I don't have any written resources to offer, only my own insights arrived at within clouds of frankincense and the glow of candles over twelve years serving as an acolyte. I think the bread and wine each reflect one element while the other parts of the ritual reflect the other two elements, bringing all four into balance through the communion ritual.
Bread is fire and wine is water. The priest offering them up and blessing them is channeling the element of air or spirit. The parishioner is earth, consuming the fire and water given freely by air. By reenacting this consumption by and burial in the body, the four elements come into communion with each other. Ideally, they find a new balance there in the recipient, achieving a rising up in rebirth.
Hence, the gifts of impassioned nurturing and euphoric quenching draw the spirit of caring into a grounded vessel where they get dissolved so they can then coagulate back into a more balanced life. Communion would then be a reenactment of the great passion at the core of Christianity — a loving god, giving up of his abundant self in order to heal his flawed creation and alleviate its suffering (unfortunately, at some point, fire and brimstone got snuck in too, probably in Saul of Tarsus' confusing epistles.)
Not sure if that will be a useful metaphor for any less smoke-addled minds than mine. My church had to post warnings in the bulletin the week before we would be burning frankincense so that those allergic to the smoke or the kind of ecstatic reverie it obviously induced in me could find another place to worship. There's nothing quite like allowing your body to become the focal point around which a smoking thurible swings, transforming life-giving oxygen into a burnt offering, wafting up to god all around you. Ahhhh, how beautiful! Thanks for the trip down memory lane.
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branchandroot
Re: Eucharist
Date: 2021-05-17 05:15 pm (UTC)Bread is fire and wine is water. The priest offering them up and blessing them is channeling the element of air or spirit. The parishioner is earth, consuming the fire and water given freely by air. By reenacting this consumption by and burial in the body, the four elements come into communion with each other. Ideally, they find a new balance there in the recipient, achieving a rising up in rebirth.
Hence, the gifts of impassioned nurturing and euphoric quenching draw the spirit of caring into a grounded vessel where they get dissolved so they can then coagulate back into a more balanced life. Communion would then be a reenactment of the great passion at the core of Christianity — a loving god, giving up of his abundant self in order to heal his flawed creation and alleviate its suffering (unfortunately, at some point, fire and brimstone got snuck in too, probably in Saul of Tarsus' confusing epistles.)
Not sure if that will be a useful metaphor for any less smoke-addled minds than mine. My church had to post warnings in the bulletin the week before we would be burning frankincense so that those allergic to the smoke or the kind of ecstatic reverie it obviously induced in me could find another place to worship. There's nothing quite like allowing your body to become the focal point around which a smoking thurible swings, transforming life-giving oxygen into a burnt offering, wafting up to god all around you. Ahhhh, how beautiful! Thanks for the trip down memory lane.
— Christophe