Law of Liberty

A Byzantine mosaic depicts Moses receiving the Law on Mt. Sinai. Unlike the two tablets of stone usually depicted–as when Charlton Heston played Moses in the “Ten Commandments”–the Torah is depicted as a scroll here which the Lord is handing to Moses. Moses covers his hands with his cloak to protect them as he receives the scroll; directly touching such a holy object that is given directly by God could incinerate his hands if he does not protect them.

Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do. (James 1:23-25)

The “law of liberty,” the perfect law that gives freedom, sounds like a contradiction in terms, right? What law gives liberty and freedom? This law seems to be like a mirror: look into it, see yourself, and then go away and act on what you have seen-realized by gazing. Is this how normal life works?

Although Moses led the people to freedom through the Red Sea, that freedom was not meant for wild parties and living high-on-the-hog, without responsibilities or duties. The freedom of Passover is fulfilled in obedience to the Law given on Mt. Sinai at Pentecost; likewise, the Resurrection of Christ is consummated by the giving of the Spirit on Pentecost–the freedom of new life is sealed by obedience. Freedom is given to the human race so that we can choose to heed the Word of God.

That’s what the “law that gives freedom” is for: by embracing it, we give ourselves to the one who liberates us from Death and are free to love; love is the summary of all the rules and all the laws ever given. Slaves cannot and do not love. Only the free can choose to love. By loving, we commit ourselves to caring. By caring, we commit ourselves to putting someone else’s needs before our own. By putting someone else’s needs before our own, we curtail our options but are able to find fulfillment in what we do, seeing the face of God in those we are committed to.

A Little Scroll

This fresco on Mt. Athos from the 17th century depicts the opening of chapter 10 of the Apocalypse: St. John sees the massive angel, standing with a foot in the sea and a foot on land, who gives him a little scroll to eat.

Then I saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven, wrapped in a cloud, with a rainbow over his head: his face was like the sun and his legs like pillars of fire. He held in his hand a little scroll which was open…. He said to me, “take it and eat it.” (Apocalypse 10:1-2, 9)

St. John takes the small, open scroll and eats it although the angel warns that it will taste sweet in his mouth and then turn his stomach sour. “You must prophesy over many peoples and nations and tongues and kings,” St. John is told after eating the scroll.

Eating a scroll is often the first thing a prophet is told to do (Ezekiel 3). The prophet ingests the message he is to deliver and integrates it into himself. It becomes his message as well as the message of God. (The scroll that Ezekiel eats is also sweet to taste but produces “laments and words of woe.” Both Ezekiel and the Apocalypse are associated with the liturgical season of Eastertide; the Death and Resurrection of Christ are simultaneously blessing and judgement which are described in terms of the Last Days by the prophet and the apostle.)

Given that the Apocalypse is a liturgical commentary, what does this episode correspond to in the Eucharist? Consuming the little scroll can also correspond with receiving Holy Communion, as does Isaiah’s lips being touched by a heavenly coal. Each communicant is called to the same vocation as the seer although details of how that vocation is exercised may differ.

Although this scroll is small, unlike the others mentioned in the Apocalypse, its most important distinguishing feature is that it is open rather than closed. An open message is one that will be fulfilled shortly after it is proclaimed; a closed message is about an event that will happen long after the proclamation is made. The message that will be accomplished soon is the preaching of the Gospel to “many peoples and nations and tongues and kings.” Prophets like Ezekiel were sent only to the Israelites; John–and the Church as a whole–are sent to the whole world. The ingathering of the nations to join Israel in receiving the blessings of God was proclaimed by the prophets as one of the signs that the Last Days had finally come; the nations responding to the preaching of the Gospel is a sign that the Last Days have now arrived.

The Apocalypse is, in many ways, the proclamation of the same message that the prophets proclaimed but that message has now been fulfilled-accomplished. The Last Judgement–while still a distant event in linear time–has begun and is already present in the spiritual-liturgical life of the Church. Eternity has begun to erupt into the world of space-time. The Apocalypse is not a blueprint or a timeline for something to happen in the future; it describes the life of the Church now.

The fancy theological way to refer to this is “realized eschatology.” Eschatology is the Greek word for “last things.” The last things have been realized/accomplished in the life-ministry-Passion of Christ and are now playing out in the life of the Church. Sometimes “realized eschatology” is contrasted with consistent eschatology, which insists that the Last Days are still entirely in the future. The two concepts are combined by some modern authors in inaugurated eschatology.