Father jangled his thurible about, those “bells and smells” that Maples found repulsive. We chanted our psalms, psalm after psalm and song after song. I mumbled through Church Slavonic hymns as I read their translations on the other side of the page. I learned a great deal despite the lack of “teaching,” because I read along in the book. I’d never noticed there were so many Old Testament allusions to the Resurrection of Christ. I’d never known Christ was hidden in so many old Bible stories that way. Some of the references were brand new to me.
Father kept on bursting into the middle of the singing in his rich Slavic baritone, deep enough to blow out the mics. “CHRIST IS RISEN!” he bellowed. “CHRISTUS VOSKRES!”
I didn’t know what the correct response to “Christus Voskres” was, but I knew how to say “INDEED HE IS RISEN” and I shouted it at the top of my voice. I was so happy that I was on the verge of tears. I’m sure I looked like an idiot, and that’s proper and just because I am one. But how could anyone keep from shouting? How could anyone resist participating in these eerie chants? How could it be that you’d fail to see the “teaching” in reading these brilliant Easter carols on the side of the page while you tried to pronounce them in a different language? What other teaching could there be?
If you walk into a church determined to judge it, how can you worship the Lord? How can you even begin to praise the Lord, if you go to His temple with the attitude that you already understand Him, and that anything you don’t recognize is wrong?
Do you know what Heaven is like? No mortal tongue could say. But for one thing, I think Heaven is a temple– a vast temple that’s indoors and outdoors, a garden and a forest and a mountain all within a temple. I think that as we approach the gate to this temple, we will be able to glimpse inside and decide if we wish to go on. The temple will be adorned with splendors like you’ve never known. There will be many strange words of praise written on that temple’s walls, words that will offend us if we insist upon believing that we understand everything already. There will be many strange icons painted there, and many strange icons walking around the temple as well. These icons are the saints.
Everyone will see something to surprise them, peering through that gate at those strange icons. Consecrated virgins will see those who were biological mothers, and recognize that motherhood is its own ascetic practice. Mothers will see consecrated virgins and realize that through their discipline, these were mothers to many souls. Scholars overflowing with knowledge will see simple people who understood nothing, but believed. People who prided themselves on their simplicity and disdain for study will see scholars reveling in Wisdom Himself. Those who spent their lives working mighty deeds will see children who died in infancy, and were welcomed Home without performing any deeds at all. Strict teetotalers like my husband’s devout Baptist grandfather will see men like my Irish grandfather, who drank every day without it becoming an occasion for sin. Those who despised modern church music will see people who found great consolation in idiotic modern hymns. Martha will see Mary. Peter will see Paul. Gentiles will see Jews. The East will see the West. We will all be scandalized and put to shame.
And then we will hear the Seraph’s voice from inside that temple, free from every prideful inhibition that humans mistake for dignity. The Seraph is neither with our army or with our enemies; He is with the Army of the Lord, and he doesn’t care what you’d like him to say. He will cry, “Christ is risen!”
If we are humble enough, we will have the grace to proclaim, “Indeed, He is Risen!” in an undignified voice. If we have love, we will have the courage to walk into that temple among those strange icons, to be one with them and with the Lord.
If we have failed in humility and love, no one will force us inside. We will be free to walk away in search of a nice, quiet Jesus in a nice, sterile temple filled with people and things we understand. May God in His mercy grant us never to search for such things, because they don’t exist, and fixing the heart on them is hell itself.
I can’t say if any particular soul is alive or dead, but the Path of Life is a person, Christ, and Christ’s kingdom is Heaven. Heaven is something you can’t understand. Heaven’s teaching is something you must attend to, rather than judge.
So, I invite Mr. Maples and everyone else: come to Liturgy again. This time, be attentive.
(image via pixabay)
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