Series on the Divine Liturgy, Part 7

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The Participatory Liturgy.

Oops!

As most of you know, I studied Classical and Near-Eastern Archaeology when I was an undergraduate at the U of M. 

One of the things archaeologists have to get really good at is reading city plans. And, no, I don’t mean modern city plans; I mean ancient city plans. We look at a lot of them. Plans of Jerusalem, Athens, Olympia, Mycenae … all sorts of cities. 

Not only do we have to get good at reading city plans, but we have to be able to distinguish between different time periods. What did Athens look like in the Archaic period? The Classical period? What about Chalcolithic? 

Once, we’ve familiar with the layout of a city, then we zoom in and look at a specific buildings. Now, we learn how to read architectural plans. And, we have to be able to tell different levels of a building (an upper story vs. a lower story), and, like cities, we have to be able to distinguish the building in different time periods. We want to be able to answer several questions: What was this building used for? What happened in this room? When was this addition added? Was something torn down? When? 

By the time I actually got to Greece, I had spent a lot of time looking at plans and architectural drawings, and even reconstructions of buildings. And, because of my studies, I could give you short histories on many cities and buildings. 

But, despite all that studying, and all of that knowledge, nothing could have actually prepared me for actually walking down the streets of ancient Olympia, or standing next to the Temple of Zeus. It’s something else altogether to race your friends on the track of the ancient Olympic stadium. 

In short, it’s one thing to know about something, and it’s another thing altogether to participate in something.

Ugh!

Among professional archaeologists—those of us who have degrees in the subject and have spent time in the field—there’s a sort of respect, an acknowledgement that we have first-hand knowledge … it’s not just something we’ve read about or seen in a movie. 

For those who have not spent time in the field, and don’t know what it’s like to stand in the shadow of a Greek temple, we have a special term for them: armchair archaeologist. We call them this because their experience doesn’t extend past the armchair they sat in while they read their books. 

When I first wanted to lean about Orthodoxy, I was simply an “armchair archaeologist.” I attended a few meetings of OCF, our campus ministry, but I hadn’t actually set foot in an Orthodox Church … well, not while a service was happening anyway. 

After my second meeting, a friend pulled me aside. He said, “Dusty, you can’t just come to OCF meetings and think you know about Orthodoxy. This faith isn’t just about book knowledge. It’s about experiencing God. Let me bring you to church this Sunday.”

This changed my whole perspective. I had spent most of my life trying to get to know God simply by knowing “facts” about him. What he did in the Old Testament, what he did in the New Testament, what theology had to say about him … it never occurred to me that prayer and worship were about experiencing God firsthand. It was about participating in a relationship with God. I didn’t even know that was possible.

Because Orthodoxy is about participation, I had a hard time with the way we responded to Covid. I know there’s a lot of feelings and mixed opinions out there, but my frustration was that we started to stream services. This changed the Liturgy. No longer was liturgy something people participated in. Now, they could simply sit at home, in their pajamas, with their cup of coffee and watch. In other words, we turned the Liturgy into something to watch at best, or something to scroll past at worst. 

Think about what the Liturgy is—all those things we’ve been talking about in the last six sermons: remembrance, offering, thanksgiving, scriptural, communal, transformative—and we’ve turned it into something to scroll past in a list of options of things for us to watch … as entertainment! We’ve reduced the Liturgy to such a point that it’s on par with cat videos, crude comedians, and the latest TikTok fad. 

In short, it’s everything except what it’s supposed to be: a participatory experience of the Living God. In short, a true encounter.

Aha!

Thankfully, we’re still here. And, thankfully, we haven’t done away with the most important act of participation: holy communion.

Every Sunday, we offer the Body and Blood of Christ, as we have for the last 2000-some years. We can truly participate in the life of God by taking the Christ into ourselves. And, through this, be united to the Holy Trinity.

We can still encounter God through participation, and that’s the theme of the seventh of our sermon series: the Liturgy as participation.

Whee!

We know there’s a cosmic liturgy. What I mean by this is that the heavenly hosts are constantly at the throne of God, worshiping him for all eternity. How do we know? Because, through time, various people have been blessed to get a glimpse of this worship. 

One was the prophet Isaiah. Here’s what he saw:

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’” (Isa 6:1-3)

But, he’s not the only one. St. John the Theologian was also blessed to peak into heaven. He also wrote about it. Here’s what he saw:

“After this I looked, and there in heaven a door stood open! … and there in heaven stood a throne, with one seated on the throne! … Around the throne are twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones are twenty-four elders, dressed in white robes, with golden crowns on their heads. … Around the throne, and on each side of the throne, are four living creatures, full of eyes in front and behind: the first living creature like a lion, the second living creature like an ox, the third living creature with a face like a human face, and the fourth living creature like a flying eagle. And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and inside. 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 the one who lives forever and ever; they cast their crowns before the throne, singing …” (Rev. 4)

But, how do we know that we too are to participate in this cosmic liturgy? It’s quite simple: Because God instructed humanity to create a Tabernacle, a tent so that we could worship him. And, when Moses completed the Tabernacle and filled it with everything God instructed, something amazing happened. God entered to take up resident inside the Tabernacle! In other words, his throne was among us.

“Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle. Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud settled upon it, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle.” (Ex. 40:34-35)

Now, God resides among us through Christ; God is enthroned among—or, as St. John says in his first chapter, God has “tabernacled among us.” But the worship continues. By celebrating the Divine Liturgy, we join the heavenly choirs at the throne of God and participate, mystically, in this cosmic liturgy, this never-ending, eternal worship. 

Yeah!

The most beautiful thing about this is that by participating, we are encountering the living God. 

By serving in the altar, lightening a candle, singing along with the chanters, reading the scripture lessons, kissing the icons, smelling the incense, offering what we have to give, consuming the Body and Blood of Christ … we are persons encountering the divine. 

We are no armchair archaeologists, sitting at home reading *about* the liturgy. Instead, we are transported to heaven, partaking of the heavenly banquet, and getting a foretaste of the Kingdom to come.

May we always be present to honor God and encounter his loving mercy.

Amen.