Eucharist and Forgetfulness
One of the greatest of the abundant joys of celebrating the Eucharistic liturgy is the sure knowledge that few, if any, parishioners will congratulate me afterwards on a job well done. Certainly, it does happen from time to time. When it does, it is a gift graciously offered and graciously received. I have forgotten myself in the rite, especially during the Eucharist. Thus, I have not spoiled the proper pleasure of the ritual for everyone else. For me, as celebrant, that is the chief joy of the rite. It is the utter forgetfulness of self and the total immersion in the grace and mercy of God the Father. This is in and through our Lord Jesus Christ. In celebrating the Eucharist, I almost understand Paul:
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galatians 2:20
Decreasing So Jesus Can Increase
I love to preach, though preparing a sermon is often a spiritual struggle of submission to the Word. It is in the struggle to understand the Word and to stand under it that the Spirit moves and inspires a frail and fallible human. This means we can declare, “Thus says the Lord.” Often during sermon preparation, and often immediately before the sermon in the hearing of the people of God, I pray: “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. (Psalm 19:14)
Sponsored
However, acceptable though they are, Spirit-filled though they be, the words of the sermon remain my words and the meditation my meditation. Try as I might to decrease that he might increase, there is always a part of me remaining in the sermon, inseparable from it. Thus, the comments from the parishioners, sometimes complimentary, challenge the sermon. If I have listened well to the Spirit, there is little of me in it. If I had no ears to hear, there is much of me. Little or much, I am nevertheless self-conscious of myself. I am aware that I am preaching. My words are being weighed in the balance.
Eucharistic Meditations & a Holy Disposition
Although in the Eucharist, the words are not my words, the meditations are not my meditations. Even the manual acts – the gestures – are specified in the rubrics or learned from local practice. Innovation is of little value; conformity is a blessing.
Just before approaching the table, the celebrant and deacon share an intimate moment of preparation. In this moment, the deacon ritually cleanses the hands of the priest. It serves as the celebrant’s final moment of repentance, his final appeal for mercy before approaching the eucharistic mysteries. This is a manual prayer for clean hands and a pure heart. It is, or can be, a washing away of self.
The celebrant moves to the table and stands in the fire of God’s love and grace. Here, the last remnants of self are burned away. He stands unworthy to gather up the crumbs under the Table. Yet, he stands invited to serve as host in Jesus’ name. He speaks not his words, but ancient words, received words: prayer and hymn, blessing and invocation, institution and distribution.
Conclusion: Eucharistic Gifts from God
He consecrates bread and wine that he did not bring to the table. Then, he shares it with those he did not redeem: the gifts of God for the people of God. When the people of God receive the body of Christ—the bread of heaven—some whisper, “Thank you.” It is not the celebrant to whom they speak.
It is another mystery of God that a man is never more truly himself than when self is forgotten—crucified with Christ—and God is all and in all. For a priest—for this priest at least, for I don’t dare speak for others—such forgetfulness of self is yet another of the abundant Eucharistic gifts of God for the people of God, enriched through every Eucharist celebrated.
Image by congerdesign from Pixabay
Hymn Guide: Deck Thyself, My Soul, with Gladness
We may put on this facade because of social pressure, self-deception, or a theology that forgets that Jesus himself wept, suffered, and died. Then there is also the opposite temptation, to wallow in sadness, as if our Lord did not rise again from the grave. “Deck Thyself, My Soul, with Gladness” is a hymn that addresses these complex emotions with honesty, beauty, and authentic hope.
Telos Collective #Intersection19: Day One Recap
Things are up and running here in Atlanta for the Telos Collective’s 2019 Intersection Conference on Anglican Missional Ecclesiology. Here’s a brief recap of day one. Hans Boersma: “Proclaiming the Gospel through the Eucharist” After Archbishop Foley and Bishop Todd Hunter got things started, we heard from Hans Boersma on “Proclaiming the Gospel through the…
