Why did Christians insist so much on praying towards the east? Why did they do everything possible to build churches and altars oriented in that direction? Why so much attention and insistence?
Before investigating the rich meaning of the orientation of prayer, which we have already presented in part (see here), it is necessary to recall a fundamental principle that we have forgotten in the spiritualism that has invaded the Catholic world, a spiritualism that translates into an exclusivity of interiority to the detriment of exteriority. Damascene writes:
Faced with the complacency with which some today would dismiss the problem of the orientation of prayer – the kind of person who says “the important thing is to pray” (and nothing else) – the Christians of the centuries that preceded us, up to the dawn of modernity, knew very well that this physical orientation expresses and conditions the inner orientation of life.
In his Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, to which I already referred in the previous article of this series, William Durandus summarizes the stratification of meanings and mysteries that oriented prayer confesses, and recalls the power and simplicity of a bodily posture. We look to the east, primarily because our whole being is turned toward Christ, “the splendor of eternal light,” who visited us like the sun rising from on high to enlighten us, immersed in darkness and the shadow of death (cf. Luke 1, 78). Turning our bodies toward this earthly light, which since creation has been a sign of the light of Christ the Redeemer, we are also exhorted, Durandus explains, “to turn our minds to higher realities.” In this latter respect, looking toward the east has the same meaning as turning our gaze upward in prayer.
The third reason he offers is a curious one: “because those who want to praise God must not turn their backs on him.” Who knows what Durandus would say about our liturgical gatherings! In reality, it is the “negative” corollary of the first two and further emphasizes the importance of the bodily gesture. Paying attention to orienting one’s body in a certain direction, a gesture that reminds the soul that it too is called to orient itself, to tune in to God, means at the same time spurring it not to forget God by turning its back on him.
It is interesting to note that in the rite of Baptism, the catechumen was asked to confess his faith by turning to the east, while turning his back on the kingdom of darkness, symbolized by the west, which he was determined to renounce forever. This rite is like the photographic negative of what Durandus expresses and marks once again that Christian life is essentially a turning towards the light of Christ: “The night is far gone, the day is at hand. Let us then cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Rom 13, 12).
Durandus, who is generally inspired by St. John Damascene on this theme, explicitly refers to it when he indicates the orientation of prayer as the search for our true homeland.
Looking to the east, we also meet the gaze of Christ who, from the cross, “looked to the west,” toward that kingdom of darkness from which he was about to rescue us with the Cross. Meeting this gaze softens the hardness of the heart and causes new tears of gratitude and repentance to flow, while we await his return as judge with fear and hope. In fact, says Damascene,
The orientation of prayer thus synthesizes the entire Christian revelation on the origin of man and his redemption, on his eternal destiny, on the direction of history, uniting it with the symbolic reality of creation.
Few other gestures can hold so many meanings and unleash their power. Every time the Christian people (and each individual) remembers to turn towards the east for prayer, they confess and reinvigorate the great hope of the Church, which awaits, renewed by tears, the arrival of her Bridegroom, who “comes forth from his bridal chamber” (Ps 19, 5), like the sun peering over the horizon in the east.
The hour is uncertain but the coming is certain – the moment when, suddenly, we will hear the voice that will shake us from our sleep: “Behold, the bridegroom! Go out to meet him!” (Mt 25, 6). And blessed are those who, with readiness, will turn toward the east to welcome the coming Christ.
Before investigating the rich meaning of the orientation of prayer, which we have already presented in part (see here), it is necessary to recall a fundamental principle that we have forgotten in the spiritualism that has invaded the Catholic world, a spiritualism that translates into an exclusivity of interiority to the detriment of exteriority. Damascene writes:
It is not without reason or by chance that we prostrate ourselves in adoration towards the east, but it is because we are constituted by visible and invisible nature, that is, intelligible and sensible, so that we perform a twofold adoration directed towards the Creator. (Exposition of the Faith, 85)Our human nature has this twofold dimension; it is in its integrity that it is called to worship God. It is quite evident to contemporary man that a division that sacrifices the invisible and intelligible aspect of worship can lead to a purely formal, sterile, and empty worship; on the other hand, the opposite seems less felt and understood, namely, that the elimination of the visible and sensible dimension in worship creates no less of a problem. Whichever way you look at it, a “schizophrenia” in worship always entails a sickness of the religious man.
Faced with the complacency with which some today would dismiss the problem of the orientation of prayer – the kind of person who says “the important thing is to pray” (and nothing else) – the Christians of the centuries that preceded us, up to the dawn of modernity, knew very well that this physical orientation expresses and conditions the inner orientation of life.
In his Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, to which I already referred in the previous article of this series, William Durandus summarizes the stratification of meanings and mysteries that oriented prayer confesses, and recalls the power and simplicity of a bodily posture. We look to the east, primarily because our whole being is turned toward Christ, “the splendor of eternal light,” who visited us like the sun rising from on high to enlighten us, immersed in darkness and the shadow of death (cf. Luke 1, 78). Turning our bodies toward this earthly light, which since creation has been a sign of the light of Christ the Redeemer, we are also exhorted, Durandus explains, “to turn our minds to higher realities.” In this latter respect, looking toward the east has the same meaning as turning our gaze upward in prayer.
The third reason he offers is a curious one: “because those who want to praise God must not turn their backs on him.” Who knows what Durandus would say about our liturgical gatherings! In reality, it is the “negative” corollary of the first two and further emphasizes the importance of the bodily gesture. Paying attention to orienting one’s body in a certain direction, a gesture that reminds the soul that it too is called to orient itself, to tune in to God, means at the same time spurring it not to forget God by turning its back on him.
It is interesting to note that in the rite of Baptism, the catechumen was asked to confess his faith by turning to the east, while turning his back on the kingdom of darkness, symbolized by the west, which he was determined to renounce forever. This rite is like the photographic negative of what Durandus expresses and marks once again that Christian life is essentially a turning towards the light of Christ: “The night is far gone, the day is at hand. Let us then cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Rom 13, 12).
Durandus, who is generally inspired by St. John Damascene on this theme, explicitly refers to it when he indicates the orientation of prayer as the search for our true homeland.
Scripture adds: “Then the Lord planted a garden in Eden, in the East, and placed there the man whom he had formed” (cf. Gen 2, 8) and who, having violated the divine command, was banished from the delights of the garden, evidently to the West. Seeking our original homeland and keeping our gaze fixed on it, we worship God. (Exposition of the Faith, 85)Orientation is decisive in constantly reminding man that he is in search of another homeland, that his heart must not settle for the false delights of this world: his original condition is different, and so is the eternal destiny to which he is called. Every time we look to the east, we confess the infinite goodness of God who created us in integrity and grace, and we shed tears of nostalgia for our lost condition and of desire for the true homeland that is promised to us. Looking to the east therefore means rejecting any attempt at a worldly Christianity, a Christianity that presumes to build the city of man, forgetting the City of God, the “new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness shall dwell” (2 Peter 3:13).
Looking to the east, we also meet the gaze of Christ who, from the cross, “looked to the west,” toward that kingdom of darkness from which he was about to rescue us with the Cross. Meeting this gaze softens the hardness of the heart and causes new tears of gratitude and repentance to flow, while we await his return as judge with fear and hope. In fact, says Damascene,
Christ, rising up, ascended towards the East, and in this way the apostles worship him, and so he will come again in the way he was seen departing towards heaven…. Therefore, ready to welcome him from the East, we turn towards it and worship him. (Ibid.)By this gesture we confess that history does not lead to absurdity, does not lead to the triumph of evil, despite appearances to the contrary; nor is it a circle closed in on itself and always the same. It goes towards the infallible and unappealable judgment of Christ, who will reveal the thoughts of every heart.
The orientation of prayer thus synthesizes the entire Christian revelation on the origin of man and his redemption, on his eternal destiny, on the direction of history, uniting it with the symbolic reality of creation.
Few other gestures can hold so many meanings and unleash their power. Every time the Christian people (and each individual) remembers to turn towards the east for prayer, they confess and reinvigorate the great hope of the Church, which awaits, renewed by tears, the arrival of her Bridegroom, who “comes forth from his bridal chamber” (Ps 19, 5), like the sun peering over the horizon in the east.
The hour is uncertain but the coming is certain – the moment when, suddenly, we will hear the voice that will shake us from our sleep: “Behold, the bridegroom! Go out to meet him!” (Mt 25, 6). And blessed are those who, with readiness, will turn toward the east to welcome the coming Christ.
