Mother of God



In this picture, a Christian spirituality abides, a Christian theology is seen, far different to what most Episcopalians know, whether we regard ourselves as so-called "High Church" or "Low Church." 

Things have changed in the Episcopal Church over my three-generation spread of life, with “churchmanship” as we understand it coming to “the Center” for the most part; but it was not that long ago -- my own growing up years -- that our terms High Church and Low Church had specific meaning to us. The Diocese of South Florida was scandalously High Church: their bishop wore cope and mitre! We were staunchly Low Church: no making the Sign of the Cross, no sanctuary lights, no reserved Sacrament, Misters no Fathers, no sanctus bells, no thurible; cassock and surplice but no chasuble. The sight of our bishop in cope and mitre would have been -- the sky is falling, we’ve gone to Rome! 

Some dioceses and parishes were High Church, they preferred “Anglo-Catholic” of course, though seemingly veneer, what is seen and heard, and for self-impression, as someone noted, “they really know how to play church.”



But churchmanship is underlying theology, not superficial theater. “High” v. “Low” is not ceremonial but dogmatic substance as different as the Christological distance between Paul and John. And that the Roman Catholic Church has largely shelved elaborate ceremonial (eagerly picked up by many Episcopal parishes) has not changed Catholic high spiritual churchmanship. Thus, the picture. It bears looking at, contemplating. Seeing.




The chasuble is the robe of Christ, stripped from him and cast-lots-for by the crucifiers. The Supper is no memorial, nor is it subject to personal interpretation, it is the sacrifice of Christ on Calvary and what will be placed in your palm will not be offered to eat in remembrance, but physically the Body of Christ: receive it with adoration. Saints and angels wait to be called upon. 

The unseen foundation is not part of our spiritual building code, therefore we don’t understand it, but it is concrete. Analogy that comes to mind is The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy. Even reading the wonderful stories, most people are totally unaware of J.R.R. Tolkien’s underlying Legendarium, these are not shallow stories, the roots stretch out and down almost incomprehensibly deep. Tolkien of course was Catholic.


This chapel, where I meditated and prayed many hours this week, abides within such spirituality. That outsiders such as myself are welcome and blessed but not fed is understood and accepted before entering, one comes grateful that the door is open to me at all. In my church, the wafer placed on my palm will be Anglican Waver. Here is no uncertainty: the wafer will have become the substance of the Man on the Cross. Even though I cannot sup here, simply to come into His physical presence is awesome:

Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but speak the Word only, and my soul shall be healed.

But the picture.


Mary high center, Christ on Cross down off to the left. If the gospel questions are "who is this that even forgives sins?" and "who is this that even wind and sea obey him?" the question of an Anglican inquirer/observer is "who is this who stands even above the Son of God, God the Son, who is this?"


Whereas we Episcopalians may have all of the questions and take smug pride in -- knowing -- none of the answers, here the answer is known. Who? Who indeed! This is Mary the Mother of God. A recent time in the Church even thought to raise her into the Godhead. 

For an Anglican holding the Trinity and the three creeds, does this positioning make sense theologically? 
 
I don’t know. Perhaps the answer is a question, perhaps a question is the answer: does a Son honor his Mother above himself?


If not, shame, eh?

TW+