Beckoning to Hope
I’ve struggled to keep hopeful this fall. In each facet of my life that I turn, there is some urgent or important matter to which to tend. My morning practice of prayer and contemplation through journaling has been the only thing keeping me going some days. I’m in a season of my life where my time is my most precious commodity. I’m working on my master of divinity, I work full-time as a discipleship and children’s director at a large Methodist church, and I have three young children who get me as their full-time mom. I spend late nights and early mornings studying the Bible in new ways, reading theological writings that show me new ways to think about God and God’s works in our world, and lots and lots of personal reflection and growth.
Seminary has stretched me in many ways and urged me to grow in empathy and experience. One class I am taking this semester is Christian History 50 CE - 1500 CE. Stick with me here. My class has learned about ancient theological arguments that have shaped the faith we practice today and divided the then-forming Christian tradition. Our professor arranged a visit to an Eastern Orthodox church to learn about their traditions, which are different than ours in the western church.
I learned about how Eastern Orthodox Christians value tradition. Every church follows the same scripture reading, participates in the same worship liturgy, and observes the same church holidays, each week in worship. All their worship spaces are similar, following the same templates for the placement of sacred spaces such as the altar and the placement of icons.
The use of icons was one of the lynchpins that caused the Western Church to split from the Eastern Orthodox Church. The Western Church saw Icons, which are visual representations of scripture, as a slippery slope to idolatry. The Western Church changed its stance on visual representations of scripture, concluding that not only is it helpful in forming a connection and personifying stories of our faith, but it may also be essential. The Sistine Chapel is a pinnacle of sacred architecture and it is chock-full of beautiful images.
I want to pause here and clarify if an image helps you relate to scripture, that is great. If you are uncomfortable with the idea, that is fine too. My class assignment was to be open to learning more about another tradition while staying rooted and right in my relationship with God, so my experience is just mine. I am hopeful in sharing it, you may find new ways to see God and God’s works in your life.
The differences and divides in our universal Church, the mystery that is called to be Christ’s body here on earth, lay heavy on my mind and heart. This history class has been difficult for me to process, learning all the ways that our early church was terrible to each other and sometimes their surrounding community has just added to the heaviness I feel. It is with this posture I entered my class field trip. I was hesitant to experience this new to me and different Christianity.
The church was beautiful. The whiteness of the walls and ceiling, like a blank canvas framing icons that venerate stories bedrock to my faith. An icon of Mary receiving the good news and accepting her call to deliver the Messiah. John the Baptist baptizing Jesus into his years of ministry, the Holy Spirit soaring as a dove and God in heaven affirming, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” (Matt 3:17) A high dome that lifts an image of Christ in Christ’s glory, fulfilling Old Testament prophesy in the resurrection, complete with seraphim and archangels. (Isaiah 6:2) Christ holds the Bible and extends an open hand, inviting me to join in living out the Gospel. I was taken aback at not just the beauty, but the power of tradition I saw in this Christlikeness. Hundreds of other Christians had looked into this same image. Millions of other Christians across the globe had looked up in the domes in their churches to similar images.
I had expected to see new aspects of the Bible stories I know so well. I had not expected to look into these icons and see myself, as a tiny part of Christ’s body, the universal Christian Church. I had not expected to see reflected in my experiences, the varied and diverse experiences of millions of other believers, across thousands of years of Christianity. Christ’s open hand invited me to live the Gospel but also reminding me that I am not alone, God’s presence is always with me and so are my brothers and sisters in Christ. Christ’s open hand was beckoning me back to hope.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel lives in Overland Park, Kansas with her family. She works in Children's and Discipleship ministry at a large Methodist Church. Rachel is working on her Master's of Divinity at a local seminary. She enjoys reading, gardening, knitting, and spending time with her family.