Real and Symbolic

I have a couple of bills, in my pocket, you know, U.S. currency. I now take out the five-dollar bill and lay it flat on my desk. It stands for the value of five dollars. People have agreed to attach that value to it. It literally has minuscule value: it is just a little bit of physical material, a cloth-like paper, some ink. Maybe the trouble and energy to manufacture that little note is there too. I don’t know what its physical, or material value is, I only know the value people agree officially to attached to it, and that is five bucks. Because of this, I can trade it for stuff. I could get some item or another at Starbucks with it, a small and simple item. I could not print out this essay, even if I put the symbol, $5, on it and sketch the face of Abraham Lincoln, or the Lincoln Memorial on it and trade it for anything. That is because society attaches the worth of five dollars to the official note, but not to a printed copy of this reflection. Both “speak to” the value, but only one conveys it to anyone who holds it.

In storytelling, all the words are symbols. Many words are symbols pointing to nothing real and actual but are useful to the story. Many words point to entirely real things. I can create a story about a fierce, destructive dragon defeated by the heroine of the village. It might be a tale that conveyed profound truths about the struggles of life, and people will take those lessons even though none of us will ever meet a dragon the whole of our lives. Some components in a story have symbolic import and also point to things that are real, or maybe literally real.

Here is where I am going with this: there is something in the Collect of the Day, and the Epistle lesson coming up soon in our worship that has an aspect of both the symbolic and the real. The letter in the New Testament called The Second Letter of Paul to the Thessalonians has a passage referring to the delay of the Lord’s return. Paul does not want any to be deceived, thinking the Lord Jesus has already returned. In this part, he mentions a rebellion that will come first, in which a destructive, lawless figure will come on the scene:

Let no one deceive you in any way; for that day will not come unless the rebellion comes first and the lawless one is revealed, the one destined for destruction. He opposes and exalts himself above every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, declaring himself to be God. Do you not remember that I told you these things when I was still with you? (2 Thessalonians 2:3-5)

Satan is not named, but is certainly implied: one who opposes God, even declares himself to be God. This reference has, it would seem, valuable figurative quality in our sense of life struggles, but Paul is speaking about an actual figure with whom the followers of Christ have to contend. Discussions among ourselves about the nature and implications of the devil find various conclusions. Some think of the devil only in symbolic terms.

The church does not leave it there. When we read the Gospels, we see Jesus tempted by Satan in the wilderness. He declares in his farewell discourse with his disciples, in John’s Gospel, that the Prince of this world will stand condemned. We begin the rite of baptism with the candidates renouncing Satan and all the forces of wickedness that rebel against God; renouncing the evil powers of this world; renouncing the sinful desires that draw us from the love of God. Away from this evil we turn to Jesus Christ to accept, trust and follow him. The devil may be a symbolic figure, but also, for the Christian, a real force of wickedness to renounce.

Let’s take a look at the language and implications of the Collect (Proper 27) in the final weeks before Advent begins:

O God, whose blessed Son came into the world that he might destroy the works of the devil and make us children of God and heirs of eternal life: Grant that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves as he is pure; that, when he comes again with power and great glory, we may be made like him in his eternal and glorious kingdom. Amen.

The work of Jesus, the Son of God results in the destruction of the devil’s work. This allows us to be made children of God. The work of the Savior allows us to enter a sanctification process, coming more and more to be made pure. The hope, in the end, is that we are made wholly Christlike. The tension between the devil’s work of evil upon us, and the saving work of Christ affecting you is not figurative language, it is symbolic language pointing to a very real, process: our purification and transformation. We are like we are now, but because of Christ, we are coming to be made like him.