Kairos
During Christmas break, I noticed one day that AncientFaith’s ebooks were on sale for $5 each! I bought five, and I have read three
of them. I am currently reading the fourth.
Darren and I have been talking recently about how during
services at church, we frequently experience a phenomenon where it feels like
we are transported somewhere else. Or maybe some time else. It’s like we enter the realm of heaven where the prayers
are constantly occurring with the saints and angels.
In two of the books I have read so far, I have encountered
an explanation for why we experience this. It’s because of Kairos. Bear with me—their
explanations of Kairos are better than I can paraphrase.
I have more I want to say about this, but I have been tired lately, so when I get time to write, I'm too tired. So, with perfect being the enemy of good enough, I'll just let these stand for now.
I have more I want to say about this, but I have been tired lately, so when I get time to write, I'm too tired. So, with perfect being the enemy of good enough, I'll just let these stand for now.
From Everyday Wonders
by Michael Oleska [the bolding is mine, for emphasis]:
“In the modern Western world, our only experience of time is chronological, the kind of time we measure with clocks and calendars. Like a river, it flows forward, never back, and what is past is forever gone. The experience of time the Greeks called kairos, however, is alien to most of the modern world. It derives from a concept of time as repeatable. Important events of the past can not only be remembered, but in ritual, they can be made present. A sacred or significant event of the past can be repeated and its original meaning made accessible under special, intentional circumstances…
“Kairos requires a significant reality, revealed at some past time, which is of such sacred importance that it can be encountered again and again in the present. Not every present is adequate for this—not all eating and drinking, not all bread and wine, are the same. There must be a qualitative break with the ordinary, when we deliberately leave chronos and say it is time for kairos—time to enter meaningful, sacred time. This is what the deacon says to the celebrant at the start of the liturgy—in Greek, “Kairos estin.” It is kairos.…”
[Jen note: This is why we believe that every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we are participating in the Eucharist the first time Christ celebrated it.]
“But while the Liturgy is rooted in sacred events that took place in ancient Palestine, it is essentially a projection into the Kingdom to come. Christian kairos is not only a remembrance of the Mystical Supper in about ad 33, but also a participation in the marriage feast of the Bridegroom, an entrance into the reality of the Second Coming, “that you may eat and drink at My table in My kingdom” (Luke 22:30). One can understand the beauty, the vestments, icons, incense, and singing, only if one realizes that this kairos is different from all others: it is a remembrance of the future. The holy people depicted on the icons are not portrayed in the style of modern or renaissance Italian paintings, but in their future, resurrected bodies, suffused with light, glowing in the reflected holiness into which they have entered, in communion with God.”
From The Mystery of
Art by Jonathan Jackson:
“The ancient Greeks had two words to describe time: chronos and kairos. Chronos is where the word chronology comes from. It means sequential time: the passing of time. Kairos means the appointed time or the crisis. The cosmic opportunity. The eternal moment. The supreme moment! As the Divine Liturgy is about to commence, the deacon says to the priest, “Kairos tou poiesai to Kyrio” (“It is time [kairos] for the Lord to act”). The time of the Liturgy enters into the realm of eternity.
“Throughout Scripture we find continual reference to the present moment. The first words of Christ’s earthly ministry were, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2). The kingdom of heaven is near. The Hebrew word karav gives an even more immediate interpretation: The kingdom of heaven is here. It is now.
“Christ says, “The time [kairos] is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). When He taught His disciples to pray, He said, “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matt. 6:11), enjoining us to remain in the present moment…
“The Apostle Paul expressed the kairos of Christ’s Incarnation and Crucifixion thus: “For when we were still without strength, in due time [kairos] Christ died for the ungodly” (Rom. 5:6). This expresses the historical event that took place. In between chronos, kairos intervened and took action. But how does this event change the reality of time?
“St. Paul continues his theme on kairos, but a profound transition takes place from the historical event of the Cross to its relevance in the ongoing life of man: “praying always [lit., “at all kairoi”] with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints” (Eph. 6:18). It is a transition into the language of the Spirit. The Cross has altered man’s relationship with God forever. Therefore, kairos, the appointed time, the time of crisis, the supreme moment, becomes available to humanity now.”
From At the Corner of East and Now by Frederica Mathewes-Green:
"The bishop also got on his knees and leaned under the altarto reach the standing cross with the hole in the top. Into the hole he put a scroll listing the names of all the members of
the parish and small foil-wrapped packets of saints’ relics, tiny chips of bone mixed with beeswax. Though I’ve never been
comfortable imagining the processing of relics, I understand the idea behind them. Relics are often taken from the bodies of saints that did not decay after death, and this incorruption
is evidence that the person was thoroughly transformed by the
Holy Spirit, body as well as soul. As a contemporary monk of
Mt. Athos, Metropolitan Hierotheos Vlachos, writes, “Holy relics
are the token that through the nous [the eye of the soul] the
grace of God transfigured the body also.” Orthodoxy does not
exalt the soul and despise the body; both are to be transformed.
“The primary work of the Church is to lead man to theosis, to
communion and union with God,” Bishop Hierotheos goes on.
“Given this, in a sense we can say that the work of the Church
is to ‘produce relics.’”
Once he’d placed these items inside the cross, the bishop poured melted beeswax into the hole and sealed it. He warned us that from then on an angel would stand beside the altar day
and night, offering praise to God and intercession for all of us.
No more joking around or chatting in the church after services;
no more sitting in the back sipping coffee on a weekday. This would be a place of worship, even when none of us was here; we would enter in order to join something already going on."
"Being “saved”isn’t a deathbed event. Eternal life begins now, if it’s eternal; death must be defeated in our lives every day. A story from the desert fathers concerns Abba Joseph of Panephysis, who was approached by Abba Lot with a question. “Father, as far as I can I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace, and as much as I am able I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?”Abba Joseph, the story goes, then stood and spread out his hands toward heaven, in the prayer stance called the “orans”position. Each of his fingertips was lit with flame. He said to Abba Lot, “If you will, you can become totally fire.”This is one of my favorite stories because it illustrates so well the concept of theosis, the goal of Orthodox life. All the spiritual disciplines are tools to help us get self-will out of the way, so that we can gradually become totally filled with the light of God. We are to catch fire from God’s fire and shine with it, until the Theos Himself animates us. This doesn’t mean we are going to become independent mini-gods. We remain beloved but humble creatures, simple as a lump of coal. But coal has this essential attribute: it can receive fire. One could even say that accepting fire, being consumed by it, is the telos or destiny of coal—the thing it was made for. Dusty, dark, cold and hard, coal has no beauty of its own, but when it is consummated by fire it is beautiful and becomes what it was designed to be."
Comments
Post a Comment