Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
Someone complimented me on my writing in the newsletters. It was refreshing to hear. They very seldom just pop onto the paper, just like sermons. I, and I am sure many others who write and speak publicly, often wonder if people read or listen to what we produce. A college chaplain of mine, now a retired bishop, remarked that the most frequent comment he would receive when he preached at the cathedral was “Father, I could really hear you.” He mentioned another time when he was complimented on his wonderful sermon. There was only one problem, he hadn’t preached that day. It’s not the need for acclaim. I would not mind someone saying they didn’t get my point or have them disagree with me, I like I am sure many would just like to know that the time was not wasted, that our effort was not ignored. Which brings me to the point of today’s message. We have been blessed to have many visitors at Calvary over the last year, individuals and families. It is wonderful to see the way you reach out to make them welcome. Last Sunday we had at least seventy-six join us for the picnic and service in the park. That welcoming attitude was evident when two men, probably homeless, stood off eying the bounty of our serving table and no one hesitated to invite them to fix themselves a plate, even taking them more when it was clear everyone had gone through at least once. As I drove to Ashland that morning, I listened to a lecture discussing the Didache, The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles. The lecturer spoke how Christianity was different from most religions of the time because being Christian meant that one must not only conform to a doctrine, but also the practices. This early teaching, around the year 100 A.D., gave directions on how we were to baptize and conduct the Eucharist. What I recognized again, as I heard the words and knew I was heading to the eucharist and the picnic, was how intertwined the two were. We have beliefs, doctrines we hold which distinguish us from all other religions, but we also have a meal that is central to our practice. They are so comingled that our current Book of Common Prayer declares “The Holy Eucharist, the principal act of Christian worship on the Lord’s Day and other major Feasts” (BCP pg. 13), that our principal act is a shared meal. Yes, the eucharist is more than just eating together, it is a joining with our risen Lord, “that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us.” (BCP pg. 343 Rite I). For some, the eucharist is only symbolic, a remembering of something that was once done. For most, the receiving of the body and blood is far more, enriching us more than what simple food can do. What I suspect few know, is that a priest cannot consecrate the bread and wine, make eucharist, alone. At least two or three must be present, a community must gather around the “pan”, the bread, for only then can we have companionship, a time to be fed, to talk and learn, a time to be open enough to share our thoughts, even if the sermon was lacking. Growing up, prior to the current prayer book, there was less focus on communion. Despite having plenty of clergy, communion only occurred twice a month on Sundays. The others were Morning Prayer and sermon. What I find interesting is that there was little difference on Sundays with and without communion. Many have come to think of us only having “real church” if there is the celebration of the eucharist. Over the years I have worked with many of or congregations, some of which are lucky if a priest can be present one Sunday a month to celebrate communion. I’ve often felt what the addition of the importance of communion on Sunday says to them. When they gather week after week to pray and worship, are they not the real church?
Peace,
Bryant+
