In other words, although we have knowledge of the sensible, material, physical world that surrounds us, we do not have direct knowledge of the spiritual world. Man has become incapable of seeing God’s world—the homeland of angels and saints who live in eternity there. This blindness has always been at the root of the gravest vice that can afflict man: unbelief. For it is quite simple to deny what you never see during this earthly life.
Knowing perfectly this major deficiency that resulted after the commission of the first sin, God has always sought to leave us signs to remind us of His existence and the Kingdom of Heaven. In the first chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, Saint Paul the Apostle speaks about the fact that through the act of intellectual reflection, we can deduce the existence of the Creator from His creatures. Based on this teaching, the saints have often spoken about vestigia Dei—the ‘traces’ left by God in creation. Pagan wise men, like Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato, systematically meditated on the significance of certain elements of creation that prove the existence of a divine intellect that designed everything that exists. And yet, despite these traces, we still do not see the unseen world directly.
It is no coincidence that laypeople do not self-communicate. First of all, according to the holy perennial rules, they are not allowed to touch sacred objects except in extra-ordinary situations (for example, if the holy sacrament of the altar is threatened with desecration in times of war, a layperson may handle the ciborium to hide it from profaners).
The most elaborate way in which God has addressed this deficiency of our fallen nature can be found, however, in the sacred texts of Holy Scripture. Here, the Author and inspirer of the prophets and evangelists has encompassed, as Saint Dionysius the Areopagite masterfully shows in his writings, a true language of sacred symbols. This language can be found in its entirety within the contents of the Holy Liturgy. Through it, the unseen world is made known to us, despite the fact that, for now, concrete experiences of ecstatic ascensions into Heaven and direct knowledge of the celestial Jerusalem remain rare. However, the biblical and liturgical symbols make the world of the spirit accessible to us. I should not forget to emphasize that this knowledge necessarily involves a true initiation of baptized Christians: mystagogical catechesis (i.e., catechesis about the mystical meanings of the Sacraments, the Bible, and the Liturgy).
Against the erroneous teachings promoted by liturgical revolutionaries, we must always insist on the fact that no element of the Holy Liturgy is self-explanatory. The idea of making the Church’s liturgy intelligible by itself, by simplifying or even eliminating sacred symbols, is simultaneously absurd and destructive. Without proper formation, no believer, whether a simple layperson, priest, bishop, or Pope, can understand the mysteries they are invited to contemplate in the sacred ceremonies. Unfortunately, however, if fundamental catechesis (the Creed, the Sacraments, the Law, and the Prayer) has been almost completely abandoned in recent decades, mystagogical catechesis has been and remains practically non-existent.[ii] This is why we have an urgent need to fill the void left by the destruction of traditional catechesis in general, and especially mystagogical-liturgical catechesis.
To contribute to addressing this deficiency, there is no more fitting subject than meditation on liturgical symbols. As a brief recap, I remind you that the Greek notion of ‘symbol’ (which in Saint Augustine and the Latin tradition of the Roman Catechism was equated with that of ‘sign’) indicates a visible thing that conveys an invisible content, grace, having meanings related to the order of God’s eternal Kingdom. So, through these visible signs/symbols, the Creator speaks to us in an intelligible language about the beings and things of the unseen world. As a perfect teacher, He adapts things from the physical world to our deficient understanding. Thus, a stone, a tree (for example, the fig tree), a being (for example, the dove), precious stones, are endowed in the context of sacred texts or the temple with symbolic meanings of great importance. Bearing these ideas in mind, let us now approach the Holy Liturgy.
On the other hand, the most significant aspect is the symbolism of the gesture through which a Christian receives the Holy Eucharist from the priest’s hand: concretely, it is Christ the Savior Himself who feeds the faithful, just as He is the One who gives Himself to us.
The first thing we must become aware of is the fact that in the liturgy, absolutely every detail, every element is a symbol. As I have already mentioned in another article, in the Church of the Savior Christ, everything is a sacred symbol: “the architecture of the church, the religious gestures of the priests and the faithful, the words of prayers, the Gregorian or Byzantine sacred music, the liturgical vestments, and so on.”[iii] From this multitude of aspects of the vast symbolic universe of the Church, in this article, I will refer only to that of sacred gestures. The reason for this choice is related to one of the most serious liturgical and sacramental deviations we may encounter: self-communion by receiving the Holy Sacrament in the hand.
Before we see why such a change is extremely grave, I will first provide an example that, I hope, can help us understand how important gestures are. In a monograph entitled La raison des gestes dans l’Occident médiéval (The Meaning of Gestures in the Medieval Western World),[iv] Professor Jean-Claude Schmitt summarizes a story recorded in the annals of the city of Reims by a monk––Richer––from the Saint-Remi Abbey. What he recounts refers to the rise of the Robertian dynasty and Hugh Capet (c. 940–996)—the first king of the Capetian House at the end of the 10th century. While he was still a duke, during a meeting with Emperor Otto II, he was asked by the latter to bring him the sword. Duke Hugh bent down to take it and hand it politely to the sovereign. Understanding the danger, the wise bishop who was present took the sword first and handed it to the king. If Hugh had managed to do this, it would have meant that from that moment, he was the emperor’s ‘man.’ A simple gesture, therefore, would have signified in the eyes of those present vassalage to Otto II. The bishop, belonging to the Church whose jurisdiction was distinct from that (secular) of the empire, was in no danger. But the duke would have been forever bound in a relationship of subordination, which perhaps would have even prevented his ascent to the throne.
For us moderns, such things no longer mean anything. However, for the medieval people, whose minds were trained to decipher the hidden spiritual meanings of all things, a simple gesture could have far-reaching implications. If this was the case in matters of secular power, how much more valid was it concerning the sacred power of the Church’s rites!
Receiving Communion from the hand of the priest who is acting as alter Christus encapsulates in a very significant way the entire doctrine of the Church, which tells us that, regarding our salvation, the initiative and its fulfillment belongs to God.
The Holy Liturgy is a summa of religious symbols. In such a context, every gesture of the priest carries deep meanings, which derive from the fact that he himself is a living symbol acting in persona Christi caput (in the person of Christ the Head). In other words, the priest is the one who makes the Lord Christ Himself truly present. An extraordinary testimony regarding the priestly function was given to me by Father Cassian Folsom OSB, who, nearly ten years ago, explained to me one of the most significant things I have ever heard about the exercise of the priestly function.
Very briefly and simply put, what he conveyed to me can be summarized in one sentence: in the liturgical context, the particular person of the priest (that is, everything that gives him subjective identity—his ideas, opinions, feelings) no longer exists. The explanation goes as follows: in the context of sacred ceremonies, the priest merely conforms perfectly to everything he must perform. In front of the holy altar, he does nothing to highlight his own creativity, opinions, or ideas: for he must carry out a series of actions and gestures, all of which are precisely codified by the millennia-old Tradition of the Church. I repeat: nothing that the priest must do in the liturgical context is his own ‘invention.’ Everything is given, already established. Practically, he must ‘empty’ himself in an act of perfect humility, allowing the High Priest (according to the order of Melchizedek), Jesus Christ, to accomplish through His divine power, together with the Holy Spirit, the Eucharistic sacrifice offered to God the Father for our forgiveness and the restoration of harmony between us and the Supreme Being.
In the context of Holy Tradition, liturgical gestures have been precisely codified, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, by the Apostles and the Saints of the Church. It is no coincidence that the most well-known liturgies are associated with some of the greatest saints of the Church: Gregory the Great, John Chrysostom, Basil the Great, Pius V. The fact that an unholy Cardinal like Annibale Bugnini dared to ‘reform’ the Holy Liturgy with papal approval is one of the most grievous events in the history of the Church.
If today, in the post-conciliar ‘disco’ Church, we see clowns, tango dancers, and showmen of all kinds (besides the myriads of believers who serve themselves as in self-service restaurants), it is due to the cult dedicated to that ‘god’ aptly called by Professor Edward Feser “the idol of the self.”
It is no coincidence that laypeople do not self-communicate. First of all, according to the holy perennial rules, they are not allowed to touch sacred objects except in extra-ordinary situations (for example, if the holy sacrament of the altar is threatened with desecration in times of war, a layperson may handle the ciborium to hide it from profaners). However, as Saint Thomas Aquinas teaches, under normal circumstances, laypeople should never touch sacred objects. The Angelic Doctor tells us that only those with holy hands—the priests—may do so. This is a strong emphasis on the hierarchy––the distinction between the sacred orders and the simple laity in the Church.
On the other hand, the most significant aspect is the symbolism of the gesture through which a Christian receives the Holy Eucharist from the priest’s hand: concretely, it is Christ the Savior Himself who feeds the faithful, just as He is the One who gives Himself to us. This gesture encapsulates in a very significant way the entire doctrine of the Church, which tells us that, regarding our salvation, the initiative and its fulfillment belongs to God. We may desire this precious thing, but its accomplishment belongs exclusively to God, who, through His grace, helps us to attain it. Even though we recognize the value of our meritorious deeds (unlike Protestants who deny it), we simultaneously accept that without God’s help such acts are impossible. Both the call to faith and the offering of the means necessary for the salvation of our souls belong exclusively to the Creator. Like children, we are fed by Him to grow and become adults—but this will truly be fulfilled only when we reach the end of the road, in Paradise.
Most often, arguments against receiving the Holy Eucharist in the hand and self-communion point to the sacrileges committed through the small particles that fall during such abominations. Bishop Athanasius Schneider, among others, has spoken clearly about these sacrileges. Although perfectly justified, such a critique of an unacceptable practice must always be accompanied by mystagogical catechesis that explains the significance of the priest’s gesture in distributing the Holy Communion. The disappearance of the mystagogical culture and the understanding it generates is at the root of the destruction of the Holy Liturgy.
Of course, priests are the first who should become aware of this, educating us by their example to fulfill the ideal expressed by Saint Paul the Apostle: “I live, now not I; but Christ liveth in me” (Galatians 2:20). The priest lives this to the highest degree whenever he celebrates the Holy Liturgy. If today, in the post-conciliar ‘disco’ Church, we see clowns, tango dancers, and showmen of all kinds (besides the myriads of believers who serve themselves as in self-service restaurants), it is due to the cult dedicated to that ‘god’ aptly called by Professor Edward Feser “the idol of the self.” If he spoke about the enthronement of this idol “in the center of political and social order, usurping the place that rightly belongs to God,” I fear the same thing is also unfolding in the Church, which in recent decades has come to resemble the fallen world more and more, becoming a mere annex of it, and less and less an icon of the heavenly realm of God.
Sancta Maria Mater Ecclesiae, Ora Pro Nobis!
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[i] I have described this situation a bit, including some significant quotes, in my article “The Man Who Lost His Shadow: the Human Body before and after Original Sin:” https://remnantnewspaper.com/web/index.php/fetzen-fliegen/item/7305-the-man-who-lost-his-shadow-the-human-body-before-and-after-original-sin [Accessed: 10 August 2024].
[ii] I have already discussed the crisis of catechesis and the need for mystagogy in an article entitled “The Replacement of the Traditional Roman Catholic Mass and the Need for Mystagogical Catechesis:” https://remnantnewspaper.com/web/index.php/articles/item/6714-the-replacement-of-the-traditional-roman-catholic-mass-and-the-need-for-mystagogical-catechesis [Accessed: 10 August 2024]. Here is one of the most significant commentaries: “Mystagogic catechesis is serious lacking throughout the church, as nearly as can tell, and has been for a long, long time. When I was received into the Catholic Church in 1972, I received almost nothing at all. Almost pro forma one Saturday. The next morning I received first Holy Communion with no (and I mean no!) spiritual guidance or preparation at all. Just something to be done. That was all. Whatever spirituality there was to Catholic Christian life, I had to try to puzzle out for myself from reading. It should not be a shock that eventually I left.”
[iii] “‘Symbol’––the Most Important Notion of Mystagogical Catechesis:” https://remnantnewspaper.com/web/index.php/fetzen-fliegen/item/6801-symbol-the-most-important-notion-of-mystagogical-catechesis [Accessed: 10 August 2024].
[iv] Jean-Claude Schmitt, La Raison des gestes dans l’Occident médiéval, Gallimard, 1990, Introduction.
