02/11/2026
From the earliest centuries of Christian thought, the world has been understood not as inert matter as a visible order that communicates invisible realities. Christianity does not teach that the material world is an illusion to be escaped, nor that it is self-sufficient and closed in upon itself. Rather, it proclaims that creation is real, good, and sacramental in structure: tangible and embodied, yet ordered beyond itself.
To call the world “sacramental” does not mean that every object is a sacrament in the strict theological sense. The seven sacraments of the Church are unique, instituted by Christ, and efficacious by His promise. Yet they reveal something foundational about how God acts. He does not redeem humanity by bypassing matter. He works through it. Water becomes the instrument of rebirth. Oil becomes the sign and seal of strengthening grace. Bread and wine become the means by which we participate in divine life. The physical sign is not present merely as decoration; it is elevated and fulfilled. The visible mediates the invisible.
This sacramental logic reflects the deeper structure of reality itself. Scripture speaks of creation as declaring the glory of God and revealing His attributes. The visible world is not mute. It signifies. It participates in a hierarchy of meaning that extends beyond what can be measured or weighed.
Within this framework, the historical concept often called the Law of Signatures becomes more intelligible. While it has sometimes been exaggerated or misused, its central intuition rests on the conviction that creation bears correspondence. That form and function, appearance and purpose, are not arbitrary. In the hills and hollers of Appalachia, this pattern is evident to anyone who has spent time studying the plants that grow there.
Bloodroot, with its deep red sap staining the soil when its root is cut, has long been associated with the blood and the cleansing of stagnant conditions. Jewelweed, thriving in moist creek beds and offering relief for poison ivy rashes, often grows beside the very irritant it soothes. Mullein, with its tall, upright stalk and soft, lung-shaped leaves, has been traditionally used to support the respiratory system.
Such observations do not replace careful study or responsible practice. They are not superstition or folk magic. Rather, they reflect the belief that a rational Creator fashioned a coherent creation. If God imbued the world with purpose, it is not unreasonable to expect that hints of that purpose might be woven into its structure. The Law of Signatures, is not a rejection of science but an affirmation that the world is intelligible because it proceeds from divine wisdom.
This principle resonates deeply with sacramental theology. The Church has long taught that grace builds upon nature rather than destroying it. As St. Thomas Aquinas articulated, “Grace does not destroy nature, but perfects it” (Summa Theologiae I, q.1, a.8, ad 2). Water cleanses by its nature; therefore it fittingly signifies spiritual cleansing. Oil strengthens and consecrates by its nature; therefore it fittingly signifies the strengthening of the Holy Spirit. Bread nourishes by its nature; therefore it fittingly becomes the vehicle of supernatural nourishment.
Grace does not bypass the natural order; it elevates and fulfills it.
There is also a deeper reciprocity written into creation itself. A symbiotic relationship between earth and humanity. The soil yields food and medicine; in return, human stewardship cultivates, tends, and preserves the land. The earth nourishes the body; the human hand guards and shapes the earth. When rightly ordered, this relationship is not exploitative but cooperative. We depend upon the land, and the land, under our care, flourishes.
This pattern reflects, in a profound way, the relationship between Christ and His Church. The Church receives her life entirely from Christ; she does not generate it on her own. Yet through her sacraments, teaching, and care, she becomes the visible means by which Christ nourishes His flock. The faithful depend upon the Church for spiritual sustenance, and the Church, animated by Christ, tends and shepherds them. It is not equality of source, but reciprocity of participation. Just as the soil and the steward exist in ordered relationship, so too do Christ and His people, head and Body, Shepherd and flock.
To live sacramentally, therefore, is to recover this vision of correspondence and communion. It is to recognize that the material world is neither divine in itself nor spiritually irrelevant. It is sign and instrument. When we brew an infusion from Appalachian herbs, we are participating in a creation structured for healing and restoration. We are acknowledging that the tangible world carries meaning because it was spoken into being by God Himself.
Modern culture often oscillates between treating matter as meaningless mechanism or romanticizing it as a substitute for God. The sacramental worldview avoids both errors. Creation is not ultimate, but neither is it trivial. It is the medium through which divine generosity becomes visible and participatory.
All of creation belongs to an order that is layered and luminous. The visible is not the end of the story. It is the doorway through which we encounter the invisible attributes of our Creator.
