The Transformative Liturgy
Oops!
When you put a little salt on your food, have you ever wondered if you’re eating Lot’s wife?
While that’s probably not a question you would ever seriously consider, the story of Lot’s wife does demonstrate a reality that most of us struggle with: the reality of seeing God’s reality.
Lot was Abraham’s nephew, and they lived in city called Sodom. You’ve probably heard of it. The residents of this city were so notorious for their wickedness that God decided to destroy them. However, Lot and his family were warned so that they could flee and save their lives. But, there was one rule: As you flee, don’t look back.
Guess what!
Lot’s wife looked back. As a result, Genesis says that she was turned into a pillar of salt.
On the surface, this may seem like a strange tale. As I’ve mentioned in past sermons, Genesis is a part of the Old Testament known as the Torah, which means, “instruction.” So, what can a story about a woman being turned into a pillar of salt teach us? Well, quite a bit actually.
Ugh!
Lot’s wife’s act of looking back signifies her attachment to the life she was leaving behind in Sodom. Her heart was tied to the earthly life and possessions she was being forced to abandon, rather than fully trusting in God’s deliverance and moving forward toward safety.
Additionally, her inability to let go of her former life and her attachment to the material comforts of Sodom blinded her to the reality of God’s judgment and the necessity of obedience to God’s command.
Like the Rich Young Ruler in the New Testament, Lot’s wife failed to see the greater reality of God’s plan for her salvation because she was too focused on what she was losing materially. She was spiritually blind, and this inability to see beyond the physical world resulted in her tragic end.
The reality is, most of us are a lot like Lot’s wife. We may not be physically fleeing Sodom, but we sure can be awfully tied to the things of this world that really don’t matter in the end.
We probably don’t even know it. In fact, our indifference to Church and church services may be sign that we’re spiritually blind, just like Lot’s wife. Just think, if we truly saw the bread and wine as Christ’s Body and Blood, would we be so quick to dismiss Sunday Divine Liturgy? Would we be able to say, “I can go another time,” or “I’ll just catch it online,” or “I’ve got better things to do?”
If we truly saw the reality of the Body and Blood of Christ, we may be struck like Paul. He was so overwhelmed that he fell off his horse and was struck blind. If we could truly open our eyes, we may realize that being in the presence of Christ can burn us up like grass in the fire, as one of pre-communion prayers says.
Aha!
While communion is a very serious thing, I don’t want us to fall into the trap of never communing because we don’t feel we’re worthy. No one, not even the bishop or a monastic, is ever worthy of communion.
The key is in the realization that communion is a χάρις, which we usually translate as “grace.” However, in plain English, it’s best translated as “gift.”
The Divine Liturgy is the means by which God offers himself as a divine gift, but, most importantly, it’s the means by which God gifts us the eyes to see a new reality around us
While we’re kneeling for the consecration, one of the prayers the priests says is:
“Once again we offer to You this spiritual worship without the shedding of blood, and we beseech and pray and entreat You: Send down Your Holy Spirit upon us and upon the gifts here presented …”
We are praying that the Holy Spirit come upon us, just as the Holy Spirit comes upon the bread and the wine. And, what happens? We are transformed. The scales fall from our eyes and we can see that bread and wine now as the Blood and Body of Christ. What a beautiful gift from God!
In other words, we see food not as something just to satisfy our own wants and desires, our own rumbling stomachs, but we are now able to see food–in this case bread and wine–as the means by which we form a relationship with God. Food is now a means by which God nourishes us and cares for us. It’s the way we are reminded of the story of humanity’s relationship with God.
You’ll recall that we started our Divine Liturgy series with remembrance. We remember how God has acted to save his people. Now, in the 6th sermon in our series, we see the Liturgy as transformation … our own transformation.
Whee!
This past week, we celebrated one of the major feasts of the Church: the Transfiguration of Christ.
In this feast, Christ takes three of his disciples up the mountain and he’s transfigured before them. When we think of this, we tend to think that Christ was changed. He went from being one thing to another.
However, this isn’t the way some of the Church fathers spoke about the Transfiguration. They say that it wasn’t Christ who was transfigured, but rather the disciples. In other words, their were given the grace, the gift to see Christ as he truly was. They were able to see a truer reality than what they normally saw.
Here are a few quotes:
“[Christ] did not transform Himself, but He allowed His disciples to perceive the divine light which was always in Him. He was transfigured not by receiving what He was not, but by revealing to them what He was.” (St. John Chrysostom, Homily 56 on the Gospel of Matthew)
“The Lord was transfigured, showing His disciples the glory of His divinity, and opening their spiritual eyes so they could behold what is always present but unseen by those without understanding. In this way, He revealed the deification that is offered to all who follow Him.” (St. Maximus the Confessor, Ambigua to John, 10.22)
“[Christ] neither received anything different nor was changed into something else, nor did He add anything to His nature, but He allowed the disciples to see, for a short time, that ineffable and inaccessible glory which He always had, as He showed to them the true nature of God and of His own divinity.” (St. Gregory Palamas, Homily 34, On the Transfiguration of the Lord)
In the Divine Liturgy, this is what happens when we ask the Holy Spirit to descend upon us. Our spiritual eyes are opened to see the bread and wine as Christ’s Body and Blood.
Yeah!
If Lot’s wife had been able to see reality as it truly is, rather than the reality as she perceived it, she would have lived.
If nothing else, the story of Lot’s wife reminds us to be open to God, open to the gifts he’s giving us … in life through prayer, through the Divine Liturgy.
One prophet who was open to God was Isaiah. When God appeared to him, Isaiah exclaimed,
“Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!”
Then an angel took a live coal from the altar of God and put it in Isaiah’s mouth. As he was doing so, he said,
“Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.”
Isaiah was open to God. He was able to see the spiritual reality around him and he was cleansed. This happens every Sunday. The live coal is the Body and Blood of Christ. It’s able to burn, but it’s also able to wipe out our sins.
When we’re open to God, we will be transformed. The scales will fall from our eyes and we’ll see in a new way. And when this happens, we can truthfully sing,
“We have seen the true light; we have received the heavenly Spirit; we have found the true faith, worshiping the undivided Trinity, for the Trinity has saved us.”
Amen.