Sacraments.
Note: See further: The Historical Understanding of: Signs, Types, Figures, Images, Sacraments, etc.
C. S. Lewis:
It is of some importance to notice that the word symbolism is not adequate in all cases to cover the relation between the higher medium and its transposition in the lower. It covers some cases perfectly, but not others. Thus the relation between speech and writing is one of symbolism. The written characters exist solely for the eye, the spoken words solely for the ear. There is complete discontinuity between them. They are not like one another, nor does the one cause the other to be. The one is simply a sign of the other and signifies it by a convention. But a picture is not related to the visible world in just that way. Pictures are part of the visible world themselves and represent it only by being part of it. Their visibility has the same source as its. The suns and lamps in pictures seem to shine only because real suns or lamps shine on them: that is, they seem to shine a great deal because they really shine a little in reflecting their archetypes. The sunlight in a picture is therefore not related to real sunlight simply as written words are to spoken. It is a sign, but also something more than a sign: and only a sign because it is also more than a sign, because in it the thing signified is really in a certain mode present. If I had to name the relation I should call it not symbolical but sacramental.
(C. S. Lewis, “Transposition”; In: C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory: And Other Addresses, [Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1979], pp. 23-24.)
Stephen S. Smalley:
In any case, the importance of symbolism to John cannot be doubted. He uses his own symbols in his own way; and he uses them to express and illuminate his particular theological understanding. But John does not stop with the symbolic; he also thinks in terms of the ‘sacramental’. The difference between these two concepts is important. A symbol, within the Christian context, evokes and represents that which is spiritual and divine; whereas a sacrament actually conveys, through the material elements involved, what is spiritual and divine. For example, when Jesus says, ‘whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst’ (Jn 4:14), this may be described as a symbol of the life-giving power available to the believer through the living Christ. But when Jesus says, ‘I am the resurrection’ (Jn 11:25), and demonstrates this both by raising Lazarus from the dead, and by being himself raised from the tomb, this may be described as a part of the sacramental dimension to John’s Gospel.
…If we say, as we are doing, that John is a sacramentalist, this does not mean that he is concerned only about the two Sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist Rather, he is concerned more generally about ‘the sacramental’ — the fact that since the incarnation there can be a new dimension to life, and that as in the time of Jesus, so now, the spirit can give life to matter in a qualitatively new way. John focuses this understanding in the miracles of Jesus which he selects for our consideration, and which he treats sacramentally in association with the discourses. Symbolism is still involved, of course, in John’s over-all sacramental thought; so that when Jesus speaks of ‘eating the flesh of the Son of man and drinking his blood’, for example, we must assume (unless an exegesis is followed in this passage which interprets these words in terms of eucharistic transubstantiation) that he is using a symbol. However, the symbolic and the sacramental are obviously inter-related. But whereas the sacramental in John is always symbolic, not every symbol is sacramental.
(Stephen S. Smalley, John: Evangelist and Interpreter, [London: Paternoster Press, 1992], pp. 207, 208-209.)
Note: It should be observed that—at least in some limited sense—all symbols are sacramental.
Note: In Patristic literature the concepts are often used interchangeably.
E.g. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo (c. 354-430 A.D.):
The sacraments [sacramenta] are things in which, not what they are, but what they show, is always attended to, since signs [signa] exist as one thing and signify another.
(S. Augustini, Contra Maximinum Arianorum Episcopum, Liber Secundus (II), Caput XXII, §. 3; PL, 42:794; trans. Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology: Volume Three, trans. George M. Giger, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr., [Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1997], 19.3.2, p. 345. Cf. WSA, I/18:307.)
Note: See further: “The Historical Understanding of Sacraments” and “The Historical Understanding of Signs”.
Cf. Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
…a symbol (ὁ ἔστιν ἀεὶ ταυτηγόρικον) is characterized by a translucence of the special in the individual, or of the general in the special, or of the universal in the general; above all by the translucence of the eternal through and in the temporal. It always partakes of the reality which it renders intelligible; and while it enunciates the whole, abides itself as a living part in that unity of which it is the representative.
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: In Seven Volumes: Vol. I, ed. Professor Shedd, [New York: Harper & Brothers, 1854], The Statesman’s Manual, “A Lay Sermon,” pp. 437-438.)
C. J. Wright:
The sacramental principle, in the truest sense of that much-abused phrase, pervades this whole Gospel. To the author, the visible is ever the medium of the invisible—for those who have eyes to see. No one has seen God at any time, but Jesus, the Word has declared Him—to those who have ears to hear. Everywhere in the Gospel there is this emphasis; and all human experience corroborates it. The physical is sacramental of the spiritual, but on spiritual conditions. The external will touch the spirit, but only through the spirit. The material will reach the centre of man’s spiritual being, but never of itself. Always and everywhere there is the condition of faith, of insight, of obedience. Without one’s five senses physical contacts mean nothing, and convey nothing. To a blind man a sunset is not sacramental. To a deaf man, a symphony is not sacramental—unless, like Beethoven, he has written it himself. Incense means nothing, conveys nothing, to one who has no sense of sight or of smell. The mind is reached through the body, but it is only in so far as the physical that is without can in some way speak to the consciousness that is within, that the outward can be sacramental. Nothing, in other words, is sacramental in and by itself. Grace is a spiritual gift, and requires spiritual conditions for its reception. If it were otherwise, both the Giver and the Gift were degraded—as also the receiver.
The sacramental principle, so understood, dominates this passage. What is this ‘flesh’ of Jesus which is given to man to eat? What this ‘blood’ of Jesus, without which His hearers have no light in themselves? There is, without doubt, a eucharistic reference. But what does the reference mean? For ourselves, we agree with the late F. D. Maurice who said, speaking of this passage: ‘If you ask me, then, whether he is speaking of the Eucharist here, I should say, “No.” If you ask me where I can learn the meaning of the eucharist, I should say, “Nowhere so well as here.”’
…What the Evangelist is seeking to do here is to express, in the vivid, realistic language that was becoming hallowed in the Church, the truth that the historic Jesus is the mediator—and supremely in His death—of that Divine sustenance required by the spirit of man if he is to know eternal life. When the author says ‘flesh’ and ‘blood,’ he no more means the physical realities which these denote than when he says that Jesus is ‘light,’ or ‘door,’ or ‘vine,’ or ‘bread’ or ‘water.’ The ‘flesh and blood’ represent in vivid, realistic manner Jesus Himself in His essential, and human, spirit of unique faith and of perfect obedience—which faith and obedience were supremely manifest in the Cross. There He gave His ‘flesh’ and ‘blood’; that is, there He dedicated His whole human self to God and to His fellows. To eat His flesh and to drink His blood is, therefore, to partake of His essential spirit: it is to ‘abide in him,’ and to have Him abiding in us (v. 56). This figure of ‘abiding’ in Him, and He in us, and He Himself in God, is found frequently in the later chapters of the Gospel, where it means what it here means. It signifies identification in moral and spiritual purpose. It is not something physical, or temporal, or local; it is unique something spiritual and eternal. Ignatius had understood this language when he wrote: ‘Do ye therefore arm yourselves with gentleness and be renewed in faith, which is the flesh of the Lord, and in love, which is the blood of Jesus Christ.’ Elsewhere the same Ignatius said that the Gospel is ‘the flesh of Jesus.’ Augustine in his moments of insight had seen this as when he said, in words which might have been spoken by the author of this Gospel: ‘Crede et manducasti,’ ‘believe, and thou hast eaten.’
(C. J. Wright, “Jesus: The Revelation of God;” In: The Mission and Message of Jesus: An Exposition of the Gospels in the Light of Modern Research, [New York, E. P. Dutton and Co., Inc., 1938], pp. 775-776, 776.)
Signs.
Ben Witherington III:
The dialogue with the crowd begins with a question about the time of Jesus’ arrival in Capernaum. Jesus does not respond to their spoken question, but rather to what he knows is on their heart: “You are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” Jesus is pursued as the ultimate provider of a free lunch! In other words, the reason for pursuing him was purely material and selfish; there was no altruism or spiritual seeking really involved. Apparently they hadn’t even discerned that Jesus was performing symbolic acts that pointed to a larger reality and meaning than mere physical sustenance. Since Jesus did, after all, perform the miracle of the e loaves and fish, it is not as if he is despising physical things or food, but rather that he wishes to use them to point to a food that is more sustaining, crucial, indeed, a food that endures to eternal life. The two-level discussion once more comes into play, but Jesus is portrayed as being willing to provide both physical and spiritual food, not just the latter. It is not, then, very helpful to talk about the Johannine Christ as being purely interested in spiritual things, nor is it helpful to simply call this the “spiritual” Gospel, not the least reason being because it is the Gospel that most clearly focuses on the incarnation. Rather the physical is meant to be seen as an icon of the spiritual, a window on a larger truth, a means to a greater end. No doubt this is a difficult lesson to learn for poor and hungry people who do not know the source of their next meal.
(Ben Witherington III, John’s Wisdom: A Commentary on the Fourth Gospel, [Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995], p. 155.)
Symbols.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
…a symbol (ὁ ἔστιν ἀεὶ ταυτηγόρικον) is characterized by a translucence of the special in the individual, or of the general in the special, or of the universal in the general; above all by the translucence of the eternal through and in the temporal. It always partakes of the reality which it renders intelligible; and while it enunciates the whole, abides itself as a living part in that unity of which it is the representative.
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: In Seven Volumes: Vol. I, ed. Professor Shedd, [New York: Harper & Brothers, 1854], The Statesman’s Manual, “A Lay Sermon,” pp. 437-438.)
John Granger:
A symbol is a transparency of a referent or reality greater than earthly reality and being: a transparency through which we can look or, by which some quality or grace of that referent, can enter the world and the minds and hearts of readers.
(John Granger, The Deathly Hallows Lectures, [Zossima Press, 2008], p. 29.)John Granger:
Symbols, rather than analogies for other earthly events, are transparencies through which we see greater realities than we can see on earth (see 1 Corinthians 13:12 and 2 Corinthians 3:18). The ocean as it stretches to the distant horizon is a symbol of the infinite power and breadth of the spiritual reality human beings call God. In seeing the one, we can sense the other. The ocean as a body of water has no power in itself to stir the heart; it’s just an oversized bathtub. But as a symbol of God, a way of seeing the unseeable, it can take our breath away or bring tears to our eyes.
Symbols are windows, too, through which otherworldly realities (powers, graces, and qualities) intrude into the world. As Lings wrote, this is the traditional understanding of Creation—that all earthly things and events testify to “the invisible things of him from the creation of the world” (Romans 1:20, KJV). This testimony includes the power of natural beauty and grandeur (think of mountain ranges, a field of flowers, or a lion on the savanna). It also includes sacred art, architecture, and liturgy, which are by definition symbolic in their portrayal of greater than earthly realities.
Christ, of course, speaks in story symbols, too, through his parables. He knows we cannot understand the truth as it exists, so he wraps these truths in edifying stories or windows we can look through in order to experience some likeness of truth. “These things have I spoken unto you in proverbs: but the time cometh, when I shall no more speak unto you in proverbs, but I shall shew you plainly of the Father” (John 16:25, KJV). Until we see things “face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12), though, we have symbols to understand ourselves and Creation.
The great revealed traditions teach that man, as an image and likeness of God, is a living symbol—both in the sense of transparency through which we look and of an opening through which God enters the world. Mankind is created in the image of God so that the world will reverence the God who cannot be seen (see 1 John 4:20 and the sequence of the Great Commandments in Mark 12:30-31). Humanity also is designed to be a vehicle of God’s grace, power, and love intruding into the world of time and space. The tragedy of man’s “fall” is that, because most people no longer believe they are symbols of God, shaped in his likeness, it is more difficult to see God in our neighbor, and the world is often denied access to God through his chosen vessels.
We are still moved, however, by the symbols in nature and the symbols that we experience in story form. This is the power of myth: that we can experience invisible spiritual realities and truths greater than visible, material things in story form.
(John Granger, How Harry Cast His Spell: The Meaning Behind the Mania for J. K. Rowling’s Bestselling Books: Third Edition, [Carol Stream: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2008], pp. 93-94.)
Titus Burckhardt:
Symbolism indeed can best be described as the visible reflection of ideas or prototypes that cannot be fully expressed in purely conceptual terms. In this sense, St. Paul says: ‘For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.’ (1 Cor. 13;12.)
(Titus Burckhardt, “The Symbolism of the Mirror”; In: Titus Burckhardt, Mirror of the Intellect: Essays on Traditional Science & Sacred Art, trans. William Stoddart, [Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987], p. 118.)
Martin Lings:
Since nothing can exist except in virtue of its Divine root, does that mean that everything is a symbol? The answer is yes and no—yes for the reason just given, and no because ‘symbol’ means ‘sign’ or ‘token’, which implies an operative power to call something to mind, namely its Archetype. In the light of the initially quoted verse Nor is there anything but glorifieth Him with praise, we could say that whether this or that can rightly be called symbolic depends on whether its ‘praise’ is powerful or faint. The word symbol is normally reserved for that which is particularly impressive in its ‘glorification’.
(Martin Lings, Symbol & Archetype: A Study of the Meaning of Existence, [Cambridge: Quinta Essentia, 1997], p. 6.)The Phenomenal and Noumenal Realms.
Immanuel Kant:
Appearances, so far as they are thought as objects according to the unity of the categories, are called phaenomena. But if I postulate things which are mere objects of understanding, and which, nevertheless, can be given as such to an intuition, although not to one that is sensible—given therefore coram intuitu intellectuali—such things would be entitled noumena (intelligibilia). . . . the division of objects into phaenomena and noumena, and so of the world into a world of the senses and a world of the understanding (mundus sensibilis et intelligibilis)...
(Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith, [London: Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1929], A 249, pp. 265-266, 266.)καὶ αὐτός ἐστιν πρὸ πάντων καὶ τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν ~ Soli Deo Gloria
