Are “spiritual” and “mental” two words for the same thing? This seems to be the logic of much of Protestantism and, sadly, Roman Catholicism as practiced these days.
Fr. Stephen Freeman discusses this in the context of liturgical ritual:
For the first two decades of my life I thought that “empty” always had to be said in front of the word “ritual.” It speaks volumes about a certain understanding of the world in which we live and the nature of its relationship to God.
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The anti-ritual of the Reformation is rooted in a worldview. Ritual acts indeed are “empty.” The word spiritual comes to be identified with internal, mental, acts of the heart. The beginnings of this worldview are rooted in the dialectical opposition of faith and works. In Reformation short-hand, faith is good and works are bad. Faith becomes synonymous with certain mental acts. Works became associated with almost every outward action. Even almsgiving comes to be seen as a “work.” With the “interiorizing” of all things spiritual, ritual actions became virtually demonized (hence “empty ritual”). Indeed, some began to view any use of ritual as, in fact, demonic (“witchcraft”). Priests became worse than heretics – they were viewed as necromancers and the like.
Of course, the extremes of argumentation rarely make for useful reflection (cf. modern political “discussion”). The exact nature of ritual never came up as a topic worthy of consideration. Is there a good use of ritual? What would make it good or bad?
The liturgical movement of the mid to late-twentieth century began to look at ritual. However (from my perspective) its conclusions were largely predicated on the assumptions of Protestant thought and produced a theatrical understanding of liturgy (resulting in what I have elsewhere termed “pantomime“).
During my Anglian seminary years, studying under a “high church” professor, we were taught that all ritual movements were only done to “illustrate” the liturgy and should always be done in the full view of the people (since it was only for their benefit that such movements were done). This is the “pantomime” aspect …
Orthodox liturgical practice belongs to a different world. Within Orthodox liturgical tradition, many things (including ritual actions) are done behind the icon screen, sometimes done with the doors and the curtain closed. What is done is visible to the priest, God and the angels. It is a direct contradiction of modern non-Orthodox seminary teaching (including modern Catholic seminaries – except for those who are hearkening back to earlier Catholic practice).
What does a ritual action mean, of what use could it possibly be, if only the priest does it and no one sees it? What assumptions must accompany such movements?
The pantomime view of liturgical action sees meaning as a mental construct. What something means is simply what someone thinks it means.
Father Stephen is a deeper thinker on matters like this that I am, so as always when I tout something he wrote, it’s to whet your appetite, not to spare you the trouble of reading the original.
I’m reminded in this of Christian Wiman, writing in the October 2012 issue of Poetry magazine (as he was one of two who literally read 100 years of the magazine to select poems to reappear during the centennial): “As a general rule, it’s safe to say that if you can paraphrase a poem, it’s not a poem.” And if you can pantomime a proposition, your pantomime isn’t Liturgy.
I’m also reminded of Jane Austen, mediated by C.S. Lewis:
“I should like Balls infinitely better,” said Caroline Bingley, “if they were carried on in a much different manner . . . It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.” “Much more rational, I dare say,” replied her brother, “but it would not be near so much like a Ball.”
A sermon may be “much more rational,” but it’s much less like a Liturgy.
Yet again, there’s a quote (the source may be elusive) that “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” There’s no yammering propositional substitute for, yup, Liturgy.
I understand that this is the 1st Tuesday in November, and that’s supposed to be significant. But poetry is “news that stays news, ” and Liturgy will outlast even poetry.
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Tipsy Teetotaler ن 