Names and Roman Weddings

“Ubi tu Caius, ego Caia.”
“Wherever thou art Caius, there I am Caia.”

I first came upon this phrase when reading Quo Vadis, and thought it was the sweetest thing ever.  After having given it some thought, I like it even more.  These are the words that were spoken by a Roman bride at her wedding, probably in response to the groom’s question, “What is your name?”

After the bride’s response, the groom would then (ideally) sweep her off her feet and carry her across the threshold into his home.

I think the phrase is pretty much the most succinct and, at the same time, possibly the most romantic one I have ever heard or read of in a wedding.  But there are specific reasons I find it so, which transcend mere sentimentality.  Those Romans were not much for bandying about words.  Not like the Greeks, in any case.  The less said the better, if it got the point across.  And these words are loaded.

We are all familiar with the traditional wedding vows, and the Roman one is much like them.  One might even find that our modern form originates here in part.  In this phrase, the bride vows to go and to be wherever her husband is, whenever he is.  Eternity is implied.  The phrase encapsulates the marriage vow (at least the bride’s side of it) into five words in the Latin.

It is also a symbolic renaming.  The bride declares that she is taking the name of her groom.  In this case, not literally.  There were dudes not named “Caius” who got married in Rome.  The name Caius/Caia (or Gaius/Gaia) means happiness and rejoicing.  An appropriate description of a wedding, intended to portend the fortunes of the new couple.

But no matter the given names of the couple, the symbolism remains.  The bride declares that she will henceforth be identified with her husband, as she has been identified with her father until this point.  In fact, by using the name Caius/Caia, she pledges not only her physical presence but her heart and her emotions as well.  Wherever he rejoices, there she also will find her joy.

To a Christian, what does this mean?  Can we possibly learn anything from the pagan Romans?  Sure, why not?  In the same way that the bride pledges her life to her groom and takes his name upon herself, we also have pledged our lives to Christ and taken His name.

The Church is the Bride of Christ, and every one of the baptized community is a member.  From the point of our entrance into that body to now, and until Christ returns, we should ever be saying:  “Wherever thou art Christ, there I am Christian.”

In fact, we do something like this every week before we come to the Lord’s table, our earthly foretaste of the Lamb’s marriage supper.  When the officiant asks the congregation: “Christian, in whom do you believe?” we respond, “I believe in one God the Father Almighty . . . And in one Lord Jesus Christ . . . And in the Holy Spirit.”

“In whom do you believe?” is a question very much like “What is your name?”  For we become identified with that in which we believe.  Our Credo is an affirmation of our baptism into the name of the Triune God.  And having confessed Christ and having declared our identity in Him as a body, we are then welcomed to the wedding feast at His table.

Regulative Principle and Weekly Communion, with some thoughts on the Calendar

There are many good and Biblical reasons for Christians to gather at the Lord’s Table in Communion to celebrate Eucharist every week.  But for this post I just want to focus on the reasons for doing so based on the Reformed Regulative Principle of worship.  In particular, I want to use a common objection to the Church Calendar and reapply it to the issue of the regular celebration of the Eucharist.

A great deal of emphasis in discussion of Regulative Principle is placed on what is not commanded for worship, and the prohibition of those things.  But I think we often overlook what is commanded when we look at the subject of Lord’s Day worship.

In regards to the Sabbath law of the fourth commandment, the Reformers were particularly concerned that any day might become more important than the Sabbath rest.  This is a legitimate concern in some ways, especially regarding discussions of the Church Calendar.  How many nominal Christians go to worship only on Easter and Christmas?  Or, even if they regularly attend, how many become more fervent at those times of year than at others?

Is Pascha or Christmas inherently any more holy of a day than a Lord’s Day in the middle of “ordinary time”?  I would argue not, and I’ll probably want to address my reasoning for that at a later date.

But in looking into those questions, another thing struck me.  If we want to take care not to elevate any day over the Sabbath, or even one Sabbath day over another, then what does this say for the widespread tradition of celebrating communion only monthly, or in some cases, even quarterly or annually?  Does this not elevate those Sabbaths above all others?  Have you ever seen in a church service bulletin the reminder: Next week is communion Sunday.  Please prepare your heart during the week and make certain to attend.

Even if the intent is not to elevate those days above others, doesn’t this lend itself to the idea that those days are more holy (set apart) than other Sabbaths?

My intent is not to condemn those who do not celebrate communion weekly as “Sabbath breakers.”  We all fall short in many ways, and we all must serve and worship God to the best of our understanding.  I only want to suggest that perhaps . . . just perhaps the Regulative Principle of worship that so many Reformed Christians hold to, if followed consistently, requires that the Lord’s Supper be celebrated every week in order to maintain equality of holiness from each Lord’s Day to the next.

Furthermore, I believe that if communion were viewed as indispensable and central to each worship service, a great part of the tendency some feel to inappropriately elevate Church Calendar days would simply evaporate.  Because every Lord’s Day would be holy to the Lord, a day in which we meet Christ in His Word and dine with Him at His table.

I’ll conclude with this quote from the Westminster Confession of Faith:

Chapter XXI.V
The reading of the Scriptures with godly fear, the sound preaching and conscionable hearing of the Word, in obedience unto God, with understanding, faith and reverence, singing of psalms with grace in the heart; as also, the due administration and worthy receiving of the sacraments instituted by Christ, are all parts of the ordinary religious worship of God: beside religious oaths, vows, solemn fastings, and thanksgivings upon special occasions, which are, in their several times and seasons, to be used in an holy and religious manner.

Note those practices that are “ordinary religious worship” as distinct from those that are “beside.”  To use my earlier definition of the word “ordinary,” I would say that the practices listed as such—reading of Scripture, preaching, hearing of the Word, singing of psalms, and due administration of sacraments—are to be regular weekly occurrences in the worship of each Lord’s Day.

Continuity Between Prophetic Worship and the New Testament: A Puritan’s Doorway to Traditional Liturgy (Part 3)

In this post I’d like to dig right into some really good stuff.  As we look at these parallels in a little more detail we can see clearly how the New Covenant worship is to be a fuller realization of the Old, rather than a disconnect.  So what can we find by way of continuity?

Sanctus

In Isaiah the prophet is given a view into heaven.  He sees YHWH sitting on a throne above all the earth, his robe filling the temple.  Interesting that the temple is seen by Isaiah to be in heaven, not in Jerusalem.  Or is it both?  That might be an interesting idea to explore later.  It is quite possible that YHWH is in the Jerusalem temple here, as the seraphim are standing above Him.  In any case, his robe is in the Temple, and fills it.  The worship of the seraphim is responsive:

And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!”
~Isaiah 6:3

So YHWH is present in the Temple on earth while the angels glorify Him above.  Does this remind us of any scene of the New Covenant?  It should.  In Revelation the apostle John sees a similar sight.  Or is it identical?

At once I was in the Spirit, and behold, a throne stood in heaven, with one seated on the throne . . . And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and within, and day and night they never cease to say,

“Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” ~Rev. 4:2-8

From this we may see that the way God is to be worshiped, at least in heaven, has not changed from the time of Isaiah to Revelation.  It is no accident that the Jewish Synagogue worship included the Sanctus of Isaiah in their Sabbath liturgy.  They understood that the way God is worshiped in heaven is the way we are to worship him on earth.

It is also likely that while the Sanctus was sung in the synagogue, it originated in the service of the Temple before the time of Christ.  And it was not long before the Christian Church followed suit, incorporating the Sanctus into the liturgy of the Eucharist.

Hosanna and Benedictus

Closely related to the Sanctus in both Jewish and Christian liturgy is the Hosanna.  In Hebrew it means “save us!” and is drawn from Psalm 118.

Save us, we pray, O Lord! O Lord, we pray, give us success!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! We bless you from the house of the Lord.
~Psalm 118:25-26

The people of Israel in the day of Christ understood that this was to be used to inaugurate the coming of the Messiah.  They sang this Psalm as Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem riding on a donkey, waving palm branches and spreading their garments at his feet.
(Matt. 21:9,  John 12:13)

The Hosanna also has connections to the book of Revelation.  There is a part in the vision that alludes directly to the triumphal entry, with all people of all tribes of all nations standing before the Lord with palm branches, just as the people of Israel did on Palm Sunday.

There is one marked difference, the contrast of which actually highlights a thematic continuity in the narrative of redemption.  Since Christ has conquered and is victorious, the Church now may say Hosanna (save us, Lord), but also says “salvation belongs to the Lord our God,” to which the angels reply in unison, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.” (Rev. 7:9-12)

Hallelujah (Alleluia)

Looking at the Hosanna will bring us directly to another parallel between Old Covenant and New.  The Psalms were written specifically to enhance and fill the worship of the Tabernacle and Temple.  What we find in the Psalms, if found in parallel in the New Testament, should tell us a great deal about how worship is to be done under the New Covenant.

One series of Psalms—the Hallel Psalms—is particularly striking.  Notice how often is repeated the call to “Praise YHWH” (Psalm 106:1, 111:1, 112:1, 113:1, 117:1, 135:1, 146:1, 147:1, 148:1, 149:1, 150:1).  A total of eleven Psalms begin with “Hallelujah!”  Clearly the call to Praise the Lord was a pervasive and integral part of the Old Covenant Temple worship.  By now we should not be surprised that we find the same liturgical call in the New Testament.

For I tell you that Christ became a servant to the circumcised to show God’s truthfulness, in order to confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.  As it is written,

“Therefore I will praise you among the Gentiles,
and sing to your name.”

And again it is said, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people.”

And again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples extol him.”  ~Romans 15:8-11

Clearly, Hallelujah is not only for Israel.

After this I heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, crying out, “Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God . . .

Once more they cried out, “Hallelujah! The smoke from her goes up forever and ever.”

And the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshiped God who was seated on the throne, saying, “Amen. Hallelujah!”

And from the throne came a voice saying, “Praise our God, all you his servants, you who fear him, small and great.”

Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out, “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.

~Rev. 19:1, 3-6

Commentary

The people of God said and sang Hallelujah in God’s Temple under the Davidic litugical reforms, the Gentiles say Hallelujah as salvation comes from Israel and floods the nations.  The elders in heaven continually say Hallelujah before the throne of Christ.  They sing Hosanna—save us in the highest—as well as the acclamation celebrating that salvation, waving palms to welcome the king.  The seraphim say Sanctus—”Holy, Holy, Holy”—continually before the throne of God, glorifying the Three-in-One.

What’s more, in each description they do it very much in the same way throughout history, employing the same kind of language, with the same reverence and with the same manner of call and response between officiant(s) and congregation.  I find it hard to understand how Christians can read these descriptions of worship in both Old and New Covenant and then say we ought not to do it that way because it is not explicitly commanded.

But it is explicitly commanded!  The liturgy is the invasion of Heaven into Earth.  This is God’s glory breaking in upon our world and the worship of His person joining all the saints through out history in the past, present, and future, into a united divine service.  We cannot say “thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven” and then refuse to do not only what is done in heaven now and forever shall be in the future, but was already done in Israel for a thousand years.  There is no justification for a hiatus from reverent and vibrant liturgical worship.

The elements of the liturgy in the New Testament book of Revelation are not merely something to look forward to in eternity.  It is a description of how worship is to be done now, deeply rooted in an awareness of how worship was done then.  And we haven’t even touched on how incense, posture, musical instruments, and food are used in both Old Covenant worship and in the New.

As Reformed and Evangelical Christians, it is no credit to us that we look at the rite of the Roman Mass or the Orthodox Divine Liturgy and say,
“Oh, that’s rote.  We don’t do that” and then discard not only the corruptions but also the Scriptural elements of liturgy as “mere traditions of men.”  Or, even if we think the tradition is itself okay, we askew Biblical worship in order to avoid guilt by association.  After all, we wouldn’t want to look Catholic . . .

Methinks as Protestants we sometimes protest the wrong things, and far too loudly.  As far as I can see, the Reformed Regulative Principle not only permits us to employ a rich and engaging liturgy to worship God.  Rather, it demands it.

Next time: Keeping Time

Chrismation, Confirmation, and Excommunication

Liturgists throughout the ages have long recognized the principle of lex orandi, lex credendi. The law of prayer becomes the law of belief. So if you want to reform the theology of the church, first reform its worship. Belief will follow. The same holds true of the reverse. A little superfluous drama or symbolism, a little unwarranted addition to the service of worship, can have far reaching negative consequences. In this short article I want to address the question of how children came to be barred from participation in the Lord’s Supper.

In the early church, the newly baptized were admitted immediately to the table. There is a great deal of evidence from the writings of the church fathers that this was the case even for infants.

At some point in the first couple centuries of the Church, someone had the slick idea to add a little oil to the waters of baptism. More precisely, a small element was added to the rite of baptism in which the newly baptized was anointed with oil to symbolize the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This anointing, called chrismation, was originally viewed as simply a part of the baptismal rite. It is an extra-biblical addition to the sacrament. It must have been a fairly early tradition, since it is found everywhere in the ancient churches, and also in denominations today that hold claim to the ancient church. So the alien element of oil was interposed between water and supper.

In the Eastern Orthodox churches, we can see something similar to what this rite might have looked like in the ancient church. Baptism is immediately followed by anointing with oil, and the newly baptized and chrismed is immediately admitted to the Eucharist. This immediacy in administration of the sacraments is maintained in the East because any priest could both baptize and chrismate, and then administer the elements. In the West, the story is quite different.

Conscious to guard the hierarchy of the bishopric, which it considered to be essential to the doctrine of apostolic succession, the Roman church ruled in the West that while the priesthood could baptize and administer the Eucharist, chrismation required the services of a bishop. Without the anointing, the baptism was deemed incomplete. As the church spread throughout the empire into more rural areas, it became hard to come by a bishop. Priests could administer baptism, but without the authority to perform the rite of chrismation, they could not complete the initiation of converts or their children into the new faith.

More and more, chrismation had to be delayed until a bishop passed through the area. Because chrismation was technically a part of the baptismal ritual, the baptism was not complete until this anointing of oil had been given. The result was that administration of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was also withheld from those who had been baptized but whose baptism had not been “confirmed” by a bishop in chrismation.

Often it could be years before the services of a bishop were available. A traveling bishop would pass through, chrismate all those who had been baptized but not confirmed, and then admit them to the table of the Eucharist. By then, those who had been baptized as infants but had never been chrismated would be old enough to be aware of what was taking place. In order to prepare these children for the anointing of oil and the partaking of the Supper, a system of catechism was introduced. The baptized would be instructed in the doctrines of the church and so made ready for chrismation and communion.

And so the Western rite of Confirmation was born. As chrismation was increasingly separated from baptism in the greater part of the Western church, confirmation came to be seen as a separate sacramental rite—one that drove a man-made wedge between baptism and communion. If you consider that chrismation with oil, whether in baptism or years afterward, is an extra-biblical practice, then the fact becomes unavoidable that this later development amounts to the unnatural and unlawful excommunication (barring from the table) of baptized Christians.

It is a curious thing that this rite continues even in Reformed churches today, albeit without the oil. Granted, they don’t consider it a sacrament, and Confirmation as such is sometimes optional or simply called something else. But the essential idea continues that there must exist a period of instruction between baptism and communion, at least for those who are baptized as infants, and a “credible confession” must thereafter be made in order to gain access to the table.

By introducing catechism as a prerequisite for chrismation, the Western Roman church placed an emphasis on understanding as a requirement for confirmation (of baptism), and thus for communion in the Eucharist. When the Reformed church rightly did away with the oil of chrismation, they nevertheless retained the rite and all its implications for the sacraments. I find it ironic that a controversy regarding the communication of children today in Reformed churches has its roots in two erroneous Roman practices: the chrismation of oil in baptism and the safeguarding of apostolic succession in the hierarchy of the church by requiring that a bishop must confirm a baptism administered by a priest.

The lex orandi of the Roman church has become the de facto lex credendi of of Western Christianity, including many Reformed Christians.

Bibliographic Sources:

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