Series on the Divine Liturgy, Part 8

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The Evangelical Liturgy.

Oops!

Many of us enjoy taking personality quizzes online. It gives us something to do, and it’s usually fun to see what sort of category we fall into. Is it right? Or, is it wrong?

However, there are some that are scientifically engineered, such as the Myers-Briggs Personality Test, or the Working Genius Assessment. Another famous one is the Enneagram, which dates back to the mid-20th century, but with unsure origins. (The name comes from the Greek word εννέα, which means, nine.)

On the Enneagram scale, I rate as a Five. Now, if you don’t know what a Five is, let me fill you in. They are considered the “Investigator” or the “Observer.” That right there tells you a lot about Fives’ personalities: They like to learn, dig into subjects, or tinker with things to see how they work. Our basic desire is master and understand. And, our virtue is detachment. In other words, we can detach ourselves emotionally from a situation to make a logical choice. We aren’t swayed by a passionate political speech, for example, if the policies don’t add up.

The Enneagram doesn’t just list good qualities, it also lists bad qualities. Fives, for instance, can be stingy. I think Presvytera may agree with that one! Our basic fears are helplessness, incapability, and incompetence. If we’re seeking to master understanding, this make sense. And, our temptation is to replace direct experience with concepts. In other words, we’re good at reading about something rather than actually doing something.

It’s often said that Fives make the best teachers, but the problem is getting them to actually do the teaching. Fives acquire a lot of information, which they could pass on, but they often feel like they need to know just a little bit more before they can share their knowledge. I know that often describes me. Maybe if I just knew one more fact, then I’d be ready to write that perfect sermon. 

Perhaps, the biggest vice of the Fives is that we self-contained. When we’re unhealthy, we don’t want to share our ideas, knowledge, or experiences. 

Come to think of it, many Christians, when we’re unhealthy are a lot like Fives. We hesitate to share our Christianity, at best, or to live out our Christianity, at worst. 

Ugh!

This isn’t new. It’s been a problem throughout all of history. Perhaps the most dramatic story is one told by Eusebius in his Ecclesiastical History.

There, he recounts the story of a slave girl named, Blandina. Now, this girl, who was at the very bottom of society was a Christian. And, as it happened, she was eventually found out and sentenced to death in the arena.

On the day of her execution, the arena was ready with lions to devour all sorts of Christians. She watched as other Christians, who were older, both in age and in their Christian faith, entered the arena before her. However, many of these Christians chickened out. They ended up renouncing their Christian faith in order to be saved from the lions. 

But, what’s most interesting about this story are the words Eusebius uses. We would traditionally say that those Christians who renounced their faith were saved from the lions. We would say that their lives were saved. However, Eusebius says that they were “stillborn.” 

From the Christian perspective, we are yet to be born. Which means that we have yet to be resurrected unto life eternal. By renouncing their faith, these former Christians would no longer be born into eternal life. Thus, as Eusebius says, they were stillborn.

In the end, Blandina, as young as she was, maintained her faith and willingly went to the lions to be “born into heaven.” In fact, her faith, Eusebius tells us, strengthened the resolve of those who had previously renounced their faith, and they were able to find the strength to enter the area and eternal life. 

One could summarize this entire story by saying that these Christians had originally failed to live out their Christianity. I don’t think any of us are going to face lions in the arena anytime soon, but the sentiment rings true for us today. Who here hasn’t, at one time or another, failed to live out their Christianity? Or who here hasn’t hesitated to share our faith? 

Aha!

If our instinct, in regards to our Christianity, is to be more introverted than extroverted, then what we need is a boost: a shot of encouragement and strength. What we need is a transformative experience to give us the boost we need to be powerful proclaimers of the Kingdom of Heaven.

And this is exactly what the Divine Liturgy does. It brings us together, as a Church family, to encourage us, strengthen us, and to commission us as apostles, one’s sent to announce the Good News to the world. 

In this eighth and last sermon on the Divine Liturgy, we look at the Liturgy as evangelical—a proclamation to go forth into the world to *be* Christians.

Whee!

After communion, we, the people of God, announce that,

“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.”

This is bold proclamation! If we believe it, then we shouldn’t keep the faith hidden. It is, after all, the true faith.

To help us along our way, the priest then prays a short prayer, which goes,

“You have made us worthy of Your heavenly and immortal mysteries. [Therefore] Make straight our path, fortify us in Your fear, guard our life, [and] make secure our steps …”

In other words, it’s a request to *be* Christian in the way we live once we go through the back doors. It’s a prayer to be like Blandina, to have the courage to face the lions and be born into eternity. 

But what might this look like today?

Well, I have a friend who was a preacher in another church. He likes to brag that he baptized more people than he buried. That’s a sign of a healthy church. But, one of the reasons he was able to do that was because of one parishioner. 

This parishioner was a doctor who had a practice just south of town. When his office got new staff—other doctors, nurses, schedulers, assistants, etc.—or if he had new patients, he would get to know them. If they were new to town, he would ask them a simple question, “Do you have a church home?” If they didn’t, he would say, “I go to a wonderful church, I’d love it if you’d be my guest this Sunday.”

It’s as simple as that. He was *being* a Christian. He was living out what Jesus asked us to do in Matthew, which says,

“And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.’”  

That’s just one example. There an infinite number of ways to channel Blandina and live out our Christianity. 

Yeah!

As I think about this, I’m reminded of Fr. Alexander Schmemann, a famous Orthodox Theologian and long-time dean of St. Vladimir’s Seminary. He once wrote that Liturgy doesn’t start with “Blessed is the Kingdom.” Instead, he believed that the Liturgy started when you woke up in the morning and washed your face. In other words, everything you do, including the moment you step out of bed, is a preparation to be united to God. 

In a similar vein, when we take our antidoron and leave the sanctuary, the Liturgy hasn’t ended. I’d argue that it’s just begun. We have found union with Christ through communion, yes, but we continue to find union with God in every interaction we have the rest of the week. After all, everyone is created in the image of God. Everyone we speak to is an encounter with Christ.

As we leave church, remember that we have been transformed; therefore, as transformed Christians, seek to transform the world with our presence. We are Christians, or, more properly, “little Christs” in the world, and, so, bring Christ to others and make the Kingdom present. 

In short, the Liturgy does not end when we leave … the Liturgy is a call for us to *be* and *act* like Christians in the world.

Amen.