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When Professor Wolterstorff complains that my philological approach is guided more by "philosophical interests" than the "painstaking work of the lexicographer," I suspect it is not my interest in the origins of these words so much as the speculative use I make of them that concerns him. While I am not a lexicographer, I have taken care (if not pains) in treating these words as I have. A return to the etymological roots of theoria faces obvious challenges. As an historical reversion, it can seem hopelessly nostalgic. But while certain ancient practices are clearly irrelevant to our contemporary situation, questions raised by the forms of understanding embodied in those practices cannot be so easily dismissed. Questions like: How might contemplation "serve"? What can music "do"? In reality, I am not so much rejecting modern views (as Professor Wolterstorff takes Heideggerians to be doing) and replacing them with ancient ones as attempting to open a space for ways of thinking, and of understanding what we are doing, that certain aspects of modern culture tend to militate against. Consider the liturgical function of music. Is it just an "instrument" (a means to an end)? In thinking about it this way, we tend to relegate its inherent qualities as art to a secondary level of importance. If we say that it is an end in itself, this makes it sound (to modern ears) as if it is no longer serving God. But a different way of thinking is available to us—one that reveres God in the work. This is the way of thinking I propose in my lecture, using the language of recollection (and forgetting). In using this language I have in mind the (ancient) sense of anamnesis, which is not just a re-cognizing, or remembering across a distance, but is more like a re-enactment. This kind of knowing is still with us (the communion service, or celebration of the Eucharist, like the seder meal, is an exercise in anamnesis). This brings us to the substantial point about liturgy, and the gap that, in Professor Wolterstorff's mind, still separates "seeing " from speaking and hearing (and acting). Here I want to emphasize that I am not proposing a theory of liturgy. The strangeness of my title was meant to suggest that we could think differently about certain aspects of liturgy by first thinking about what it means to "theorize" and about the practical nature of contemplation. The question that primarily concerns me is not what liturgy as such is or does, but how the function of art in worship and liturgy could be better understood (and better realized). I wanted to show that it is possible for us to conceive of this function, not in purely instrumental terms, but in the Greek sense of ergon. What we stand to gain from this effort is a renewed appreciation of the importance, for liturgy, of beauty, wonder and awe. The extent to which this has been eclipsed by a concern with "accessibility" (among other things) is a matter for further discussion. (The eclipse of poetic and figurative language in liturgy itself, and especially in hymnody, is, I think, a symptom of this.) It is not an etymological coincidence that ergon is what puts the "urgy" in liturgy. Liturgy takes the form of service, but it can be understood neither as a mere production, nor as merely a product. Something can be an end-in-itself and still serve God. Music can function liturgically by being artful. Here is where I would question Professor Wolterstorff's distinction between the Greek preoccupation with "seeing" and the Hebrew-Christian preoccupation with speaking and listening. In theoria or in craft, as maker or beholder one does not "see" God face-to-face; one sees traces of God's work by participating in that work. Professor Wolterstorff himself speaks of theoria, or contemplative seeing, as "incorporating" acknowledgement of the worth of what is contemplated. While he may not have intended it this way, I tried to stress the full-fledged embodiment—the richly experiential nature—of this kind of seeing. Theoria is not just passive "looking." It involves all the senses, and is essentially active. |
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