One could think of the liturgical year as if it were a picture of the services and feast days during a cycle of 365 days, from September to September: in short, the liturgical year could be reduced to a practical diagram, to a calendar. The liturgical year is, in fact, expressed as a calendar, but simply to identify it with a calendar would be totally inadequate. One could also say that the purpose of the liturgical year was to bring to the minds of believers the teachings of the Gospel and the main events of Christian history in a certain order. That is true, but this educational, pedagogical, function does not exhaust the significance of the liturgical year. Perhaps we could say that its aim is to orientate our prayer in a particular direction and also to provide it with an official channel which is objective, and even, in a certain way, artistic. This, too, is true, but the liturgy is more than a way of prayer, and it is more than a magnificent lyric poem. The liturgy is a body of sacred ‘signs’ which, in the thought and desire of the Church, have a present effect. Each liturgical feast renews and in some sense actualises the event of which it is the symbol; it takes this event out of the past and makes it immediate; it offers us the appropriate grace, it becomes an ‘effectual sign’, and we experience this efficacy to the extent that we bring to it a corresponding inclination of our soul. But still, this does not say everything. The liturgical year is, for us, a special means of union with Christ. No doubt every Eucharist unites us intimately with Christ, for in it He is ‘both He who offers and who is offered’, in the same way that every prayer, being the prayer of the members of the mystical body, shares in the prayer of Him who is the head of the body and the only one whose prayer is perfect. But, in the liturgical year, we are called to relive the whole life of Christ: from Christmas to Easter, from Easter to Pentecost, we are exhorted to unite ourselves to Christ in His birth and in His growth, to Christ suffering, to Christ dying, to Christ in triumph and to Christ inspiring His Church. The liturgical year forms Christ in us, from His birth to the full stature of the perfect man. According to a medieval Latin saying, the liturgical year is Christ Himself, annus est Christus
Father Lev Gillet, The Year of Grace of the Lord: A Scriptural and Liturgical Commentary on the Calendar of the Orthodox Church, 1-2.
September 1, 2011 at 9:30 am
I see you are reading one of my favorite books. Are you aware of Elisabeth Behr-Sigel’s biography of Fr Lev?
September 1, 2011 at 12:10 pm
Yes, indeed, Jim. I think that I read it at least twice!
I finally got this book a couple of months ago, and have been posting extracts of it on The Way blog. It is definitely worth having.
September 3, 2011 at 4:12 pm
“The liturgy is a body of sacred ‘signs’ which, in the thought and desire of the Church, have a present effect.”
This is beautiful. And the whole idea of the Church “year” put me in mind of the fact that a year is the time it takes our earth to revolve around the sun and the sun is just one star in the cosmos. And then I thought of the Hebrew concept that the earth, the heavens, the cosmos “speak” to us – so beautifully said in the psalms. And then I thought of the concept of the Cosmic Christ. There are so many “sacred signs” – all of which have a “present effect”. A cosmic liturgy – of which the earthly is just a part.
All of creation… what a blessing! The year is just one part of it. And the lovely quote reminded me of that.