The Scriptural Liturgy.
Oops!
If fedoras existed in ancient Israel, the high priest Hilkiah would have worn one long before Indiana Jones did.
In the previous weeks, we’ve slowly been moving through the history of ancient Israel: from the Passover at the time of Moses, to the Israelite’s entrance into the Promised Land, to the priests at the time of the Judges. Today, we find ourselves in the kingdom of Judah. The united kingdom has split and the northern kingdom of Israel has fallen.
Josiah was king, and, in the eighteenth year of his reign, he decided initiate a major renovation of the temple in Jerusalem, which had fallen into disrepair. During the restoration work, Hilkiah the high priest, like Indiana Jones, discovered an ancient artifact: a book of the Law. Modern scholars believe this book was a copy of Deuteronomy, or at least a portion of it.
Hilkiah passed the book on to Shaphan the scribe, who then read the contents of the book to the king, which wasn’t good. The book promises destruction for those who don’t abide by God’s teaching (see Deut. 28). Upon hearing these words, Josiah was deeply moved and distressed because he realized how far the nation had strayed from its covenant with God.
In response to this discovery, Josiah tore his clothes as a sign of mourning and repentance. He then sent a delegation to consult the prophetess Huldah to seek guidance from God. Huldah confirmed that the judgments of destruction and exile written in the book would come upon Judah because of its disobedience but added that because of Josiah’s sincere repentance, the calamities would not occur during his lifetime.
Ugh!
Because the Israelites were ignorant of scripture, they ended up being destroyed. The temple was obliterated, and the people were sent to live under despotic rulers in a foreign country.
To understand the significance of this, think about being a parent with a small child. Imagine you’re out grocery shopping in the store and your child throws a temper tantrum. How does that make you feel? Embarrassed? Now, imagine you have to punish your child, right there, with everyone watching. I imagine you might avoid looking at other shoppers in the eye as you exit the store. You might even avoid that store for a while, choosing, instead, to go to a different store.
Now, how do you think it was for God to have to destroy his own temple? What do you think it was like for God to exile his own people? Remember, the prophets (both the major and minor prophets) preached that God had done all this. He had abandoned his own temple because his people were acting out in the worst way.
If you were a foreign person, who worshiped a foreign god, and now you’re looking in at what had happened to the Israelites, what could you say but, “How embarrassing!”
To God, scripture matters. And listening to God’s instruction in scripture matters even more.
And, yet, as Orthodox Christians, we are often accused of being some of the most ignorant Christians when it comes to the Bible. In fact, I’ve even heard Orthodox Christians mock themselves on this account, saying,
“Bible reading … that’s for the Protestants!”
If God was willing to destroy his own temple and send his own people into exile, what awaits us? Knowing this story of the Old Testament, what excuse do we have?
It seems we have to do better. But how?
Aha!
A few weeks ago, we started our series on the Divine Liturgy by looking at Liturgy as remembrance. Then, we looked at Liturgy as thanksgiving. Last week, we saw how our thanksgiving also means that we understand Liturgy as offering. This week, we see Liturgy as scriptural.
As most of us know, the Divine Liturgy reminds us of scripture, over and over again. Every prayer, every petition is rooted in scripture. We don’t have time to go through every line to explore all the scriptural references—you can Google them, if you’re interested—but I do want to put out how Liturgy explicitly teaches us scripture, and how, through Liturgy, we re-enact scripture.
So, let’s take a closer look at how it all works.
Whee!
The Divine Liturgy has been expertly put together. As such, there are two major portions to it: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.
The second part, the Liturgy of the Eucharist, begins with the Great Entrance, when the bread and wine are brought forward. We’ll look at that section in more detail in another sermon. For now, I want to concentrate on the first part of Liturgy: the Liturgy of the Word.
It starts with: “Blessed is the Kingdom,” and goes to the end of the homily, which, historically, follows the Gospel reading. In our case, it’s everything from “Blessed is the Kingdom” to the end of the children’s sermon.
After the opening proclamation is the Great Litany, then the two Antiphons (“Through the intercessions of the Theotokos” and “Save us, O Son of God”). Historically, these were not a part of the Divine Liturgy. They were done as part of a pre-liturgy. In other words, people would march through town to get to the church. As they paraded, they would sing these antiphons with their verses. Today, we no longer parade through town. Instead, they’ve simply become a part of the beginning of Liturgy.
After the antiphons, the clergy make the Small Entrance. This when the Gospel is processed out, held up, and then set on the altar. Symbolically, the Gospel represents Christ … the Word become enfleshed. So, through this act, Christ is being enthroned, the altar having become his throne. This was the original start to Liturgy. Today, you’ll notice that it’s only at this point that a bishop enters the altar.
What follows, are the hymns of the day, and then the Trisagion (“Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal”). During this part, the priests, take their place around the altar, which is, properly, behind the altar facing the people.
As I said above, we are re-enacting scripture and this is a crucial moment. In the book of Revelation, St. John gets a glimpse into heaven to see the angels worshipping God. This is what he sees,
“Around the throne, and on each side of the throne, are four living creatures … Day and night without ceasing they sing, ‘Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come.’ And whenever the living creatures give glory and honor and thanks to the one who is seated on the throne, who lives forever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall before the one who is seated on the throne and worship …” (4:6-10).
As we begin Liturgy, the space between heaven and earth collapse. We enter into heaven with these mysterious creatures and circle the throne of God, singing the same hymn. We are re-enacting scripture. Of course, the other moment we re-enact scripture is in the second half. We sit with Jesus and hear the words he uttered at the Last Supper. We are there with the disciples as Jesus turns the bread and wine into his Body and Blood and offers it back to us.
But, moving on from moment of the Trisagion … what happens next? The epistle is read, followed by a reading of the one of the four Gospels. In other words, scripture is opened up and literally taught to us. As I said earlier, typically the Homily follows this. So, we, as the gathered Body of Christ, hear the Word of God and we’re instructed in this Word. So, as Orthodox Christians, we have no excuse for being ignorant about the Bible because it’s literally feed to us every Sunday.
This, of course, is followed by the Liturgy of the Eucharist, as I mentioned. But, this two-fold idea of the Liturgy—the opening up of scripture and then proceeding into the Eucharist—is also living out or re-enacting scripture.
After the resurrection of Christ, two people were walking on the road to Emmaus, and Jesus appeared to them, though they didn’t recognize him. They had been talking about the crucifixion, but didn’t understand it, so Jesus taught them using the Bible. He told them how it the Messiah had to die, but that he would rise from the dead. As night drew near, they asked Jesus to stay with them. When they arrived, Jesus took the bread, blessed it, and broke it. In that moment, they finally recognized that it was Jesus sitting in front of them (see Luke 24:13-35).
In other words, the whole story about how Jesus appeared to these folks in the opening up of scripture and the breaking of bread is exactly what we do every Sunday. We open up scripture, and then we break bread. And, what happens? Jesus appears to us.
Yeah!
I once read that the way we understand the world around us is not through facts and figures. Though those are important, the way we understand the world, and our place in it, is through stories.
Stories provide a framework for interpreting events and experiences. They help us organize complex information and give meaning to what might otherwise seem random or chaotic. Through stories, cultural values, norms, and knowledge are passed down from generation to generation, helping us understand our cultural heritage and identity. By sharing stories, we find common ground and build relationships with other people. And, through stories we construct our identities. These personal narratives help us make sense of our past, present, and future.
As Orthodox Christians, our story, our identity is understood through the stories told in the Bible. This is why it’s so important. This is why the Divine Liturgy emphasizes the telling of scripture in the first half of Liturgy. And, this is why the Divine Liturgy has us re-enacting several scriptural stories.
If we neglect Liturgy, we may loose site of these stories. We may forget them. We may forget who we are and why we exist. And, if this happens, we’ll be like those Israelites who were exiled out of the Promised Land. After all, how can we know where we are if we don’t know our own story?
Amen.