Revelation as Mystagogy

Much recent scholarship suggests that the Book of Revelation (literally ‘unveiling’) was intended not so much as a prediction of future events at the end of history, but as a mystagogical commentary on the Divine Liturgy or the Mass. As such it was intended to be read aloud to assist the active and conscious participation of the congregation. Scott Hahn gives a detailed liturgical reading to Revelation in The Lamb’s Supper, and more succinctly in the final chapter of his book on the history of the Covenant, A Father Who Keeps His Promises. Austin Farrer had already indicated in the middle of the last century that the pattern of the book is not one of earthly history,

but of celestial liturgy performed by Christ and the angels: the taking and unsealing of a book, the offering of incense, the blowing of trumpets; the opening of a heavenly temple, revealing the Ark of the Covenant and a series of other portents on high; the pouring of libations from angelic bowls. (The Revelation of St John the Divine, p. 23.)

The liturgy portrayed is one that fulfils the purpose of the Jewish Temple and brings it to an end, so that ‘in the world to come there is no sanctuary other than the presence of God and of the Lamb.’

The rhetorical symmetry of the Book of Revelation does seem to reflect the likely structure of the early Christian liturgy. The pattern is threefold: beginning with a rite of preparation and repentance that opens the faithful to the Word, moving on to an exposition of the Scriptures, and ending with a Communion in the Body and Blood of the Lamb, by which the Christian is finally converted into a prophet and agent of his Lord. Then the threefold pattern reverses, and we are taken back to the beginning. Read in this way, the Book of Revelation is intended to have a spiral structure that leads us up to the Eucharist, then back at a higher level to the beginning of the liturgy. Thus an endless cycle of meditation is created, penetrating ever more profoundly into the Word of God and leading us closer to the liturgy of heaven.

I have explored this idea in All Things Made New, and in an article on the New Liturgical Movement website. If it is true, then Revelation makes a fitting conclusion to the Bible, echoing the Book of Genesis with its own sevenfold theme, and providing a key to the reading of the Liturgy that unites heaven with earth as the culmination of the history of the Covenant. Whether it also reflects disasters that will afflict us at the end of time as Judgement draws near is another question.  

A prayer to Our Lady

Mystical Rose, I praise God's glory unfolding in you.
Tower of David, fortress of truth, pray for us.
Tower of Ivory, beautiful as the dawn, pray for us.
House of Gold, tabernacle of sweetness, pray for us.
Ark of the Covenant, tent of divine mercy, pray for us.
Gate of Heaven, entrance to paradise, pray for us.
Morning Star, star of the sea, pray for us.
Immaculate Pilgrim, light beyond hope, pray for us.
Mother of Fairest Love, Mother of divine beauty,
Mother of all graces, Mother of God, pray for us.

Illustration: Mother of Mercy at the Gate of Dawn, Vilnius. For more on this shrine, go here.

Thoughts on the Catechism 2

AUTHORITY. So what authority does the Catechism have? It is issued in the name of the whole (Catholic) Church, under the authority of the Pope, after long consultation with all the world's bishops, and it claims no originality – but simply to be weaving together "an organic synthesis of the essential and fundamental contents of Catholic doctrine, as regards both faith and morals, in the light of the Second Vatican Council and the whole of the Church's Tradition. Its principal sources are the Sacred Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, the liturgy, and the Church's Magisterium [authority]. It is intended to serve 'as a point of reference for the catechisms or compendia that are composed in the various countries'" [11].

It is an expression, therefore, of the "ordinary" magisterium of the Church. This is not the same as having the irreformability of a Papal "definition" of a particular dogma, since the text can be revised if better formulations are devised, or to adjust to changing circumstances and avoid ambiguities. In fact there have been several such revisions since the first English edition was published in 1994. Nor

Thoughts on the Catechism 1

In this Year of Faith, it seems a good thing to work through the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and ponder some of the key themes and ideas. Alternatively, one might go through the spin-offs, YouCat, or the Compendium of the Catechism. If your interest is social teaching, there is also the Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church. I am finding the Magnificat Year of Faith Companion tremendously helpful. It contains daily reading for this year and any year on the nature of faith, profiles of key figures of salvation history, poems, prayers, and meditations on scripture. CTS also have many helpful booklets.

In these very personal notes that follow, I will be dipping in and looking at Faith (below), Authority, God, Creation, Original Sin, and so on, as part of my own spiritual enquiry for the Year of Faith. You are welcome to join me. I don't claim any authority for my statements, which are just one attempt to deepen my appreciation of the Church's teaching and to examine any difficulties that may emerge along the way.

Let's begin with FAITH. I gave some relevant quotes in a previous post, but the idea I want to start from now is a quotation from Pope Benedict in a Litany of quotations selected for the Magnificat Year of Faith Companion: "Faith entails the shift from dependence on the visible and practicable to trust in the invisible." This brings out why exactly it is so seemingly impossible to believe. Trust the invisible?

Atonement

There was a striking reading at Mass on 21 October, from the Book of Isaiah (53:10-11). It read:

"The Lord has been pleased to crush his servant with suffering. If he offers his life in atonement, he shall see his heirs, he shall have a long life and through him what the Lord wishes will be done. His soul’s anguish over, he shall see the light and be content. By his sufferings shall my servant justify many, taking their faults on himself."

I have written about "sacrifice" here, here and here, but there is so much more to discover. How do we "offer" something to God – especially suffering? In the case of pain, all one wants to do is to get rid of it, so it is easy to imagine offering it to God to take away. But this is not what is meant.

There is no shame in begging, if it be God's will, for some pain to be taken away. But what if it remains with us? Does it mean that God doesn't care? This is part of the larger question of suffering in the world, including innocent suffering. I would try to answer it in several steps. First, by arguing that there is no suffering greater than the suffering of one man. Second, that Jesus is that one man than whose suffering there is no greater in the world. Third, that the aim of God in becoming incarnate is to incorporate us into his own extended body. Fourth, that he even wants to involve us in the process by which we are incorporated – that is, our own salvation.

The first point was well put by the philosopher Wittgenstein. Suffering does not accumulate. Each of us suffers only what we are given to suffer, and no more. I may sympathize with my neighbour, and that sympathy may add to my own