Images in the Church?

Hmm. I'm in the middle of doing some research for a paper of mine on the lesser-known reformer Huldrych Zwingli. I am frustrated by his position on the presence and use of images in the Church. In a book I'm currently wading through, it describes the Catholic view of images, which I tend to agree with (it's also in accord with the Orthodox position), that images in the Church have pedagogical value, and that, if Christ has in fact become human, then in a sense, producing images of Him affirms His incarnation, and what His incarnation (leading up to his crucifixion) was able to effect. Zwingli's Christology was what a systematic theologican may call Nestorian, the ways in which the divinity and human-ness of Jesus are sharply divided from each other. Zwingli's objections to images are also understandable, in consequence of His view of the radical distinction between the creature and the Creator, and the worship then owed the Creator. And the fact that any of these images are idols. And it's true: these images don't possess any real soteriological significance, and don't themselves possess the power to change the human heart. Anything physical (?) is an idol. I think perhaps he may have gone too far. He also conceived of the hearing of the Word as the most significant part of the service, over and above the Mass. I tend to think that the Mass, the Lord's Supper, the celebration of the Eucharist, is, in fact, one of the most significant times in the service of the church. It recalls to us the theological significance of Christ's broken body and shed blood, in reminds us that the church is a relational body (i.e. injunctions to make reparations before taking the elements), it evokes gratitude for the gift we have received in the event of the crucifixion -- this decisive moment in time in which we are able to be redeemed, it rehearses in us the life and death of Christ, it feeds us these things we need to hear and appropriate in our heart, these things necessary for salvation. But I also certainly want to affirm the power and use of the preaching of the Word; its exhortatory purpose, its power to divide our very soul and spirit, to test the things of our hearts, to hear the narratives of the Bible, to heed the advice of Paul in His epistles, to sorrow in the Psalms, to read of the healings Jesus performed in the power of the Holy Spirit, and on and on and on. I've certainly gotten carried away, but these thoughts often provoke me, and reading what Zwingli had to say on the matter distresses me. I do not doubt that he was recommending what he believed to be best in his social, etc. circumstances, and that his faith was genuine, but that he leapt a little too far on this particular issue (and it also evidences the slight unsoundness of his theology--although my theology is a bit unsound, I suppose, as well).

My mind is abuzz, distracted, fuzzy. I'm thinking of nothing and everything, mostly, but one consistent question, albeit a self-reflective/probing question that was put to me today? Why is it so difficult for me to look people in the eye? To give my full respect and attention, or to feel a sense of connection, or to just get a good clear look at what it is that's in front of me?
The answers to this question, I am realizing, are complex, frightening, and, to a certain degree hidden. It's so very strange (or, perhaps not so much) that my trouble looking people in the eye has to do with the trouble I have in looking truthfully at the reality of my relationships, soul, mind. It just all seems like too much. It exhausts me to think of paying full and alert attention to everything going on in front of or in me. And, of course, there will always be things I don't know. Perhaps I'm so afraid, in part, because doing so would acknowledge that I matter, not in some egocentric way, but that I am a child of God, and that's pretty incredible! And also in doing this, I would have to acknowledge how I matter to you and how you matter to me, getting to the heart of things, risking, again. It challenges me to be fully live, to be seeking the Lord with all I have, and loving and praying continually. Perhaps it also frightens me because it would show me the extent of my sinfulness, and force me to name my sins. To name the ways I hurt others, and how others have hurt me. And how I am compelled by the love of Christ to forgive. To restore relationships. I'm almost afraid to mention the first thing that came to mind when I thought of an answer to this question: I am hideous. I can't stand looking at myself, dealing with myself, why or how should anybody else? I am afraid to reveal the full extent of my hideousness.
Lord, give me eyes. Your eyes. Somehow.

and the new year commences...

281) encountering an actual sleigh today!

282) snow blown cornfields (barring the roads)

283) a jack frosted door

284) pomegranete juice and champagne on new year's day

285) a macademia nut mocha

286) c.s. lewis' that hideous strength

287) crackling fires in woodstoves

288) merlot cheese

289) looking at ice sculptures with my mom

290) spilling earl grey tea up my sleeve

291) earl grey with dissolved whipped cream

292) psalm 90:12 repeatedly coming up (three times, just today!)

293) a small garden-y teapot with a slight chip

294) attempting to waltz with my dog

295) tea and dates

296) my new moccasin slippers

297) crocheted things

298) libraries, and my never-ending compulsion to check out stacks and stacks of books

299) the ending of a beautiful chopin piece on the radio today

300) the points and angles and velocity of ballet

Resuming my list of thanks...

237) the prospect of making earl grey cookies

238) singing Christmas carols with my mom and a young Amish girl named Rachel with cerebral palsy, who sings with such joy unto the Lord, treasuring the words in her heart

239) re-discovering the pleasures of crocheting and staying up entirely too late to finish a scarf

240) being knocked off my feet by our enormous Anatolian shepherd while taking her out for a simple walk

241) playing hide and seek with the above-mentioned dog

242) the landscape cloaked in a yellow-orange greyness, the colors themselves heavy and pervading

243) making sugar cookies with my mom, and never quite getting enough flour on the rolling pin/dough

244) replenishing the woodstove, logs ablaze

245) being done with this semester (fall 2009) as of fifteen minutes ago

246) humming hymns; wishing i had an instrument to play the melodies

247) beginning to do the daily office, and reveling in rich liturgy (constant reminders of what God has done and what I am capable of being)

248) the desolateness, bleakness, dryness of the valley (the agony bleaching them to beauty)

249) midnights clear

250) reading my mom a winnie-the-pooh christmas story last night

251) advent services put together by a friend at houghton; visits to orthodox, catholic, and episcopalian services

252) beautiful acapella hymn singing

253) new babies being born; lives preparing to be tied together (hopefully not in that order)

254) fairy tales (George MacDonald)

255) missing london (perhaps almost sehnsucht--profound homesickness/longing, with transcendent)

256) thomas merton and his take on the desert fathers

257) ecclesiology, mariology, etc.

258) anything by gerard manley hopkins

259) learning how to die (to self)

260) hoping, daring, praying, having faith enough to taste God's goodness

261) snatches of joy

262) the rhythms and themes of austen's canon coursing through my brain

263) josh groban, an affair to remember, somewhere, so she dances, ave maria, etc.

264) the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully Kind

265) the lifelines that are the psalms

266) the Welsh language!

267) playful banter

268) the lodge at Mt. Irenaeus

269) beautiful music, of all kinds: classical, celtic, bluegrass, opera, jazz. etc.

270) an indian buffet lunch with a professor, his family, and classmate

271) visiting a halloween-specific costume store; and laughing hysterically at the tackiness of it all

272) reading out loud: poetry, children's stories, anything!

273) playing chess with my mother

274) butterscotch-tinged fudge

275) my mom's home-made breakfast sandwiches

276) tchaikovsky's nutcracker (the music, and the ballet itself)

277) gorecki's third symphony

278) the paintings of Rembrandt and Vermeer (the Dutch realists)

279) becoming acquainted with it's a wonderful life

280) excitement for praxis week following my return to campus

This semester, could, I think, be characterized by the single word of distance. In trying to distance myself from a particular relationship, rather abruptly broken, I distanced myself from myself. I became increasingly less self-aware; increasingly disconnected from the reality of my feelings, often under the cover of mounds and mounds of work to be done. In the process, I've become resentful. My heart has become hard. And I find my patterns of thinking so divorced from the reality I know to be true, in Scripture, and in experience. I find myself as a person I do not like. And by this, I mean, I'm a person whose character, whose soul, is in definite need of correction. But not that correction I so harshly bestow upon myself...but, the correction of the Holy Spirit Not only have I found myself distant from God, but also from relationships I treasure and never stop thanking God for. I construct walls; I make excuses; I isolate myself. And while time for solitary reflection is a very real need of mine, I've not allowed myself to really get the past the threshold of vulnerability. And mostly, because of this distance, I've been lonely. So lonely, sometimes, even, hopeless. Feeling the burden and strain of this particular estranged relationship, my estrangement with my father, 'figuring out what to do next'/teetering on the brink of adulthood, ever bombarded with stretching questions, and arguments, when my soul is starving for the Bread of Life, and thirsting so ardently after the Living Water!
I pray healing is taking place, or will take place, or has taken place, that my hope will not be disappointed.

I picked up a rather large, clumsy-looking leaf on the way back from dinner tonight. It, for some odd reason, appealed to me. It's neither green, nor red, nor yellow, but a brownish-greenish hodgepodge with holes and rips on either side, and tips curled up and down. It's not a terribly pretty leaf. It twirled, the wind rushing through its holes, snaking its way from top to underneath. The leaf was transfigured, the light joining in with the wind.

cure for the pain?

226) ice cream in cold weather

227)the satisfaction and cleanliness of having straightened up one's desk

228) dona nobis pacem, doxology, guide our feet, etc. at Menno

229) enjoying leftover chicken noodle alfredo instead of a chicken patty, on Sunday

230) reading Jane Kenyon and Ted Kooser in the wee small hours of the morning

231) flipping through yearbooks of past years; comparing the appearance of the aging/ growing young professors

232) SJMF covenanting words: "have patience with us as we cling to your garment in faith and in confusion"

233) Help us to to hear your call to communion, but give us the gift of deafness, so by your light we can come home.

234) Calm our trembling as we learn to embrace your children. Gift us the courage to touch one another even as our wounds still flow red.

235) To gather us, to call us back, this God became meat and bone and weakness. And came to walk beside us, to talk together over supper, to heal our wounds.

236) Until then, we walk in the land of the not quite. We wait in hope, mourn and are comforted, fear...

237) but discover that God remains among us, within us, close as breath and blood

238) College Choir's 8 Chestnut Horses, This is My Father's World, Give Me Jesus, etc.

239) the gravel roads and cows and skylines and hung Amish laundry of Pennsylvania

240) the combination of tea (apple cinnamon, or mint) and oatmeal

241) gregory peck and jimmy stewart in wait (a philadelphia story)

242) the cliffs, ravines, sand, cold salty water and ever-present fog; eucalyptus trees of Cali.