The Clash of Symbols

By Donald Phillipps in All Sorts

the author argues that symbols are much more important that we ever realise - that we need them, almost instinctively, to make sense of our lives.

THE CLASH OF SYMBOLS
Those strange people, from whom most of us pakeha
New Zealanders descend, the English, willingly stand in the rain of a typical English summer's day to watch an elderly couple drive by, sheltered from the elements in their splendid car. If I had been in London the other day I might well have joined them. That's the way I was brought up, too. When the King spoke to us on Christmas Day, and the National Anthem (the real one) was played, I remember that I stood to attention.
Someone I know, and hold in great affection, thinks of the monarchy as a rather ridiculous and costly burden on both our pockets and our credulity. We don't need such a thing - it's outdated, it's irrelevant, surely we've grown up by now!
Well, yes - and no. The negative has to do with that word 'irrelevant' because I happen to think that symbols are much more important that we ever realise - that we need them, almost instinctively, to make sense of our lives.
John's Gospel starts with these words: 'In the beginning was the Word....'. The Greek for 'word' is logos. We all know now what a logo is - sport or business or any form of human activity needs to have its logo - that's how it is to be identified. Symbols have to do with the way we want to identify ourselves.
They are so important, in fact, and so necessary, that we New Zealanders had to have a referendum to decide what our national symbol should be. And it was so important, in fact, that we couldn't agree that it was time for a change. If ever there were proof that humans, in their very essence, are symbol-makers it was that failed referendum earlier this year.
I invite you to look around, if you are reading this in church this morning. How many 'symbols' are there. Leave the cross aside for the moment. Candles, hymn-books, a familiar picture, some stained- glass, the design onthe carpet, the special chair, the pulpit, the embroidery, the shape of the window, the communion rail, the table, the collection-plate, the organ, the piano, and on and on. But what about the words we use - you only have to say "Our Father .....' and all the other words are there. You only have to sing the first line of a familiar hymn and all the words are there. If they're changed or different you notice. The people, your fellow-worshippers, are symbols, too - recalling family links, old friendships, sad times and crises. We need Sunday morning - and we need it for deeper reasons than we can say.
In a changing world - how trite that sounds - there are people who need reassurance, because they find it difficult to cope with too much change. I'd dare to suggest that that is true of virtually every single human being. And it is that yearning for a still point in a turning world that underlies the significance of the monarchy in 2016. At 90, the Queen has been there throughout the whole lives of most of her people - she is the symbol of reassurance. That's their choice.
If there isn't a live monarch, then what do you turn to when you think about your country's past and your country's future? It seems that in this small corner of the world we're not sure. When we look overseas that sense of uncertainty becomes overwhelming. What does the Stars and Stripes symbolise for the Republican, Donald Trump, and for the Democrat, Hilary Clinton. The differences seem irreconcilable. We don't want to be dragged into that argument, do we!
The great religions of the world have their principal symbols - the cross for Christianity, the Star of David for Judaism, and the Wheel of Dharma for Buddhism. Islam's ancient rejection of icons still stands, but the Star and Crescent means something in the Islamic world.
When we come to 'this familiar place' each Sunday, is it because we need reassurance. If that's all, then we've missed the point of the Gospel. If we come looking only for change, then we've missed the point again.
Somehow, the cross says it all. If it's empty then how effectively do we relate to a suffering world. If Christ is still hanging from it what hope do we offer to others. It has to be a symbol of both. Out of the past, into the present, and for the future. Donald Phillipps