We took our annual family vacation to God’s country, the hills of northern lower Michigan. We were able to park at 26 Pines (named by me for the number of said conifers ranging the half-acre around the cottage) and just drink in the silence. Not enough days, but there rarely are. Too many balls in the air at home re: work, children’s activities, and the pets can only supervise themselves so much.
Still, just a couple more days…?
You take what you can get, and you look enviously at claims regarding the days off available to medieval Western European peasantry and/or start a clock for your retirement qualifying date (seven years, one month, two days).
At the end of the day, we got away from phone calls and the cycle of bill notices, and I was able to help my parents with some heavier tasks they shouldn’t have to burden themselves with. And a pleasant discovery from painting the inside of a wooden door that desperately needed it: interior paint fumes aren’t as obnoxious as they used to be. I still wore the charcoal mask, but it wasn’t hanging in the air when it was dried. It needed a third coat—wood can be thirsty that way—but it looked a lot better.
All that’s to say that I don’t have a big thing in the hopper as the remnants of Beryl visit the Great Lakes State this Wednesday. But I thought I’d give a previous Note a bit more traction and a picture of the book it came from.
So I asked about this kind of tabernacle found in Melkite churches back in the old homelands of Syria and Lebanon.
Why is it suspended by chains?
The tabernacle guesses are pretty good, and the reference to it as a dove clearly refers to the Holy Spirit and reminds the Faithful of the Epiclesis that is part of every Divine Liturgy. As I said, good guesses.
[The lack of an explicit, separate epiclesis does not render a liturgy invalid, as the great Nicholas Cabasilas argued centuries ago, defending the older Latin liturgy. I feel the need to say that, for some reason.]
However, the key to the answer I am looking for is the supporting chains attached to the wings of the tabernacle.
You see, the chains allowed for rapid raising of the tabernacle and the Body inside it into the canopy above the altar.
Why? The ever-looming threat of a pogrom. As can be imagined, when persecution of Christians of the Eastern Mediterranean flared up, the Churches were the first targets. They were despoiled of the Eastern equivalents of chalices, patens (diskos), vestments, the poor box, etc. Including the tabernacles. The rest could be replaced over time, but what was in the tabernacle was beyond price and invariably desecrated.
To prevent this, the dove-shaped tabernacle was fashioned. When the first roar of the mob was heard, the tabernacle was raised to the canopy where it fitted so well it could not be seen. The mobs would break in, wreak havoc, grab the visible loot and run. But the true treasure would be safe.
So there is the reason. And it's also the same reason why Melkite churches—even in the New World—still have entrance doors that are too low for men on horseback to enter while riding.
Every second counts.
If you needed a perspective check before going to worship in North America or other comparatively-placid parts of the world today, there you go.
For those interested, the picture comes from the invaluable Introduction to Liturgical Services and Their Symbolism in the Eastern Church by Melkite Patriarch Emeritus Gregorios III Laham. Everything by him that has been translated into English is worth your time, and this is the perfect introduction to the nuts and bolts of Eastern liturgical life. At $20 American and well-illustrated, it is worth every penny and then some.
I feel you on the Retirement Countdown Clock: 2 years, 11 months, and 29 days on mine.
Cool info about the tabernacle. Thanks!
"you look enviously at claims regarding the days off available to medieval Western European peasantry"
Yeah I never believe those. Why? Because Christmas is pretty much THE day off, even for Protestants and one thing I repeatedly remember every year, for many years was that after we had gathered for breakfast and some presents, some of my family would have leave early "because there was milking to be done" and cows don't care about holy days.
And this was of course using modern methods and technology. I have heard from my family what it was like when the milking had to be done by hand.
So yeah, holy days the peasants might have worked less, but it wasn't a day off like we think of a day off unless something like the weather enforced it. And if animal husbandry is part of your duties, the weather doesn't give you much vacation either.