“The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1)
The preacher or homilist, the iconographer and the composer of church music have a common goal—to reveal the sacred mysteries of the Lord. This is what each of them does in his field, whether it be in words, in icons or in music. Obviously if they are not in touch with the Holy Spirit, if they are blind and dumb to the presence of the holy in creation, then it’s a mission impossible for them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean that they will not pretend to present the gospel to those who listen or gaze upon their efforts, but they will be missing the assigned tasks offered to them by Christ through His Church. All too many uninspired incompetents in these sacred disciplines abound in these times. And the salvation of God’s loved ones is at stake.
A homily is not a sermon, if by the latter we mean something the speaker invented and thought worthy of hearing. Some, indeed many, are able to captivate their audience, entertaining them and becoming famous in the process; nevertheless, if the listener is not changed by the experience, if he has not been illumined through the Holy Spirit to feel the presence of Jesus Christ within his or her heart, the sermon was not a homily and failed in its intention. The preacher must constantly be pointing to a target beyond this world and certainly further than himself. His voice and expressions are driven by his purpose; and that should always be Christ Jesus and His gospel.
An icon is not just a painting conveying a message or insight that the artist imposes on the viewer, but rather a vehicle that transports the observer backward and forward in time—back to the person or moment when transcendence overcame time and space, and forward towards union with the Lord who made it happen in God’s glorious Kingdom. If it doesn’t do this, it’s merely a painted board. If one cannot rise with the saint to the Kingdom but stops at the icon as a work of art, it’s not an icon. No iconographer is a creator, certainly not an innovator. Nothing of his personality should be reflected in his offering. He welcomes the strict tradition in which he labors, because only its discipline can give him freedom to express the transcendent glory of God.
If a hymn composed by a musician despite his reputation in the secular world as a great composer calls attention to itself, so that the listener is not wafted upwards by sound and text heavenward, and if the choir and conductor are intent on calling attention to themselves rather than focused on acting as catalysts of prayer, they have not understood their purpose in worship. Rarely does one hear a soloist stand out from the choir in true Orthodox Church liturgy, nor is the choir to be used as a background for one voice, because the goal of the whole choir is to elevate the congregation to a unity with the Almighty, not to call attention to a diva or male soloist.
We live in a civilization where authentic Orthodox Christian values are foreign to western Christians. It is not our purpose to judge worship as it is found in non-Orthodox churches, but we cannot avoid stating that the above goals are not necessarily theirs. Individualist renditions of hymns, soloists in the choir, and preachers in competition with one another for prominence may be the way worship is understood among some of our western Christian brothers and sisters, but it’s not the standards we set for ourselves. The medium is not the message; Christ is.
Orthodox Christian worship has one basic intention: Transcendence. Our purpose is to invade the secular world with the heavenly spirit. Everything that is part of our spirituality—architecture, music, art and worship—is dedicated to uniting the people of God with the Holy Trinity. To that extent one can measure the means we use by the manner in which that goal is being accomplished.