Semiotics and the mystery of the Eucharist

I wrote a draft of this a couple of years ago. I saw it again, and thought it appropriate to post now (a bit updated), to dovetail with my next post.

A major difference between Catholic and Protestant theology is in the way that they believe God communicates to man. Catholics believe that the mysteries of grace that God extends to us are chiefly communicated by tangible signs – the sacraments. The seven sacraments of the Catholic church are Baptism, Confirmation, Reconciliation, the Eucharist (Lord’s Supper), Marriage, Holy Orders (Ordination), and Anointing of the Sick. In the performance of these sacred acts, the heavenly graces of God are communicated into reality. Catholics place immense weight on the value of the sacraments as vehicles of God’s grace. In fact, the catechism states, “The Church affirms that for believers the sacraments of the New Covenant are necessary for salvation” (1129).

Catholic doctrine places supreme importance on the Eucharist, the “Sacrament of Sacraments.” “The Eucharist is the efficacious sign and sublime cause of that communion in the divine life and that unity of the People of God by which the Church is kept in being” (1325). All Christians affirm that Christ is the sole basis of our redemption and salvation; the Catholic doctrine venerates the Eucharist precisely because it equates it with Christ. ‘In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist ‘the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained’” (1374). Simply put, participating in Holy Communion is how to receive Jesus because the Eucharist is such a powerful symbol of Jesus that it actually is Jesus. The sacramental sign is necessary to the reality. You cannot get at the reality without the sacrament as a type and form of it that you can experience in the physical world. Thus, the sign is “efficacious” and “causes” the reality of communion with God.

Evangelicals practice the Lord ’s Supper, but they don’t regard these things the same way. They simply say that the ceremonies are special reminders for believers, special moments when God’s power and person are uniquely present, but in a metaphorical, abstract, symbolic sense. Nothing about the actual words or deeds causes the graces that they signify. In fact, in the view of most Evangelicals, believing salvation to be linked to the performance of sacraments is tantamount to “salvation by works” as opposed to “by grace through faith”—that is, no salvation at all. “You must believe and…” is damnable to many an evangelical ear. Faith is more internal and abstract, and does not require a physical action. Born and raised in an Evangelical church, I long thought the Catholic doctrine corrupt. Like the Galatians, Catholics had forgotten grace and bloated the sacraments into a system of good deeds. Granted, that may be true for many who were “raised Catholic” but have a poor understanding of Christianity; the sacraments are able to distract people from the things that they should signify; just as an unintelligent dog will not follow the signification of your pointing finger to the ball you have thrown, but will run eagerly to examine your finger. However, correctly understood, the Catholic teaching of the sacraments as vital is not incompatible with salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

The Institution of Holy Communion is predicted by Jesus in John 6:22-65, and happens during the Last Supper in Matthew 26:26-29 / Luke 22:14-23 / Mark 14:22-25. Suffice it to say that the meaning of Jesus’ statements, “This is my body,” and “this is my blood” is fiercely debated. I have no place at the round-table of scholars of Greek and Aramaic. However, simply making the assumption that Jesus intended to create some kind of semiotic (sign) relationship between himself and the bread/wine, I think I can speak generally about to the issue. French linguist Ferdinand de Saussur proposed a very helpful model of the sign. Allow me to quote from Chandler’s resource:
Saussure offered a ‘dyadic’ or two-part model of the sign. He defined a sign as being composed of:

      • a ‘signifier’ (signifiant) – the form which the sign takes; and
      • the ‘signified’ (signifié) – the concept it represents.

The sign is the whole that results from the association of the signifier with the signified (Saussure 1983, 67Saussure 1974, 67). The relationship between the signifier and the signified is referred to as ‘signification’, and this is represented in the Saussurean diagram by the arrows. If we take a linguistic example, the word ‘Open’ (when it is invested with meaning by someone who encounters it on a shop doorway) is a sign consisting of:

  • signifier: the word open
  • signified concept: that the shop is open for business

The point is that the signifier and signified are unified in the sign. Thus, to say that taking the bread and wine of Communion is necessary for salvation is to say that you must partake of the sign of Jesus’ body and blood, not to say that there is a different source of salvation.

The question, then, is whether physical signs are the means by which God communicates to us. The Catholic church says that they are. According to the Catechism, “In human life, signs and symbols occupy an important place. As a being at once body and spirit, man expresses and perceives spiritual realities through physical signs and symbols. As a social being, man needs signs and symbols to communicate with others, through language, gestures, and actions. The same holds true for his relationship with God” (1146).

I suggest that the Catholic Church is absolutely right about this, and that Evangelicals need to check their semiotics. For Christ is the center of the Christian life, the ultimate means of God’s communication with us, and he Himself is a sign, the Signifier of God, indeed, the Word of God, a physical and efficacious sign like the serpent of old. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

A conversation with God about my vocation

Hello God.

Hello Son.

I have a problem.

Go ahead.

I don’t think I can be a linguist.

Hm. I thought you liked linguistics.

Yes, I do, but I think I have to give it up.

Why is that?

Well, I’m not sure it matters. It’s not ultimately important. I want to live my life for what really matters most. I don’t want to waste my life, not a minute.

And what is it that matters most?

Your Kingdom, God. Your Kingdom is the only thing that is going to survive this life. Everything else will be burned up! I want to receive a reward for building into the eternal kingdom, not an earthly one. I want to construct my life around the pursuit of souls, not salary. You know, leave my nets and be a “fisher of men.”

Thank you! But, why does this mean you have to give up linguistics?

Linguistics is my version of Peter and James’ fishing. It’s an earthly occupation that I have to sacrifice in order to follow you with my whole life. I mean, I could still do it to pay the bills—maybe, it wouldn’t be the most efficient—but I should do it “as if I’m not doing it” like Paul says—my heart and focus should be on reaching the lost. It’s not like any research I do on language learning is going to be useful in heaven; the only thing that will matter is whether souls received your hand of grace or not.

What about what John Piper’s sermon said about how you can bring glory by working with excellence?

Funny you should mention that, I was just thinking about it.

I know.

Well, that means that I work so that people see my excellence and give you glory because they know I’m a Christian, right? And to really be a linguist, I mean a halfway decent one that I would feel proud of being, I would have to put a lot of energy and life into it just as a field in itself, maybe work that people wouldn’t notice or appreciate. We’re talking countless hours reading, theorizing, researching, writing, publishing. Lots of people are good at linguistics—I’m not a genious, and I’m not sure that every paper I write is going to make people go, “Whoah, you’re a genius, you must be inspired by God, tell me about your beliefs!”

So you’re not sure that people will necessarily adore me because they see your work ethic.

Right, I mean, it seems like a stretch. Lots of non-Christians are really good at their jobs. I know I can hold my own and earn respect but that’s about it.

Well, what about them? You can invite your colleagues to dinner and such. You know, develop relationships through your job and seek the Kingdom in those.

Yeah, that’s good. That’s good…

What is it? You seem hesitant.

What it comes down to is that I don’t just want my job to be a means to an external end. Whether at home or abroad I don’t want to work all day just “so that I can…” fill-in-the-blank, speak into the culture, meet people, show people that I’m a gloriously good worker, etc. It feels duplicitous. I actually want the work I’m doing—the work itself—to mean something. I don’t want to live a meaningless career in order to live meaningful weekends. I can’t give my heart into intellectual pursuits if I think it’s all for naught. I mean, there ARE jobs that are inherently meaningful, outside the church, right?

Indeed, some a great deal more meaningful than those inside it.

Okay, but are any of them meaningful apart from the fact that people notice their excellence or their faith in you?

Absolutely. Some of my favorite people have gone quite unnoticed.

Then how….oh wait, got it. You mean that when we do our work, we’re showing you we have faith by obeying and working hard and trying to abide in you while we do it. So it doesn’t really matter what I do as long as I do it in faith.

That’s right.

Let me get this straight. I do anything that I want, abiding in you, and it can be meaningful and have eternal value?

Yes.

Trash collector?

Yes.

Hermit?

Yes.

Accountant?

Yes.

Salesman??

…Yes.

God I thought I had you with salesman. Okay, fine…so when you say “eternal value” you mean that these jobs are means that can help turn our hearts to you and in that sense, as physical means to spiritual ends, they have eternal value. But nothing of the job itself is valuable.

Who told you that?

Um…you?

I don’t recall saying that. But I do remember that I gave your father Adam the command to fill the earth and subdue it. I told him and his descendants to participate in the making and ruling of the physical world.

But this earth is passing away…

Do you think you alone will be redeemed? The earth also is groaning for redemption. And it’s waiting on you. I am redeeming it through you—you are made in my image to be kings of the earth and to exercise my kingdom over creation, physical and all. Art, music, literature, science, technology, exploration, agriculture, industry, education—these are all ways that you reign as free men, stewards, lords, saviors of the physical world. Of all my creation man alone is both spirit and flesh.

Wow, okay…but…being an accountant might help you bring order to the universe but it can’t be eternal. No one is going to be an accountant in heaven. It’s still not eternal like a soul. There’s no “phonetic analysis of English speakers” in heaven that my research will contribute to.

Who told you that?

Wait! Are you saying there is linguistics in heaven?

There is linguistics that would make earthly linguistics seem like 2nd grade sentence diagraming.

How is that possible? We will speak in the tongues of men and angels and all that.

It is not possible for you to understand heavenly sciences right now. Your brain would explode, Son. But just ponder the concept of angelic linguistics for a second.

What about accountants? Surely there’s no moneychanging in heaven.

There’s something of which the accounting you’re referring to is but a premonition.

So, how does the linguistics I do on earth end up in heaven? I mean how can my feeble work contribute if there’s already “angelic linguistics”?

It happens in ways you cannot imagine. But trust me, the essence of every work and object that you do will have its existence there. You can say I am one of those parents who puts all of their children’s art on the fridge, and it ends up getting framed later and becoming a really valuable heirloom years later.

That’s like some kind of Egyptian burying-your-gold-so-you-can-take-it-with-you nonsense.

*Sigh.* You moderns are so convinced you know better than the ancients. Well, let’s just say that the Egyptians were onto something but they lacked my truth and power and ended up with a lame imitation.

Okay, wow, really cool—I’ll have to think about that more. But, there’s still something bothering me. You commanded us to make disciples, to be your ambassadors, right? I mean, as much as everything we do day to day might be important, that is the most important because you commanded us to go to the nations and evangelize. “No Plan B” right?—WE are the means you have chosen to reach the world. If we don’t evangelize people will die in their sins. “How can they believe unless someone preaches to them?” You can’t tell me that our reaching the world for Christ—human souls—is not more important than doing other things that glorify you. You love man most of all your creation.

Well, he is the crown jewel of my creation.

Exactly.

But I think you are confused about something.

What?

Well, I did command you to make disciples of all the nations, and I meant it. But it sounds like you are taking responsibility for making it happen.

Well, yeah, God. We’re ambassadors. We’ve got to work on your behalf. We represent you. That’s how you set it up. The way you’ve designed it, we’ve been tasked with preparing the way for your spirit’s work. So we have a responsibility to do that work.

The way you’re describing it, I’m in heaven, and you’re on earth, doing the work.

Well, in the power of your spirit, yes. Your spirit functions through us.

True, but you’re forgetting the other side of the coin. You function through my spirit. In other words, it is my spirit that stirs and acts in you. It’s not your responsibility, it’s mine.

Wait, God, are you taking sides on the whole faith vs. works issue here?

It’s not a question of faith vs. works. It is works of faith. Works of faith are works done by those who work to live out my commands, while also accepting the truth that all of their ability to do so comes from me. My spirit is a power entirely alien to the human soul. It blows where it wishes; you are not responsible for its causes, nor its results. You can only receive and rejoice.

That seems paradoxical. Obey your commands but accept no responsibility?

It is paradoxical. I love paradoxes. Think of it this way: destiny. How many great stories have a hero who has some sort of mysterious destiny?

Quite a lot, actually.

That’s because it’s a real thing. Destiny is when the protagonist has a mission that he must pursue by the sweat of his brow but there’s something greater than him that’s moving him toward it all along. When I command you to make disciples, I’m not so much trying to convey marching orders as to show you your destiny. I never meant for you to take it and run with it. I was trying to say that you would do great things by me, not that you should do great things for me, as if I were sitting up here in heaven waiting for you to fetch the stick and drop it at my feet. My spirit is alive in you, the lamp of your soul going everywhere you go. He will bring about every good work I have intended you to do.

I don’t know, God. When you gave us the command to make disciples of the world it sounded like you were giving us a responsibility to me. I mean, “You shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria and even to the ends of the earth…”

“…When the Holy Spirit comes upon you.”

“Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations…”

“…and lo I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

You said, “As the father sent me I am sending you.”

And it was then I breathed on the apostles and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Oh my God, I think you’re right.

I do know the book pretty well.

Well, what about all the great heroes of the faith who have been so sold-out and burdened for the lost and have gone to great lengths for you?

If I wanted them to go to the nations, what is it to you? It was my Spirit that raised them up, and my spirit will raise you up to the things I have planned for you. Don’t compare. I have plenty of great things in store for you, just wait. Don’t worry about being great, just be mine.

It does kind of take the guilt and pressure out of it. I’ll admit I’ve had some.

You are free to pursue every good work, including reaching out to others, with all your might—without the pressure to perform. Trust me, I’ve got this. I’ve got YOU.

Well, *phew*, that’s actually…really relieving, God. Thanks.

You’re welcome.

Okay, so if you’ve “got this” then…well what job do I do? What am I supposed to do? I’ve been focused on that directive for so long.

That’s up to you.

You mean I just do whatever I want?

If you’re abiding in me, yes. Well, almost. I think “drug dealer” is out.

How do I choose?

Pick the one you have the most joy in.

Why joy?

Well, you are free. Joy is the motivation of free people.

How do I know which one I have the most joy in?

Haha, I can’t tell you that. Well, I could, but it’s much better if you figure it out. You’ve got to learn to know yourself. Go crazy, follow your heart! I love to see you happy and fully alive.

Gosh, there’s so much possibility now.

Really does open the world up, doesn’t it?

Hmm.

Go ahead, think for a minute.

God?

Yes, Son?

I think I want to be a linguist.

I am who I am

In semantics theory, nouns are defined essentially as things that, when you add a predicate [event or attribute] to them, make a statement with truth value [are either true or false]. For example, “Bob” is something that needs a predicate like “breathes”, and when you put them together, “Bob breathes” should be true or false for a given model of the world.

Paradoxically, verbs are no more seminal. They are defined as things that, when you add a noun [entity] to them, make a statement with truth value. “Breathes” needs a noun to make the statement “Bob breathes.”

One of the beautiful things about God’s name YHWH, “I am that/who I am”, is that it is a paradoxical loop. The subject is defined by the predicate, and the predicate is defined by the subject. God seems to say, “You want me to define myself? My being itself is a statement.” He is the one thing that doesn’t need something else to be true. To have truth value, every entity needs a predicate, every predicate needs to have an entity as its subject. But God is both: He Himself is true. That is so beautifully and mysteriously evident in The Name.

There is no subject about which God can predicate, no thing that he describes, nothing outside of himself. He is not bound by any external concept. Similarly, no predicate can comprehend and define God the Subject. The only way to describe God is Himself. “God is love” (1 John) does not mean that love delimits or defines God, but that God is God, and love is a part of God. God defines love.

He defines everything, in fact. See, everything else in the world is either subject or predicate, swirling around in a circus of dependent definitions. When I want to know what some new thing is, I will look it up in Wikipedia or the Dictionary. When I want to know what God is, I must sit in holy silence, “be still and know that He is.” He is the root of all being, the paradox, the first mover, the uncaused cause, the self-defining entity. I AM WHO I AM. There is no more awesome name, none worthy of greater awe and worship. Hallelujah: Praise be to YHWH.

Authority and the origin of names

I wrote a paper a while back in my Theories of Language class that I dug up today. The topic still gives me a sense of awe at the power of language. Language is perhaps the greatest privilege of being human, and the most remarkable way that we are made in the image of God. There’s something mysteriously glorious and significant about our ability to communicate through language. If you’re feeling nerdy, here’s my paper. You can also see it in PDF form here.

The Locus of Name Origination as Ultimate Authority

Language is a crucial part of us. It helps us put handles on our perceptions, enables communication with others, and builds communities and cultures. As language is such an integral part of our reality, what we believe about language is a part of our explanatory framework—the way we make sense of things—our worldview.

This holds true for the ancients. Their worldviews, which have helped shape the modern world, are informed by their views on the origin of language. The Authors of the Bible, Plato, and Jean Jacques Rousseau all ascribe an origin to language, or in its most rudimentary form, simply “names.” We will find that in their writings, the things the authors identify as the origin of names strongly resemble the things they believe to hold ultimate authority. In fact, I will suggest that there is a synonymy between name-making and power.

The Bible

            Let us first consider the Bible, comparing naming ability and authority according to its perspective. As God creates the world in Genesis 1, he names his creation. “God called the light day, and the darkness he called night” (Genesis 1:5). He also defines the names for heaven (1:8), and earth and sea (1:10). There is no mention of God specifically naming living creatures. Then God delegates naming to man. He brings the animals (and subsequently Eve) to Adam, and he names them.

Compare this with the biblical extent of human authority. God bids man to “rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (1:28). These things over which God has given Adam power, he allows him to name shortly thereafter. However, God retains authority over the things He named, i.e. the heavens and earth themselves. “To the LORD your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it” (Deuteronomy 10:14). The Bible says that naming began with God and was partially apportioned to man. This is in clear parallel to the division of authority we see evidenced here (which is concordant with normal Christian theology), that God rules over creation, but has also entrusted rule of the earth to man as a steward.

Plato

In Cratylus, Plato concludes that there is a truth to names (Cratylus, p. 429, line 391).  He says that he who gives names is the “legislator, who of all skilled artisans in the world is the rarest” (p. 427, line 389). This legislator is he who is able to discern the true form of something and express it in letters and syllables (p. 429, line 389). When his discourse turns to Cratylus, Plato reiterates his position saying that naming is an art, of which legislators are the artisans, whose skill is judged by their giving names that reflect reality. The wise man who is able to discern the natural form and essence of something and describe it is he who has the right to give names.

In Plato’s Republic, he ranks the “philosopher king” as the ideal leader of society. Power ought to rest in the hands of the discerning and wise, who can be trusted. This corresponds well to Plato’s concept of the wise and discerning linguistic legislator. Again, here is a parallel between the prescribed roles of the authority-holder and the name-giver—Plato gives the right to name to the philosopher, who is also his favored trustee of authority.

Rousseau

Jean Jacques Rousseau claims that names had their nascence in natural man. Names evolved slowly from animal utterances before they grew by common consent. They began in the bosom of nature, as the savage man freely responded to its impulses. “The first language of mankind…was the simple cry of nature” (A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, p. 60). Furthermore, names were the convention of man, not reflective of a higher truth, “owing their original institution to merely human means” (p. 63). Therefore, original man and his mother nature were the origins of names.

Consider Rousseau’s views on where authority lies (or ought to). He is a staunch humanist. Man in his natural state is good. Man in modern society is corrupt, artificial, enervated of strength and courage, and degenerate (p. 52). The savage man is free from wants, carries his robust body “whole and entire,” and is innocent and at peace (p. 48-9). Thus, he upon whom Rousseau bestows authority to rule man, is man himself, in the state of nature. Social conventions are in rebellion against this proper order. The parallel continues—by Rousseau “man in the state of nature” is both the true guide of society and the originator of names.

Conclusion

The worldviews of these ancient writers clearly appear in their treatment of the origin of names. The Bible says that names started with God, who has ultimate authority, and were passed down to man. Plato says that the philosopher-legislator makes names as he discerns true forms, by virtue of the authority afforded to him by his intelligence. Rousseau says that names evolved from original man, who is himself the ultimate authority. The golden thread is this: whomever you see as the source of names, the one who first called things what they are, that is the person you also see as the continuing authority that has the right to determine reality. Gold is well and good, but in truth, he who has the names makes the rules.


 

Future tense and good intentions

The basic form of the future tense in English is [will + verb], as in I will rake my neighbor’s leaves. Interestingly, this modal is homograph and homophone for will (n.): determined intention, or the act of asserting a choice, and will (v.): to exercise the act of volition in attempt to accomplish something. I bet that at some distant point in the past, intention and futurity were commingled in this word.

The other form of the future tense in English is [be going to + verb], as in I am going to rake my neighbor’s leaves. Interestingly, this has the syntactic form of a present progressive tense, as in I am typing a blog post, occurring on the verb go (to travel or move toward a destination), followed by an infinitive. The progressive expresses a current state of ongoing action or process, and the infinitive is a truncated verb phrase that is always used to talk about uncompleted future goals or targets. Therefore, we can say that the second form of the future tense could be interpreted as “being in a current state of process of going towards a yet-unrealized future goal.”

I think it is no coincidence that our two ways of expressing future tense are intention and targeted movement. We obviously cannot make declarative facts about the future because we cannot know what will happen. What we can do is make statements of intention (will) or prediction based on extrapolations from the present (be going to).

My question is, can one of the forms expression be true without the other? Will you rake your neighbor’s leaves if you are not going to rake your neighbor’s leaves? Semantically, it’s a contradiction.

And yet I let this contradiction slip into my life all the time. My grammar betrays the difference between my alleged intentions and my real priorities. I say I will do this or that, but I don’t make any motion towards the goal.

“I will spend more time in prayer with God.”

“I will reach out to that lost friend.”

“I will invite them over for dinner.”

Oh God, give me the strength of mind to unite my will and the motion of my hands and feet, even as I write this. Let me show the sincerity of my resolutions by the immediacy of their visible effects in my life. Let my future intentions be present tense.

“Elohim” as an intensive singular

In Psalm 63:1 we find evidence that Elohim – the word used in Genesis – does not necessarily mean plural, although it is often used to refer to “gods”. It can also be an intensive form of the singular. Here’s how the verse reads in English:

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (ESV)

This sounds redundant. God, you are my God. Duh. But consider the Hebrew.

מִזְמֹור לְדָוִד בִּהְיֹותֹו בְּמִדְבַּר יְהוּדָֽה׃ אֱלֹהִים אֵלִי אַתָּה אֲֽשַׁחֲרֶךָּ צָמְאָה לְךָ נַפְשִׁי כָּמַהּ לְךָ בְשָׂרִי בְּאֶֽרֶץ־צִיָּה וְעָיֵף בְּלִי־מָֽיִם׃

No, I didn’t expect you to read this, but it says “O Elohim, you are my El.” So David is addressing God and then declaring him his personal God, as an act of trust and allegiance. But it does not seem logical (and no one suggests) that David is addressing a pantheon and then homogenizing them into a single entity. “O Gods, you are my god.” So clearly, this context reveals that Elohim can be used as an intensive or augmenting form of the singular name for God, perhaps because of an attitude of reverence. This concordance of the Biblical usage of the word shows more detail.

This means liberal theologians have a hard time indicating that the earliest writers of the Bible were polytheists. It also means that Christians might be a little too hopeful when saying that the use of the word Elohim is by itself a clear evidence for the trinity in the Old Testament. There are many other evidences, but we should emphasize ones that are less questionable.