The power--and limits--of Christian symbols
By George Clifford
In the early 1980s, I served a tour of duty as the chaplain for the Marine Corps’ Officer Candidates School in Quantico. Marine OCS differs from Army, Navy, and Air Force OCS. Unlike the other military services, the Marines do not train officers at OCS. Instead, they screen and evaluate candidates to determine whether each has the ability and potential to become a leader of Marines. Those who successfully complete OCS receive a commission as a Marine Officer and then spend the next six months at The Basic School learning to be officers.
During my tenure at OCS, roughly 50% of all candidates did not receive a commission, either dropping out at their own request or OCS dismissing them as not qualified. For these young men and women, many of whom worked for years to get to OCS, disenrollment was emotionally devastating. The rigid insistence on meeting Marine expectations combined a pervasive boot camp mentality and intense physical program to make OCS an incredibly high stress environment for most candidates.
I soon learned that Isaiah 40:31, “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint,” had great symbolic meaning for Christian candidates. The Marine Corps emblem is the eagle, globe, and anchor. By envisioning him or herself wearing that emblem, the eagle a reminder of God's promise to help, the idea of God's presence with them in the midst of a great personal struggle, unrelenting stress, and unending physical weariness acquired fresh and considerable power. (Obviously, one must avoid conflating the eagle’s two meanings; Christianity and patriotism are not the same and often have competing agendas.)
Feeling stress in 2009 is also easy to understand. Many have lost jobs and others wonder if (and when) their job may disappear. Stock portfolios have steeply declined in value, curtailing or perhaps threatening to curtail, the lifestyles of those dependent upon investment income. The credit crunch has affected the ability of many to buy or sell a house, car, or other item. Each of us could personalize this list with our stressors that might include family problems, a loved one in harm’s way, illness, etc.
Against that backdrop, one line from a recent Sunday’s gospel reading especially struck me. Those who went searching for Jesus when he sought some early morning private time told him when they found him, “Everyone is searching for you.” (Mark 1:37) What those who found Jesus were really saying was that people were distressed, like the Marine officer candidates to whom I ministered, and these people wanted God's help. They had seen or heard of Jesus mediating that help to others – this is what the stories of healing are all about – and now they wanted, needed, God's help for themselves.
Unfortunately, no amount of searching can bring us face to face with the historical Jesus. Thankfully, the Christian tradition has a rich panoply of symbols through which people can still experience God's life-transforming love.
Historically, many Christians have found the bread and wine of Holy Communion powerful mediators of God's grace. This common experience of grace explains why the Church early in its life literalized its interpretation of Jesus’ words of institution, “This is my body … this is my blood.” Transubstantiation, pursuit of the Holy Grail, prayer before the consecrated host, and a wealth of other traditions all grew out of the reverence that Christians attached to symbols through which many experienced God's presence and grace so powerfully mediated. The Church hoped that literalizing the symbols would preserve the symbols’ power and help expand the number of those for whom the symbol mediated God's grace.
Similarly, with the advent of printing and widespread availability of Bibles, many other Christians discovered that the printed words of scripture symbolically mediated God's life-transforming love in an equally powerful manner. They too literalized their experience in an effort to promote its power and to prevent sacrilege. The words of scripture became words that God had spoken. One never set the Bible on the floor or placed another book on top of it. Bequeathing one’s Bible to a member of the next generation conveyed a sense of continuing spirituality between generations.
The saddest example of church architecture I have ever seen is the Dunker Church situated on the Antietam Civil War battlefield in Maryland. My visit to that Church building has remained vivid for over thirty years. What saddened me was neither the damage from cannonballs nor inadvertently poor choice of location. What saddened me was that the church, structurally and in terms of its décor, was distinguishable from some mid-eighteenth century schoolhouses that had benches instead of desks only by the absence of a chalkboard.
Dunker opposition to symbolic expressions of the faith, apart from one book, the Bible, lies at one extreme of the spectrum of Christian reliance on symbols. The Eastern Orthodox Churches, with their unapologetic reliance on multiple symbols – gilded icons, incense, chant, and elaborate, highly stylized ritual – occupy the other extreme of the spectrum of Christian expression.
The Episcopal Church falls broadly between those two extremes: low-church Episcopalians toward the Dunkers and high-church Episcopalians toward the Eastern Orthodox. No one set of practices is normative for us; individuals and congregations gravitate in directions that they find helpful. Yet Episcopalians unite around two truths. Symbols can mediate God's presence and love. But the symbol is only a means for receiving God's grace; identifying the symbol with grace results in idolatry that destroys the symbol’s ability to convey God's grace.
Symbols that fill our Church and spiritual lives include:
• Water in Holy Baptism, fonts at church entrances, and ablutions;
• The taste of bread and wine in Holy Communion;
• Oil used in anointing;
• Metaphors and images incarnated in word, music, paint, fabric, and stone;
• The smell of incense and evergreens;
• Touch in the laying on of hands in prayer and ordination, and physical contact – hugs, shaking hands – when we exchange peace;
• Changes in posture, as we stand, kneel, sit, bow, genuflect, and make the sign of the cross.
Which symbol or symbols resonate most deeply with you at this point in your life? If, like the people in Mark’s gospel, you search for God's powerful presence, then live into the symbols that resonate most deeply with you. When we think on meaningful symbols, incorporate them into life in appropriate ways, and explore their mysteries, then we, like the Jews to whom Isaiah spoke, Jesus’ contemporaries, and the Marine officer candidates to whom I ministered, can experience anew God's loving, life giving presence.

A dozen years ago I traveled with my son and daughter-in-law to a mountain village in Mexico where millions of butterflies return each year. Dormant and hanging in clumps from trees all night, they unfold their wings and fly when hit by the morning sun. Determined to experience this spectacle, we rented a small cabin on a hillside over the village and rose early on a Sunday morning to walk into the forest. I was not a church member at that time, and my childhood religion had no ritual, so the exotic smell rising from the village at dawn was my first encounter with church incense. Ten years later, when I entered the church of which I am now a member, I smelled this incense again. I was immediately transported to the morning sun on pines and millions of butterflies rising around me on peals of church bells. Frankincense, precious gift to the Christ child, became a precious gift to the child within me as well. For me it is a symbol of transformation and renewal. Its smell reminds me of my own inner transformation as I returned to church after many years. Every Sunday, as blue clouds of smoke rise from the processional, I am again transformed amid rising clouds of sunlit butterflies. The smell of church incense calls me home.
(editor's note: thanks Robin. Next time we need your full name.
Posted by Robin
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March 2, 2009 10:17 AM
George,
I'd never known of the Dunkers Church at Antietam, or even heard of the Dunkers, and so, intrigued by your description googled which took me to the Church of the Brethren Network and these two fascinating pieces -
"Who are the Dunkers" - http://www.cob-net.org/antietam/dunkers.htm
and
"Dunker Church: Witness for Peace" - http://www.cob-net.org/antietam/
Both pieces have photos of the church including one evocative shot of its very, very austere interior - wholly image-less --- except that it appears to have seating arranged to give people one another's faces for prayer.
The Dunkers' churches had no steeples, no crosses, nothing symbolic or iconic except each another (living images of God), Scripture, and their unaccompanied congregational singing.
Coincidentally when I read your piece, I'd also just read this -
http://raphael.doxos.com/2009/03/01/restoration-of-the-icons/
from regular responder Huw Richardson's blog Sarx. Huw writes as an Episcopalian reminding us that Incarnation was at the heart of the iconoclastic controversy as the Eastern Church struggled to sort out imagery during the rise of Islam in the eighth century. Following St. John of Damascus, the Orthodox Church finally concluded that if God has become incarnate as a fully human person, that it's possible to picture God's human presence to us, and that the image of Jesus (and his saints whose lives image his) become a window, an opening for us to contemplate God who is beyond all imagery. (Classic Eastern iconography does not include any image of God fhe Father/Source.)
Incarnation brings me back to thinking about the Dunkers again. To join that old church you had to promise not to own slaves or engage in warfare - in 1850 two seriously counter-cultural acknowledgments of the reign of God and the mystery of the Incarnation.
It's poignant and bitterly ironic that the church building where people took the godliest stand they knew how to take for peace and universal humanity in God was battered by rifle and cannon fire in one of the deadliest battles in American history, a battle in a war provoked by, prolonged by, and never resolving the weight and legacy of slavery on our nation.
The website also offers stark photos from the day after the battle recording the many bodies of Union and Confederate dead, young men lost in that battle that had so recently engulfed the church. It's a scene of deadly peace, making, perhaps the Dunkers' church itself a cross, and all these dead the corpus.
I was fascinated to learn that after the war the Brethren rebuilt their church (imagine their first prayers in that place!). Eventually the congregation relocated, built a new church and sold the building with its battle memories. For a little while it was a house, then, sold again, its bricks and beams and all the building materials were salvaged and nothing remained but the foundation.
Much more recently the church that tried to take a stand against the inevitability of war was rebuilt to help us remember the terrible battle.
The photo image of the dead surrounding the church also reminded me of a story I heard from Andrew Proud, now bishop of Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa, but when I heard it, pastor of the Anglican congregation in Addis Ababa. During the Derg (the communist regime that ruled Ethiopia from 1975-1987 ) dissidents were regularly disappeared and executed, and (we can only speculate why) the bodies were laid out early each Sunday morning outside St. Matthew's Anglican Church. As the little congregation came to church each Sunday, they had to pass through the bitter scene of Derg soldiers overseeing the return of bodies back to grieving families for burial while others came to see if their missing relative or loved one was among those who had been executed that week, or whether the body that was not there meant they might still have hope. Another Golgotha?
Your verbal image provoked several strands of thought. Thank you for asking us to consider the power of images and symbols of God with us.
Donald Schell
Posted by Donald Schell
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March 2, 2009 5:35 PM
Donald - thank you for the link.
Your comment pointed out something about my own fascination with doctrinal "orthodoxy": Falling into my own trap, I am, of accusing my brothers and sisters of "heresy". As I wrote in that post, in the context of the 7th Ecumenical Council, the denial of the icons was denial of the incarnation. Yet your story about the Church of the Brethren revealed that the absence of Images in their buildings did not prevent them from seeing the image of God in their neighbours. While I know from my own experience that having a church filled with holy images is no guarantee: sometimes the icons (and "orthodoxy") can distract one from seeing the image of God standing right in front (or laying on the ground beside) one. I would agree with George that such an extreme denial of decoration is a sad thing indeed. A fine way to start Lent (during which, as one of the saints said, we "abstain from meat, but eat each other").
It's hard to define one's position without defining it as against another.
If the images or decoration or symbols in our worship obscure our neighbour - the living icon of God - what purpose do they serve save as idols?
Huw Richardson
Posted by Huw Richardson
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March 2, 2009 11:10 PM