The Nature of Juxtapositions

Throughout my writing career (and, indeed, my entire adult life as a Catholic), I have been exploring different aspects of humanity and faith to various degrees of success and elegance. These have stretched from art to theology, and even to the lives and practices of the saints, but the one thing they all have in common is the concept of paradoxes: when two seemingly contradictory elements are really complementary. Our God is the God of paradoxes. Truly, this is one of the greatest and most beautiful titles I can attribute to Him because the paradox is the most poetic way of revealing life's most subtle beauties and truths. It is intelligent and artistic, bold and humble. Its very attributes are examples of its nature. The fact that God loves paradoxes reveals how much He loves us. Instead of creating a world of blandness where every concept stands on its own, God created for us a world in which two goods that seem so opposite are actually the intertwined branches of the same beautiful tree. God is an artist, and the paradox is one of his masterpieces. Upon contemplating the paradox, I began to think about one of its primary features: juxtaposition.

A juxtaposition is not just the opposition of two things, but rather it is the relationship between two points in the same pattern; specifically, it is the point at which a break occurs from the established pattern into a new pattern. This can be seen all over the spiritual world and understanding these breaking points can help us understand the relationships within the paradoxes that are so integral to our lives.

Simplicity and complexity are great examples of this. These terms cover multiple attributes, e.g., complexity covers vastness, depth, and multi-dimensionality; and simplicity covers humility, meekness, and availability. Please do not think I mean merely things that are basic and things that are confusing. There are many simple things that are mysterious and many complex things that can be grasped. The scientist may fully understand the complexities of the solar system, but never fully grasp the simple beauty of the sun.

Many people, myself included, have criticized the Church's worship practices for being either too complex or too simple. Some traditionalists think post-Vatican II worship practices are damaging simplifications of rich traditions. Some modern worshippers think pre-Vatican II worship practices are too complex and exclusive to everyday people. Some believe chant is too complex, while others find modern hymns banal. Some find Renaissance architecture too haughty, while others find modern churches to be artistically lacking. Everywhere it seems people are fighting for one or the other. However, the solution may be found in the juxtaposition between the two which paradoxically elevates both sides.

The paradox of juxtapositions is that they are the unitive break in a pattern. The break is what highlights either side. The seasons juxtapose each other when they change, but that change brings new life and anticipation. We would not fully know the beauty of the bright sun if it weren't juxtaposed with the soft glow of the moon. Further, we wouldn't fully know the value of good if it were not juxtaposed with evil.¹ We can relate this unitive break to worship. The beautifully complex is never fully separate from the beautifully simple. If it is, then both critical sides are correct in their negative assumptions. Rather, it is the simple that brings out the beauty in the complex and the complex that brings out the beauty in the simple. It is the lack of that balance that brings out problems. One of the harms of how many interpreted Vatican II was that it pursued inclusivity with the people at the expense of the depth of tradition. Without the tradition, many found worship to be compromised by the secular world, i.e., not supernatural, not living up to God's truly otherworldly glory, and so we saw record numbers leaving the church. However, pre-Vatican II there was the harmful assumption (again, not through the Church itself, but through the interpretation of individuals) that the complexity of scripture should be reserved for the clergy, so you had many lay people uneducated in the Bible. Without understanding that a simple, personal relationship with God's word was necessary, and because Jesus is the Word made flesh, some found themselves without a relationship with Jesus Himself.

However, when we allow the simple to support the complex and the complex to support the simple through God's paradox of their juxtaposition, we see the fulfillment of intimacy, inclusivity, depth, and tradition. The glory and mystery of the complex make the simplicity of personal prayer and biblical study even more glorious, as it is an infinitely multi-dimensional God who wishes to humbly come to you and walk with you at your level, simply and peacefully. This is the incarnation! God, glorious and infinite, omnipotent and omniscient, made Himself into a human, simple and humble, out of His love for us. Jesus' cross wouldn't have been powerful enough to defeat death and erase sin without His Godly glory and it wouldn't have been efficacious to us if He didn't share in our simple humanity and debt. Jesus is the great break in the pattern of humanity and spiritualism. He is the great juxtaposition of both man and God. He is the Great Paradox.

Let's look at this even more practically. Without the depth of tradition and worship, despite being the house of God, churches become just another common building through the eyes of the common worshiper. However, the complexity of tradition, doctrine, and beauty creates a necessary barrier. This barrier can be passed through by anyone; however, it separates the church from the rest of the world. It gives a sense of "otherness" to the house of God. It creates holiness in the ancient definition of the word: to be set apart. That holiness elevates those who pass through the barrier. Instantly, they are faced with the reality that something is going on there that is greater than themselves and that they are invited into it. It is humbling and focusing. Yet, within that "otherness" is a simplicity of He who is worshiped. The source and summit of our faith is the Eucharist which is the ultimate juxtaposition. Within it, the Eucharist holds the mystery of God's wholeness physically and spiritually present within the simplicity of bread and wine. This simplicity is important because of the complexity of God. We need to be able to experience God's vastness and fullness in a way that is accessible to us as mere humans. Without the complexity of God, the Eucharist is just bread, but without the simplicity of this Holy Bread, we couldn't possibly have access to the fullness of God.

We can see this pattern of juxtaposition everywhere there is a paradox. Silence juxtaposes music to give it breath and dynamism. Individualism juxtaposes community to give it freedom and agility. Submission juxtaposes existentialism to imbue it with cooperation with God. All are needed. None can be left out, for to leave out one is to damage the other. It is no wonder that the great thinkers of our country's founding who established checks and balances were Christians. Like them, let us do homage to God by recognizing and amplifying the paradoxical juxtapositions in our lives. To imitate Christ is to praise Him. To love the paradoxes of life is to love the God who made them.

1 This does not mean that it is good to sin but rather, as St. Thomas Aquinas says, "God allows evils to happen in order to bring a greater good therefrom." There can be no brave knights without dragons to fight, and it is better to be a brave knight than to be a naive peasant who never knew dragons.