Questions to Guide Your Reading
Alexander
Schmemann, “The
Life of the World,” in For the Life of the World
1. What is the
statement with
which the German materialist philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach thought he
had put an
end to all “idealistic” speculations about human nature?
What does Fr. Schmemann think about this
statement? How does he interpret it
differently? What does it express for
him?
3. On p. 13, Fr.
Schmemann
asks, “what is this life that we must regain for Christ and
make
Christian? What is, in other words, the
ultimate end of all this doing and action?”
What is his answer?
Section 2
4. According to Fr.
Schmemann, while Ludwig Feuerbach and his religious opponents disagreed
on
whether in addition to his material functions, man possessed a
spiritual “superstructure,”
they both agreed on the same fundamental opposition between two poles. What is this fundamental opposition?
5. What does Fr.
Schmemann
think about this fundamental opposition between the spiritual and the
material?
6. Take a step back
from the
text for a moment and reflect: Why, in a book on the sacraments, would
Fr.
Schmemann be trying to break down this hard-and-fast opposition many of
us seem
to have between the material and the spiritual?
7. Toward the
bottom of p.
14, Fr. Schmemann says that “Man is a hungry being.”
What is he hungry for?
8. Let’s think
about this for
a minute: “Man is a hungry being. What
is he hungry for?” Your first answer
might be: for food. Duh. Absolutely.
In fact, is Fr. Schmemann denying that?
Absolutely not. But then we might
ask ourselves this: “Is food the only thing man is hungry for?” (Does man live by bread alone?)
Is having enough food sufficient for you to
have the “fullness of life” we were talking about above?
If not, what else do you require?
Let’s say that, along with food, clothing, housing,
shelter, and perhaps some other things like “a good job, doing things I
love to
do,” and “the appreciation of my peers,” you finally come to the
conclusion
that you need friends and loved ones for a full,
flourishing
human life. Fine, but you still need to
eat, right? Absolutely.
But are those two things – eating and friends
– necessarily mutually exclusive?
Indeed, are they not often enough combined?
We eat with friends or with family,
and we enjoy their company. We
don’t merely “graze” like cattle (well, not when we’re at our best, at
any
rate); we share a meal. We “break
bread together.” And when we eat in this
way, we nourish not only our bodies (not unimportant), but our spirits
as
well. Is there any reason to say, “Well,
yes, but the food cheapens the whole experience. Let’s
nourish our spirits without the food”? Why
would we say that? We are a unified whole
made up of body and
spirit, spirit and body – neither solely one or the other. Why should we go off and eat alone and then
come together only to do “spiritual” things?
By the same token, would we not find it odd (perhaps a
bit like a pig) for someone to say: “You know, I’m eating, and
the food
is the thing! Talking just keeps me from
chewing. So shut up and let me eat.” We don’t begrudge the person his nourishment,
of course, but we may suspect that he is missing another dimension to a
meal
that can be especially fulfilling. If he
asks us: “What, so the food tastes better if you talk?” our response
would
probably be: “Well, in a sense, yes, but the food will only taste
better
if you forget about the food as an end unto itself and start enjoying
the
company as well as the food.” Or perhaps it might be better to create a
new
word (they do this in German all the time, but it’s not as common in
English)
and say: What we are enjoying is the “food-and-company.”
In other words, we are enjoying a “meal
together.”
Does this help you make sense of why Fr. Schmemann wants
to break down the radical opposition between the “spiritual” and the
“material”? (Note that my examples have to
do with
breaking down the opposition between the “spiritual” and the “material”
in
terms of our fellowship with one another.
Fr. Schmemann obviously has in mind another dimension as well:
breaking
down the opposition between the “spiritual” and the “material” in terms
of our
relationship with God.)
9. How does Fr.
Schmemann
interpret the passage in Genesis about Adam “naming” the animals?
10. What, according
to Fr.
Schmemann, is the only “natural” (and not merely “supernatural”)
reaction of
man to the gift of creation?
11. What is it,
according to
Fr. Schmemann, that distinguishes man from other creatures in this
regard?
12. What does Fr.
Schmemann
offer as “the first, the basic definition of man”?
Please explain what he means.
13. At the top of
p. 16, Fr.
Schmemann claims that, “Centuries of secularism have failed to
transform eating
into something strictly utilitarian.
Food is still treated with reverence.”
Is he talking about gourmands – people who eat and taste
the food itself as though it were the important thing about a meal?
14. Shortly
thereafter, Fr.
Schmemann claims that, “To eat is still something more than to maintain
bodily
function.” Is it? How
about for you? When you eat, is it largely
a “utilitarian”
thing, primarily about “fueling” yourself for the day’s activities, or
perhaps
simply about remedying that “ache” in your stomach?
Are meals for you a “grab-and-go” thing? Do
you eat at your desk, or on the run
somewhere?
Section 3
15. As Fr.
Schmemann points
out, “the biblical story of the Fall is centered again on food.” (You’d think a society like ours, completely
obsessed with diets, would have noticed this fact.
But no.
Perhaps it’s because we’ve gotten too used to reading these
things “spiritually.”) How
does Fr. Schmemann interpret the “fruit
of that one tree” that caused all the problems?
16. “Man has loved
the world,”
says Fr. Schmemann. Isn’t that a good
thing? Where does the problem arise?
17. In what sense,
according
to Fr. Schmemann, is the world a “fallen world”? And
why has the religion of this fallen world
not been able to heal or redeem it?
18. Let’s take a
step away
from the text for a minute, because there’s an interesting observation
to be
made about two senses or uses of the word “world” in the New Testament. On the one hand, Jesus says that He gives his
life for the life of the world.
On the other hand, in the same Gospel, Jesus says of his
apostles that, “I
have given them your word and the world has hated them,
for they
are not of the world any more than I am of the world.” St. Paul
also often
condemns people for being “worldly” or “of the world,” – as, for
example, when
he says to the Corinthians (1 Cor 3.3), “You are still worldly. For
since there
is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly?” So is God condemning the world, or does He
love the world? Or do we perhaps have
two senses of the word “world” being used in different contexts? Explain the difference.
19. According to
Fr.
Schmemann, what was the “natural dependence of man upon the world”
intended to
be transformed into?
20. How have man’s
“love” and
his “hunger” been diverted from their true direction?
21. According to
Fr.
Schmemann, we must not “see the world as an end in itself,” because
“the world
is meaningful only when it is the ‘sacrament’ of God’s presence.” If that seems strange to you, consider
this. What if I asked you what would
happen if you were to view a woman’s body “as an end in itself”? So, for example, you might say about your
girlfriend: “Well, I have her body, why do I need any personality. That just gets in the way.
I mean, let’s be honest; I’m not interested in
her for her mind.” Do you suppose
the woman in this case would find that comment flattering?
(In fact, we might try to suggest to him that
if he thinks he can “have her body” without somehow having a
relationship with
her, then he’s just plain wrong. Or
at the very least, he’s missing the best part.)
And again, like our gourmet friend and his food, if our sad,
adolescent
young man says to us: “What, is the sex better if you actually talk
to
the girl?” our response might well be: “Well, yes, actually it is, but
only if
you don’t talk to the girl merely as a means to having sex.” He would probably consider us crazy: “But
having sex is the whole point!” Well,
yes, that is one not-entirely-uncommon view.
And I’m not sure the situation would get much better if
our sad young adolescent male were to say: “No, I’m not interested in
something
as vile as sex. But I do worship
her body.” Again, the attention seems
misplaced somehow.
But by the same token, I suppose the woman would not be
particularly happy if her beloved said to her: “You know, I love you in
spite of your ugly body.” Ouch. That’s probably not altogether healthy
either.
Isn’t what the woman wants to be loved as a whole
person, both body and spirit. Yes,
she wants her “body” to be loved, but she wants the man to love her
body, not
as an end in itself,” but as a “sacrament” of her presence. Although whatever interactions she has with
others will take place by necessity in and through her body, yet, by
the same
token, who she is as a person transcends the mere “materiality”
of her
flesh, does it not? Her body, then, is
meant to be appreciated, when it is appreciated properly, as the
sacrament of
her presence. And when appreciated this
way, her body takes on a whole new beauty.
Not that we think of “her” apart from her body – the
“spiritual”
her. Rather, we appreciate her body
because it is hers.
This is what happens in love. We
often imagine that what happens in
love is that I look at a woman and add up her good traits – good hair,
beautiful
eyes, nice legs – and I subtract her negative traits – small ears, big
feet,
odd freckles – and then by means of some “cost-benefit” analysis, we
come up
with the magic number that equals “I love her” or “I love her not.” But that’s not quite how it works. Those who have ever been in love know that
the process is reversed. When you’re in
love, you love her hair because it’s hers.
You love her eyes because they are hers.
You love her body because it is hers.
You can even love what might seem to others
to be “imperfections” (an odd sort of freckle, one finger shorter than
the
others, or even a really weird laugh), again, precisely because
they are
hers.
Note that we’re not talking about loving moral evil. We’re not saying, “I love her sadistic
treatment of small animals, because it is hers.”
Right now we’re only talking about the
relationship of the body and the spirit.
How we love people who are decidedly imperfect in moral
character (as
all of us are, ultimately) is another issue.
The point I wish to make is simply this: that loving
woman’s body without loving the woman whose body it is,
is not
only to miss the best part of love, it is, in effect, not to see
the
woman really. You see the
material “stuff” – arms, legs, buttocks – but in only seeing
them as “things”
that exist in and for themselves, you have missed what they really
are
and what really gives them value: namely, the fact that they
are the
arms, legs, and buttocks of this person, with whom you are
called upon
to have a relationship based upon a fundamental respect for her dignity
as a
whole person, and not just an agglomeration of parts.
Those “parts” are not merely material for
your pleasure or use. They
are integrated parts of a whole, and their true value and character is
revealed
only when they are seen as embodiments of the whole person. This hand is her hand, not a photo
opportunity, not an object for me to worship, not a part to be
harvested for my
body-parts museum.
So, when Fr. Schmemann says that “the world is meaningful
only when it is the ‘sacrament’ of God’s presence,” he means that
loving the
world without loving the Creator whose gift of love it is (whose love
is “embodied”
in it) is like loving the body of the woman without loving the woman. Just as people can and do “love” the body
without caring about (or really even seeing) the woman (ask him whether
he
knows the color of your eyes), so too people can and do “love” the
world
without caring about (or really even seeing) what the world really
is. What makes the world really valuable
is not simply that it provides “material” for you to “use” according to
your
will and desires. What makes it really
valuable is that it is in reality (and thus will be seen as when seen
rightly)
an instrument of God’s love. We can feed
not only ourselves, we can feed others.
And not only can we feed others, we can sit down to a meal with
them and
give them much more: hope, love, our fellowship.
How do you view the world? As a
sacrament? Or as “material” for your “use”
– something
to be shaped and fashioned and controlled according to your will?
22. What happens to
man,
according to Fr. Schmemann, when he doesn’t treat the world as
“sacramental”?
23. At the bottom
of p. 17,
Fr. Schmemann claims that, when man “lost the eucharistic life” (that
is, when
he lost his sense of the world as a sacrament), he “ceased to be the
priest of
the world and became its slave.” That’s
an interesting notion. Why (and how)
does man become a “slave” of the world?
Why is it the case that the more a man views the world as
“material” to
be shaped and fashioned and controlled according to his will, the more
he
becomes its slave? Note how Fr. Schmemann
introduces this concept in the context of his discussion of the Fall. Why is that especially appropriate, given the
particular temptation of the serpent in Gen 3?
(What does the serpent promise Eve?
He is lying. What actually
happens. What does she hope to
gain? What does she lose?)
Section 4
24. Speaking of the
Fall, how
does Fr. Schmemann describe “original sin”?
25. “The fall,”
says Fr.
Schmemann, is not that he [man] preferred the world to God, [thereby
distorting] the balance between the spiritual and material.” What is it instead?
26. Says Fr.
Schmemann: God had created man “after his
own heart” and
for Himself [that is, to be in a communion of love with Him], “and man
has
struggled in his freedom to find the answer to the mysterious hunger in
him.” This is an interesting scenario – an
interesting description of our situation: We are hungry for something
–
for we-know-not-what – that will truly fulfill us.
According to Fr. Schmemann, did God leave man
to fend for himself in this “predicament of confused longing”? If not, what did He do?
27. On p. 19, Fr.
Schmemann
makes a rather startling claim – be sure not to miss it!
He says: “As Christians we believe that He,
who is the truth about both God and man, gives foretastes of His
incarnation”
not only in and through the prophets of the Old Testament, but also “in
all
more fragmentary truths.” Please explain
what he has in mind. And then talk about
this very odd claim: “In the great religions which have given shape to
human
aspirations, God plays on an orchestra which is far out of tune, yet
there has
often been a marvelous, rich music made.”
28. As Fr.
Schmemann points
out at the bottom of p. 19: “Nowhere in the New Testament ... is
Christianity
presented as a cult or as a religion.”
Where, according to Fr. Schmemann, is “religion” needed?
29. Now take a step
back from
the text. Why was this reflection on
Christianity not being a “cult” or a “religion” (in the sense in which
“mystery
cults” are considered “religions” and have “religious” artifacts)
important in
the context of Fr. Schmemann’s discussion of the sacraments? [Hint: What do you suppose most people,
especially those who don’t really understand the sacraments, think the
sacraments are?] Why, according to Fr. Schmemann, was there no need for
sacred
temples or sacred places in Christianity?
What is the one truly important thing in Christianity? How does this key insight help us to
understand
the sacraments? In the final analysis, what is the difference between
pagan
cultic rituals and the sacraments of the Catholic Church? [Please note,
the
difference has nothing to do with what the two different rituals look
like
from the perspective of an outsider. And
what might surprise you, it also doesn’t have anything to do with,
“Well, those
are false gods, and ours is real.”]
30. Note that Schmemann has read an awful lot of later sacramental theology back into his interpretation of the texts in Genesis 1 and 2. Is that acceptable? Has the importation of those later doctrines falsified the original text? Or helped clarify it?