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Boundaries
and Bridges: Part
II: Bridges We,
with the whole of creation, are fallen. Along with the writers of the Old
Testament, we can take that for granted. Scandal,
corruption, violence, betrayal – that whole list – should not surprise us in
ourselves, in others or in our surroundings. Our surprise and joy are found as
we discover the Gospel faith that God meets us where we are; builds bridges over
the walls of brick we have constructed around ourselves in our fallen attempts
to live our own lives in spite of others (including God) and by these bridges,
brings us to eternal life and salvation in the Kingdom of Heaven. This
Gospel faith – this bridge-building by God – is what we call revealed
religion. One who has experienced
such a revelation cannot deny it; one who has not experienced it cannot begin to
comprehend it. “Flesh and blood
has not revealed this to you, Peter, but my Father in heaven…”
There is a uniqueness in revelation: a choosing and a calling.
“You have not chosen Me, but I have chosen you,” Christ says to His
followers (John 15:26). If
God has touched us in this way; if we have experienced something of Him through
His calling of us, we will know that “our ways are not His ways” (cf. Isaiah
55:8). The experience of the
Christian saints down the ages has been that we cannot look at ourselves to
experience what we are to be like, but to God in Whose image and likeness we are
made. Yet
to look at God is to enter the realm of poetry.
The saints who used many words to speak about Him remind us that there
are no words adequate to Him: Whatever we may think or say, His reality remains
far greater and beyond our grasp. When
we think He fits into our intellectual constructs, we have rather produced an
idol which He will delight in destroying. Many
people’s loss of faith is actually a step in the right direction – their god
was too small and its destruction is sometimes the first step towards a
relationship with the true God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. One
of the main reasons for the crucifixion of Jesus was that those around Him could
not accept that God could or would use a man to build a bridge with His
creation. God could not be walking
in their midst; to claim to be God as Jesus did, was at best lunacy; at worst
blasphemy. Indeed,
it took Christians over 300 years to begin to come up with language to describe
their experience of God’s revelation in Jesus.
Then as now, Christians have begun with the reality of the three
different persons; with the fact that men and women have experienced Jesus;
known Jesus. With the apostles, they
have heard Jesus pray to His Father and speak of the Spirit as totally other
than Himself: “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me;
nevertheless not as I will but as You will…” (Matt. 26:39)
“But when the Counselor comes, whom I shall send to you from the
Father, even the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, He will bear
witness to me” (John 15:26). At
the same time, with Peter and with Martha of Bethany, they have come to see Him
as “the Christ; the Son of God” (Matt. 16:16, John 11:27). With the apostle
Thomas they have come to an overwhelming realization that He is their Lord and
their God (John 20:28). With the
Theologian, they have heard Jesus speak to Philip and say “He who has seen me
has seen my Father” (John 14:9). They
are aware that Jesus said “I and my Father are One” (John 10:30). At
first, they weren’t sure how to describe all this in what we today call the
language of theology. There were too
many paradoxes; too many facts they could not deny yet which did not fit their
view of reality. Indeed, as we
continue to grow into our life in Christ, each of us goes through the same
process of breakdowns in what we believe. We
do believe that God is love and that it is the nature – not just the choice
– of love to pour itself out on the other.
For this reason we believe God must have others as part of His very
being. While some might say that
Creation is the other, we believe that creation mirrors what already exists
within God Himself, Trinity in Unity. This
mirrors our view of human persons made in the image and likeness of God: the
unity of humanity does not compromise the uniqueness and integrity of persons;
true bridges do not violate boundaries. Another
image of God’s revelation – His bridge-building with His creation – is
found in the Biblical theme of love and marriage:
In the Old Testament, The Song of Songs and the marriage of the
prophet Hosea are examples of this allegory of the nature and love of God. There
is another equally venerable and Orthodox reading of Scripture, however, which
teaches that human intercourse was part of God’s original plan; that love
indeed always pours itself out and is by nature creative.
In this view, the union of a man and women in marriage reflects the
joining of God to His creation, i.e. the “other” who is created and then
redeemed to share in the essence of God in theosis, without being
destroyed personally. Marriage is
seen as a matter of mutual support, love and respect.
If children are given in response to such sharing it can only be a
blessing. While a choice not to bear
children could be sinful depending upon the reasons, to participate in God’s
love and creativity can mean an infinite number of other things as well. When
Christian marriage (and community life) shows such a reflection of the love of
the Trinity, unity is found in the harmony of differences.
Even people who are close enough to know pretty well what the other is
thinking and anticipate reactions and behavior, will continue to be strong
individuals, not pretending that boundaries don’t exist or trying to
obliterate them. Such families,
communities and friendships will indeed be fruitful and rejoice as their
offspring grow up, move on, become their own persons.
They expect them to do different and perhaps even greater things than
they are doing and understand that the main heritage they have given them is
life in the Church, the Body of Christ. The
Church as well rejoices in her offspring: new missions, monasteries, national
churches. Each of these groupings,
when it is truly animated by the Holy Spirit, reflects the uniqueness of its
time and place as well as the particular people who are called to be part of it.
When the first assembly in Jerusalem saw that the gentiles who before
were far from the Church had received the same Holy Spirit, it recognized that
this new situation called for an entirely different framework if the Body of
Christ was to flourish with these new members.
The Church, speaking through St. James of For
us fallen people, however, ignoring and violating boundaries comes naturally;
building bridges does not. While as
St. Paul tells us, God has been revealing Himself through His creation from the
beginning of time (cf. Romans, Chapter 1), our natural fallen response is
not to use creation as such a bridge to God, but rather to idolize it; to turn
it into an end in itself. This
is one of the chief reasons Jews and Christians have needed to place appropriate
boundaries between themselves and others, so as not to lose their identity as
God’s “Chosen People;” not to bow down in worship to the surrounding
society or its false gods. Yet
how do we reach out to others without losing what we have to share with them?
How can we make sure we are not used by those things which are meant to
be used by us? Forgiveness
seems to me to be the key. Without a
truly robust understanding and practice of forgiveness, Christian life is a
sham, whether in marriage or community. Forgiveness
cannot be something tacked on after all else fails; it is the way Christians
approach life, for it is the way our God approaches us.
Forgiveness means being able to look clearly at the world and those
around us in true detachment; seeing that all is not well (even within
ourselves) and loving in spite of that. It
does not mean going through life in denial that anything is ever wrong, nor in
being scandalized when it becomes obvious that evil has been perpetrated by
known individuals. Such
a life of forgiveness demands letting go of control – or the illusion of
control that revenge and constant defensiveness brings.
It is the way to be sure that we build bridges rather than fortifications
and not violate or ignore boundaries. Forgiveness
is truly life-giving. Only one who
has been truly seen as he or she is and then forgiven can fully understand the
gift of grace. For ourselves as
well, this means the letting go of justification; of the desire to appear better
than we are. If we do not let our
God and others know us (not just know about us), we cannot know the wholeness
and healing of forgiveness. And what
we have not received we do not have to give to others.
There
are reasons bridge-building and forgive-ness are not popular and widely
practiced, however. It can mean not
only true detachment but also the sacrifice of everything, including the
crucifixion of ourselves. It can, in
actual practice, mean laying down our life for another or “for the many” as
our Lord did. For those not ready to
take on such forgiveness themselves, this can be very threatening.
Paradoxically, the way of bridge-building, like the way of the Cross, can
be a very lonely one at times on this earth.
Christ built the only true and eternal bridge for mankind to heaven when
he ascended the Cross, yet that was the time when He knew Himself most forsaken
by both God and man. Death
was the only right way of reaching out to us and to the world, yet it was also
the way of His leaving us and the world in the flesh.
While others do not always see such a leave-taking as bridge-building,
when leaving is an authentic
response to God as was that of Jesus, it is indeed the most fully loving action
possible. Jesus knew He belonged
elsewhere and could continue to love those He was leaving only by going to the
Father. For
us, the Church and its liturgical life are powerful tools in making forgiveness
central to our lives. To be fully
members of the Church, we must choose and make time to gather as the people of
God; to “come out of the world” for definite periods.
Making the choice to come faithfully for Sunday Divine Liturgy may be a
real sacrifice for some; yet for the Orthodox Christian it is a necessary first
step. As we are present at the
liturgy, we bring our lives; ourselves; our loved ones; the whole world to offer
in sacrifice – to make holy –before God.
We learn as we do this that the truest relationship we can have with
others is to allow them to be themselves and to place them in God’s hands.
Liturgy teaches us that this is true prayer.
It is the way of radically letting go rather than always attempting to
control. Christians,
called into the priesthood of all believers as the Body of Christ offering the
Liturgy on behalf of all and for all, become by that action the bridge between
God and the world. This is a divine
reality that transforms in time and eternity both those who participate and all
they bring with them. We can forget
this reality, for we remain ourselves, with our own personal boundaries and
limitations, just as bread and wine remain bread and wine yet truly become the
Body and Blood of Christ. To catch
even a glimpse of this reality, however, is enough to know the God Who creates
and sustains the whole universe at every instant of its being. No
one can prove this truth to another. It
is something that can be proven only in the crucible of life’s experience.
Yet as we continue, our times of prayer will take on the force of reality
and move beyond the hours of liturgy. We
will continue to grow into God’s own life and will learn how to bring
ourselves, one another and the whole world before God as we go about our daily
lives. We will eventually discover
that the acceptance of boundaries and the building of bridges through the
life-giving grace of forgiveness slowly replace our fallen approach to life.
We will find ourselves on the road to heaven with those who have the eyes
to see and the ears to hear, holding all others up to God in prayer. |