Symbols throw together a physical artifact we can see, hear, touch, taste, and/or smell, with a truth beyond the tangible.
We cannot live without symbols. Try as we might, we cannot rid ourselves of tradition, liturgy, ritual, art, or symbols. We are embodied souls that occupy time and space and cannot will ourselves out of this situation even if we want to.
Traditions are pieces of our culture (large and small) handed down to us. They can be as simple as a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving or as complicated as the Day of the Dead. These traditions come with liturgies. We have secular liturgies like the Changing of the Guard at Arlington Cemetery. We have religious liturgies such as an Easter Vigil. These traditions and liturgies are practiced in time and space thus, we have rituals. Taking your hat off and placing your hand on your heart while standing for a national anthem is a ritual, and so is kneeling to confess sins at church. Our cultural traditions, liturgies, and rituals (both secular and religious) produce art. The architecture of a church or even a college football stadium naturally flows from the symbolism of these traditions, liturgies, and rituals.
This art will be full of symbols that reach beyond mere images and sounds. They teach us something about our condition, culture, place in the world, and matters beyond the physical, like love, courage, duty, truth, and morality. Symbols “throw together” – that’s what the original Greek word, symbolon, means. Symbols throw together a physical artifact we can see, hear, touch, taste, and/or smell, with a truth beyond the tangible. The images of a flag and the flag itself throw together a tangible symbol waving in the air with a sense of history, patriotism, and duty, or anger, disappointment, and rivalry, depending on your allegiances. The picture of a sacrificial lamb teaches us about sacrifice, love, sin, grace, and the salvific act of the crucifixion.
We are not “brains on a stick” or souls trapped in physical bodies. We cannot avoid the symbolic.
It is wise to note that the antonym of symbolon is diabolon, a “splitting apart.” It is diabolical to split the physical human from the truths that cannot be seen. The devil would like nothing more than to keep us from the truth. He will even abuse the good use of symbols (and traditions, liturgies, rituals, and art) to mislead us from the truth.
If it is true that we cannot live without symbols, it seems to be that we should not shun symbols but see them as true gifts from God while understating the danger if used improperly – like all good gifts from God. The danger of symbols is not in themselves but in the meaning they portray. Symbols are neutral in this way. They can represent an evil (i.e., the swastika), or they can teach a beautiful message like the image of the cross does. They can also be misunderstood (i.e., a cross as a mere cultural symbol rather than a symbol of Christ’s salvific act). The ultimate danger is that the symbols replace God and are worshiped as if they could grant a blessing. These dangers have led many into the temptation of iconoclasm (literally a “shattering of images”). “If we just rid ourselves of the symbols (and art, traditions, etc.), then we will be pure. There will be no temptation of false worship. There will be no distractions from the truth.” Or so the thinking goes. This rests on a faulty understanding of who we are. We are not “brains on a stick” or souls trapped in physical bodies. We cannot avoid the symbolic.
If we try to rid ourselves of symbols, something else will fill the void. In our consumer-driven world, the void is often filled with brands. Companies spend millions crafting a brand symbolized by a logo, a jingle, or a spoken phrase. Envision a street in any European city at the time of the Renaissance and compare that to a modern street littered with signage selling everything from fast food to automobiles. We are still inundated with art, but now art is meant to sell a product rather than to enlighten. A street flooded with neon lights has its own charm and beauty, but we have lost something, haven’t we?
Even those who reject modern consumerism leave a void that will be filled. Ironically, they often fill the void themselves. They become the symbol. The image of iconoclasts replaces the images they break. Picture Amish worship (if you even can). A bare room with only wooden benches and maybe a lectern waiting for the Spirit to move an individual to speak. Only words. No altar, no art, no symbols. Their culture, as attractive as it might be at times to those awash in modern consumerism, becomes the image itself. It is difficult to picture Amish worship in our minds but it is not hard to picture the Amish themselves. They become the symbol. They are the brand.
This can be true of an overly dressed priest in a Medieval Mass drawing attention from the Word to himself (whether he means it or not) and a bare church where the preacher is the only
noticeable figure. Notice the irony that both the iconoclasts and the protectors of the tradition for the sake of tradition end up in the same place: the symbols themselves.
It seems to me that we, at least in the church, have only three options with which to proceed:
- Symbols without teaching.
- Teaching without symbols.
- Symbols with teaching.
Option 1 is dead ritualism. Both the Old and New Testaments warn us about dead ritualism. This can have devastating effects on the soul if ritual replaces faith. It is self-justification in its most simplistic sense. The worshiper goes through the motions, and somehow, that counts for salvation.
Option 2 is impossible for the reasons stated above. Even if it were possible, we would lose the beauty of the truth told in symbolic and artistic ways.
Option 3 fits the gospel the best. God took on flesh. He occupied time and space. God has a face! This historical and incarnational reality for our salvation is mediated to us in the true story of Christ for us. He has chosen words and word pictures to mediate this message to us.
Art, symbols, rituals, traditions, and liturgies rightly grow out of this gracious reality that God became man to save sinners like you and me.
We might think about it this way: If God is evangelical, then he would be incarnational. If he is incarnational, it makes sense that he would continue to come to us sacramentally. If he is sacramental, then his worshippers would be liturgical. Let me explain. God is evangelical (he wants all men to be saved by the gospel). Since we cannot go to him, he comes to us; thus he is incarnational. He continues his incarnational ways by coming into our world through physical means. This is what I mean by sacramental; that is, he comes to us in physical ways through his Word, his baptism, and his meal. This means God is present in our time and space. In recognition of this, we act a certain way, how could we not? Thus, the church (and all humanity) is liturgical.
Art, symbols, rituals, traditions, and liturgies rightly grow out of this gracious reality that God became man to save sinners like you and me, and continues to come to us in tangible ways with comfort and grace. Therefore, the best option is to embrace the symbolic as a good gift from God. The meaning of symbols is meant to be taught, for they are a delight to both our physical senses and our souls.
