Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Icon of the Good Shepherd in the Early Eucharist (Nea-Synaxis #3)

If you are interested in this article you might be interested in my other blog-



One of the earliest examples of Christian Iconography that has survived to this day is the depiction of Christ as the Good Shepherd.  For at least the first two centuries Christ was represented almost exclusively as the Good Shepherd.  This is an image rich in scriptural and cultural significance that was not merely an early Christian exercise in aesthetics, but an epiphany of God’s personal revelation in His eternal Son, Jesus Christ.  The key to unlocking the hidden depths and riches of this sacred Icon is in the proper placement of the Icon in the place and at the time of the Eucharist.

The Good Shepherd is the one who calls the sheep saying, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”(John 10:27)  The Good Shepherd calls forth His people, shaping them into the κκλησία/Church (which literally means to be called). 

The Eucharist from a very early date was called Synaxis, the gathering.  The Eucharist was the gathering of God’s people (Laos) in and around Christ the Good Shepherd.  In Ezekiel 34:12 we read, “As a shepherd seeks out his flock on the day he is among his scattered sheep, so will I seek out My sheep and deliver them from all the places where they were scattered on a cloudy and dark day.”  This verse which the early Church was certainly familiar would have been applied to Christ who gathers His people together in order to feed them.  Isaiah 40:11 tells us that, “He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm, And carry them in His bosom, And gently lead those who are with young.  The food He gives them is not food that perishes but the food of eternal life because Christ has said, I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and are dead.  This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that one may eat of it and not die.  I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world.”(John 6:48-51)
The Eucharist is also a remembrance of “all that came to pass.”  We remember the death of Christ who said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep.” (John 10:11)  The Shepherd did not only lay down His life for the sheep but became as one of them in every way except sin.  The Shepherd becomes the Lamb that was slain so, “that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.  For indeed He does not give aid to angels, but He does give aid to the seed of Abraham. Therefore, in all things He had to be made like His brethren, that He might be a merciful and faithful High Priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For in that He Himself has suffered, being tempted, He is able to aid those who are tempted.” (Hebrews 2:14-18)
We remember the Resurrection and enthronement of Christ the Shepherd who became the Lamb, slain and raised from the dead.  It is He that we worship in the Divine Liturgy.  “Now when He had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each having a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, saying:
      ‘You are worthy to take the scroll,
      And to open its seals;
      For You were slain,
      And have redeemed us to God by Your blood
      Out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation,
       10 And have made us kings and priests to our God;
      And we shall reign on the earth’.” (Revelation 8-10)
It is perhaps already evident in what has been said that the Eucharist is an Eschatological event, an Icon of the Lord’s Kingdom which is to come in the last times.  It was thus fitting that the Image of the Good Shepherd be present at the Eucharist because Christ identifies Himself in His second coming as Judge with a shepherd.  “When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory.  All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats.  And He will set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the left.” (Matthew 25:31-33)
Another Eucharistic element found in the image of the Good Shepherd is ecclesiological.  The bishop, or perhaps more accurately the president of the Eucharist, is understood as the living Icon of Christ the Shepherd.  This is evidenced in the ancient Western tradition of the bishop holding as his staff the shepherd’s crook and in the East the Gospel pericope read on the feast day of a hierarch is from the 10th chapter of John.
In conclusion we see in light of the Good Shepherd Icon that the Eucharist is:
1.      The assembly who hears the Shepherd’s voice
2.      Those who are gathered together by the Shepherd
3.      The Sheep receiving food and drink from the Shepherd
4.      The food and drink itself which is the body and blood of the Shepherd become lamb that was slain and has risen.
5.       The Worship of the Lamb with celebrations, hymns, incense, and prostrations.
6.      A foretaste of the coming Judgment by the Shepherd-King.
7.      An Icon of God’s Kingdom made tangible in the person of the bishop the par excellent icon of the Shepherd.
-Micah H., November 2011
Psalm 23, A Eucharistic Psalm of the Good Shepherd
The LORD is my shepherd;
         I shall not want.
  He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
         He leads me beside the still waters.
  He restores my soul;
         He leads me in the paths of righteousness
         For His name’s sake.
     
  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
         I will fear no evil;
         For You are with me;
         Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.       
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
         You anoint my head with oil;
         My cup runs over.
  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
         All the days of my life;
         And I will dwell in the house of the LORD
         Forever.

Monday, November 28, 2011

When God Himself Notices

You must throw out whatever is false and superfluous within you. You must strip yourself boldly of all the false and deceptive clothing you have worn until now, and, cleansed and purified, plant your feet on the burning ground of reality.  How empty you will find all of those achievements which before flattered you with the fame and outward esteem they won you.  How pallid- food for time which devours everything.  And on the other hand how bright and luminous is the reality you have gained, however small.  You will have no need to have your work noticed.  It may remain unseen forever, in the secret depths of your soul.  What need is there for it to be noticed when God Himself notices it. -Dimitris Pikionis

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Images of Christ East and West

Eastern Icon of Christ

Western Painting of "christ" (Davinci)
Fr. Philotheos Faros:

It is amazing how Western Christianity distorted, in this issue, the scriptural image of Christ and presented him as condemning human aggression and as a sickening, soft, and effeminate man with rosy cheeks and blond wavy hair. It is deplorable that so many Orthodox are offended by the strong, powerful, dynamic, scriptural Christ of the Byzantine art although they are infatuated by this nauseating Western Christ. It is amazing how Western Christianity managed to visualize the fiery eyes of Christ which “looked around” at the Pharisees “with anger,” (Mark 3,5) as sweetish and wishy-washy, how it resolved to present as soft and effeminate, the powerful Christ who made “a whip of cords” and drove with it all the merchants “out of the temple” with their sheep and oxen, and “poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables.” (John 2, 13-16) It is amazing how Western Christianity managed to describe as quiet and soft-spoken him who uttered the dreadful “woes” and called the Scribes and Pharisees “hypocrites,” “blind fools,” “blind guides,” “white-washed tombs,” “serpents” and “brood of vipers” (Matthew 23) and told his tempting disciples “Be gone Satan.” (Matthew 16, 23) It is inconceivable how Christ disintegrated to a eunuch prince of peace although he stated very emphatically, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and daughter against her mother, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and man’s foes will be those of his own household,” (Matthew 10, 34-36) Christ did promise peace but not a hypocritical external peace but a real inner peace. He said, “My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” (John 14,27)

The Temple: External (Continued)





The pictures seen above are of the Church of Saint Dimitrios Loumbardiaris and its environs.  It was designed by the renowned Greek architect Dimitrios Pikionis.  I have chosen to examine this Church as part of the Nea-Synaxis project on this blog because I believe it to be of the utmost dogmatic and kerygmatic significance.

This Holy Temple is a silent doxology created from the broken detritus received from the very place that the temple was to be built.  The every day and mundane material which this temple is made has received the breath of God, the Holy Spirit, and has thus become a place of the Son’s parousia. This is a place and event of salvation because here we find that “the life of the Church is uncreated.  But the material out of which the Church is constructed, her body, is created material of every period.  The uncreated life reconstructs, reanimates, and enlarges created being to infinity, in other words deifies it…” The Church possesses uncreated life because she is the “extension of the Incarnation, is brought into being by the hypostasizing of creation in Christ.”   This is true because the Church is Eucharist. It is a people gathered together in a specific place and time being formed into the body of Christ. Just as the Incarnation was the historical event of the Son of God taking up part of creation (the humanity He received from the Theotokos), the event of the Eucharist is an event in which a group of people are “taken up” into the Kingdom of God through participation in the Body and Blood of Christ realized in the Holy Spirit. The event of the Incarnation being a historical reality means that the humanity, the creation assumed by God, was not humanity in a vacuum, but biologically (through His mother), culturally (Jewish of the 2nd temple era), and historically and geographically (1st century Palestine) truly human. Christos Yannaras makes the same claim for the parish as Eucharistic gathering when he writes,

Since then, every time the Christological proto-type of existence is realized, in each particular Eucharist community, it too has its historical .flesh.- national, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural… In consequence, a people- not as an abstract concept from liturgical manuals of sociology, but as a totality of historical persons who share a common practice of life- forms the historical flesh of the Church, the flesh of the Gospel of Salvation.

All of this is to say the Church is ultimately the gathering of hypostases into a communion with God in which without confusion (without losing their cultural identity, biological, historical, etc.) they become identified as children of God. Panagiotis Nellas writes that the,

“Divine Liturgy brings together… the relations of human beings between themselves,” and that, “its Eucharistic character makes the faithful accept life, their fellow human beings, the fruits of their labors, nature itself, as gifts that they then give to each other and that all offer up to God.”

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Nea-Synaxis (#2): The Temple (external)



The Church of the Holy Wisdom in Thessaloniki is a Living Icon of the Kingdom of God in the midst of a city. It has for me special significance because my first priest, my Geronda, decided to become a priest here. When he was a child during WWII he would come here to pray and receive what was often his only meal of the day. The last conversation we had before he passed away was about how much we loved this Church.


This Romanian Monastery is covered with external iconography, something which I believe should be seriously considered as we build Churches in the west. It could be a genuine witness to the beauty of Orthodoxy and a revelation to a world that sits in darkness.


This Church of Saint Photini is, I believe, one of the most significant architectural works in recent memory. The Church is made of local materials, has elements from the history of the region extending to ancient Hellas, through the East Roman Period and the Turkokratia, and it even has several contemporary influences.



Contrary to what we have said about Gothic art, the Byzantine architect seems free and untramelled by any a priori ideological aim. This does not mean that he is unclear in his purpose: he too is trying to build the “Church,” to manifest her truth, the space in which she lives, and not merely to house the gathering of the faithful. For the Byzantine, however, the point is precisely this: the truth of the Church is neither a set ideological system whereby we ascend by analogy to the transcendent— the excessive or the immense— nor a majestic organization with an authoritatively established administrative structure which mediates between man and God. The Church for the Byzantine is the event of the eucharist, the participation of what is created in the true life— the Trinitarian mode of communion and relationship. And this mode is the body of the Church, the flesh of the world which has been assumed by Christ: it is the whole of creation in the dimensions of the Kingdom.

Byzantine architecture studies and reveals this reality of the worldly flesh of the Word, the fact of God’s kenosis [i.e., his ‘self-emptying’ in the incarnation], and the ‘deification’ of created things, the way in which by taking on our material nature, God hypostasizes our existence in the divine life of incorruption and immortality. Like the ascetic in his direct encounter with his body, the architect encounters his material with the same freedom of humility and self-abnegation; and he studies the points of resistance and also the potentialities of nature. He looks for the inner principle, the “reason” [logos] in matter which was in abeyance before the incarnation but is now dynamic; that reason which connects the baseness and resistances of the natural material with the amazing potential in that same matter to contain the Uncontainable and give flesh to Him who is without flesh, to be exalted into the flesh of God the Word— into the Church.

Each Byzantine building is a eucharistic event; it is a dynamic act whereby each individual entity joins in the universal reality of ecclesial communion. This is a realization of personal distinctiveness, but a realization within the framework of communion, which means the rejection of [merely] individual emotions, [merely] individual intellectual certainty and [merely] individual aesthetics. Every Byzantine building embodies this ascetic rejection and self-abnegation on the part of the architect, and consequently manifests both his personal distinctiveness and at the same time the universal truth of the Church. As a technical construction, each work has a revelatory personal distinctiveness, and in this personal distinctiveness the universal truth of the Church is manifested. As Michelis writes in a technical description which unconsciously discerns the theological truth, Byzantine churches “are the dynamic compositions of a subjective sense, rather than the static arrangements of an objective theory... No work of Byzantine architecture is a pure type, a model which can be repeated... Each Byzantine church is an individuality, an act of emancipation from the model... It is not really important how precisely it fits together or how regularly it is laid out. The walls are not always at right angles, the roofs often have different inclines... the ground plans are not rectangular, the domes are not always absolutely circular at their base, the facades are irregular and the bricks fit together haphazardly. From the point of view of our very strict requirements, a Byzantine plan is always a mistake, but an acceptable mistake— one that works. The whole structure is a piece of music which the virtuoso craftsman has sung in a different way each time, and always so successfully that repetition is out of the question.”

The character of objective asymmetry and dissimilarity in each Byzantine building is the element which above all manifests the craftsman’s respect for the peculiar “reason” [logos] in the natural material. It reveals his ascesis and his endeavor to fit the “rational qualities” of matter into an organic unity and a harmony of reasons— to “church” matter, which means leading it to the “end” [telos] or goal of its existence, which is to constitute the flesh of God the Word. The objective asymmetry and dissimilarity of each Byzantine building is simply the visible manifestation of the architect’s love for his natural material; that love which respects and studies creation and reveals it as a means to salvation, an organic factor in the communion of created and uncreated, the recapitulation of all in the loving relationship between the Father and the incarnate Word.
–Christos Yannaras

Monday, November 21, 2011

November 21st, Entrance of the Theotokos into the Temple


Today the Theotokos, the temple
that contains God, is led into the Temple
of God; and Zacharias welcomes
her. Today the Holy of Holies is exultant,
and the chorus of Angels mystically
celebrates. Together with them let
us also keep the feast today, and with
Gabriel let us cry aloud: Rejoice, O
Maiden full of grace, the Lord is with
you; and He has the great mercy.

Paradoxally the Law prefigured
you,* O pure one, as a jar and tabernacle,*
spiritual ark and rod of Aaron and the
curtain,* indestructible Temple and the
gate of God.* Thus it teaches us all to cry
out:* You, O pure and virgin Maiden,*
are truly superior to all.

The feeder of our Life,* now an infant
in body,* the offspring of the just*
Joachim and Anna,* is offered to God
today in the holy Sanctuary.* She was
blessed therein* by the priest Zacharias.*
Therefore let us all,* with faith,
proclaim she is blessèd,* for she is the
Mother of the Lord.

Hymns: Copyright © 2011 by Fr. Seraphim Dedes

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Ancient Icons of the Eucharist, 2nd & 3rd Centuries (Nea-Synaxis #1)


Then Jesus said to them, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you.  Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day."



  


As a Synaxis of believers in a particular place and at a specific time to celebrate the Eucharist, to constitute in unison the people of God, the Body of Christ that draws its identity from the eschatological expectation of the Resurrected Christ and his kingdom. The Person of Christ influenced art in this way; as a living presence of Christ within the Eucharist and as a painted narration of this event on the walls of the liturgical space within which the Eucharist took place.
-Fr. Stamatis Skliris

Nea-Synaxis

(N.G. Pentzikis)
Over the next several months Synaxis will explore a new direction in the living adventure we call Theology.  If you remember from the Synaxis Manifesto this study group chose to primarily examine the classical dogmatic texts of the Orthodox Church as a gathering.  To a large extent this blog has been just that, a place to encounter the teachings of the Fathers together with contemporary Orthodox witnesses and theologians (also the occasional personal digressions of the blog’s editor).  This, for many of us, has been a great joy.  However, the very goals of the Study group and the blog, by being almost exclusively textual, have left us wealthier but still paupers.  As we attempt to engage theology we cannot neglect the fact that in Orthodoxy our theology is more than a theology of “words”.  We must reject every form of sola scriptura and sola patristica, ours is a theology expressed and lived in prayers, the colors of icons, the stones of temples, the melody of hymns, the stories of people and places, the way we create space, how we fast and feast, our relationship with the environment, and even the way we make and consume our “daily” bread.  

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Directions for Orthodox Theology in the 21st Century


Excerpt from Metropolitan John’s Address delivered at the reception of the Metropolitan of Pergamon as a “Fellow” of the Volos Academy for Theological Studies Volos, October 29, 2011.
                                
So, looking out onto the future, I see what Professor Stamoulis called here the “post-Zizioulas” era. What will happen with the seed I sowed, only God knows. He Who directs history can erase everything I left or, as I hope, He can find something in it that will be useful in His plan. The only thing I can say is what I would like to see in this “post-Zizioulas” era. And that, briefly put, would include the following:

1) Students who move beyond what I have said, building on them in a constructive and creative way.

2) An extension of eucharistic theology into areas that I personally would have liked to cover, if I had had time. One such area is art, about which eucharistic theology has much to say. Orthodox theology is, by nature, closely connected with art. Orthodoxy used to theologize with art, before it submitted to the captivity of academic intellectualism. There can be no Orthodox theology without a fruitful dialogue with art in all its forms (literature, music, painting, theater, etc.). The Divine Eucharist quickly found expression in art. It is time to rediscover this.

3) Eucharistic theology also needs to dialogue with science, because the Eucharist includes a cosmology that has a lot to contribute to the natural sciences, in terms of both content and methodology.

4) Finally, as regards ethics (or rather ethos), the subject matter here is and will remain inexhaustible. What does eucharistic theology have to say to us about bioethics, sexual ethics, mission, confronting violence, etc.?

My humble contribution was to try to connect the Eucharist with the ecclesiastical institutions and anthropology. But eucharistic theology has unlimited potential. It falls upon my young colleagues to progress in areas such as the ones I just mentioned. The Church needs it.

That concludes my thoughts on the occasion of this retrospective on what little I may have contributed to theology, by the grace and mercy of God. I thank you because you have allowed me to feel “that I did not run in vain or labor in vain” (Phil 2:16 RSV). That is the greatest gift there is, because you gave me the opportunity to share with you some of my thoughts and concerns. I humbly pray that the All-Holy Spirit guides Orthodox theology to fulfill its mission to a world that is in such desperate need of Orthodoxy’s salvific word.

Thank you.

Metropolitan John Zizioulas

Translated by Fr Gregory Edwards

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Irenaeus of Lyons, Adalbert Hamman

Life led Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons, along unexpected paths. He was by temperament a missionary and a pastor of souls; his only concern was to preach the gospel in Gaul and to strengthen his community in faith and fidelity. If he wrote, it was not because he felt called to be a theologian, but because it was another way of teaching and of defending the orthodox faith against the obscure utterances of the gnostics.
One of the most dangerous of the gnostics, a man named Markos, had come to Lyons from Asia Minor. He led the people of Lyons astray with his thinking, as he played upon their emotionalism and their penchant for mysticism. Like his masters, he taught a radical dualism that set the world over against God. In various ways, the gnostics were always playing off the just God of the Old Testament against the good God revealed in Jesus Christ.
When confronted with this gnostic dualism and docetist idealism, Irenaeus sought to be only a witness to the faith that had been handed down, and to the living consciousness of the Church which was commissioned to guard the revealed deposit. Fidelity and unity are the foundation of all his teaching: unity of faith, unity of the plan of salvation that underlies the whole of history.
Far from opposing the Old Testament to the New and stripping Jewish history of its meaning, the Bishop of Lyons brought out the wonderful unity of the economy, or unfolding plan, of salvation, an economy in which mankind, shaped by the Son and the Spirit, those "two hands of God" moves forward slowly and gradually, achieves its liberation from sin, and advances toward its fulfillment.
In Christ, who is hidden at first but then revealed at the moment of his incarnation, God leads human history to the goal he has set for it. "The Father decides and commands, the Son carries out and forms, the Spirit nourishes and gives increase, and man advances little by little and ascends toward perfection, that is, he draws near to the Uncreated" (Adv. Haer. IV, 48, 3).
This splendid historical overview provides the framework within which we must read what Irenaeus has to say about the eucharist. He does not discuss the eucharist for its own sake but is concerned rather to situate the eucharistic mystery within his theology of history. In his eyes, the eucharist is the sacrament of the economy of salvation, and in it the Church finds its faith summed up.
Irenaeus disagreed with the gnostics: for him the creation that came forth from God's hands is good and has been blessed by him. It is even in a sense his fellow worker, since it serves the plan of salvation. Christ uses it to unveil the mystery he came to reveal, and he uses it as well to bring out the generosity of his Father. Irenaeus gives us an example of this interpretation of creation when he comments on the wedding feast at Cana, for this gives him an opportunity to explain the process of spiritual growth and progress. The miracle Jesus performed at Cana, like the multiplication of the loaves, announces and prefigures the institution of the eucharist.
"This wine was good, which the vine of God produced in accordance with the laws of creation and which the guests drank first at the wedding feast of Cana. None of those who drank it criticized it, and even the Lord himself took some of it. But better still was the wine, which the Word, in a simple, momentary action, made out of water, for the use of the invited guests.
"Although the Lord could have served wine and fed the hungry without using any preexistent matter, he did not do so. On the contrary, he took the loaves produced by the earth and gave thanks over them; so too did he change water into wine. Thus he fed those who were eating, and quenched the thirst of the wedding guests. He showed us thereby that the same God who created the earth and commanded it to bear fruit and who created the waters and made the springs flow, now, in these last times, gives the human race the blessing of good food and the gift of drink through his Son" (Adv. Haer. Ill, 11, 9).
At the beginning, there is the gift given by God the creator. Everything is ultimately the fruit of his creative act and of the created order as it follows the laws he has impressed upon it. Jesus accepts and uses bread and wine because they are gifts from the divine goodness. He makes them vehicles for his missionary purpose and his revelation that he is himself the "blessing and gift" which henceforth, in the new order of things, becomes the living sacrifice of the new worship.
What the Bishop of Lyons says briefly here he develops at greater length in Book IV of his Against the Heresies, to which we now turn.
The entire history of salvation leads up to the coming of Christ, who puts an end to the period of preparation and reveals the goal of all man's searching. The sacrifice of the new covenant fulfills and replaces the institutions of the old covenant: law, circumcision, sacrifices. In this context, Irenaeus sketches a theology of the eucharist as the sacrament of the entire recapitulation (or: renewal and completion) of everything in Christ the head.
The Catholic Church alone, and not the heretics, can offer to God the sacrifice that pleases him and was foretold in prophecy, especially in the prophecy of Malachi. The latter assures men of the coming of the pure sacrifice proper to the new covenant; he foretells the eucharistic sacrifice.
Like Jesus at the wedding feast of Cana, the Church uses the bread and wine which creation produces, for, contrary to what the gnostics think, creation is good. The Church consecrates this bread and wine by means of Christ's words, which have been passed on to her by the tradition. The history of the seed that is put into the ground, rises up as wheat, becomes bread, and is eventually turned into the body of Christ, expressively sums up the history and mystery of Christ.
"The Jews no longer offer sacrifice; their hands are full of blood, for they have not accepted the Word through whom men offer sacrifice to God. The same is true of all the assemblies of the heretics. . . . How could they have the certainty that the bread over which the thanksgiving is spoken is the body of the Lord and the cup his blood, when they do not acknowledge that he is the Son of the Creator, that is, the Creator's Word by which the tree bears fruit, and the springs flow, and 'the earth produces the blade, then the ear, and then the wheat in the ear'" (Adv. Haer. IV, 18, 4).
The supreme blessing for creation is to become eucharist, that is, the body and blood of Christ, and thereby the vehicle of grace, life, and incorruptibility. "The Church has received this sacrifice from the apostles and throughout the entire world offers it to God who gives us for our nourishment the first fruits of his gifts under the new covenant," that is, his own Son (IV, 17, 5). This sacrifice is the one that Malachi predicted the whole world would offer.
"The oblation which the Lord commanded the Church to offer throughout the entire world is a pure sacrifice in God's sight and pleasing to him. It is pleasing to him not because he needs a sacrifice from us but because the one who offers it is glorified by his gift if it is accepted. .. . The Church alone offers this pure sacrifice to the Creator, offering to him with thanksgiving what comes from his own creation" (IV, 18, 1. 4).
The Church offers the sacrifice of the new covenant, which completes and recapitulates all the sacrifices of the past. In her offering she gives expression to her faith, her gratitude, and her expectation. Irenaeus makes his own the theme of the interior worship by which the Christian completes the eucharistic sacrifice by the sacrifice of his life. "We ought to offer our sacrifice to God and be grateful in everything to God our Creator, by offering him the first fruits of his own creation with a pure disposition, sincere faith, firm hope, and ardent love" (IV, 18, 4).
The gnostics made a demiurge responsible for creation, and regarded matter as hostile to man. The body was taken to be a manifestation of man's fall and therefore incapable of sharing in man's future blessedness. Thus did the dichotomy between soul and body, so dear to Platonic philosophy, lead to a denial of the resurrection of the flesh. But the doctrine of the eucharist enabled Irenaeus to refute the gnostic claims. He develops his thought at length in the final book of the Adversus Haereses, where he spells out his ideas on the subject and shows the place of the eucharist in the plan of salvation.
As Irenaeus sees it, the entire man, body as well as soul, shares in salvation, because the entire man has been redeemed and saved by the blood of Christ and is now nourished by the eucharistic offerings, that is, the body and blood of Christ in which we participate.
"If the flesh cannot be saved, then neither did the Lord redeem us with his blood, nor is the cup of the eucharist a participation in his blood, nor the bread we break a participation in his body. For blood comes only from veins and flesh and the rest of that human substance which the Word of God assumed so as to become man and truly redeem us. As his apostle says: 'In him we have redemption and the forgiveness of sins through his blood.'
"We are his members and we are nourished by his creation. He himself gives us that creation as he makes his sun rise and his rain fall at his good pleasure. The cup which comes from his creation he declared to be his blood that mingles with ours, and the bread which comes from his creation he asserted is his body which gives growth to our bodies" (Adv. Haer. V, 2, 1-2).
Here we see the marvelous continuity of God's plan: creation serves our bodily life; it receives its supreme consecration in becoming the body and blood of Christ and thus the food that renders man incorruptible. "For, as the bread that comes from the earth, when it receives the invocation of God is no longer ordinary bread but the eucharist which comprises two elements, an earthly and a heavenly, so our bodies which participate in the eucharist are no longer corruptible, since they now have the hope of resurrection" (Adv. Haer. IV, 18, 5).
Irenaeus returns once again to the image of the wheat and the vine. What happens to these illustrates not only what happens in the eucharist, but also the hope that the body buried in the earth will rise up for eternal life. "The vine that is planted in the earth bears fruit in its season, and the grain of wheat that falls into the soil and cracks open there rises up multiplied by the Spirit of God who holds all things together; the bread and wine are wisely put to man's use, and when they receive the word of God they become the eucharist, that is, the body and blood of Christ. So too our bodies that are nourished by the eucharist are placed in the earth and dissolve into it, but they shall rise when their time comes, for the Word of God will make them rise for the glory of God the Father, who clothes this mortal body in immortality and gives this corruptible body an unmerited incorruptibility, since the power of God is made perfect in weakness" (V, 2, 3).
Paul uses the image of the seed to explain the resurrection of the body (1 Corinthians 15:35-38). Irenaeus here applies it to the eucharistic mystery which is the bond linking Christ's resurrection to ours. Our salvation is illustrated by the history of bread from seed to loaf and is sacramentalized in the eucharist, which is the pledge and prophetic anticipation of our integral resurrection and incorruptibility. Even before St. Irenaeus, St. Ignatius of Antioch had spoken of the "bread which is a remedy bestowing immortality, an antidote preventing death and giving life in Jesus Christ forever."
Such are the chief statements Irenaeus makes about the eucharist. Their context is the unfolding economy of salvation, in which God's single plan is being worked out, amid the forward movement of history, as a universal recapitulation. Now that we have seen these various texts we can sketch an outline of Irenaeus' teaching on the eucharist.
The gnostic vision of man and history was essentially a vision of descent. It described a process of degradation: the fall of an angel, or the snaring of a spirit in matter. Man was thought of as a spirit, which discovers that it is in a prison and has been degraded by the flesh in which it is robed. In such a vision of things, salvation requires a return to an ideal world; it requires liberation from matter and the body.
Irenaeus reverses the entire perspective and describes an ascending curve; his vision is one in which man, an indissoluble unity, is an animated body, not an embodied spirit. Irenaeus understands the story in Genesis of God breathing a "breath of life" into clay (Genesis 2:7) to be a story of humble beginnings, with man being meant to develop to his perfect state.
Men enters upon the scene of creation as part of a history that has already begun. God takes earth, a lowly but innocent material (neither evil nor sin have as yet touched it) and breathes his own life into it. This marks the beginning of man's existence, but also of his call from God and his ascent to perfection. The journey will be a slow one, for man is still a child who must learn through painful experience to use the royal gift of freedom.
God who shapes the clay uses his own Son for the model, since he is the first to achieve the perfect "image and likeness." He is the true Adam, the firstborn of creation. In him we see in fullness what we saw in an embryonic form in the first human beings. Thus he is also the new Adam, the archetype of Christian man (cf. Adv. Haer. Ill, 21, 10-22, 2. 3. 4).
Christ is the center and focal point of history. Being linked to matter through the virginal body he received from his virginal mother, he is part of the line of human beings; he shares the history of mankind with its wretchedness and sinfulness. He has entered into the human condition in order to assume it in its entirety and save it.
"The Word, our Savior, became what lost man was, thus establishing in himself a communion with man in order to win man's salvation. What was lost possessed flesh and blood, for God had formed man out of the muddy earth, and it was for this man's sake that God determined the entire manner of the Lord's coming. The Lord, too, therefore, possessed flesh and blood, in order that he might recapitulate in himself, not some other work, but the one the Father had formed in the beginning, and that he might in this way seek out what was lost" (Adv. Haer. V, 14, 2).
Being at the heart of the universe, of which he was a part by reason of his body and blood, Christ brought that universe through the test of death to resurrection. The power of God or of the Spirit raised Jesus from the dead, so that his bodily resurrection is the "first fruits of our own resurrection." What the head experienced, the entire body will also experience. Our body "is sown in corruption but rises up incorrupt" (1 Corinthians 15:42, as cited in Adv. Haer. V, 7, 2).
Communion between God and his creatures was established once and for all in Christ, where it is sealed by the Spirit. In Christ and through Christ the Spirit rests upon the work of the divine hands, the human race. From the head this communion is passed on to all his human brothers, with whom he forms the body that is the Church. Irenaeus cites Paul's Letter to the Ephesians. "We are the members of his body, of his flesh and blood" (Adv. Haer. V, 2, 2, citing Ephesians 5.30).
This solidarity between Christ and the Church makes ethical demands on the Christian and the Church. More than that, it establishes a continuity, a parallelism, and a mutual involvement between head and members. The unfolding of the divine plan in history through the old covenant into the new is itself also compared to a sowing of seed that finally yields its harvest when Christ makes our flesh his own. "What was begun in Abel and proclaimed by the prophets was accomplished in the Lord, and the same will be accomplished in us, for the body follows the head" (Adv. Haer. IV, 34, 4).
Irenaeus developed his thinking about the solidarity of Christ with men in the parabolic image of the lost sheep (Adv. Haer. Ill, 19, 3). Christ came to look for the lost sheep, that is, the creature he had formed with his own f hands; having found it, he took it up to the heights to present and return it to the Father. Thus the whole body will share in the resurrection of Christ, for Christ is the first fruits of mankind.
For Irenaeus, the eucharist is the sacrament of the economy, or unfolding divine plan, as revealed to us in the person and work of Christ. Faith and eucharist, eucharist and faith are inseparable and reciprocal: "Our manner of thinking is conformed to the eucharist, and the eucharist confirms our manner of thinking" (Adv. Haer. IV, 18, 5). The eucharist is the center and content of faith, and contains the whole economy of the Son of God.
In response to the heretics, Irenaeus sums up this economy:
"The Savior redeemed us with his blood and gave his soul for our soul, his flesh for our flesh; he poured out the Spirit of the Father, in order to effect union and communion between God and man by making God descend to man through the Spirit and man ascend to God through the incarnation. By his coming he surely and truly bestowed incorruption upon us through our communion with God' (Adv. Haer. V, 1, 2).
The history of the bread, which is the fruit of the earth but even prior to that is the fruit of the divine generosity enables us to understand the changes proper to the economy. Once the products of the created world have become through consecration the body and blood of Christ, they are vehicles of grace, salvation, and incorruptibility. In them and by means of them the Church offers God the new sacrifice throughout the world. The offerings, transformed now by the presence of Christ, convey to God the earth's most marvelous fruit, the Son of the Virgin Mary, whom God has given to men as the first-born of creation and first fruits of the new earth whereon the future kingdom will be established.
The eucharist expresses gratitude for the long roll-call of God's blessings, but it is also the anticipated ingathering of scattered mankind whom the Spirit brings together in union and communion. In the eucharist the Christian already possesses the blessings promised to him and the happiness to which he is called.
In his discussion, Irenaeus reminds us of the interior dynamism associated with the eucharist; it calls for the personal effort of each communicant and for love received and shared: "If we fail to help others in their need, we deny the love of the Lord." The first fruits, which we offer imply our own commitment. The love bestowed upon us must bear fruit, and by that fruit we will be judged.
The eucharist, which is bread for our journey, teaches us at each moment to welcome "the Spirit who perfects us and prepares us for incorruptibility and gradually accustoms us to receiving God" (Adv. Haer. V, 8, I). Mankind is advancing on a long road; as it goes, the Spirit does not destroy it but transfigures it, and the earth itself even now participates in the banquet of God. With all his being, man is caught up in this universal ascent. He offers its first fruits in the eucharist; he offers his very self by making himself wholly a part of the sacrifice which comes from the Father and returns to its Creator. Man advances slowly and steadily to his perfection, to the encounter with God that will make him incorruptible. "All who have the Spirit of God are led to the Word, that is, the Son, and the Son accepts them and offers them to his Father, and the Father bestows incorruptibility on them."
Such is the truth and meaning of the eucharist of St. Irenaeus of Lyons.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Zizioulas: Healing and Sanctifying the Enviroment


To put all this in terms of Christian doctrine, we Christians believe that what Adam failed to do, Christ did. We regard Christ as the embodiment or anakephalaiosis of all creation, and therefore, as the Man par excellence and the saviour of the world. We regard him, because of this, as the true image of God and we associate him with the final fate of the world. We, therefore, believe that in the person of Christ the world possesses its Priest of Creation, the model of Man's proper relation to the natural world.

On the basis of this belief, we form a community which takes from this creation certain elements (the bread and the wine) which we offer to God with the solemn declaration "Thine own of thine own we offer unto Thee", thus recognizing that creation does not belong to us but to God, who is its only "owner". By doing so we believe that creation is brought into relation with God, and not only its it treated with the reverence that befits what belongs to God, but it is also liberated from its natural limitation and is transformed into a bearer of life. We believe that in doing this "in Christ", we, like Christ, act as priests of creation. When we receive these elements back, after having referred them to God, we believe that because of this reference to God we can take them back and consume them no longer as death but as life. Creation acquires for us in this way a sacredness which is not inherent in its nature but "acquired in and through Man's free exercise of his imago Dei, his personhood. This distinguishes our attitude from all forms of paganism, and attaches to the human being an awesome responsibility for the survival of God’s creation.

All of this is a belief and practice that cannot be imposed on anyone else, and may easily be mistaken for sheer ritualism. Nevertheless we believe that this involve an ethos that the world needs badly in our time. It is not an ethics, but an ethos. It is not a programme, but an attitude and a mentality, not a legislation but a culture.

It seems that the ecological crisis is a crisis of culture. It is a crisis that has to do with the loss of the sacrality of nature in our culture. I can see only two ways of overcoming this. One would be the way of paganism. The pagan regards the world as sacred because it is permeated by the divine presence; he therefore respects it, to the point of worshipping it explicitly or implicitly, and does not do damage to it. But equally he never worries about its fate: he believes in its eternity. He is unaware of any need for the transformation of nature or transcendence of it limitations; the world is good as it stands and possesses in its nature all that is necessary for its survival.

The other way is what we have tried to describe here as the Christian way. The Christian regards the world as sacred because it stands in dialectical relationship with God; thus he respects it (without worshipping it, since it has no divine presence in its nature), but he regards the human being as the only possible link between God and creation, a link that can either bring nature to communion with God and thus sanctify it, or turn it ultimately towards Man "or nature itself" and condemn it to the state of a "thing", the meaning and purpose of which are exhausted with the satisfaction of Man.

Of these two ways it is the second one that attaches to Man a heavy responsibility for the fate of creation. The first one sees Man as part of the world; the second, by considering Man as the crucial link between the world and God, sees him as the only person in creation, that is, as the only one who would be so deeply respectful of the impersonal world as not simply to "preserve" it, but to cultivate and embody it in forms of culture which will elevate it to eternal survival. Unless we decide to return to paganism, this seems to be the only way to respect once against the sacrality of nature and face the ecological crisis. For it is now clear that the model of human domination over nature, such as we have it in our present-day technical ethos, will no longer do for the survival of God’s creation.