The Ecclesiatical Hierarchy begins where The Celestial Hierarchy begins, but in a slightly abbriviated form. The heavenly hierarchy has already been examined, now the author moves on to the hierarchy of the church, or as he calls it “our hiearchy”. “Our Hierarchy,” he says, summarizing material from the previous work, “consists of an inspired, divine, and divinely worked understanding, activity, and perfection.” He then states that he will show this by means of the scriptures (195).
The author then reminds the reader that these things are not to be shown to those unintiated into “the mysteries” (195-196). It is unclear who exactly is inside or outside this group, at least from the contents of the first chapter. The insiders could be those inside the christian community, those who are ordained clergy (deacons, priests, bishops) ordained clergy and ascetics, just the bishops and priests, or some group of “enlightened” members of the community, lay or ordained.
Another possibility (raised in Jaroslav Pelikan’s introduction) is that Pseudo-Dionysius is possibly a member of a sect or movement now deemed heretical. His works were popular with Monophysites and Nestorians and associated with them very soon after the composition of the works, and even into the twentieth century (12-15). If he was a member of a sect or splinter group, the “initiated” could very well be the members of that sect.
At any rate, the author continues to reiterate points made in the previous book. The mind (nous?) of Jesus underlies all hierarchy and draws the celestial beings upward and through our desire for beauty and God’s agency “he pulls together all our many differences. He makes our life, disposition, and activity something one and divine, and he bestows on us the power appropriate to a sacred priesthood” (196).
The activity of the earthly hierarchy is an imitation of the activity of the heavenly hierarchy. When we approach (or participate in?) the activity of the hierarchy in the liturgy, we come closer to the heavenly beings and God, concecrating and perfecting us so that we may be consecrated and perfected . In turn, the hierarch (bishop) is the one who enlightens, perfects and deifies the other members of the hierarchy. He is enlightened directly by God (196-197).
The author the reiterates, through an allusion to a lost or fictious work of his, that the only way for humans to approach the divine is through perceptible symbols. The symbols and stories of scripture are perceptible symbols. But most importently for this book, the hierarchy itself and the work of the hierarchy in worship and the sacraments is itself a symbol lifting us up to God as much as we can (a point Pseudo-Dionysius belabors).
I remember when I started at seminary and took my first grad-level theology class. I volunteered to read a book by Jurgen Moltmann on the Trinity (I forget the title; it was the follow-up to his first, more controversial one). Shocked might be an overstatement, but I was surprised by what he did there, even though it my sound rather silly now.
I grew up (and was being educated) in a “Back to the Blessed Old Bible” Christian tradition. The Bible was the only valid source of theology, or so I thought. But Moltmann used the Trinity in ways I had never thought of. He used it as a source in itself. He used the it to talk about the nature of the church, he used the it to talk about how Christians should relate to the world and to creation.
I was comfortable uses the scriptures to show the Trinity, but I was made uneasy by attempts to move from the doctrine to other areas of theology and ethics. After having some time to think about it, I realized that if the Trinity is based in scripture, then anything based on the Trinity (properly constructed) would be “scriptural” as well.
But what is the relationship between the hierarchy, the liturgy and the Bible, or more broadly speaking, the inspired tradition? Does it matter that the liturgy and hierarchical structure of the church has varied over time and place? If it does, when did the church “get it right”? First century Judea? Sixth century Scotland? At the Council of Trent? Westminster Hall in the seventeenth century? If it doesn’t matter, isn’t that a slippery rock to climb on at the start of our ascent?
I don’t know the answers to those questions. Hopefully as I proceed I can be “enlightened” myself. Next week, chapter two, the rite of “illumination”, a.k.a. baptism.
