In and Through

We have all heard it. Some of us have probably said it. A freshly prepared meal sits steaming in the bowl and the cook says, "I poured my heart and soul into this!" Or, a small gift box, cutely wrapped and adorned with a tiny bow sits in ones hands; as the Recipient unwraps the Giver explains, "This is my heart."

Language is a funny thing. We say things without thought to the actual meaning of the words. We don't do deep philosophical reflection upon things (too busy, too tired, too hard!). We also do not argue that the green beans can not convey the cook's soul or that a bracelet is unable to transport the heart of anyone. That language is symbolic and yet it is also real. And reality is tough to explain.

Self-gift is, after all, always a difficult thing to measure. Connecting an object and an internal disposition can seem tenuous. And it is no less problematic when the object is our actual bodies. When we kiss our beloved, be it a parent's kiss of a sleeping child or the lover's passionate expression, those actions convey meaning. They can be a self gift, or perhaps the empty action of a sham-artist. There are even times when a myriad of emotions make it hard to know yourself. ("Am I kidding myself?")  But the inward "spiritual reality" is not discernable with the naked eye nor is it measurable by human instrumentation.

The recent discussion of transubstantiation was intended as an apologia for an ancient approach to understanding the world. It was not an argument to convince anyone of its validity. It was, however, an invitation to hear. We live in combative times. (And I think that is more or less true of all times!) I grow weary of battles and I long for connections. I am not alone in this, even when, perhaps especially when I am combative. And so I have sought to raise questions about life in general. How to see holy things in connection to all things. How to imagine the reality which we assume yet poorly articulate.

The word sacrament is not found in the Bible. Some people, therefore, deny that sacraments exist. But before we discuss sacraments, it is helpful to think about the world and how it works. We know that there are unobservable realities expressed in observable realities. We know that a gift is more than simply the concrete object. We know that a kiss is more than lips touching. We know as we try to express ourselves in word or deed that it is always an attempt to convey something more. We also know that the one receiving has to be able to discern what is taking place.

In and through concrete entities we are able to convey a deeper spiritual reality. This is the point of saying "the openness of being." There is a remarkable quality to things that allows us to "change" them. A chair is a chair until it belongs to the kingdom and its ruler and becomes a Throne. And the symbolism of these changed entities (a wedding ring, a flag, a monument, a relic) is real and true. But eyes cannot see what the heart cannot fathom or the mind does not acknowledge. One criticism of our culture is that we know the price of everything and the value of nothing. We are also tone deaf to the deeper melodies, blinded by materialism and unable to see beyond the shallow depth of the five senses.

There is a disease which consumes the people whom I counsel, and which eats my own soul. It has many names and manifests itself in the question, "What is the point?" It is a manifestation of the limited capacity to see and hear and feel the deeper reality. A sacramental world view, one which recognizes that things and actions can convey truth as effectively as words, opens one to a fuller experience of life. It makes those connections more powerful and life changing. It gets one in touch with the Holy Spirit which is the Creative Power beneath and within all things. That Spirit among us, in and through the created reality which we know so well, yet do not really know at all.

If matter can contains spirit...
If spirit can act in and through matter...
Then, human beings are possible. A material brain and an immaterial soul can co-exist. Freedom to choose, to love, to give is possible. And the question, "What is the point?" while perhaps remaining only partially answered, gives way to a deeper assurance. I may not fully know the point or be able to completely articulate the point, but I am sure that there is a point. And believing life is not pointless, I journey on to its consummation.