the other day with a dear man who is a good friend of mine, a man of upstanding Christian ethics and deep devotion to God. It so happens that this man is an Evangelical Christian, and it occurred to me that I have much in common with him in spite of the differences of theology we have. He was interested in my conversion to Orthodoxy, and at one point asked me a question: “What would you say are the major differences between Orthodoxy and Evangelicalism?”

Whew. What a question. My first response was that Orthodoxy looks at the world sacramentally. All things, from cosmology to liturgy, are viewed sacramentally. This led us to discuss various things, from baptism to Eucharist to grace and faith and works to ecclesiology. I realized, as we talked, two things: (1) How much I respected his deep faith in God, and (2) how different and far removed the Evangelical mindset is from the Orthodox and Patristic understanding of the Church and Holy Tradition.

Several major topics came up, notably (1) the nature of the Church (visible or invisible?) (2) the personal indwelling of the Holy Spirit and whether that guaranteed correct understanding of “the Word”, (3) the patristic understanding of baptism, etc. Lurking was the vastly ignored reality of the historical Church.

I realize that one of the important things for Orthodox Christians to be able to do in coming years is to dialogue with Evangelicals. In spite of our theological and eccclesiological differences, it is simply the truth that we bear much in common with the Evangelicals. There is a love for God and an adherence to basic decency and respect for life that I share, quite frankly, more with some of my Evangelical friends than with many of the apathetic members of the Orthodox Church. The challenge for us Orthodox will be to graciously convey Orthodoxy in a way that demonstrates the importance of both ethics (orthopraxy) and dogma (orthodoxy). See here.

Here is a start: a nice essay at Orthodox Info (a site I have hesitated to recommend in the past due to some seemingly extreme views, but which I increasingly find to be more and more helpful) on the visible nature of the Church. In coming days, I want to speak more to this aspect of the Church. Is it visible? Identifiable? Can the Church be equated with a physically identifiable group on earth? Are we all “imperfect” since we are all made up of people? Does the Orthodox claim to be “The Church” withstand careful scrutiny? These are questions that we all must be able to answer as we dialogue with our Evangelical brethren.

Is There an Invisible Church?

(by Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky)